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?

Exploring Femininity with Attitude

When I was a kid, I thought ballerinas were the epitome of grace and femininity. If I hurt myself, I would try to imagine ballerinas to take my mind off the pain - it never worked. I still like the image of ballerinas, such feather-light flitters, but at heart, as you know, I am more of the Martha Graham school. And ballerina-ing is a brutal sport/artform.

Below, some photos I took when I got home from wearing my tutu for photos downtown. There was no way I was going to wrestle that tutu back into its itsy-bitsy space bag in a public restroom. You can see the lurex threads next to the fuzzy yarn stripes. And the men's shoes.

One of the most moving ballet performances I have ever seen was by Editta Sherman, a photographer and dancer who lived in Carnegie Hall in New York, in a clip included in the Bill Cunningham documentary. She danced with the moon in her home studio.

I can't give you details offhand, except to say that I remember how wonderful I felt watching her. There is a silent version of her dancing posted on YouTube. A true artist, she sadly passed in November 2013.

Trying out my tough version of an off-duty non-ballerina.

Below, does this tutu make my ass look big?

Have you got a tulle skirt? Dress? A tutu? I always wanted a tutu and finally found this one at My Sister's Closet, not $5, but still a good deal. What was most fun about this tutu was the feeling that I don't have to be graceful when I'm wearing it with my man shoes and man coat and man shirt. Plus, people don't squish you out of your seat in the coffee shop when you're wearing a tutu. Heh.

Have a great week!

Getting fizzy wrapped in PET bottles

Oh, the sweet ecstasy of well-resurrected garbage.

This dress is comprised of PET bottles, textile waste and/or other organic materials. It debuted in H&M's first sustainable line, the Garden Collection, in 2010. I found it at the thrift shop for $5, repeating the trash-to-treasure cycle yet again, recycling at its best. I call it the garbage that keeps on giving.

The dress is so feminine it cried out for a little edge - after all, it's been around the block a time or two, despite its excellent condition, like myself, heh - so I added a black scarf choker, black tights, Steve Madden combat boots, a satin obi belt, and an essential bouquet holster from a big old belt, which also made me feel a bit like a little VW bug with a vase on my  dashboard.

Wouldn't you agree that a bouquet creates a friendlier image in a holster than a gun? "Halt or I'll kill you with kindness!" - or face-slap you with flowers, which would in fact hurt. The plastic is hard and wretched. I bit the stems, like one of those women who bites stems and makes it look sexy, and kind of gagged. Another flower defense would be to hold them like garlic or a cross, as above, to keep away vampires.

And the rear view of the garment. You can see the little sparklies on my scarf choker and the obi ties, as well as the massive kimono-inspired sleeves. I couldn't believe this dress was on the $5 rack! My hair at the back is not as grey as the front. I call the shade souris (su'-ri, French for mouse, which sounds better than rodent).

Note how I've hooked my thumb conveniently in the bouquet holster. Clearly it's a multipurpose accessory, like a pocket that doesn't hold a damned thing.

The bottom half of the necklace is from H&M and the top half chain from Tokyu Hands craft supply store in Tokyo. The flower pin  (used for modesty) was a gift made by Suzanne Carillo for the +40 Blogger Meetup last summer in Vancouver, and the earrings were thrifted.

Putting things in perspective - mulched flower in a concrete jungle.

I'll be linking this to Patti at Not Dead Yet Style for Visible Monday, Catherine at Not Dressed as Lamb for #iwillwearwhatilike, and Anne at SpyGirl for 52 Pick-me-up: Silver/Confusion/Clarity (my necklace).

And this last photo is my favourite of the day. The air exhaust system that vents into the alley kicked into major effect after the delivery trucks had all left, leaving me free to play in the stale air. I'm glad I wore a slip because the wind often blew the dress up to my dashboard! Too bad this dress isn't scratch 'n' sniff to freshen things up, but then it would probably smell like Coca Cola and I'd just start to fizz.

Yup, I felt like a million bucks in this outfit. Right after buying it I found out about the H&M/Bloglovin' "Breakthrough Fashion Blogger of the Year" Contest which required styling an H&M piece. The winner gets to be mentored by Man Repeller Leandra Medine for a year. I linked my Instagram photo of this outfit to the contest and this post as well.

I just looked at some of the other entries - oh, why did I do that?! Serious twenty-somethings wearing pressed neutral outfits professionally photographed, compared to my lightweight photographer, Tripod, a remote I call Dick, and my middle-aged-tween antics in piss alley.

Well, if I don't enter I definitely lose, and I must remember: comparison is the thief of joy. I had a blast doing this shoot with this stellar dress and would have done it regardless of any contest. Why? Because -

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You can't keep good garbage down!
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Recycling and feeling fabulous, how cool is that? I hope more big fashion retailers and manufacturers get on board that sustainability train and make good on their promises. Have you worn any good garbage lately? Do tell. Do they even make scratch 'n' sniff clothing?

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Thanks for joining me all you new followers! And thank you to Jessica at Warning: Curves Ahead 24 Things Women Over 30 Should Wear for linking to my post with Shelley's awesome photo here, which has turned into a too-good-to-be-true ending to her stellar visit to Vancouver, 2.5 million views and counting. Bwhahaha! Hurrah for freedom of choice !!

