Happy 2020. And wearing beige on my way to millions

Happy New Year. 2020. When I was 12, I thought the year 2000 was like la-la Lost-in-Space time, but now in 2020, it turns out my thoughts were not too far off the mark after all. These are definitely non-fiction science-fiction times. Case in point, I'm wearing beige. And a trendy item, a puffer coat. Highly SF because beige is like my kryptonite, not as much as it used to be, but still.

Okay, beige, but it is pearlescent and ultra warm, 

a generous donation from a friend. 

I'm trying to be badass. It's exhausting. Flyaway brows help.

I was interested to read yesterday that scientists recently put 3D glasses on a cuttlefish and studied its behaviour as it watched movies, real story HERE. The glasses look like wings on each side of its head. Question: Who exactly made the glasses, where did they study how to make them, and did they overcharge? Also, did the cuttlefish get popcorn?

So I'm now thinking of attaching cuttlefish to each side of my own head and studying my own behaviour, but that would only work in water (with a snorkel because I wouldn't want the cuttlefish to suffocate in the air). But in water I wouldn't be able to eat popcorn. I could eat the cuttlefish, but that would defeat the point of the exercise, which I'm not convinced existed in the first place. So there goes that idea! Why does everything have to be so complicated?

Badassery pose 2. How much longer can I keep this up?!

Maybe I'll just learn how to make 3D glasses for octopus instead. I'll make a fortune!

I also read that people who snore are now being encouraged to lose weight on their tongue, real story HERE. Yeah, well, I got to work on that right away, much easier to do than attaching cuttlefish to my head. I've been writing! Look for my new books in your favourite bookstores:

• Tongue 'o Steel 
• Six-pack Tongue in Six Days 
• Tongue in Cheek 2, 3, 4...  
• 105 Slobber-free Habits to Tone your Tongue 
• Gimme Some More Tongue! 
• Tone up with Tongue Wagging

Yes, I've been busy.

I have already submitted patent applications for a revolutionary weight pack to wrap around your tongue for 24-hour strength training and a customized tongue weigh scale so you can measure the results. Of course I'll start a Tonguexercise franchise. I just need to make sure that a slender toned tongue doesn't weigh more than a thin flaccid one. These are questions that keep me awake at night.

Scientists suggest playing the didgeridoo as an effective means of losing tongue fat and as an alternative to CPAP machines. True.

Whew! Good assery!

Gosh, with 3D octopus glasses and my tongue exercise empire, I'm finally gonna make my millions in 2020! Of course, you'll all want to be my friend now so you too can hop aboard the Mel Money Train, woo-woo. That's okay. There's room for everyone and I'll enjoy the company.

Yes, keywords being woo-woo.

It's a wacky world, no doubt about it. I could talk about sustainable shopping and recycling or the fires in Australia or the crises unfolding in the Middle East or Trudeau's new facial hair, but frankly, as Madeline Kahn said so well in the 1974 movie Blazing Saddles, "I'm tired." If we don't take care of ourselves, we won't be very good at taking care of others.

Mel Brooks's satirical film Blazing Saddles. I'm not sure how well 
it holds up with time, but I LOVE Ms. Kahn

So "Back to the studio!" as Bridget Jones (fictional character from book/movie Bridget Jones's Diary) famously cried after sliding down the fireman's pole. See the brilliant clip HERE.

My studio in this case is a music studio because, look!, I wrote a song, kinda. I hope it's a No. 1 hit on those charts if they even exist anymore because I'm so out of it I wouldn't really know. Do they still have Billboard?

A Smart Kinda Nurse (an original song)

By Crone (my band name) 

I get on with life as a nurse,

I'm a smart kinda person.

I like golf and badminton.

I like to contemplate slippers.

But when I start to daydream,

My mind turns straight to wine.

Five six seven eight...

Sometimes I look at myself and I look into my eyes,

I notice the way I think about wine with a smile,

Curved lips I just can't disguise.

But I think it's slippers making my life worthwhile.

Why is it so hard for me to decide which I love more?

Slippers or...

Wine?

I like to use words like 'awesome' and 'neato.'

I like to use words about slippers.

But when I stop my talking,

My mind turns straight to wine.

