Thinking in the forest in the box

It was late and the woods woke her up. They were calling her - the elves, the gnomes, the fiery sprites.
She tiptoed through the brambles into a moonlit clearing (as much as one can tiptoe in glitter platform shoes). And dang those picker weeds, snagging her Vegas sparkle onesie all to heck.
"Okay, ya wise guys, you've got me here, now what the heck do you want?" she called into the darkness. "Don'cha know it's Christmas?" Soon critterly giggles filled the green air as her motley crew of geeks and ghouls joined her on a rotting log for eggnog toasts to another holiday got through. "I'm glad all the stores are closed," she sighed. They sighed with her as they helped pick those pickers off her divine palazzoed legs.

Now that it seems everyone is thinking outside the box, I decided to go back in, where the quiet and solitude of the vacated space set my dreams in motion. There's far too much commotion outside and I'm not convinced that the change of scenery will have the major impact those hopeful migrants counted on. I'm just glad they took the clutter with them when they left.

It's best to keep the lid open. But a lid on your head will help keep your ideas fresh. Maybe instead of moving in and out of boxes, we should all simply wear fabulous hats.

I'm a cardboard-backed cut-out, oh so two-dimensional, about 8cm (4in) tall, of my post for Mis Papelicos' Share-in-Style Christmas link-up. Other than resizing or desaturating or blurring, the camera did all the work. As it turned out, one of the pieces of scrap paper I grabbed for lining my box was dialogue ideas about colour, imagination, and freedom for warm-up exercises at one of my Painting Big workshops. 

In the first images I used printouts of shots I had taken of trees at a local park as the box lining. Spooky. The shadow cast by the cut-out creates an illusion of three dimensions in the surroundings. Uh-oh, I think O's small work is contagious!

And then below is the turtleneck I chopped off and showed you in a previous post but now with a little sausage kitty embroidered on it. Much better. 

In the box, out of the box, straddling the box?! In or out of your sphere or your mind? One thing I am sure of is that our paths usually seem to intersect at different points like a crazy spirograph life. This box project is fun but maybe I'll have a quick peek to see what's going on outside - rain no doubt. 

Make sure you get the proper amount of hydration and solids in the days to come. For those of you who had holidays from work, I hope you are enjoying them. Suit up (armour up) for BOXING DAY BLOWOUT GATECRASHER MADNESS!!!! I think I'll stay at home and play more with cardboard and paper. 

Don't pin me down pinups

I'm hard to pin down when it comes to pinups - should I be myself or should I sexify myself with super sick phatness? Should I succumb to lax sexuational ethics? 

How about this? Pinup 1

If I told you that the me in this photo (brown wig, June 5/13) had written the best-seller 50 Ways to Make Men your Panting Slaves, would you see the image in a new light? If I were a trailblazing superhero-type politician (please don't call me an oxymoron) or a NASCAR winner, then what? How about if I were a Nobel Prize-winning astrophysicist who discovered dark energy around Uranus? Or what if you knew I was wearing red tassel pasties and a purple glitter thong under that demure white blouse and wraparound denim skirt? My facial expression would take on a whole new meaning, so would my mental state. And then you'd naturally ask, What (or who) is she doing with her right hand? Or simply, am I the famous editor of a French fashion magazine wearing a Chanel blouse and an Alexander McQueen maxi denim skirt with a diamond skull motif below the knee? As for men, we cannot dismiss the hotness factor of the plain straight-laced good-girl look. Um. Yeah...

Contextualization, what I call sexuational ethics, is paramount. If you're famous you can do pretty much whatever you want pinup-wise to accolades; if you're not, you better be ready to take off your clothes. But how far do you go beyond your comfort zone to be pinup sexy, if at all? (*Of course all my blogger friends qualify as famous.)

This was probably the most difficult of the portraits I've done so far in my art projects. In a parallel universe, or even in this one in another city or town, this could easily have been me(!). But I do like to think that I would have released my creative energies as maybe a pastry chef specializing in suggestive and outrageous desserts, a champion of the PTA, or a choirmaster with a penchant for quirky hymns. But I'm not those people. 

