Surrendering in a green oasis

"I surrender to the chaos" is what I painted on this tank dress a few years ago. I don't surrender all the time. For the big stuff, I fight back with vigilance and persistence, snarling, gnashing of teeth, and curled toes. 

These shots were taken by my friend Elizabeth Zvonar in a little green oasis not far from my home. I'm still shaking off vestiges of that pesky summer cold, so this nearby location was perfect. The next photo is my favourite of the bunch.

I like being dwarfed by nature. It's a feeling I definitely could use more of. 

Again, my mug by artist/stylist/designer Anne M Bray (IG and other links), which features many of my favourite bloggers. You saw it my last post too, on sale here. And my Lily-Lark parasol. All unpaid mentions.

I was going to choose a song for this post, but they all made me tired. Nature sounds are what I really crave right now. Get me away from the trucks and honking and screaming and loud mufflers (a pathetically great oxymoron).

Don't feel you have to stay on this page while you listen to the whole YouTube. Heh.

When I put a photo of this dress on IG, lots of people thought it said, "I surrender to the chaise (chair)." Yes, in fact I do.

Those legs really throw off my camera's white balance.

Below is my "flat lay," nothing to do with the bedroom, folks. Get your minds out of the gutter! It was in another post on the "Silver Foxes and Vixens" party I went to at Vancouver's Fluevog shoe store, where I got to meet the man himself, John Fluevog. He was immediately drawn to my elven shoes, which he told me are rare, made in a limited run. I bought them in the late '80s. Too bad they bite my baby toe, although that's probably what has kept them so pristine.

Soaking up some rays. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. 

It's a rather tame post this time. A rather tame life at the moment. 

I'm linking to Patti's Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style and Catherine's #iwillwearwhatilike at Not Dressed as Lamb.

I hope all of you are keeping cool, or warm, as the case may be. Thank you so much for visiting. xo

The holeliness of the wool Alaia Paris dress

First stop. I seem to have stepped into this painting by Jeff Depner I found hanging at Nordstrom. My Alaia Paris navy and brown belted wool dress took me there. Too bad you can't hear the music in my head that accompanies this vintage vibe. 

The dress came from Anne of SpyGirl at the blogger meetup clothing swap in July and it's cool enough now to wear. Thank you, Anne! As a trash rescue, she pointed out the detailing made by moths, unsure what I would think. Well, that's what black underwear and coats are for! Greetje, No Fear of Fashion, has a great shot of this dress from the meetup here, scroll down. 

Next stop. I decided to take my party into the lobby of Hotel Georgia, which is also home to the speakeasy Prohibition. Dear me, looks like I was the only one who showed up! Passersby threw money into my toolbox handbag and afterwards I went and bought bread pudding.

I prefer this dress backwards because the belt creates two little scallop shapes below the waistline at the front which I find visually interesting. And the collar is higher in reverse. Having the snap closure on my back is tricky but nothing a little contortionism and mastery of curse words can't handle. The photo below shows how the dress was designed to look from the front.

Detail of fabric wrapping, and moth holes on my shoulder. The brown swath of fabric is sewn onto the "front" of the dress, wraps around to criss-cross at the rear, and finally belts at the front. Ruching where the belt attaches to the fabric provides lovely structural detail. 

Final stop. Concrete studio for Zoolandering.

I always try to mend holes in my clothes because: 1) upkeep prevents further destruction, and 2) socially, holes are almost pathologically unacceptable, unless they are put there deliberately by a designer. Given this dress's fairly extensive damage and precise structural design, I decided to go with camouflage. 

Do any of you pro sewists have mending ideas for sprays of tiny moth holes in fine wool knits?

No matter what, you can't keep a good dress down! This dress may be frail but it still looks great, feels great, and fuels my imagination - WINNER. What about you? What do you do with your wrinkles holes? Trash, repair or camouflage?

Finally, this is a new ring O made for me. Steel and ruby. 

He doesn't use lost wax; he machines each piece.

To add visual interest he used a black finish and a brushed metal finish. 

The ruby is held in place with a tension mount. 

With so little surface contact, when the sun hits this ruby just right, 

it looks like an LED light. 