Five six seven eight...

Sometimes I look at myself and I look into my eyes,

I notice the way I think about wine with a smile,

Curved lips I just can't disguise.

But I think it's slippers making my life worthwhile.

Why is it so hard for me to decide which I love more?

Slippers or...

Wine?

I like to hang out with Mary and Rhoda.

But when left alone,

My mind turns straight to wine.

Five six seven eight...

Sometimes I look at myself and I look into my eyes,

I notice the way I think about wine with a smile,

Curved lips I just can't disguise.

But I think it's slippers making my life worthwhile.

Why is it so hard for me to decide which I love more?

Slippers or...

Wine?

I hate the dark and carrots.

But I just think back to wine,

And I'm happy once again.

Five six seven eight...

Song Lyrics Generator HERE actually generated it, but I had to fill in the crucial bits with untrue facts. If any of you want to add music, please do and send it to me. I'll record it badly and my rock star dreams coming true will add to my moguldom.

Blast from the past, VOGOFF e-zine, June 2013 issue HERE

And I'm linking up to Patti, dagblammit, and her Visible Monday on Not Dead Yet Style when it's time. I look forward to seeing everyone.

Again, Happy New Year! Health and happiness to you all. Hugs all around. Thanks for dropping by. It's been busy here, in a good way. I hope it has been for you too.

Intrepid explorer (and some style stuff)

I'm spinning! I'm twirling! Hahaha! Hahahahaaa!!

[swell of orchestra] 

Now I'm singing, SINGING - 

THE HILLS ARE ALIVE

WITH THE SOUND OF -

OOF.

*#&*!!!

Hello again. Excuse me while I brush off the shrubbery. The gazelle in the background dropped a few coins in my hat - to make me go away. 

I thought that since I'm back after a bit of a break I should get serious here and share pithy quips on style secrets. And serious photos, like this one:

Karl Lagerfeld leather skirt, donation from a generous neighbour

But I kinda blew it. I still think it's only fair, in this age of fake news, to tell you what's going on with me since September. 

Four things I have been doing since my last blog post

1. Starting a family - better late than never I always say

In the media, I'm often lumped in with women over 50 and called a granny, even though I don't have kids. Well, hey, why not get on board with that? Most people have kids in a hit/miss kind of way, before they're 57. I by-passed all that rigmarole and ordered them from a miracle lab run by Scientist Badinoff.

That's right. Quints! All mine, all me. After this success, I'm going to do it again in about ten years with the aim of becoming the oldest woman on Earth to give birth to octuplets. The record now is by a woman 66, for twins. Laughable. And these kids only take three months to grow in a dish. Whee!! It's so easy I could populate a country. Oooh...

I wept when my darlings leapt from their incubators for the first time in Louboutins and Doc Martens, singing show tunes from Cabaret. So proud. These babies will be fully adult in another month, at which time I can put them to work and O can check out of the Facility. He did not hand out cigars. 

2. Testing an eco-friendly clothing/species

I am worried about the environment so I devised a way to eliminate heavy winter clothing and even winter itself! Again with Scientist Badinoff (SB), I've been the subject of genetic testing for my human/bear hybrid design, featuring a human head and hands, and bear fur over the rest to stay warm and cozy while sleeping through the entire winter season! 

Hibernating in a cave would eliminate home decorating anxiety and the need for cleaning for several months at least. Plus, I love gorging before sleeping. And I like honey, salmon, and blueberries; those cave diets are so in. (I'm afraid a cave shortage may be a problem if this works out, although some men already have man caves.) 

It appears SB got the fur part right, but only on my legs, and there are a few strips on my chin (wrong appendage!, am considering a lawsuit), but I do tend to hibernate for a while each day in my living room, which, depending on the day, may be cave-like, so perhaps we're on the right track. I have not yet tested the truth of what bears do in the woods. 

Glasses from Vint and York in New York, with progressive lenses, my first ever, and they are amazing!! Amore frames, dahling. Outfit similar to the one in the first photo.

3. Followed my calling - became a high priestess

A new career! Soon I will open my first unmonastery, where acolytes can take vows of screamery, not silence, goodness, no. I figured the Arctic would be a splendid location.

