A vamp, an angel, and a couple of stools

Look, new props! So excited. Well, not new, but they are items I dragged into the stairwell to liven things up - my red stool and my step stool. Hurray! I'm sure you'll agree they add a certain je ne sais quoi to my photos.

Below, my casual starlet look, or, uh, maybe a bit older than a starlet. In scientific fact, an older, burned out star is called a white dwarf or a degenerate dwarf because it only has a stellar core remnant, which means my nuclears have stopped but I'm still hot. Okaaaay. That might work. Astronomy has the best words sometimes. Space wormhole, for example, is another favourite.

All I really wanted to say was I am looking glamorously mellow, "Oh, dahling, I'm tiiiired of all the fuss. My driver is waiting." Nothing says glamour quite like batwing eyeliner, although putting it on was like trying to draw on a deflating balloon.

There is definitely a natural ease conveyed when one kneels on a super-hard, gritty concrete step in tights, then leans over and drapes one's arms on a stool with insouciance and props one's camera on a fully extended tripod against a wall so it doesn't fall over and one has to contort one's body to see the preview screen. It's practically second nature to me.

And more photos with The Prop.

Why is it that men can sit open-legged and not worry about putting a hand or a sweater or something else in front of their groinal apex? That's just wrong. Ain't nothing wrong with my envelope! And yet I persist in hiding, dare I say, the flaps, like my mail is on the prohibited list and has a big red stamp across it: customs and duty are owed! (snort of disgust)

If I see a man sitting like this on the train, hogging all the seats, I think, pig, go aerate somewhere else so I can frigging sit down. But a woman sitting like this? She's not only rude for hogging the seats, but she's extending an invitation, if you know what I mean, wink. Pathetic!

I don't sit like this on the train, by the way. I seldom ride trains. I seldom sit like this at all, but I'm making a point here, after the fact. "Knees together, ladies!" she trills. Puh. A little rebellion for the new year is definitely in order. I encourage all of you to sit like this for your next photos too. Hahaha!!

I'm wearing my DIY Middle Aged Kitteh t-shirt with a skirt hoisted with Calvin and Hobbes suspenders, a great gift from Bella of Citizen Rosebud years ago. I didn't like the skirt hanging below the hem of my coat. Under the t-shirt is a cotton camisole and another 3/4-sleeve shirt. And my boots.

I wore this, with a shaggy coat on top, to go buy frozen corn. We were out. I love corn. It's one of my favourite vegetables, categorized as such because I buy "fresh" corn. Dried-up corn is a grain. You may ask, does that mean over-cooked fresh corn turns back into a grain? No. It's just compost. Popcorn is also considered a grain, which is preposterous. Popcorn is movie food, a category unto itself. (And I worried whether I would have anything to write about in this post.)

And below, yet another prop, my step stool, which I also hauled into the concrete studio. These props are horribly unwieldy. Banging, clattering, me gasping, doors shutting on chair legs, tripod legs, real legs, expletives in foreign languages (which don't count). Where's my assistant!? Thus, these props will remain a special photo treat (liberal use of the word) for me.

The next all white/ivory outfit was interesting. So many associations - dairymaid, something from The Handmaid's Tale or Tess of the d'Urbervilles, tired hurdy-gurdy or dancehall girl in a gold-rush town (maybe because I just watched Godless), novitiate, and more.

Again, the Calvin and Hobbes suspenders were used to hold up this strapless soft baby-corduroy dress. The white top is actually a longish cotton nightgown. I removed all the eyelet lace trim to make it less nightgowny, and I floofed it at the top so it's spilling out of the bodice.

Patterned leggings and patterned socks and my brown booties finish the look. And we can't forget my magic loupe, which goes everywhere with me. Made by O and now restocked in his Etsy store HERE. Go buy one now. Heh.

From my stellar core remnant to yours, I hope you have a cosmic week. Keep that hot core and planetary nebula stoked! Yeeeeah! Hot nebs, it's a new term, you read it here first. And probably last. Or it could be a snack food.

Finally, for over a year I've been wanting to share this short ad with you and kept forgetting. See? I have a great memory for remembering what I forgot, but not for putting what I was supposed to remember. ???  It's for Shiseido brand cosmetics. I love it. O found it for me. You have to watch the whole thing.

Of course, I'll be linking up to Patti at Not Dead Yet Style, her Visible Monday gang, and Catherine at Not Dressed as Lamb and her #iwillwearwhatilike. Till next time, kittehs!