Shelley's post on our get-together is HERE.

My VOGOFF magazine guidelines page is almost ready. Can you believe it's taken me this long? Don't answer that! Heh.

An unfiltered life

These pictures are all unfiltered. Yes, it was a miracle - a rare blurry fog rolled in just as I was snapping that first shot. It eerily surrounded me, then, poof, blew out a little hole in the middle leaving me in focus. I know, wild right? 

In the next photo, without warning, BAM, the world turned black and white and grey. Like the Twilight Zone or Twin Peaks. What's haaaappening? But I could handle it. 

And then, braced now for any other freaks of nature to blast me, I myself was infused by an unnatural burst of energy that made all the colours in me and on the no-smoking sign across the lane pop AND - here's the creepy part - at the same time that little blur fog moved in. 

The next photo, yeah, it could have done with a few freaks of nature, maybe a blur fog here and there or an energy pop, but, see, I'm a natural woman. I don't believe in FAKE filters. EVER! I should wear a t-shirt that says I AM UNFILTERED. I prefer to let nature wash over me, have its way with me. I go with the flow. 

Which brings me to this (finger quotation) "unfiltered" thing. 

"Oh yes, here I am wearing a designer gown and tasteful makeup applied by the world's top makeup artists, relaxing on a chair that cost more than your house, bathed in the best studio lights, surrounded by a crack team of stylists whose sole job is to make me look good, being photographed by thee hottest photographer, but hell no, these photos are unfiltered!!"

Sometimes you may get a shot of yourself under glaring sunlight which, scientifically speaking, is rather cool, jeez, wrinkles growing inside wrinkles, woooow: that's unfiltered. But then you retake the shot in your bathroom with fantastic lights. No wrinkles: unfiltered. Or you get a new high-fangled camera with great lenses. Suddenly shit shots look good but they are, yup, unfiltered.

Maybe you have a friend, one who makes you laugh naturally, take your photos. You look awesome! Unfiltered. 

Or, finally, you stand in front of a tripod trying to imagine it is Fabio saying, "I can't believe it's not butter" (famous North American TV ad featuring impossibly non-sexual god-like man, link here). Okay, filtered because the thought of Fabio, well, there are no words.

I was in the alley, but I wanted to be HERE!

If I do things to my photos it's because that's how I see them, how they speak to me - and even though I would love to erase specific blemishes, that's one thing I don't do. But why even tell you that? Am I falling into that stupid trap of showing off how only unfiltered photos are valid? Such crap. I'm so glad artists filter the world through their eyes. Why be content with having a mere jacket when you can have a fruity salsa on your back?

Having said all this, many of my favourite blogger shots are candid spur-of-the-moment photos which add realness. But even then, the really "bad" ones are probably filtered out, quickly buried in the yard under moonlight. Mine, they are locked in a vault in the Fort Knox bullion depository in the US, lying in wait for the tell-all book by my future personal assistant. (Well, except for that one piece Suzanne has.) Heh

This outfit is meh. Except for the, ahem, Armani Exchange jacket which I thrifted and farked the hell out of with Sharpies, close-ups are in a post I did here. The skirt is a vintage silk designer piece made in Italy by a label called Sepulchre or Plutarch or a bumpy word like that, can't remember - it's filed in my cloud storage. It swishes like a dream, especially in front of that air exhaust system.

I'm for sure linking this up to Patti's Visible Monday at her blog Not Dead Yet Style. I can't miss her party. She said there will be champagne and martinis (just a minor edit from "might be" to "will"). Heh. I'm bringing my 7-Eleven Big Gulp cup cause I'm classy that way.

Edit: I also linked an Instagram photo to Catherine's #iwillwearwhatilike linkup at Not Dressed as Lamb. Thanks, Catherine! My IG photo is here.

Edit: Oct 22, 2016: I am linking to Catherine again for her Saturday Share Linkup. Heh.

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Ulla-Marie, Val, and Connie have joined the Hot Harridans Reading project from my previous post. Check them out. Holy HOTNESS!!! Their links are listed at the bottom. Thanks for joining!

Groovy bell bottoms two ways

It's like this: I don't have a photographer, so I just have to take care of business myself. It's time to learn my camera better. And it's time to break out of that concrete studio - the stairwell and garbage room atelier. There's a whole city out there calling me.

So now I sometimes lug my camp stool and tripod around with me. I mean, adding a little more eccentricity to the mix isn't really going to make a difference, is it? And chutzpah is a good thing, right? Plus, if I have to take one more photo with my back against the wall I'm going to screeeam!

"As chairwoman of Miz Bagg Mining Corporation I call this meeting to order." Wait, where is everyone? "Come back! You're not afraid of a little... Oh, yes, well, I have some spray disinfectant in my bag." It's odd that the whole city beckons, but my best business is conducted in alleys. (Hm, that didn't come out right.)

There are advantages. I can do this. Spinning action - without whapping passersby. And I can give myself bonuses at the nearby coffee shop. On this day it was a oat-chocolate chip bar accompanied by a nutty, chocolately piping-hot coffee and hearty guffaws as I looked through the outtakes from this photo session.

