New Year's Eve bash!

Laughter! Music! Dancing! Drinks and canapes! A swirl of glitterati! 

There was a huge New Year's Eve bash last night. A glamorous one. Somewhere. Not here. 

That didn't stop me from having my own mini gala in the concrete atelier. And I swanned around home for a little while speaking with drawn-out fake British/French/Russian/Spanish/Marlon-Brando accents, with a few Japanese words thrown in, wearing my Morticia Addams-on-Skittles dress.

In the above photo I think I look like the hood ornament of a big classic car, striking a pose front and centre above the grill, obstructing the driver's view, hair blowing wildly as I speed down a highway on the outskirts of Vegas perhaps. 

Yeah, it's a look I'd like to duplicate more often with or without the gown. To boldly go. If I were living in California in the 1920s, I think I would have enjoyed wing-walking.

Above I am doing Julia Roberts-as-Pretty-Woman opening the jewellery box from Richard Gere before flying off to the opera, scene is here. That movie HORRIFIED me!! The message was wrong, Wrong, WRONG!!! So I am doubly vexed when I find myself referencing it, like I am now.

I don't need expensive gems or clothes to make me happy. My magic loupe, custom-made by O, is priceless. He sells them in his Etsy store, here. And cool rings too. Those ones have a price but they are still priceless.

The dress is thrifted, purchased at Talize a couple of years ago on an expedition with Suzanne and Sue. When I posted on it before, here, I was concerned about the puddling hem, but, pffft, with these new platform shoes (posted here) there is less drag. Plus, this gown is machine-washable. Looking back, I don't know what the fuss was about. And my carpet is clean if you're not wearing reading glasses.

That's my index finger there, not my third finger, a "come thither" not a "feck off" gesture - although, now I look at it, my facial expression could be interpreted either way. Gaaa!!! Mixed signals like this could lead to disaster.

What this shot should be saying is, "Hey, 2018, c'mon, c'mon! I'm ready." In fact, for this photo, in my head I was asking the server to bring me another martini.

The vintage baby-pink ruched gloves were a gift from an estate. I made the purse from a wood matryoshka. O custom-made the hardware. I designed it as a teacup carrier, but it works just as well as a hand bag and it's perfect for this gown.

At the concrete-box party, they ran out of martinis, so when I got home I headed straight for the strong stuff. You got it: coffee with caffeine. Oo-wee, now we're living! With butter-pecan-flavoured creamer!!!

The dress features an off-the-shoulder design, but on me, for some reason, it kept slipping into off-off-the shoulder territory. I should have used my suspenders. There was no real danger of a wardrobe malfunction because I was wearing an undergarment contraption, although that kept slipping too.

And that last shot shows you the tulip skirt at the bottom, the Morticia Addams pose. It's really quite a divine dress. I have a sequin mini dress that I had intended to wear to the party, but decided to save it for another special occasion.

So 2018. Hmm. Not sure what to make of it yet. So far, so good. I hope you all have a stellar new year ahead. It can't be worse than 2017, right? RIGHT!?!!! 

Cheers. Hugs all around. Thank you for reading.

I'll link this up with Patti at Not Dead Yet Style, Visible Monday. And with Catherine at Not Dressed as Lamb, #iwillwearwhatilike.

Hickory dickory schlock and the crooked hat

THE CROOKED HAT

This is for Judith's Hat Attack 31 linkup at Style Crone, my crooked hat. 

There was a cooked hat perched on a crooked head, 

It stopped the crooked rain with its lime and crooked reds, 

It shielded crooked eyes from crooked evil sights  

And when it got back home it cried, "Take me to New York!"

HICKORY DICKORY SCHLOCK

Hickory Dictory Schlock

Your mouse hued up her frock

The image froze

And wrecked my pose

Hickory Dickory Schlock

I'd been fermenting his mouseover idea for at least 24 hours, and although this resultant draft is not yet 100 proof, it's palatable with drunken overtones of Ghost/Muppet/Meanie and bits of pickle - anything to take the edge off and quench my self-defecating sense of humour. Moving right along...

Note: If you roll your mouse - or whatever else you use - across the above photo, the image should change, hence "mouseover," also known as "rollover." If it doesn't work, clearly you need to upgrade to an older device or drink more of my special brew.

I dressed to match my hair - too lazy to push the hair dryer ON switch. And too lazy to change for my morning walk - this is what I often wear at home.

After I saw my photos, I quickly realized I look exactly like Turnip Head, so I put her in there too. She is also a happy nursery-rhymie yet cynical creature.

I'm wearing a ghastly oversized men's shirt, thrifted, purchased when I was delusional thinking I would upcycle it. Pfff. It's so stiff it makes a crinkling sound. Soft cotton patchwork drawstring pants, oversized long-sleeve orange T-shirt, and reading glasses over my regular glasses with clip-on shades. Holy hot harridan!

And, just when you thought you'd made it to the end of the post, no!! Another few seconds of creepy vexation.

THE BIG FINISH

I made this tiny video message at the end of December. I wasn't going to show you, but why not? I suppose this is to celebrate Chinese New Year, February 8, heh. She is scary cool.

I've found a new favourite British sitcom on Netflix, Black Books, which ran from 2000 to 2004. I use it to de/retox at the end of my work-filled days and get trippy dreams. Watch it! Well, if you want to.

I'm of course linking to Patti at Visible Monday, Not Dead Yet Style, and
Catherine at #iwillwearwhatilike, Not Dressed as Lamb, and
Anne at 52 Pick-me-up: Ink Blue at SpyGirl.
Including Judith's Hat Attack, there nothing like hitting FOUR big parties on Monday morning to kick off the week. I hope I see you there. I'll be the one staggering into the bushes.