As luck would have it, that's where Jim (Mr. Bond to you) built me a secret lair (although it was a bit eetjit-y to sculpt my face on it if it's secret) as a surprise Christmas gift for saving his ass last year, read about it HERE. He couldn't put it under the tree so he sneakily preprogrammed my private luxury submarine to take me there. 

It's a huge space, rather remote, not quite Rushmore, but I'm Canadian and this will do; it will melt soon anyway - I hope the wrinkles melt first. I decided this lair would be perfect for my unmonastery. So I am taking reservations for acolytes for 2020. Morning screaming, afternoon screaming, and lovely sunset screaming, if there is any sun to set. Luxury accommodations if you can manage your way past the entrance. Or buy your franchise license now to be part of my global unmonastery movement.

Preparing for my first acolytes. All systems go.

4. Popping wheelies on Mars - space travel!

Speaking of all systems go, I almost forgot... I spent a couple of weeks off planet too.

Suzanne gave me a metallic silver moto jacket and I thought I should put it to use in space, where it belongs. As the world now knows, my first lunar mission was in January 2017. You can read about it HERE. Well, been there, done that, I chose Mars this time. 

Charging my space suit before takeoff

NASA loaned me a bigger than-life-size spaced-out Barbie camper so I could boot around, do doughnuts (because Mars is like one huge vacant parking lot), and watch Netflix in comfort. They even snuck a snack into my rebreather, perhaps a peeled potato, shown in the left corner. I'm wasn't sure how to access it, but it's the thought that counts. It's now encased in the Smithsonian, known as "Mel Mars Potato."

The Canadian government has been hush-hush about this mission as well because they funded it, but they liked that the red planet matches the Canadian flag quite nicely, good for selfies. And politics is all about style.

That's all.

I guess what I've been doing all this time is rolling with the punches of life, although this was more like shadow boxing. And I'll just say right now - can we drop the whole when-life-gives-you-lemons-you-make-lemonade thing? I prefer:

When life gives you a secret lair, make an unmonastery. 

Wrapping things up, some real music. This scene creeps me out now. The lyrics creep me out too. I loved Gidget movies growing up; now my nostalgia has more patina, less shine. It is what it is. It's a pity that Gidget had to blunt her edges. Maybe she would have become a blogger in later years.

The Female Trouble sweater is Gidget-pre-blunt-worthy, but I'm glad of all the other associations with this phrase as well (Female Trouble, not blunt). The sweater was a gift from the London-based company HADES quite a while ago, pure virgin wool, made in Scotland. "It's so dreamy, Moon Doggy!" (from a Gidget movie). Coat from students in the VCC fashion program.

And I was featured in a literary blog for, guess what? Creative writing. I gob-smacked myself, what a mess. Madam Mayo pointed out things about my writing that I'm not aware of in the process. For that I am grateful - it's nice to know what I'm doing, the forest-for-the-trees thing again. Thanks, C. M. Mayo, for this review! HERE.

And Who What Wear included me in their article, "These Outfits From the 50-Plus Crowd Are My Favorite From the Whole Year." Thank you! Swipe and you'll see Shelley too. She took that photo of me and then we switched and I took that one of her. And Patti of Not Dead Yet Style is also in there, along with a bunch of other friends. If the list were mine to make, we'd ALL be in there. 

Happy holidays. Merry Christmas is what I grew up saying, and like my feelings for Gidget, its edge as a season seems blunted. I hope that we can all find ways to sit back and relax for a while, eat great food, have lots of laughs, and maybe take a tour of Mars in a Barbie camper. What do you think?

Thanks for dropping by. It's been a long time. I edited this so it might be easier to follow but there my be more changes later too. And I'm linking up with Patti at Visible Monday, Not Dead Yet Style. Hellooo!! 

PS I got the Hamster Habitat (rebreather) photo from JediLofty GNU Free Documentation License, Ver. 1.2

2 artists in a bar and then one goes to space

While I was shooting this, the owner of the distillery behind me commented on how I must like their walls because he'd seen me there before. I laughed, yes, I do!

I was recently interviewed for a show called Two Artists Walk Into a Bar by Carol Mcquaid, a Canadian artist/traveler, a self-described nomad. (The link goes to the webcast; you can subscribe to her podcast as well.)

