Hardboiled moonshine and me on TV, but not at the same time

It wasn't very late but already it was dark on Granville Island. My partner O and I have been heading there more regularly now that the crowds have dissipated, taking the Aquabus over in lieu of the car (or my yacht or private luxury submarine). Riding that cute boat (HERE) makes me feel like I'm on holiday.

As soon as November 1 hit, the Christmas/holiday lights came on. The mood was moony, crisp, and blue. O got some great photos. (I was always bummed when on the TV series Gilligan's Island the castaways didn't believe Ginger's prediction that they will be rescued when the moon is blue, read about it HERE.)

This next moon shot O took from our window in late July, but it reflects the feeling of this post so I asked to use it. Don't confuse this moon shot with shooting the moon; that is not my moon. Or with any rocket moon-shot attempts, although I was feeling rather spacy.

I remember going to the Vancouver Space Centre's Planetarium, a 360-degree theatre, in about 1984, to watch the Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon show. Trippy. Wonderful - all dreams an arm's length away. Sometimes still are, or even closer.

Still wishing on a star, even if it's only in LEDs. I'm wearing my Emporio Armani suit and man shoes from My Sister's Closet, jacket from Yuzhe Studios, a gift a couple of years ago, and a blouse from last year's flea market at West Vancouver United Church.

Then yesterday (a relative term) I dressed like the moon or a marshmallow, below. You decide. Or even Mr. Clean, a cartoon character dressed in white to advertise household cleaning products on TV. Yes, an animated version of myself is definitely required for handling household cleaning supplies.

I don't need a cartoon version of myself to handle marshmallows, although if I went all paranomal I would resemble the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from the movie Ghostbusters HERE.

Of course, these are "autumn" whites, and then in a month or so they will be "winter" whites. In summer, they are simply whites. In every season I am Mel, Mel, Mel, and Mel or Melanie, depending on my mood. At the coffee shop, my name could be Cleo or Krissy or something else entirely; it would depend on my mood as well, not the seasons, which may in fact affect my mood.

In point of fact, I have never used a fake name at a coffee shop. I would feel like a scofflaw, like I'm walking through a crosswalk when the red hand is flashing!!! But I shall start, even though the baristas pretty much all know my real name. If they raise their brows I'll say: A) the truth is not the truth, walk away in a huff, and look back to see if their brows go even higher; or B) (shout) YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!, like Jack Nicholson in that annoying movie, A Few Good Men. 

It's amazing how much drama you can wring out of the simple act of ordering coffee.

I discovered when I got home that the faux leather has started flaking badly in the armpits. Sweat is bad enough but toxic sweat now? This aging thing sucks! And then I noticed it around the elbows too. Phew, in a way. At least I don't think I have toxic-sweating elbows. The jacket looked fine when I went out, but the stress of movement must have triggered the peeling. 

The jacket was packed in a vacuum-sealed bag for a few months, as was another faux leather jacket that also started flaking. The bags do not warn against storing faux leather in them, but I suspect the packing, not simply fabric quality, played a hand in this premature deterioration. I'll roll with the flaws and try to make more flaking, like it was meant to be like this. Flaking farking or maybe even painting will be required. Just like with my face and hair.

And a final set of photos, also taken by O on Granville Island a little while ago, not posted on my blog before. 

I belled those bottoms myself, bottoms as in pant legs, bell as in ding dong. The coat is by Danier, a defunct Canadian leather goods store, a generous gift from Shelley a year or so ago. I call it high-muppet, rock-star glamour.

This next shot might go on the cover of my new 8-track cassette.

And in OTHER NEWS

Nordstrom Canada has just released its national holiday-season campaign, and there I am, along with many of my cast mates from the Toronto shoot. I won't go on and on about it - I don't want to bore you with the details - but it was another grand adventure. Have a look.

And they also posted a making-of video, behind the scenes. Check out that snow. It was a hot day in August. Gotta love that movie magic.