I'm not wearing the ring in these photos because it wasn't finished yet.

That's all. I guess it's Thanksgiving. Eat! EAT!! EEEAAT!!

I'll link this up on Sunday with Patti and her excellent Not Dead Yet Style party, Visible Monday. 

UH-OH, SHE HAS A BAD CASE OF...

BEING BAD.

       SHE IS BAD       

I'M OVER 53. I've EARNED ME THE

RIGHT TO SOME BIG BAD - 

we're talkin' 'tude.

I SPIT BAD FLOWERS. DON'T TRIP ON THEM;

MAKE A BOUQUET?

I'M WEARING CLOTHES. SOME THRIFTED, SOME GIFTS. ALL TERRIBLY, HORRIBLY BAD. 

Bad plaid. Very, very bad. Baaad.

say it like a goat

worn to the nordstrom opening, sep 19 post - 

farked tartan jacket, big bad pants.

adding to bella's linkup for plaidurday at citizen rosebud 

(edit: the link is not on anymore. oh well.)

AND

THERE'S CARROT IN MY SCARF/WRAP, MAYBE EVEN 

STUCK IN MY TEETH, SO I'M LINKING 

TO ANNE'S 52 PICK-ME-UP: CARROT/PERSEVERENCE

AT SPYGIRL

______________________________________

THIS IS A NO-GUILT POST. FEEL FREE NOT TO COMMENT. 

TOO MANY POSTS TO KEEP UP. 

Edit: I had a birthday during 2015, but not terribly, horribly recently. All I can say is I'm not a Libra. I've just been thinking about age lately.

Do you know the secret handshake?

"Oh geez, it's a spaceship with a giant space cat! Wait'll I tell my friends about it! They won't believe it!"

Wearing:

• thrifted stretchy graphic-print bell bottoms, high-waters style. I bought them knowing they were overpriced at $20. I hate when I can't resist, especially when there's a good chance the item is freaky enough to end up on the $5 rack if I wait. But they're mine now; I take comfort in that.
• super discount platform running shoes from Topshop last year
• thrifted Jimi Hendrix T
• thrifted long-sleeve white T
• magic loupe

Hey! Youse guys, wanna rendezvous later?! I can stay out till dark, almost 9:30, on account it's being almost summer. Parma town! I made a sign for the fort: "Boys Will Be Fart-Bombed!" And I gotta show you the new secret handshake and my glitter banana seat - looks neato with the sissy bars. Listen for my whistle and meet me at X. Catcha' later alligators. Peel out!

I want to remake the movie ET but with a gang of middle-aged women tearing around suburbia on bicycles with sissy bars and cereal box clickers clothes-pinned to the spokes. And no ET creature. I'm thinking a giant cat from outer space instead. Are you in or are you out? Got any plot-line suggestions?

CUUT!! This director is crap. She's fired before she's even hired. 

......This post is what happens when I have absolutely nothing to say. 

OH, except this:

Suzanne made this awesome card with me on it! In fact, she has made a series of cards featuring bloggers. She definitely has a talent for capturing the nuances of each person's personality and style. Check out her Instagram HERE, and a post she did HERE. (Edit: the cards are now on Suzanne's Etsy shop HERE.)

The day I got the card I had received a semi-trollish comment, which, after some thought, I deleted. Bink! Gone. Easy. The card arriving when it did was spooky. Thanks, Suzanne!

I spent this evening space-bagging (vacuum-packing) winter clothes and other clothing I haven't worn for a while. The closet feels so much  b e t  t  e  r. Sigh. It doesn't devour my hand now when I stick it in. 

I'm getting caught up, I think. Have a great week, youse guys!

PS. I'm going to hook this up to Anne's 52 Pick-me-up: Wild Card at SpyGirl. I think this is a great urban safari look, but since I'm too late for that, I'm going Wild Card. Thanks, Anne, for hosting.

Glamour in the loading bay

That's not wind blowing my hair, or an industrial fan, or a legion of menials flapping from the wings; that's just my hair, which in fact resists air-blown defilement of any sort. Dorkish pose due to skirt-spinning action.