My first thought when she contacted me was, cool, I'm an artist! Then I thought, but am I really? Then I thought, yeah, yeah, I am! Sometimes it's hard to see yourself for the trees, know what I mean, when you just do what you do.

Before I lost my studio

So what does an artist look like? Pfft, that's an idiotic question. THIS is what an artist looks like, courtesy of the photo filter Noire. The netting on the hat would have to go though. I'd be wearing black sidezip capris and pointy-toe boots. Adding a filter to your life would, in some respects, be so much easier than actually living as an artist.

Mel as quintessential artist person, minus the ciggie and the Dali mustache

(Skip to later if you just want photos, and don't miss my space movie down there)

An artist looks like Salvadore Dali, except in my case minus the mustache. Or a sort of Audrey Hepburn in the 1957 movie Funny Face, her beatnik phase, when she was paired with Fred Astaire. Ugh, I didn't feel the magic but anyway. Often there's a cigarette, but I've used a pencil crayon in a holder instead.

A younger generation probably envisions something completely different having grown up without cursive writing or even the joys of cassette tape Walkmans. ("A walk what?")

And the artist is always starving. Let's just debunk that myth right now: junk food is the cheapest food around and it tastes reeeal good. Chips!

The starving artist is a terrible stereotype! Maybe it's time for resale royalty rights in North America, hmm? Like musicians and novelists, and actors/filmmakers get.

But seriously? What little there is left of the stereotype (style-wise at least) is crumbling - if this image was ever something beyond my own imagination in the first place - especially with new media, which is now old, which is exactly how I feel when I think about how quickly everything is changing. Keeping up is key to feeling young I think.

So back to the interview - Carol asked me where I envision myself in the future. I quickly replied: in a penthouse, living a life where I never have to vacuum again and have a personal chef to cook for me and a personal driver.

I reflected on that answer this week (I reflect on everything later and then freak out), and thought, hey, I must be living the high life already and not even know it because:

1. My current home is really high up; 
2. I could easily never vacuum again (some might argue it's already true);
3. O usually cooks for me (he is afraid of starving if I do it, although I make a mean boiled egg);
4. I have a personal driver but I kindly share space with others on the bus or I go driverless (Skytrain, no driver), or I do enjoy driving myself once in a while (if I'm not in tight leather pants). There's nothing more personal than being the actual person, is there?

Of course, that's about material wealth. What would I envision for me in the truly meaningful sense, although shelter, heat, and food are pretty meaningful. And a sanitation system.

As I said to Carol, I would be doing what I'm already doing but on a bigger scale - videos, or how about a real show or series or movies or a magazine or book, made with other creatives?!! I get dizzy thinking about it. "I'd conquer the world!," she yells from the prow of her private submarine. So that's my other answer to that question. Now, I sometimes feel like that prisoner in the movie Shawshank Redemption, digging his underground escape tunnel with a spoon, for freedom via a sewer pipe. Moving right along.

But again, isn't this kind of like my other penthouse answer? Am I living the dream already? Successful people in interviews often look back on their days before success and say, those were the best days of my life! Okay. I'm trying to get on board with that.

A famous TV series was once filming in a loft complex where O and I were living and they used our suite for a bit. The Big Star sauntered in during a break and said, "You know, this place reminds me of the good old days when I was a struggling actor in New York." How does one respond to that? - wow, you guys are in rough shape, and, hey, isn't it fun? And it was in fact a really nice loft. Everything is relative.

I thrive on the creative stuff I do and am grateful to be able to do it. And I have worked/played at it for a long time. I do or could do all those things I listed right now, but I grin considering the bigger picture, a bigger budget. Heh.

So I'm just putting all this out there as I ponder issues Carol and I discussed during the talk - what it is to be an artist, a model, the imposter syndrome, underwear, and more, for about an hour. It was very laid back and I enjoyed her company. So I invite you to have a listen HERE or via podcast, Two Artists Walk into a Bar. And/or catch some of the other artists she has interviewed. I've enjoyed so many of them.

And now some outfit photos because, you know, style and all. These are just a couple of the things I've worn since my last post.