Never too much colour

This dress is originally from the bastion of fast fashion, H&M, one of their eco-recycled-garbage (ERG) collection, but I bought it pre-loved. Of course there is a real feel-good, corporate-speak name for it but I can't be bothered to check - I like ERG.

I blogged about it the first time HERE as my entry in an H&M contest, a completely different styling with an alley shoot - lots of fun. But I didn't win - my fizz was apparently too flat (or maybe too fizzy) to refill these recycled PET bottles. Judging by the women who became finalists, my contents were decidedly past their best-before date. All I can say about that is - old food can be good. 

Cases in point. Have you ever experienced the dry chewiness of an old marshmallow? Bliss. Or the ecstasy of eating a chocolate bar you'd lost in the glove compartment for over a year? (Question: Did anyone ever really put gloves in a glove compartment?) And what about grapes? Old grapes taste great in wine, although some of my old ones are just sour. Well, semi-sweet.

The bell bottoms are by Rip Curl, thrifted. The booties are thrifted too, not my first choice for this outfit but I needed a heel. Many of my shoes are in sick bay right now with heel ailments. Seriously, footwear should come with insurance or a Dr. "Bones" McCoy fix-it wand from Star Trek.

You can see all the extra stuff below: magic loupe pendant and ring by O, available HERE, handmade ghost-on-a-swing necklace by friend Monique, a hoity-toity brand leather wrist wrap (gift), leather belt with silver buckle by Josef (say it like it's French), booties, DIY T-shirt, and my favourite DIY praying mantis pendant made from an on-sale Liz Claiborne Christmas ornament. Those insects are amazing creatures. Did you know that the female often devours the male after coupling?

A woman wrote the following comment in response to an article about praying mantises in Entomology Today, which I stumbled across while doing research.

WARNING: This paragraph deals with the animal kingdom. Don't read it if you are squeamish.

I followed a female mantis that took up eye-level residence on a pepper plant last summer near my door, and she eventually mated with at least four different males, and for several days had two on her back at the same time with more males standing around expectantly. The female nibbled an eyeball of each mate, then finished the other eyeball, then eventually ate the whole head. Each male stayed attached to her for several days, ending up as discarded wings on the surface of the flowerpot a foot below after a new male took up position.

Moving right along... With a cart.

I dug this neon lemon robe and red, white, and blue hooded garment out of the alien pod vault a few days ago. Static, just hanging there, this outfit looks like almost nuthin', but in motion it flies. The robe gently laps at the legs of unsuspecting passersby with the slightest breezy provocation. I wasn't sued for it either. Or devoured.

These weakling pixels - they just can't seem to capture this neon colour. I bumped the saturation on the photo below but it didn't help much.

I got those Zara shoes out of the vault too. The dress thingy is sleeveless and has a front slit and zip. The Chanel sunglasses are also a gift. The loupe and ring, O made me. And that's a mechanical Tissot watch, which, if you've forgotten, means you have to wind it up by hand. And it has 17 jewels! It's old too. O reconditioned it and machines custom parts if it gets stuck in the past.

I posted about another outfit this week on Instagram if you're interested, HERE.

That's all for now. I had a wonderful meetup with some fellow bloggers this week, but that will have to wait.

I'll link up to Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style, hosted by Patti, and #iwillwearwhatIlike at Not Dressed as Lamb, hosted by Catherine. See you there.

I wish a company would sell old marshmallows so I don't have to age them myself. They seldom survive to old age in my home. What about marshmallow wine?

Hey, where's my wife bonus?!

When everything is for sale, so much depends on making a good pitch.

But a good pitch alone isn't enough. You need to have a clearly defined target audience, aka friends. In a bid for self-improvement, I shall reprogram my internal algorithm which will convey my value more arithmetically not only to others but also myself, thereby enhancing my brand appeal and user interface. Hurrah! Whaaa...?

The mural backdrop is a snapshot of my existing algorithm. Tsk, tsk, tsk.

My algorithm is fecked. That's it in the background. Of course my user interface is whacked. My DIY T-shirt.

Even kids are on board with this stuff, "Hey, mum, I expanded my target audience at school today." "Well done, honey. I think you just added points to your Daughter Bonus for that." Twinkle-eyed winks.

It's essential that you sell yourself in all aspects of your life; making deals should be second nature. Demand payment up front and never undersell yourself. Heh.