Finally, since Bag and a Beret is kind of like my very own magazine, I have decided to finish this post with a festive, theme-related recipe. Don't feel bad if you can't replicate it in your own homes - this is not for the novice chef.

I give you Moon Egg.

The trick is in the cooking time and the temperature of the boiling water. In fact, rather than depress you with the complexities of the recipe, I shall leave you to gaze at the perfection of my own culinary skills. Also good with Swiss cheese and a cow jumping over it.

Now I don't know whether to arrive at the linkups early this time or say I was too late for the last ones. Augh. I shall link up to Patti at Not Dead Yet Style for Visible Monday and Catherine at Not Dressed as Lamb for #iwillwearwhatilike when it goes live too.

Tra-la!

Do you use fake names? Spill - your secrets, not your coffee, unless it's fruity-tasting. Pitui!

How to crank up your existence

I was walking down the sidewalk this week and I found, like, a million gold coins just sitting there on the sidewalk. I couldn't believe it! I didn't pick them up because I thought the child behind me might enjoy the thrill more.

See what I did there? I incorporated POWER FACTS into that story.

In Reality, that dull plane of existence, I found a dime and left it for the kid. But why write REALITY FACTS when you can write POWER FACTS, not to be confused with ALTERNATIVE FACTS - which are just reality in reverse - or power yoga, power walking or power lawnmowers. POWER FACTS are facts jacked-up.

For example:

• POWER FACT: I am a neurological specialist on the verge of a Nobel Prize after 80 years working in the field. 
• REALITY FACT: I think a lot, ever since I can remember, and my friend said I'm smart, which was a nice thing to say. And I have done lots of thinking in fields and the outdoors in general. 

The better option is a no-brainer.

New old neon coral coat with acid-lime green pants, which I bell-bottomed, and my repaired booties

My friends are all Nobel Prize-winners themselves - which means they are really cool. See? Again, POWER FACTS. In my comments about their outfits on social media I often write:

Fantastic! Love it! 

Awesome! Right on! 

Amazing! Amazeballs! 

Fabulous! So good!

These are REAL POWERFUL FACTS, but they tend to lose their power when they are repeated over and over. I can't help it if you are all Goddesses from Planet 9 (in a good way). It's like if you say the word mansion 20 times in a row it starts to sound like what? Like nothing, like a limp noodle or a marshmallow.

Wouldn't it be so much better, instead of leaving words I could just transport that little thrill I get when I see cool stuff by way of electrodes from my head into your head?

But no, they already have that, it's called drugs, minus the electrodes. My comment in this case would be: This outfit is so great I think you should take a little hit of that drug. No, no, don't do that!!, also because I wouldn't be able to guarantee a positive trip to my response. For example, if your drug is chocolate chip cookies, what good would my compliment be when you can't fit into that amazeballs outfit anymore?

So I guess I'll stick to REAL POWERFUL FACTS in my comments even if they start to read as gibberish.

What I think is happening is like Shepard tones, example below. This is when a sound keeps going up FOREVER. Don't listen to the whole thing, unless of course I've given you a big compliment and you're having a good trip. (?!!)

Every octave higher it goes, another exclamation point goes on. I guess I need to put a lid on it. I wonder if that's where the expression came from?

And while it's good that real facts, real news, keep me grounded, often in a very destabilizing way, I suspect it wouldn't hurt to add a few POWER FACTS, again, not ALTERNATIVE FACTS, just jacked-up facts to make it better.

Various examples:

"'You ripped my pants off,' passenger shouts" How about, "Pants annihilated in space shuttle"? Her pants were presumably destroyed by said ripping and she was in an aircraft (I read the article). Or "Shattered trademark threatens transport". In any case, "Woman needs lawyer stat!"

"Serena Williams's post-baby underwear selfie game is on point" No words.