This is as glamourous as it gets in the loading bay when I'm wearing my scribbled-on thrifted runners, DIY T shirt that says "I am my own brand," and DIY mantis pendant. That's just the empty camera case around my neck to give you the Flava Flav of the look.* 

Also featured are my oversized, hip-slung thrifted skirt, thrifted tattoo-ish blue shirt, Reebok sweat socks, magic loupe, vintage mechanical wristwatch, and vintage earrings bought new in 1980. 

The reflected light from the sharpish sunshine off frame is great for these shadow shots. I'm still hard at work but slipped out briefly for coffee and to grab this snap - I couldn't miss Patti's last linkup before her break, VISIBLE MONDAY at NOT DEAD YET STYLE. She is a stellar host and I need to be there for the group toast.

*In reference to my previous post, I didn't even know who Flava Flav was except by an oblique reference in one of my all-time favourite movies, Jim Jarmusch's Ghost Dog. So what's going on? First I dress like the Biebs(!?) and then like Flava Flav. What does THIS MEAN!!?? Who's next?! Well, I'll tell ya...

An L.A. FROCK STAR, that's who. I've been SpyGirled by Anne. What a wonderful in-box treat! This stopped my work-addled brain in its tracks. She even included my magic loupe and vintage sunglasses. And look at the clean detail she captured in the pattern. Now THAT's talent! While this outfit is not something I own, what my closet lacks Anne's imagination more than makes up for. Thanks, Anne, the one and only SpyGirl. See you soon in Vancouver! Yeeeah baby.

Must run! Will catch up later this week.

Groovy bell bottoms two ways

It's like this: I don't have a photographer, so I just have to take care of business myself. It's time to learn my camera better. And it's time to break out of that concrete studio - the stairwell and garbage room atelier. There's a whole city out there calling me.

So now I sometimes lug my camp stool and tripod around with me. I mean, adding a little more eccentricity to the mix isn't really going to make a difference, is it? And chutzpah is a good thing, right? Plus, if I have to take one more photo with my back against the wall I'm going to screeeam!

"As chairwoman of Miz Bagg Mining Corporation I call this meeting to order." Wait, where is everyone? "Come back! You're not afraid of a little... Oh, yes, well, I have some spray disinfectant in my bag." It's odd that the whole city beckons, but my best business is conducted in alleys. (Hm, that didn't come out right.)

There are advantages. I can do this. Spinning action - without whapping passersby. And I can give myself bonuses at the nearby coffee shop. On this day it was a oat-chocolate chip bar accompanied by a nutty, chocolately piping-hot coffee and hearty guffaws as I looked through the outtakes from this photo session.

Everything in balance; balance in everything.

What the hell is she wearing?

• groovy thrifted bell bottoms, sold as '70s vintage but I suspect they are vintage-style new pants based on the somewhat crap quality of the fabric and the sewing. There's no label.
• thrifted wool fringed vest
• thrifted tropical top with sequined neck and sleeves and a T underneath for warmth and modesty
• thrifted Ingledew's leather ankle boots, like new
• thrifted lucky charm beaded bag
• I forgot the magic loupe from O, which I cursed at and another reason alleys are good
• insect-style sunglasses, vintage now, bought new

Eee-yeah! These groovy pants recall happy days with my transistor radio. CKLW in the Motor City. 

This song by Lighthouse (1972) was a staple of my tender youth: "And yet, there's nothin' better for your soul / Than lyin' in the sun and listenin' to rock 'n' roll"

This photo was taken near another alley close to the coffee shop. I couldn't actually take photos solo in that particular alley because other people do business in there, not the executive kind like I do, but the kind that involves real money. Yup, people digging for gold in alley muck and gold-diggers in million-dollar condos all in the same block. And me with my camp stool staking my own claim. Fool's gold. I need s'mores. 

Hey, who took my inflatable gavel? Suzanne...?

And one last look at these great stripey bell bottoms, worn here with my new thrifted oversized men's Diesel T that features a photo of a man's torso. I wore this with a black velvet tuxedo blazer you haven't seen.

I'm linking these stripes up to Anne's 52 Pick-me-up: Stripes on her blog Spy Girl. She is sporting some particularly peaky hair. Have a look, or even join in!