For example, I'm still waiting for my Wife Bonus from O, you know, for managing an efficient and attractive home. I am a strict and elaborately-dressed taskmaster when it comes to cleaning staff and rearing our children stellarly. Okay, so the kids are little silverfish (not a metaphor). I kill them regularly, well, no, I can't bear it - they are so cute - but I yell for O and he takes care of them.

I'm working hard for my wife bonus! The same frilly blouse as the previous post but with a colourful jacket made in Korea. You can see the fabric texture on the arms. Swoony. 

I have been known to body double the cleaning staff. That should get me points! Not only that, I shall demand triple Wife Bonus points for doing dangerous stunt work - it ain't easy hanging over the side of a tub juggling cleaning products and a sponge.* I was thinking I'd buy a sailboat.
(*Don't be fooled, it's all part of my pitch - I don't think I've ever done that!)

I kind of missed out on the Push Ring for pumping out a real kid. But hot-diggity-dog, it may not be too late! I've just found out that a grandmother somewhere, perhaps in an asylum, gave birth to triplets. Ooh, if I have quintuplets that means five rings, right? Tiffany, here I come! (O has just picked up the phone. I think he's calling the asylum, perhaps for himself.)

My lovely gothy/rock jacket with mini-ruffled, neon orange, high-collar blouse and flocked Anthropologie pants. New (old) lace-up ankle boots. I wear outfits like this to clean the oven, which is full of electronic goods. 

Holy cow, adding up the Wife Bonuses, the Push Rings, and the profits from my new algorithm and sales strategy, I'll be living on easy street! That's what happens when you put your best foot forward or, in this spectacular example of marketing genius, two best feet forward at the same time. Yes, I'll be the one hopping down easy street like a bunny on crack, wearing a tiara and pushing a quintuplet stroller on my way to the asylum to visit O.

Lacy dress with black slip. I almost donated it. What was I thinking?

I'm linking up to Patti's Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style and Catherine's #iwillwearwhatilike at Not Dressed as Lamb. I'm sure I'll see you there.

Of course, I am definitely NOT for sale. My only pitches are in dodgeball, and they are really quite pathetic. My easy street is on the floor stuffing my face with sweet and salty popcorn or Cheesies. But I am definitely open to Mel bonuses to celebrate my mere existence. Heh. (Case in point: gothy jacket self-gift)

I made that T-shirt a while ago, "I am my own brand." I'm ready to revise my statement: "I am NOT a brand. Kiss my ass." Look for it in a future post. Okay, I won't put the second sentence; that was just a general cry, but not to you, my friends, my valued target audience. Mwah!!

OH, BREAKING NEWS EDIT:
Claire Cormeau was just featured in a George Straight newspaper article, hurrah! She's the uber talented clothing designer of the line Nuage, which I wrote about in my model-ish post here. The article includes my favourite photo. Heh. It's all HERE.

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Glossary

Dodgeball
A team sport where players throw a ball with the intent of hitting players on an opposite team thereby eliminating them from the game. I was about eight years old the last time I played. Heh.

Hot-diggity-dog
An expression of delight or excitement. 

Push Present
A push present is a gift, usually jewellery, given to a woman by her partner after "pushing" out a baby (such a sentimental term). This is a true phenomenon - the jewellery and the pushing. If I had a baby, I'd want a push penthouse, a push billion dollars, a push nanny, a push personal assistant... In fact, I said shove it to the whole thing many decades ago. Shouldn't I get a Shove-It Ring?

Wife Bonus
The term wife bonus was first revealed in a non-fiction book called The Primates of Park Avenue, as the money paid to a Manhattan wife by her banker husband for a wifey job well done. The book was later recalled and marketed as fiction. A hideous concept! O is not the boss of me nor I of him - usually. There is no Daughter Bonus - I made that up.


AND (jeez, she just won't shut up) -

I LOOOVE Mexico! I was featured in Elle magazine's online Mexico edition as one of the 40+ Bloggers You Should Know, along with Accidental Icon, une femme d'un certain âge, Style Crone, and Not Dressed as Lamb. And the translation wasn't mangled at all! Bwahaha! I was shocked to be included. And of course very happy.

Thank you, ELLE! Well, and thank you to everyone who visits me up here in the colonies. Mwah!

Okay, now I'll shut up. Heh. Have a great week you's guys.

DIY on Time, and Hat Attack

Put it on schweetheart, move that ass right out the door, and glorify in your punkitude. There's no time for second-guessing. People like it or don't like it; I can only dress for myself. And wearing this? Well, I feel friggin' fabulous.