"Police hit by flying butter knives in booby trapped home" See? This is already a POWER FACT. Someone is onto my Nobel-prize-winning concept. Or not...?

"Don't laugh: A $1,000 iPhone could be a great move for Apple" How about (LMAO) "Handing your retirement fund to Apple would be a great move for them"? 

Well, that's quite a load off my supercomputer genius friggin' mind. ⇦ I leave those words for you to determine: real fact, alternative fact, or power fact. Or, wait! It could be a factoid, which is a whole different creature, an important one that I don't have time to get into now. I've heard they eat noodles and marshmallows.

Emporio Armani suit with toolbox hand bag, dotted blouse, fat tie, and, critically-important fan

I hope you have fun with POWER FACTS this week. I had fun with POWER STYLE.

*Those headlines are all real, gleaned from the real news. These are generally known as unreal real facts. Given recent news, there is too much unreal real news. Time to clothe-up and spread the love around our neighbourhoods.

I'll link something up to Patti at Not Dead Yet Style for Visible Monday and Catherine at Not Dressed as Lamb for #iwillwearwhatilike. See you later, kittehs!

Masculine-feminine style, wearing cartoons, and life as a stylist

What do you wear when you want to wear something masculine/feminine, high brow/low brow? You wear this. 

The main ingredients are my thrifted vintage Emporio Armani jacket, thrifted men's Diesel T-shirt (size Impossible with super-long sleeves), women's Bardot jeans from a sample sale, and men's thrifted narrow shoes.

The jacket, T, and shoes are all from My Sister's Closet (MSC), a social enterprise that funds Vancouver's Battered Women's Support Services. If you've got any good-condition cast-offs lying around, this is a good place to take them. And then go for a shop! (unpaid endorsement)

Of course, the most essential ingredients of this ensemble are my magic loupe and ring, which O made me. You can get them now too from his Etsy store, HERE. And naturally, I've thrown in my gold glitter ankle socks and favourite lipstick. I even wore my glasses because A) I love them, and B) the cool clip-ons make them so baaaad (say it like a sheep, should be shoop, heck, just say it like a goat).

But to add to the feminine side I did this, below.

I wore O's little leather pouch - I think it's designed for carrying gems!? Anyway, I swiped it. Hahaha. And I tied the strap around my neck with this feminine blue ribbon to secure it to my body. Without it, the pouch slides off, and wearing the pouch inside the jacket adds wretched bulk. Unacceptable! Plus, I adore this soft, colourful touch.

You can see all the magic elements there. And below, the whole damned thing. I walked down the sidewalk like an outlaw in a Western, ready to draw. Yes, I mean it - I had paper and my special pen with me, which also added a soft touch.

Carrying on with this dissection theme, we have my J.Lo workout jumpsuit in black velour. As if I'm going to work out ... Hahaha. I posted it on Instagram before, when it was oh-so-lonely, just plain 'ole black velour. But as you can see, the mystical melanization process has brought it to life, much like how Dr. Frankenstein reanimated bodies, except this cartoon doesn't have someone else's criminal brain, I'm pretty sure.

Yep, now it's a fun velvet painting. Keep on truckin'. It still may not make me want to work out, but it makes me want to have a good time, which is why I went to the alley. (No, you perves, I don't mean that kind of good time. Get your mind out of the gutter - unless that's where you do your best creative work too.)

See? This new, improved jumpsuit made me jump! Just a little. Just for a few ten-shot photo bursts. But I did some videoing in this outfit with my fabulous dotted cart, with lots of running and Flintstones twinkle-toeing, like here, well, as much as I could in platform runners. The men unloading the beer truck blocking the alley probably thought the lab switched the brains.

The extra bits below. Humongous sunglasses, an absolute must, and my platform runners, which I bought in a moment of weakness (or strength of will?) super-duper sale retail. I loove these shoes. They scuff easily though. And of course, my magic ring is there and my magic loupe.