Fake life imitates art in a fake life, and Hat Attack! Second try...

Oops, I deleted my whole post by mistake. So... 

NOW I'M REDOING IT!!! THAT'S MY DISRUPTION!!!!

Wearing thrifted mustard muppet coat, thrifted hard-worn tie-dyed cotton top, thrifted stretch tartan skinny jeans, black glitter platform shoes, thrifted silk scarf. Kitty is wearing whatever he likes. I don't remember what caused the disruption (yeah, because I have a new one) - probably a screaming child - but I do remember tearing down the highway in Kitty's red Bugatti before we hightailed it back to Carnegie Hall for his concert. Good times, friends.

Hello harlots - Today I unveil the newest trend which I, moi, have created in my genius-infected brain. Since my fired incompetent assistant Enid is locked in VOGOFF's closet, she pathetically failed to escape and restock my hair products. What choice did I have but to hang upside-down for this photo to achieve hair volume? The Boys are on their way over with the inversion harness on wheels, a hoist, and a truck to take me shopping. I call this "Eco Hair" - volume without the mess. When I think of all nature's precious and usually cute creatures I am saving by hanging upside-down and not using nasty, vile hair products I shudder and a tear escapes my eye and rolls into my eyebrow. My processional route is sterilized in advance but you unfortunates can use Eco Hair to sweep your floors and those little pennies that get stuck in your tangles may help you with the groceries. Poor dears. Ba-bye! Miz Bagg, Your Bagness.

I thought it would be fun to imitate Anne's awesome sketch of Miz Bagg that she posted at Spy Girl so I hung upside down off the table because, seriously, I didn't want to put product in my hair. Not comfortable - product or pose! I had to run and fling on a 10-sec timer. My sunglasses, the biggest pair I have, kept falling up over my forehead - not a usual problem. The dress, though, is divine, a thrifted maxi, made in France, wool/mohair blend with sparkly gold-thread serging and an elegant hoodie hanging up by my ear. I am using the hoodie as a poor excuse to join Judith's Hat Attack 21 at Style Crone. Thanks, Judith!

The view from my coffee shop, one of Vancouver's most upscale clothing department stores, Holt Renfrew:
"ARE YOU AN CON: Legendary moments await." I thought, what an interesting campaign, even though they got the "an" wrong, until I realized that the "I" was concealed by the light post. Boring after all.

So my upside-down photo is life imitating my fake life imitating art imitating Anne's fake life in her fake journal. I love the fake journal project Anne does, and how thrilled I was to see that she had incorporated Her Supreme Betchness in her story of Enid. Thank you, Anne. You have revived Miz Bagg! I look forward to more of Enid's adventures. Tee hee.

And - "What? More jeans? Stop! Stop already!" Blame it on the runners. I have been enjoying the fleet-footed freedom of these shoes, the knowledge that I could bolt at the drop of a chocolate - to catch it before it hits the ground. The words alone - sneakers, runners - conjure up dusty playgrounds, monkey bars and squeaks on gym floors.

These are my thrifted black jeans, $5, thrifted black blazer that fits like a glove, $5, thrifted man's shirt, more than $5, scribbled-on thrifted sneakers, colourful Harlequin socks, retail, and of course my magic loupe from O. A neighbour said I looked boyish in this. Coltish is good too. Not to be confused with the old grey mare. Or mutton. Or any other farm animal. Although I am good at bull.

Thanks for all your comments in my last post about IG. Lots to think about. Also, I'm not ready to give up on blogging.

PS If you have published and then accidentally lost a post, search for it online and you will find the cache that you can copy. Whew!

Rainbow of black and white

Coarse fabric and oversized high-waisted pants are an awkward combination; strict measures needed to be taken. Now these vintage pants fit like a dream and the checkered flag in the front crotchal area has become a star. Bingo! The pants are also short, and while I contemplated adding a band of black or gold or red to the hem, I decided that the high-waters effect enhances their retro appeal. I mean, these pants could never look standard anyway. Why bother trying?