What this exercise underscored is the world of adventure under the clothes, which may not be apparent from one's body wrapping. Myself, I just happen to wear my adventures in a more surface way as well. Does that make me shallow?

Which leads me to Pinup 2

The sell-out audience listening my heavy-metal air ukulele solo were riveted to their seats, even after an hour. That reminds me, I shall have to tell the security guards at the exits to stop twirling their batons so vigorously. Don't they know that causes repetitive stress syndrome? Ooo, and I need to buy more rivets...

I am simply spewing sick phatness here wearing the requisite pinup underwear and bathing suit, albeit with my underwear on top of my front-zip, thigh-length bathing suit. This photo, taken by Sandra (Lens is More) on May 11, 2013, didn't make the VOGOFF cut, only because Miz Bagg, the editor, is such a screaming biatch. 

And then I come to THIS pinup. Pinup 3

If the first pinup was too cold and the middle one was too hot(?), this one is juust right. That's what I wore on Wednesday on my inspiration walk: my home-made T with low-rise jeans and my gym shoes. I am feeling very normal-self, minus specific sexification, but strong pinup-wise.

This post was inspired by the pinup/sexy conversation sparked by Bella at The Citizen Rosebud, which was then swept up by Jane George at Flight Platform Living and Desiree and Curtise and Tamera, and more I'm sure. In a world where people, an alarming number in fact, will have sex with anything with legs - probably insects too if it were possible - there's lots of room for interpretation about the concept of sexy. 

Which brings me back to sexuational ethics. I find that sex-o-vision is always more acute if there is a RELATIONSHIP or context to power it. A Steve Buscemi-lookalike as a neighbour? Probably not sexy, unless he were exceptionally funny and smart. Steve Buscemi on the big screen? Yup, sexy. If a chorus line of  male strippers gyrated their way into my living room while I'm dusting, I'd hand them all sponges and tell them to get started on the kitchen.* And men with model good looks? Meh. Why is it so easy to judge the sexiness of men but so many of us knock ourselves out when it comes to sexiness in ourselves - especially with our clothes on and especially with our clothes off.

If popular culture celebrated scientists and brains as sexy, you can bet Pinup 1 would be a contender, well, if I had someone else's brain. But it's Hollywood that seems to call the shots on sexy standards. I've never liked the Dove campaign for real beauty ads* because now we not only have professional models running around, laughing, in underwear, but our female friends and family members too. This is supposed to be a form of emancipation? And then there was that show How to Look Good Naked (a guilty pleasure). Please don't make me disrobe in the local shopping mall to prove that I'm attractive or love myself. Although I wouldn't mind a hearty wardrobe malfunction on the red carpet if I were famous and secretly got paid heaps of money for it. (Question to self: Would I disrobe for a centrefold for a million dollars? Just try me! Heh.)

Ah, life is funny. I guess we might as well dress up or strip down and enjoy it when possible, or not, and content ourselves knowing we're sexy on the inside - or not. Sexy - hate that word! Must. Stop. Now. Too many issues and just a weeny blog post. Plus, nobody pays me to be coherent. Ooo, which reminds me, I hope you've all seen Sarah, Misfits Vintage, in the June VOGOFF as Dr Hettie Hackenbush - now THAT's sexy, underwear under a winter coat with a sexy brain too.

Bah-bye.

Thoughts? 

Would you pose for a centrefold for a million dollars? What if it were for a women's magazine?

Oh, I'm linking up to Patti's VISIBLE MONDAY at Not Dead Yet Style. Drag your oozing sexiness and femme fatalism (actually, fatale-ism) over to Patti's garden of forbidden fruits (which means covered in whipped cream and chocolate, maybe swimming in liqueurs too). See you there.

*That scenario would NEVER happen as I don't dust.

*Lauded soap campaign in North America which features women of all shapes and ages running around, laughing, in white underwear. How unrealistic. Who wears white underwear any more?! (That soap burns my face like acid, by the way.)

I'm feeling blue - really, REALLY blue

Too matchy matchy? 