See? With these little style vignettes, this is just like a REAL style blog now. Pffft. Kiss my cartoon!


And next, who do we have here? Why, this is Vivian! She was my personal styling/closet-rooting-around client. I had to share photos of her; we had such a good time. First, we went through her closet, and after, we went on a field trip to the store. It was a two-day thing.

Below, the Before photo from shopping. It's hard to believe we could "up" this starting point, but we certainly zigged and zagged and got her lots of new, fun, and lasting pieces for her wardrobe.

You know how there is that popular style guide called Dressing Your Truth? Well, my version is more Dressing Your Dare. Vivian showed how it's done. Shoes! Scarves! Dresses! Coats! Bring it on!!

Nah, she didn't buy the stole, we're waiting for the Bigger Sale. Hahaha! But she was game. And check out that lime green and burgundy wine designer dress behind her. Yes! No. She didn't get that either. The super-long pointy collar was impale-worthy. But it was a time of exploration, functional play I call it, taking stock and restocking. There are more photos of Vivian on her Instagram, HERE.

I got permission from Vivian to post these photos, so don't go sweating all over yourself if you've gone all gaspy. Seriously, we had lots of fun and got lots done.

If you're in the Vancouver area and feel ready for a little Frankening of your own, contact me through the email on this blog or via my Instagram. I haven't done it by video yet, but probably we could work something out. Maybe.

That's all for this week, my little shoops, meese. (Goose, geese, right? That's how it's supposed to work.) Not that I think any of you are mutton! Or mooses! No! Okay, clearly, it's time to sign off for this week. Heh.

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I'll link up to Patti at Not Dead Yet Style, Visible Monday. Yeah - refill the punch bowl, I'm bringing my Super Big Gulp cup!* And I'll link up to Catherine at Not Dressed as Lamb, #iwillwearwhatilike.

Have a good one, everyone. You figure out what that "one" is. Have a good multiple. !!! Okay, it's really time to go.

Thanks for visiting. My appreciation is unbounded. Too bad I ran out of cheese nippy hors d'oeuvres to feed you.

*Super Big Gulp is the SUPER HUUUGE drink size you can buy at 7-Eleven convenience store, 1.3 L/44 US oz. Who? Who buys this size? There's even an X-treme Gulp - 1.56 L. 

New York and Arizona on a budget

OMG OMG - I'm in NEW YORK!!!
Yup, who made it to NYFW?

OMG OMG - I'm in ARIZONA!!! 

Yup, who made it to  
The 40+ Blogger Meetup in Phoenix,
hosted by Sherry of 
Petite over 40?

Puh, NOT ME and NOT ME!!

I'm so bummed that I missed yoga with goats, which hostess Sherry, in a stroke of genius, included on the itinerary in Phoenix. Diane of Fashion on the Fourth Floor demonstrates great goat yoga style in the photo below. Bwahahaha!

Diane of blog Fashion on the Fourth Floor.

Diane has more photos HERE on her Instagram. I figure I could get my partner O to stand on my back, even though he lacks the requisite cloven hoof. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't relieve himself or eat my clothes or hair while he's up there, but that's part of the excitement, isn't it? Not to mention the sound effects I'd be missing out on with a real goat. At home, I'd just be yelling, "Ow! Ow! Get off me!" O: "But you said..." M: "I don't CARE WHAT I SAID! This is one of my stupidest ideas ever!"

Yup. At the moment, what I cannot manage with world travel I compensate for with photo editing. The backgrounds are from copyright-free/non-attribution photo stock, which I normally avoid - I'd much rather USE MY OWN PHOTOS! which I take when I GO TO THESE PLACES in real 3D life. But this was a self-pity emergency.

So I've been feeling surly, rankled, perturbed, and cranky - which meant I had to do full-on Party Face this week two days in a row [see previous post on Party Face]. It's a recent record. Below, example of eyeliner Day One.