I farked the jacket. I made it smaller by adding a front diagonal red zipper. You've maybe seen it before.

Vintage men's velvet blazer made in London and faux suede/velvet Parasuco pants. Suzanne clocked the blazer for me when we were at a Toronto thrift store.

And what else? I feel like I've dumped all the stuff from my purse onto the floor and am pulling bits out excitedly to show you. "Oh, look at this, and there's this, and oh, what about this...?!" - a toothpick with writing on it, a piece of forgotten chocolate, a pink tape measure.

I made this video too. As you may know, I recently put together my annual what-I-wore video (see sidebar), found a thread in there and pulled. This came out, especially with the music playing in my head, "Saving the World" by Aaron Kenny. The space photo is by Raphael Nogueira from unsplash.com. O made the space ship; I made it fly. Heh.

I have more stuff to show you but I'll mercifully save it for another post. Till next time.

I hope you are all well, now moving into autumn here, spring for my friends down under. Hellooooo!! I've missed you all. Thanks so much for stopping by, especially if you've made it to the end of this post.

I'll link up with Patti at Not Dead Yet Style for Visible Monday and Catherine at Not Dressed as Lamb for #iwillwearwhatilike when everyone is ready. And don't forget, for some of us it's almost time for pumpkin scones (even though they're often made from other gourds, still tasty). Hooray!!!

Edit: I also linked to Anne at Spy Girl. She has a great post with reselling tips by Suzanne.

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.

The question of smiling, fake serious faces, and authenticity

"SMILE!" We all know that yelp before a casual photo. Or "SAY CHEESE!" Time to fake smile. Oh wow, look how much fun I'm having! Hey, my life is awesome!

I am now a proficient fake smiler and even fake laugher, a result of years of rigorous training. Doing this convincingly in "real" life is a whole other blog post.

But the opposite of a forced smile is forced seriousness, which is just as fake as the smile but maybe easier to pull off. Without this pose, I wonder if high fashion would even exist. It's simply the relaxed face with a dash of intention or self-awareness.

I suppose when you drop a whack-ton of money on a Chanel suit, it's serious business. My face upon spending such sums would probably look like the Psycho shower scene, if I'm still conscious at all. And then there are those who live in rarefied air who don't even blink. Sigh. I'd like to try on that face some day for realsie, and I'd have my personal assistants pose for me.

Me (with camera to assistants): Just relax and show how happy you are working for me. Did you not hear me? I said &*#(@6 HAPPY!! 

The Zoolander face is the absolute best example of the fake serious face: the sucked in cheeks, exaggerated pout, and squinched eyes. And an inner growl which probably only dogs can hear. (Zoolander is a movie that spoofs high fashion.)

For me, the fake laugh often leads to a real one and the fake super-serious face does too, but does a fake serious face lead to a real serious face? I hadn't thought about it until just now. I would guess no, although wretched photos do inspire real-life serious faces, if grimaces or frowns qualify.

Even the effects of gravity on a face, especially jowls, can mimic a serious face, which usually translates into a real-life one too because it is so fecking annoying! Does that make it a high-fashion face? Hardly. But there are sometimes scary faces strutting down runways, not due to physics but the gravity of the situation I suppose.

About the outfit - my friend Mara (I've written about her before HERE) drew my eye to these pieces on the super summer discount rack at a local consignment store, a dusty rose suedine (ultrasuede) dress by Dutch brand 10 Feet and this sheer nude trench coat/dress thing by Mint Velvet. 

You can see the sunscreen on my nose as I didn't bring my parasol. Friends have often reminded me I must blend it in but I always forget and it's hard to notice indoors before I go out.

 

I think models fake laughing as they strut down a runway might be just as surreal as models with serious faces. It's all part of a role anyway; otherwise, it would be called people walking nowhere indoors in a straight line.

All of this begs the question: is there such a thing as authentic? Is that ever enough? How do we know when we look real authentic as opposed to fake authentic? Maybe we need an app for that. Lie detector machines have tried and still fail.

I enjoy finding the sweet spots in between the poses, the off-guard moments, which, if I am successful, I may try to wrest into a repeatable formula thereby ruining them. And it's too bad that the candids are also often the ones I don't want to share. There's genuine and there's too genuine. I like a bit of curation. Can't I have my cake and eat it too!?

