Ruffled in a frock coat

I've been sequestered in my garrett feverishly toiling on a new symphony in H-minor with none but my pet raven Grasp as a silent companion at the window. This work will break all the records. It'll be huge. Great. Really fantastico. 

But now I am stepping out for refreshment with gentle verse and a forest shower. "O," my giddy soul cries to the heavens, "Dispatch thy muses - and a new rollerball pen." Writing with a feather is fecking annoying. And plucking them from seagulls may even be an offense. Grasp doesn't share either.

Artliness temporarily satisfied, I clamber onto nearby battlements and gaze seaward, brow furrowed (not really, those are just lines). I scan the horizon, searching, searching for my ship, which should be coming in any decade now.

It would be so much easier if it were a jet coming in and not a frigging frigate. And an airport at least has a Food Court where I could hang out. But wait, maybe my ship is a luxury yacht or, gulp, a tanker. I must consult the Manual. Does anyone know where it is? Oh dear!

Still waiting, contemplating more poetry. And owning that wall, I mean battlement (the top of a fortified wall of a castle with holes for shooting from). Bafflements is a good word too to describe a confusing wall or even this blog post.

And what ho? What's this? The royal court has decided to have an official portrait of me painted?

Me looketh upon the artist with suspicion. "O, Painter, be thou forewarned. If thou dost not capture a flattering likeness, I shall lop off thine head." (Why must I stick my hand in the jacket like that?)

In fact, I would prefer a non-likeness, so not to worry. And we would go out for martinis and pickles and swap stories on where to get good rollerballs and plumes, if not provided deus ex machina (unexpected godly intervention that saves the day), which is always my preferred method.

I love this aubergine frock coat with ruffles and my Partridge Family pants.

This outfit is a definite time-slipper. I conceived it for chasing bad guys with Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery, a movie which features the phrase, "Groovy, baaaaby," spoken with a toothy grin. But on this light-rain day it morphed from Austin Powers to Jane Austen.

Details of the blouse. I wore suspenders with the pants too.

I have been possessed by ruffles and blazers (and frock coats) for almost a year now. Finally, I farked this thrifted Asos blouse by adding ruffles around the collar and sleeves, and down the front. There's even netting behind the base layer for body and lift, although that was original to the blouse, I confess.

Now I shall fark all my blouses! I would happily wear ensembles like this every single day, although I would need a hound and maybe a horse. I already have a sports car (as you can see in the video clip link in the right sidebar) and a toothy grin.

I went to another play with Mara, the opening night of Shakespeare's Coriolanus at Bard on the Beach, front row, where we were right in the heat of battle. Clearly, its influence has spilled into this blog post.

I had never been so close to "violence" before, even feigned. The blood and wounds looked pretty convincing, which made me ponder even more the tragically flawed nature of our species.

The story is timeless: ruthless power-seekers contend with colleagues, family, foes, and poor people hungry for a good line. Sigh. In this play, all the people really want is corn. Is that so hard? The lead role is gender-switched to female and played brilliantly and breathlessly by Moya O'Connell. The play runs until Sep. 21 on the Howard Family Stage in the Douglas Campbell Theatre. Check HERE. (Not sponsored)

I debuted my farked blouse with this outfit that night. Mara debuted a coat that she farked with red paint too. Stunning.

And, finally, I put together my third annual (plus a few months) compilation video of what I wore 2018/2019. Click the photo or HERE to watch the video on Instagram. You don't have to be a member of IG to watch it though.

That's it for this week.

Oh, except I opened a new page with lots of my sketches HERE featuring Ternip Hedd (changed the spelling to avoid conflict). Most of these sketches you've seen on Bag'n'B; a few may be new.

I'll be linking to Patti at Visible Monday, Not Dead Yet Style, and Catherine at #iwillwearwhatilike, Not Dressed as Lamb when the time is right.

Cheers, everyone. How does your ship come in? Land? Sea? Air? Carrier pigeon? Ether? Curious minds want to know.

We're not posing - we're LIVING!

Or how about, if a style blogger doesn't take a camera on a meetup with friends, does she still exist? Of course the answer to both would be a resounding YES! Our outfits are just the coating for the goodness within; in fact, sometimes a camera just gets in the frickin' way if it's remembered at all. 