I'm also wearing my Frump shoes, so-named for their plain style, but they are favourites nonetheless. They were out of commission for a spell because the leather started tearing horizontally on the sides where the shoe bends. Gorilla glue and leather patches took care of that. The bandages are hard to see in this photo but I folded them over the top and glued them down on the outside and inside. The next day I noticed a dusting of white powder on them. Ah yes, that would be the tiny skin bits that riiipped off my fecking glue-covered fingertips while holding the patches in place. 

I'm linking this up to Sacramento's Share-in-Style, freestyle, at Mis Papelicos. And I'll link up to Anne at Spy Girl for 52 Pick-Me-Up: Dots even though these aren't dots, and to Sheila at Ephemera for Shoe Shine, even though these shoes are more of a glimmer than a full-on shine. 

Next:

"A citrus aroma with flavours of apricot, grape, and caramel, and a juicy finish" 

"Oh," you say, "that must be a new wine she's writing about." It's a new whine all right, about my coffee. This is the verbatim description of the "Drip of the Day" coffee from Papua New Guinea that was featured at my coffee shop this morning. I don't know about you, but I don't want fruit in my coffee. I do not want to start my day imagining plump bitter-skinned purple grapes drizzled in caramel sauce. And why would I want "juicy" coffee when I can have juice? That's what citrus is for - juice!

Call me old school, just call me old if you want to, but I want my coffee nutty, coffee-beany - not fruity, not candied (unless it's on the side), and definitely not citrusy. Or floral, which is another blooming coffee trend. Did manufacturers suddenly run out of coffee beans and go, "Hey, I know, why don't we throw in all these flowers and fruits? Nobody will ever know!" - except they broadcast it, except it tastes like crap. (I suppose we're lucky their plants are not next door to sock factories.) I'd rather sip coffee made from beans shat by a kopi luwak than a wet, fruity, floral abomination, although I can't afford that kind of shit. 

When I'm lucky my shop serves up a lovely Italian "Drip of the Day." We're not talking Steve Buscemi, but a more robust Pacino or De Niro, although they'd all probably order espressos or cappuccinos. In this sense, I'm afraid I would be the drip.

But let's get serious - am I to expect "A brussel sprout aroma with flavours of pizza, cheese, and banana, and a sour finish" next week from Iceland? Sure, why not just serve me wet minced bark with a tulip in it and call it day?

Where my Nescafe? Better yet, get me a highball, quick, double juicy.

Amaryllis by any other name would be wrong

And that's that. 

A little amaryllis (how I love that word) for Anne's bunch at 

Spy Girl, 52-Pick-me-up: Amaryllis, 

and a touch of visibility for the bunch at 

Patti's Visible Monday at 

Not Dead Yet Style.

I'm short on words at the moment; 

they are all flying in other directions.

No need to comment - I'm not giving you much

to work with this week. heh.

thrifted: linen coat, tux pants, spiderwebby tie-dye-ish pullover, D&G shoes, belt

retail Harlequin patterned colourful socks

This type is impossibly small.

Snow drift redux

Wearing: 

• thrifted off-white midi faux fur vest or jerkin gilet (thanks!)
• sweater, discount retail
• thrifted pants
• thrifted DIY-scribble boots 
• untucked vintage dickie
• thrifted dangly earrings
• gifted upcycled fuchsia cashmere arm-warmers with added love power (peeking out from the cuff) 
• magic loupe
• two long-sleeved T's as under-layers 

I lopped more than six inches off the circumference of the vest and serged the seams. What I triumph I felt having conquered my fear of farking with lining and faux fur which I was sure would gag my Machine. In fact, I was so pleased with the result that I wore the vest yesterday and today. I've worn the vest a few times in its "pre" state but had to overlap the front and belt it, making me feel and look like a snow drift. 

And while I love wearing oversized sweaters, I simply cannot abide oversized neck openings - such hideousness is unendurable - so I took the severe corrective measure of serging little darts all around the collar (see middle photo). The sweater was purchased specifically for destruction and this is a stellar first step. 

My pants might be a 2002 Pantone True Red so I'm linking this up to Anne's 52 Pick-me-up: Pantone Party 2015 at Spy Girl. And of course, I'm a fortnightly style binger over at Patti's Not Dead Yet Style Visible Monday. 

