A Dark Horse

Yesterday I needed to wear something heavy, not warm, just heavy, don't ask me why. And it needed to be black, the more black the better. This is what I found. I threw on the shawl at the last minute.

Clearly I am a moth, I mean a phoenix, I mean a totem pole, I mean Sherlotta Holmes tramping through the woods, looking for toxic plants and clues, speaking of which, I could have saved myself the trouble just bottling a drop of Miz Bagg's drool, but where's the fun in that?

There are abazillion layers here - yes, this was very heavy. I moved silently, wraith-like, down the sidewalk. Turning around, I could see the fabric billowing still in slow motion behind me, life at five frames per second. Maybe that's why I wanted to wear heavy clothes - to crank it down a notch. I avoided traffic lights because, like a super-tanker, I would have needed a block to gear down to a full stop. (Would you like more metaphors and similes?)

NEWS FLASH
I've heard it firsthand that the Sherlotta, cowboy/First Nations, moth, opium den vibe is going to THEE hot trend for spring - you heard it here first.  Special thanks to Valastasia Bugheroff at Muse Fondue for letting me use her den for inspiration - more about that in a future post.

Wearing:

black gauzy maxi dress, thrifted

under the dress

black knee socks and heavy black jeggings

black cami and black long-sleeved top

over the dress

upcycled black wispy tunic with ribbon ties, as vintage as I am, retail

black patterned sleeveless maxi vest, thrifted

vintage black haori (short kimono-type thing), thrifted

silk Orientalesque shawl, $5 thrifted, yay!

Miu Miu boots, thrifted

above the dress

vintage black felt fur fedora, thrifted

I bought the haori in '85 and it was already vintage then. And I looove this black fedora. Usually I would have slapped a beret on my head for this but it felt too, hm, just too predictable, you know what I mean?

I'm linking this up to Judith's Hat Attack #7 at Style Crone.

I'm linking this up to Sacramento's Share-in-Style: Gothic  at Mis Papelicos. The prompt makes me think of secret science labs in castle basements and foggy midnight alleyways in London.  

I'm linking to Anne's 52-Pick-Me-Up: Short Over Long at Spy Girl.

Below is what I wore today, February 1. It is one of the happiest outfits I have worn in a while - I could feel the smiles blooming all around me as I tiptoed past. Happy Year of the Horse. Neigh.

Wearing

• Kimono-style robe, not silk, $8 thrifted, yay!
• long flowy skirt, thrifted
• glitter booties, crapily-made, mega-discount retail
• black sequin top, thifted
• black turtleneck, thrifted
• ...and other assorted layers-on-layers-on layers for warmth.

Finally, regarding my previous Lena Dunham post, I am traumatized that nobody offered me $60,000 to see my original unretouched photos! As part of my recovery process, I am posting them here for free. 

Have a great weekend all. And thanks to Sally at Already Pretty for the shout-out on my Dunham post. My stats are stunned by the exercise.

Ode to Lena Dunham

Such a brou-ha-ha-ha. Vogue put Lena Dunham, writer and star of the wildly popular TV series Girls, on its cover with a Photoshopped image. Gasp! As if Vogue doesn't tweak every featured celebrity in its pages. Put me in Vogue and you can airbrush, squinch, and boobize me all you want. The inestimable fun of seeing me for realsie is really only the domain of friends and family. Even then, the degree of realsie-ness is dictated by the heavy-handedness of the intelligence-boosting eye shadow smeared across my eyelids or shape of vexing brow I drew on that particular morning or even perhaps the miraculous qualities of a Mighty Foundation Garment.

This photo I took, called importantly "Cat Head 1" (completely unretouched in one of my other dimensions of existence), addresses a photo of Ms. Dunham balancing a bird on her head, wearing an incredible feather-featured dress. The photo's location, Ms. Dunham's body parts, and even the bird have all been shuffled to create a striking final image. I don't care HOW they did it; I enjoy looking at the final result. And importantly, Ms. Dunham enjoys the final result as well. (I've included links for them below)

Look at my heeled runners! Bwa-ha-ha.

Wearing

• thrifted vintage pink and gold lurex brocade mini shift, I fixed the zipper last night. There are two invisble pockets in the front. Dreamy!
• black jeggings
• thrifted rubber-soled high-heel running-type shoes with metallic gold & black patterned canvas upper
• thrifted black long-sleeved top under the dress
• shaggy coat made from the rare green swamp-dwelling mountain goat of Iceland
• performance-enhancing bright pink lipstick
• magic loupe and magic bracelet, latter seen below, hardly, made for me by O

That's another photo of me, again, unretouched in another dimension. This photo shows that the dress is sleeveless - that's all. I am certain it will spark a furious debate in that existence as well. 

There are many SERIOUS issues in this discussion about Ms. Dunham, which I am joyfully sidestepping so I could bring you "Cat Head 1" guilt-free. Maybe if I drank tea for breakfast instead of coffee, I would argue in the opposite direction, but I had coffee. I learned about this media panic from Sally's Lovely Links on Jan. 24 on her blog Already Pretty (she always has the best links). Her link took me to the blog Feministe which summarized what was going on and linked to the Vogue photos, and, circuitously, to Ms. Dunham's unretouched photos. Sheesh!!

I'm linking to Patti's marvelous Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style. I've been working, taking breaks only long enough to stuff food in my face, skip to the loo, and sleep. The momentum has slowed but my mind hasn't adjusted yet. I'm hoping for a soft landing.

So how about you, tea or coffee? Lurex, curiously, has the sustaining qualities of caffeine.

I'll spare you my singing. Below are the new lyrics to that tired famous song. You can watch Barbra Streisand sing it on YouTube (can't stand to put the video here with the real lyrics).

He Retouched Me

He retouched me, he put his mouse on me

And he retouched me

I felt a sudden squinch when he retouched me

A sparkle, a glow

He KNEW it,

He smiled but didn't tell me so all through it

He knew it - I KNOW

He's unreal and the world is online and thriving

I feel such a wonderful drive to advertisin'

He retouched me

I simply have to face the fact

He retouched me

Control myself and try to act

as if I remember my name

But he retouched me, he retouched me

And suddenly nothing is the same

Because he retouched me, he retouched me

And suddenly nothing, nothing, nothing is the same!

(You'd be surprised how few changes I made to these lyrics)