Yes, a classic Mel photo illustrating my black eyeliner and black satin corset, both of which are COMPLETELY obscured here. And as a sop for not being able to have a goat or O stand on my back, I have put a rhinoceros on my arm. I feel much better now. Bet you didn't get that in Arizona, did ya? Did ya? Bwahahaha!

Below, eyeliner Day Two, which includes cosmetic leftovers from Day One, so handy, but a bit messier because I was more pissed off. I wore my thrifted Armani suit to give the brand name an uncomfortable squeeze. I like the designer-with-gutter look a lot. On my lips is Kat Von D's "Poe" lipstick on top of YSL No. 208.

Wearing an outfit like this makes me walk like a predator, yes, for skulking around the grocery store, where I went shopping. But cripes, my cool stealth walk was hideously ruined by a useless broken shopping cart with whirly wheels which I had to drag across the floor. I wanted to shout: Look out! I'm heading to the dairy aisle now! It's only neighbourly to give advance warning, right? They saw my hair and eyeliner and hid in bulk foods.

In summary, in terms of clear, full-on outfit photos, this post is a big FAIL, except the first double exposures, which show the Day Two Armani suit with my vintage men's overcoat. To see the full corset outfit of Day One, sorry, you have to go to my Instagram. Really - my apologies. I get tired of seeing myself all the frickin' time.

But now? Today? As I write this I am a vision of serenity even without the goat. My hair too has gone all namasty. Really, I'm not a menace. And no shoppers were harmed in dairy. What a week! And about the blog title, "New York and Arizona on a budget," basically my advice is: don't go. How it pains me to say it. Breathe. Breathe. Find a goat...

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

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And a Huge Warm Welcome! to my new subscribers. So happy to see you!
I'll have to put on the kettle - or roll out the bar cart. Yes. 

Pantsuits, white hair gel, and chest coolers

I should be singing. Something '80s.

It feels like autumn and I am enamoured with suits, jacket/trousers, with a tie or huge plastic flowers pinned to the lapel.  And stark white shirts, spray starched - you can almost hear the fabric crack with each elbow bend. Maybe this fixation comes from the back-to-school air, the words uniforms, regimentation, thinking caps, and pencils. 

This suit is an indulgence. An Emporio Armani vintage set, made in Italy, thrifted. I watched it for weeks in the shop without much interest. And then one day I tried it on. By happenstance, there was a new white men's shirt in the change room at the same time. I bought them both. And the next week I found the tie. I'm in grey.

A season of lines - straight, crooked - and unpredictability. A woman in a suit also zigzags definitions. Not blurred lines so much as smudged and messy, peskily impure for slotting pegs in boxes. Of all the clothes I have ever worn, nothing has elicited more hostility from men than the pantsuit. To that I say, with a jaunty flip of my coat flap - kiss my pantsuit ass. 

In my hair I've put Manic Panic white hair gel. Seriously, it coats your hands - and hair - like paint, but it washes out. I love the subtle effect on my grey. What's great about this gel is it allows me to play with colour without the commitment of a dye. Today I bought a small tube of blue - about $12 Cdn. I'll let you know how it goes. (Not sponsored)

And below, another farking project.

My alien/marshmallow/panda/anime/ghosty/crow shirt. And boob cooler. And just-in-case-I-suddenly-get-implants shirt. And instead of white hair, I did white eyebrows (slightly blue) and nude lipstick. So pale, so pale, waiting for the ship to beam me up and away to the jelly planet.

I've heard it's a thing to pose like you've just taken your finger out of your mouth. Uh, I won't do it again. I met up with Sue of A Colourful Canvas this week and she taught me another trending pose where you just droop open one side of your mouth. Oooh, sexay! Hahaha!!! We both laughed trying that one out. Sorry, no photos! But people in the cafe may have been alarmed. 

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

So what's up with you? Think you'll try that gel? Or the sexy droopy mouth pose? Show us! Hahaha.