Silks and sci fi

One of my neighbours was in that movie, Chupacabra vs. The Alamo. A chupacabra is a demonic-looking beast that preys on outdoor animals. The creature sucks all the blood from its victims through surgical-like puncture wounds. Some say the chupacabra is a contemporary legend; others, especially operators of souvenir shops, swear they are real. Whatever the case, they are excellent fodder for a B movie. You can read about chupacabras here. 

:::: hip-slung silk blouse as skirt, silky golden top, pastel yellow tights, ostrich ankle boots, similar to here ::::

::: the "chupacabra sheriff look" is edited from a photo posted here ::::

I sometimes enjoy a B sci-fi/monster movie, especially if it's raining outside, I have a steaming mug of hot chocolate, and a mountain of pillows and junk food, but I miss the days before computer graphics. No realistic gore/slime fest created in a CG lab compares to my imagination when it comes to freaking myself out, which is why I also prefer books to their film version. Below is one of my favourite sci-fi clips, the running scene starting at 20sec, from Ultra Q, a Japanese offshoot series of Ultraman.

I'll be linking this up to Sacramento's Share-in-Style: Autumn on her blog Mis Papelicos. This outfit counts because it is in a favourite autumnal colour of decay, gold, and it also has blue, the colour of mould on cheese, a decrepit colour snap. Curtise's post featuring outfits in the colours of mould, decay, detritus, and fungus was truly inspiring at The Secondhand Years. I bet you've seen it already; look here if you haven't.

B movies: yay or nay? Seen any notable ones lately, something worthy of a slacker afternoon?

Above is what I wore today, Sunday. The tunic/dress says "Happy" on it. Having a clothing manufacturer factory-stamp "Happy" onto its fabric makes me feel as joyful as having a bank machine tell me to smile. I shall change this writing posthaste to Hoppy or Hippy, anything but Happy. That's just me, even though, thankfully, I don't object to the emotion itself. Everything here is thrifted, except the shoes (ultra discount) and the magic loupe from O. These skinny jeans, made in Dublin, are plaid so I shall link them up to Anne's 52 Pick-me-up: Plaid at Spy Girl.

Patti (Not Dead Yet Style) and Greetje (No Fear of Fashion) have both worn Turnip Head. Hee hee. I like their own heads better, who wouldn't?, but Turnip had a good time.

If you haven't seen Charlie in the Freakish Yellow Skirt, you'd best make tracks to her blog, Fur Earwig. Now that's what I call Happy styling!

She's so boxy, she must be rich

Despite the bold colours, this outfit feels very conservative. The overall shape has a boxy, priggish quality which makes me feel very sophisticated, like I'm in Paris wearing couture, like, you can tell I'm filthy rich because my outfit is so boxy. I wore my mod sunglasses to tart it up and went barelegged. It is hot! And of course I carried my flirty little toolbox handbag O gave me, former home of his Starrett height gauge.

Wearing: thrifted vintage '50ish floaty fitted sleeveless dress under a thrifted blouse, thrifted D&G heels, magic loupe from O, thrifted vintage sunglasses, vintage Tissot mechanical watch, gift from O. 

I'm heading over to Patti's at Not Dead Yet Style to get soused. After all, it's Visible Monday and we need to celebrate. See you there. Will you be the one who's shaken or stirred?

And this next bit is for Anne of SpyGirl. Her 52-Pick-me-up prompt is Fairy Tale - she has the best prompts. This is my fairy tale.

Voila! Grushenka is my magic wand.

You've seen this jacket before but I've added back and sleeve detailing. I'm extremely pleased with the way the oval patch came out on the back. I took a photo of a decrepit gas pump, printed it onto transfer paper, ironed the transfer onto white T-shirt fabric, cut it out, and then hot-glued it onto the jacket because I didn't want to puncture the fake snakeskin or deal with the jacket lining. I think this jacket upcycle is done now - it's tricky knowing when to stop. So ba-bye Armani Exchange. I like my version waaay better.

I think I'm coming down with that sewing bug that's going around...