Everything in balance; balance in everything.

What the hell is she wearing?

• groovy thrifted bell bottoms, sold as '70s vintage but I suspect they are vintage-style new pants based on the somewhat crap quality of the fabric and the sewing. There's no label.
• thrifted wool fringed vest
• thrifted tropical top with sequined neck and sleeves and a T underneath for warmth and modesty
• thrifted Ingledew's leather ankle boots, like new
• thrifted lucky charm beaded bag
• I forgot the magic loupe from O, which I cursed at and another reason alleys are good
• insect-style sunglasses, vintage now, bought new

Eee-yeah! These groovy pants recall happy days with my transistor radio. CKLW in the Motor City. 

This song by Lighthouse (1972) was a staple of my tender youth: "And yet, there's nothin' better for your soul / Than lyin' in the sun and listenin' to rock 'n' roll"

This photo was taken near another alley close to the coffee shop. I couldn't actually take photos solo in that particular alley because other people do business in there, not the executive kind like I do, but the kind that involves real money. Yup, people digging for gold in alley muck and gold-diggers in million-dollar condos all in the same block. And me with my camp stool staking my own claim. Fool's gold. I need s'mores. 

Hey, who took my inflatable gavel? Suzanne...?

And one last look at these great stripey bell bottoms, worn here with my new thrifted oversized men's Diesel T that features a photo of a man's torso. I wore this with a black velvet tuxedo blazer you haven't seen.

I'm linking these stripes up to Anne's 52 Pick-me-up: Stripes on her blog Spy Girl. She is sporting some particularly peaky hair. Have a look, or even join in!

Going yin-yang in the alley

Of course I look serious - look where I am: stench alley! Would you look all comfy-cozy, ooo, why-don't-you-come-for-tea, if you were in stench alley? I think not. On top of that, I had to keep one eye on my stuff (five bars of nutritious soap made from goat dairy and grains, and new socks), one eye on traffic (although my shirt was a good substitute cone), and my third eye of loving-goodness-toward-the-universe focused serenely above this quagmire of shite (in all fairness, the alley was relatively clean).

Clearly, my style palate has been cleansed by my previous bout of minimalism. I embraced this assemblage of vitamin D whose yang-y bursts of colour found syncopated harmony in the alley's yin-y concrete squalor. This precision silhouette stance shows you the, uh, silhouette.

I fired the photographer, the traffic coning specialist*, the stylist, the garbage wrangler, and the location scout. I kept the gaffer - I'm really good at gaffes. *that's a real movie biz job, union wages

What on earth am I wearing?

• flagrantly floral thrifted Versace pants
• platform runners on super discount from Topshop (they don't offer so many huge discounts at my local store anymore; yup, they suck you in and then leave you high and dry, high and dry, my friends)
• ruffled twisted citrus thrifted satiny blouse
• magic loupe
• thrifted shaggy green coat
• my serious shady-day cycling sunglasses no longer used for cycling

The sun was like thin gruel off and on today, weak, beige, runny, lacking in nutrients, "Please, sir, can I have some more?" He said, "Eat your soap." Freak.

Gowning in the alley with a hat condition

Boing. I'm back.

That's my beret in my hand. It's not really a hat attack, more like a chronic hat condition. See my hat in action below. (I think the frame is bigger over at YouTube.) Hello, Style Crone, I'm so happy to join your hat celebration, Hat Attack No. 2. Although this shoot from Aug 30 wasn't planned for the occasion, how happy I am that it works. Raw footage, style parkouring with Sandra.

A hard rain scoured the ground in the dark. When the sun came out, the back lanes were not pristine, not putrid either - I couldn't say the same for the previous day Sandra and I filmed there. This is the perfect location to capture our kwalidy and crassmanship on film. Despite the breezeless day we stumbled upon a mighty wind blowing eau de fries and fish from the ventilation shaft directly behind and above me. It was for Art, ladies and gentlemen.

Wearing: thrifted black satin opera gown with thrifted black T underneath, magic loupe O made me, beaded lucky charm bag, D&G thrifted shoes, thrifted indigo wool beret.

This dress is by Deborah Davenport who specializes in couture clothing, $12 from my local thrift, worn yesterday, Aug 31. Apparently Ms Davenport is now buddies with Dr. Phil (big Hollywood pop-psychologist person) and this dress was probably made to measure for someone Important (yeah, me) with hand-stitched lining, etc. The dress fits like a glove. It's so tight at the knees, in fact, that I had use the cut curbs at crosswalks because I wasn't sure I could climb onto the sidewalk on the other side (not kidding). Sandra guided me on my walk home. Again, for Art. 

We're filming for VOGOFF. Hilarity and Serious Fashion ensue. Drahma, dahlings. Miz Bagg is practising her krumping and twerking but is not quite ready for prime time. 

I hope you are all well. I flit about, here, there, here, there. Hugs to you!! You are all extraordinary inspiration. Have you got your groove on? See you soon. I'm also invisibly connecting to Patti's Visible Monday, which is on holiday this week.

Question: So what happens when you find your mind?