But for those other times, when one has an impish beauty itch, a whack-ton of makeup and a tripod, a remote control, and a conspirator, well, see exhibits AAA below. These are from Shelley's visit to Vancouver in June, which I posted about here. Shelley posted here and here.

This wall in a nearby alley was perfect: mossy, concrete, grey, and black. There also wasn't too much garbage or smell, which is a critical make-or-break location factor, especially with guests. The micro-distillery gin joint on the corner, closed at the time, still provided great mental ambiance. 

Marching with fortitude into position.

There was nobody around, unless you count the ring of residential highrises. The few people who strolled by probably didn't notice us, and there were a couple of cars, but, pffft, when you're professionals, you don't even bat an eye unless it's on cue if ya knows what's good for ya.

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ME: CUUUUT!!! (I stamp my platform-shod foot) DO IT AGAIN, SHELLEY! How many times do I have to tell you!? The look I'm going for is you're dangling your feet in the pool and there is a giant guppy attached to your toe. Now ACTION!

SHELLEY: Is he nibbling or biting?

ME: He's a mutant cross between a guppy and a piranha. Doh!

SHELLEY: Oh, okay. Is it a salt-water pool or fresh water?

ME: Ummm, salt water. Now ACTION!!

We managed to get a few serious shots (below, not above), mainly at the beginning, before the cling of adulthood had blown off. Shelley wore her floaty silk dress with a watercolour motif and I wore my vintage satin pearl pink palazzo pants with a floaty orange/coral top. 

Strenuous posing is hard fun, so of course we demanded ice cream (gelato) afterwards. Coming right up at an independent coffee shop on the other corner. Hey, if the distillery and the cafe joined forces, they could serve gin floats! Or not.

The sun was shining and we sat outdoors while we planned an air-conditioned afternoon watching zombies (Jarmusch - The Dead Don't Die).

The breeze couldn't have been better even if we had rented it. Did you notice that I put light blue in my hair? And the metal earrings weighed a ton; every time I hopped or skipped, like above, OW! But it was for ahhhrt.

I am startled sometimes when going through my photos, especially the more hilarious ones, that most women in their mid-50s, or any age I suppose, do not engage in this sort of thing. Of course, for me it's just who I am. And Shelley too and my other friends when they're in town. Shelley wrote about this in her post. 

I suppose I never unlearned how to play, although its expression has gone underground at various times in my life. I'm grateful now that I can still tap into this powerful resource as a liberating force and share it at every opportunity. It definitely puts a rose tint on what might otherwise be a bleak outlook.

I also managed during that week to slip in a night at the theatre, Bard on the Beach, to see The Taming of the Shrew, as a guest of Mara Gottler, pictured below. She is a co-founder of the company, now in its 30th season, and a celebrated designer who designed all the costumes for this show.

How I laughed! - a rollicking (perfect word here) good time. The production had a western theme and featured a very strong-minded Kate (the shrew) with a few well-placed tweaks. And if Instagram were a thing in the Wild West, Bianca, Kate's twittery sister, would definitely have been a selfie star!

The show runs until mid-September. Check HERE. (not sponsored)

I wore my prairie dress for the western theme, and Mara was a chic gunslinger.

The next photo is called Traces - what stays behind. I walk by that alley now and smile remembering our photo session.

And finally, an outfit featuring a blazer spied for me at Turnabout Luxury Resale Granville store by Sheila when she joined me and Shelley for a day (see previous post here and Sheila's post here). Navy, velvety, and with split sleeves. Oh my! Worn with my Marni for H&M drop-crotch purple/gold lurex pants, which I farked with side stripes. Sunglasses from an outing with Suzanne.

And that's all. I loved the process of doing this photo session with Shelley, and in the end, I'm glad to have these cool photos as visual reminders of our time spent together, the reflections cast in digital form. As with most of my creative pursuits, the process is paramount.

I hope you have all found avenues of liberation in your lives, even for micro-moments. Who doesn't need little escapes? Which reminds me, I must get to the woods - with my camera. Hahaha!! I'm a style blogger and I need to record the process!

Thanks for dropping by. xo

I'm linking up with Patti at Visible Monday over at Not Dead Yet Style and later with Catherine at #iwillwearwhatilike at Not Dressed as Lamb. See you there maybe?