Question: What makes blue lips all right for a fashion magazine or Halloween but usually questionable for, say, the office, church or shopping? How do cultures define the prevailing boundaries of style decorum and why are people who don't conform often shunned or ridiculed? What causes the anxiety created by difference? Are slips of conformity in aesthetics evidence of dangerous slips of conformity in thought? And why would that be bad, especially when humankind's greatest inventions and works of art usually result from non-conformist thought?

In this shoot, I simply wanted to wear blues in places you don't often see them, in non-conformist ways, on my eyebrows and lips (MAC blue cake makeup and blue pencil) and on my head. I exaggerated the blue cosmetics with drawn-on white eyelashes and white lipliner (Sephora pure white eye pencil) around blue lips drawn double their real size. I was curious to see how the blues changed how I felt about myself and how that change would be reflected in my photos. The silver sequins around my neck are a man's tie clamped at the back with a metal clothespin, and I'm wearing a thrifted blue slip.

Results

In the first photo above, clearly, that's not me. I get a Deborah Harry or Jean Harlow vibe from that one. This photo was not edited; yes, those are blue blues. I like how my eyes grey-down.

The next photo has been edited, obviously. I was just having fun.

This next shot reminds me of an anime space traveller, a doll-like creature that does not compute.

And there I am without the wig at the end of the shoot. Yay! I was getting hot.

And then one final photo below in black and white. My hair has never been shinier - too bad it's because I'm wearing a petroleum-based product on my head. I am reminded of a Sophia Loren-type movie, a tempestuous woman with a penchant for flowers.

And I wrote the following to go with the mood I felt in this photo.

"Pah!" she sneered. She savagely pulled a green onion from the flower box. "This, THIS is what I think of you!" Giuseppe, her paramour and a top vegetarian chef, watched in horror from the bar as she savagely bit off the bulbous hairy root. He could hear the soil grinding between her magnificent white molars. The chewing was interminable, like fingernails on a blackboard.

"Bwa-ha-ha," she laughed after an audible gulp. She flung the remaining stalk onto the floor with vehemence and ground it under her shocking stilettos, careful not to skewer the stalk as she did so; everyone knows kebab heels are only good for walking across hot coals. "If THIS is what I can do as a vegetarian, just imagine my wrath as an omnivore, you virus-sucking worm." Saliva dripping down her chin, she grinned a horrible movie-star grin that revealed tiny furrows of black dirt between her teeth. "I shall never come here no more. Farewell, venal brute. We are FINISHED!" 

This shoot was fun but it made me question even more why certain ways of personal presentation are acceptable only on defined occasions and in art, but not for every day. Imagine if Picasso couldn't paint women in blue. Now I want to wear this look out shopping and I hope it's only a matter of time until we see blue lips everywhere, remembering when black or blue nail polish was shocking and when dying your hair was only for "bad" women. Heh, heh.

Of course some of the bloggers I admire have no qualms about dressing in and making themselves up in what they want exactly when they want. I cheer!!! I am trying to do the same but sometimes I still feel constrained. Even today it's frightening how often ridicule can stem from as little as wearing a dress too short or cutting one's hair, or, as we learnt recently from a post by fabulous Desiree of Pull Your Socks Up, from wanting to wear a vintage dress for graduation. I'm wondering if we've all felt like outsiders at one time or another because of our styling.

Thoughts?

And...
Shoe Shine
Finally, these are my shoes for Bella's Shoe Shine. Camouflage legs. I wore that maxi dress (backdrop) and those socks today with shoes almost identical to these ones, but these are the shoes I wanted to show you for Shoe Shine. They're not red but there is red in what I wore with them. Does that count?

_________________________________________________________________________

Maybe tomorrow I'll go shopping for a pink wig. That blue baby only cost $8. 

I hope you all have a happy weekend. Signing off. See you at Patti's later. This weekend I'll be catching up on my commenting. You're all schtars!!

Caterpillar brows experiment

As soon as I clamped eyes on the December 2012 British Vogue with its feature "Vogue goes POP: An explosion of fashion and fun" I knew I'd be going shopping for cosmetics for the first time in ages, perhaps years. Not having read a proper fashion magazine in as long, I clearly had a lot of catching up to do on my face. It was the eyebrows, you see, lovely caterpillars of seafoam green and papaya on a couple of the models. I HAD TO HAVE THEM, and have them I did.