Maybe everything is an illusion. Maybe the idea of an "authentic look" is not possible anymore with ever increasing photo moments in our daily lives, like we're running on some joke of a cosmic loop of "say cheese." We survey life through the lenses of cameras, our own, others', and surveillance which so far we don't feel the need to pose for (she wrote, looking nervously around the room with a stiff grin on her face).

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

Finally, I have recently been in a Canada-wide ad campaign for Shopper's Drug Mart, part of The Beauty Project they're running until September 6, HERE and a video HERE. If you go into one of their stores (or online), chances are you'll see me in photos and/or a bunch of little videos. Just imagine that I'm encouraging you to try a new look! Filming was a great experience, in Toronto on two occasions this summer.

So have a look if you can. Let me know what you think. I put two of the photos on my IG, here and here.

That's it, seriously, authentically, maybe. Cheers, everyone!!

New parts in Faux France

I woke up to discover that the part in my hair had changed sides during the night. How did this happen? What mysterious forces are at play?

Actually, I like my part on this new side - it's like a whole new Mel. Hooray! Not that I disliked the old one, but it's too bad that I can't wake up with a new firm neck. Maybe if I slept with my feet over my head that would work because I've tried every other position with failure. Sigh. I don't know how I managed this hair trick.

I am wondering if this sneaky hair shift is due to the movement of the North Pole - yes, it's a thing. Seriously, it's moving, which is totally off-putting. I can't count on the north being north? Canada has always promoted itself as True North, so now we are Off-kilter North? Faux North? Fact are not facts anymore?!! Nothing new there, I guess. Sigh.

Now, obviously, I have to check my hair whorl to see if it has also switched direction. Given that water swirls down the drain counter-clockwise in the Southern Hemisphere and clockwise in the Northern, it would be logical that hair whorls everywhere are also shifting madly with the movement of the Poles in a whorly-whirly-gig event.

My whorl goes clockwise - or is it counterclockwise? Gaaa, I've forgotten! Why don't we have bracelets with this vital information? Now I'll have to go digging through old photos to check, but I can't do that because I'll lose my appetite and it's almost time for nibblies.

Or maybe my part reversed because of all those earthquakes on the West Coast and the geographical shifting that happened. Sherry, Petite Over 40, of Seattle has said she's inching toward Vancouver. Whoa, free transportation! Again, hooray: reliable and inexpensive transport is vital for a thriving economy, I always say. And it will be great having Sherry as a neighbour for when I need to borrow baking supplies. ??!!

(Note to self: Check out border real estate to cash in on this phenomenon; not sure how shrinking land mass will work to my benefit yet though.)

I took these photos in Faux France, where everyone is attractive and happy and stylish and I speak fluent French, yet with a touch of an English accent to make me exotic and alluring - although I'm not sure it works that way. Speaking English with a French accent sounds so awesome to my ear but the other way...?

I stay at the Hotel George X (double better than the George V), where everything is fun and free. This morning, for example, I had breakfast with Javier Bardem and Colin Firth. Wow! Croissants with butter and blueberry jam, and avocados on the side, and wine of course. And there were loads and loads of flowers on the table, so many I couldn't even be sure if that was Javier and Colin over there; I just took an educated guess. I'm clever like that. Not a genius though, I admit.

Some people might mistake this location for Vancouver Art Gallery, the steps to nowhere because the doors at the top are permanently sealed. It is also malodorous there. I ask you: Why would I go there when I can skip through the streets of Faux France?

No matter what, the reality is the wind in my hair and this faboo outfit, all old, thrifted, energizing - man shoes, black jeans, an oversized top. The amazing neckpiece is from Anja, Curly Traveller, from a few years back. I love it!!

And that, my friends, is my day. I'll be hopping on the Concorde (the good kind that exists and doesn't malfunction) for New York in a few hours. Maybe we can have lunch at the Met? Wear a gown. Toodle-loo. Heh.

Hope you're all having a stellar time being your fabulous selves.

I'll link up to Patti and Catherine at Not Dead Yet Style and Not Dressed as Lamb for Visible Monday and #iwillwearwhatilike.  Yup.

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?