The vintage pleated silk skirt, made in Italy, feels like a million bucks. I've worn it before with an ivory silk blouse with puffed sleeves, pearls, and black ballet flats, but there's no way that chic vibe was going to cut it with this pimptastic DIY pendant. 

Clomp, clomp, clomp. Make way for the glitter booties or face the consequences.

Details:

• thrifted Pancaldi & B black silk pleated skirt, vintage, made in Italy
• Middle Aged Kitteh DIY farked black T-shirt
• thrifted black T-shirt under layer for warmth
• DIY pendant, winner of the men's "My Watch is Bigger than Your Watch" contest
• turquoise tights and glitter booties, retail
• made for me by O: magic loupe and hinged bracelet
• pearls, retail long ago
• hair clip won from Shelley at Forest City Fashionista, made by Kayla Gibbens, work can be found HERE

With this hair clip, I'm linking up to Judith's Hat Attack 23 at Style Crone. Did you see that awesome whirlwind on her head? Swoon... My hair was feeling lazy today so I gave it a hand with this top-sider ponytail.

The Tag Heuer men's watch retails for about US$6,000. This one? Free; rather, it's priceless because I made it. And I always know the time is 10:09. O made the jump rings for me so I didn't have to spend a packet at Michael's craft store. I made another pendant at the same time for a later post.

Your comments on the onesie cracked me up. You'll be surprised to know that I haven't seen a single onesie in this entire city ever and would be shocked to see towns crawling with them. How could Vancouver, of all places, miss out on this slackeriffic trend? Crocs with it? Yes, please, in lime green or raspberry! 

Finally, thanks to Sally at Already Pretty for the shout-out in her Lovely Links on Friday for my tartan jacket upcycle, and to everyone else who linked to me - I often don't know who you are but I know you're out there. Mwah. 

I have a heap of work headed my way so I'll be offline for a bit, but your visit has been awesome - I just wish I had more drinks and hors d'oeuvres - perhaps some cheese nippies. And I can't forget big thanks and awkward hugs to my new subscribers. 

Going through my journals I came across this sketch, a version of Turnip Head in that aqua dress from the Who Wore It Better post. How I would like to have tea with you in that world. Have a great week.

To IG or not to IG

"DRIP OF THE DAY" 

on tap at my cafe:

"Burundi: a tropical aroma with flavours of cherry, 

red apple, caramel and a syrup finish."

I declined. I am a pure bean woman, as you may recall.

But that didn't stop me from doing this...

And I ate lard today. Not a huge helping, just enough to make me wish I hadn't eaten it. It was baked into a big biscuit which I wasn't hungry for but I ordered and ate anyway. Stupidly.

I have two very different looks for you in this post - one ultra-casual in jeans worn today (my building guy didn't even recognize me this morning) and one jewellery-laden ensemble worn yesterday. Both made me feel swell. The open mouth photo is me - preparing to eat lard, like a fledgling in a nest waiting for its mama to fly back with, um, a mouthful of lard? Moving right along...

I am in training for jewellery-wearing. I'm not sure how many lessons I'll do. This stuff is heavy. It leaves dents in the back of my neck - seriously.  But if I loosen my scarf that might not happen. I wore this 100% silk thrifted maxi tunic/dress yesterday. It says XL but I altered the shoulders to fit. The man robe draped over my arm kept me warm enough. You may remember it from "my man robe" video, here.

I didn't "do" my eyebrows to be asymmetrical; they were that way for real today. And I wore my hair sort of side-parted. ("Today" is Friday and "yesterday" is Thursday in this post.)

Shoes for Sheila's Shoe Shine at Ephemera. Thrifted. Debuted in previous post.

I haven't been blog-crawling much. And I just did a quick review of a few blogs I have commented on and some of my comments are missing despite doing a double-entry. I have the sense that blogging is becoming antiquated, that I should really be Instagramming. Its platform based on quick-shotted pithiness is appealing, as is the idea of being able to Like and run. But I don't want a phone. And contrarily, the reasons that attract me to Instagram are what keep me blogging - IG excels at Show, but I also enjoy the Tell of blogging that lets me express myself more fully (like the lard bird story) and get to know everyone else much better. In the end, I'm going to do what makes me happy. But the pressure, the pressure! No Facebook, no Twitter, no Pinterest, no Tumblr, no Link On Me... I'm a step away from a museum.

Do you remember the movie The Big Chill? The Michael character played by Jeff Goldblum was a journalist for People magazine and he said: "You can't write anything longer than the average person can read during the average crap." We've become so abbreviated in social media that maybe the line should be revised: than the average person can ???...  Any ideas?

Do you do all of the social media things? How do you manage your time? Are you obsessed? (I also fear IG for that reason.) Do you in fact or fiction make money from it? Think it's possible? Use it to promote an outside business? Hope to become an icon, not that you aren't already, darling. I sometimes feel left in the dust - not that my house isn't immaculate, simply immaculate!! Thoughts? (not on my cleaning habits, but the other questions, okay, my cleaning habits too)

I hope you are all well and enjoying your changing season whatever it may be. 

Yellow Skirt Freak Show Update!! and more...

NO ONE can resist playing with SNOW

the fairy Goddess who lights the way through

the woods with the Freakish Yellow Skirt

and her magic yellow lantern.

Stepping through pixie doors

sprinkling sparkles.

who knows where

Sue of

A Colourful Canvass

will lead us?

Spellbinding enchantment

whispered well-wishing

You must see.

G O!   G O   N O W !!!!

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Magic. Sue stuns with her enchanted interpretation of the yellow skirt. Seriously you guys, I do think there is some power in this piece of yellow fabric. I can't believe how amazingly everyone is styling her. Check out her addition to the skirt too. Awesome!

And more news:

I told you I was going to get my hair decoloured, right? So if the salon gives you yellow hair, do you make lemonade? NO!!! You have a hissy fit that threatens to split the Earth wide open, spewing magma across every hemisphere in a fury so powerful that while you're at it, you create a whole new galaxy AND a black hole. Whew. (You do this at home of course, quietly, privately, in the bathroom)

I was at the hair salon for seven hours (day one 3.5 hr, day two 3.5 hr). And STILL my hair looks like straight-up dog pee and water, leaving me shaken and stirred, despite the boutique's lighting that magically erases yellow tones and the team of three professional stylists whose enthusiast trills of "Faaabulous! Perrrfect! Amaaazing!!" even started to wilt after Hour 5, which is when I began to avert my gaze from the mirror for each new reveal. On my way home, I left a sad little trail of fried hair brittle on the sidewalk in my wake. All I kept hearing in my head was rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat, is that burning your head yet? (Yes)

And look, now I'm a happy woman again! Yay!  Would that be the wonky lemonade I've been drinking? Line up, ladies and gents, you'll want to try some. So long pink - hello yellow skirt, yellow hair, yellow drinks! And another emergency haircut after the colouring also helped. 

Above are photos of what I wore yesterday, after euthanizing my distressed ends. My hair has never been so damaged, it's the texture of mud pies when it's wet. You can't see the yellow in my hair much here because the green monster coat absorbs it. Those are my reading glasses purchased at the Vancouver Art Gallery Gift Store. 

Next time I'll DIY my hair, if I can't track down my former colourist (who used to do my hair perfectly at that same salon). I've never enjoyed salons anyway. Just because a salon is expensive, it doesn't mean they're good. SO, if you live in Vancouver, if you want white hair, avoid C:EHKO right now. Beige, dirty mushroom, dust colour? No problem. Their staff is friendly and they were terribly apologetic, but seven hours for colour? Even if they didn't charge me? I. Don't. Think. So!!! Call the UN!

Wearing:

Groggy green shag coat, thrifted

Geisha sock legwarmers, retail

DIY "Super Model" T-shirt with googly eyes that make noise when you walk

Hue brand fuzzy jeggings, retail bargain bin

and other stuff, including magic loupe from O

stretch black boots, extravagant retail purchase a few years back

I bought two pairs of Geisha socks and cut one pair at the toe end so I could wear them like this or as arm warmers.

Below, what I wore today, my Groggy coat again with real glasses, oversized cotton sweater bargain bin, wool wraparound skirt thrifted, caramel-coloured jeggings and thigh-high socks bargain bin, D&G shoes thrifted. Magic loupe from O.

Okay, I admit, I love how the yellow hair looks with this outer wear, that anime vibe. My hair also matches my pastel nicotine coat. But necessity does strange things to the mind, so does wonky lemonade. Like white balance on a camera, the yellow is really visible in certain lighting. 

I'm looking for a hat for Judith's Hat Attack. I'm glad I have a little more time left. My mad work schedule is easing ever so slightly. 

I hope bloggers in the States are having a relaxing Thanksgiving weekend. I'll see you at Patti's Visible Monday. More lemonade anyone? I enjoyed our manhole party.