I have always been interested in image and its impact on how others perceive us and how we perceive ourselves. As some of you may know, I admire American artist Cindy Sherman, whose photographic works of herself in guises of every description are an exploration of these same questions.

For me, dressing is a dance of masking and revealing. Now that I have loaded up with new cosmetics, makeup is also part of my little life polka.

I call this high-brow exploration CATERPILLAR BROWS.

Top left: Neutral; Top right: Look, I'm Cindy Sherman!

Middle left: Super-silly-us; Middle right: I'll pray for you, dahlings.

Bottom left: "???"; Bottom right: "Oh, Poirot, I've lost my poodle in the Nile. Can you find it?"

None of the characters/looks above were thought out - they grew as my shoot progressed. I chose to work with my big groovy hat, sequin tube top, colourful scarf, and peach peignoir (the former all thrifted), and a red wool hat, gift. The white knit top, very tattered but comfy, and grey T-shirt underneath are fine examples of my home schlep-wear (say that five times very fast).

It was hard not to do faces with this look.

Second row left: Ms. Bean-Bagg or Ms. Bagg o' Beans

Mr. Bean and Ms. Bagg tie the knot. Won't our children look gawjus?

The eyebrows are MAC chromacake, blue and yellow mixed. The eyeshadow is yellow cake with a sprinkling of glitter, which I completely love, then a little, rather, a lot of dusting of blush on the cheeks. Finally, MAC Yum-Yum matte pink lipstick with liner and lots and lots of mascara on my upper lashes.

I wore this exact cosmetic look on my inspiration walk downtown a couple of times last week, minus the bright red cheeks. Then on another day I did my brows in papaya. I also wore the big hat downtown, stuffed with the scarf to keep it from falling over my eyes.

Oddly, this look in public did not make me feel clownish in the least. Sometimes I even forgot that I had green eyebrows and glitter yellow eyelids. But there was no escaping how swell I was feeling. I'm surprised those little brow worms didn't turn into butterflies and fly straight away.

Have you been thinking of mixing up your cosmetic palette? Would you try this in your free time?

VOGOFF Magazine by Miz Bagg

Letter from VOGOFF Editor in Chief, Miz Bagg:

Dahlings,
I know the universe hangs on my every blurt so I have decided to immortalize myself as Editor in Chief of this magazine, the highly prestigious, internationally-acclaimed, Pewlister Prize-winning VOGOFF (pronounced voggoff or vhog-off). Please reserve your applause until the end. (Come now, get ahold of yourselves. Have a little dignity and humility - like me.)

Of course I, Miz Bagg, am the queen of everything about beauty, fashion, makeup, grace, real good manners, and such-like, and I am an incredibly word-ly person, as you no doubt observed in my writing in my How-to Guide to Posing, Part 1 on 8-track cassette. (Thanks for your support. Of course you bought it.) So my beauty is not only gobsmacking - my intelligence and that stuff are also big gob-droppings of smartness.

This first issue features only photos of moi, Miz Bagg, of course, but I may allow the little people to contribute later on when I'm busy doing something way better. In this issue I am pleased to unveil to you the hottest thing since Yanni - the mashed potato fashion accessory specially designed by iqi (pronounced icky). Unless you've been living in Uranus, you'll know that kitchen tools are hot.

And who can help dancing uncontrollably when opening a container of yogurt or spraying air freshener or whipping out a duster or mopping the floor? Well, lucky you's - inside this issue are a few new dance steps you can try when cleaning and eating. They are perfect for tightening up those pesky fleshy pads on your hand between your thumb and index finger.

Plus, as a special feature: "Are we addicted to our uprights?" With a quiz! I too am not immune to the sight of a hard upright vacuum, all beastie thrumming with unkempt hair inside, which is only natural for a feminine creature such as mine self, but here I share with you not only my secrets for hiding these naughty little liaisons from your partner, but also ancient mystical monk moves for upping your upright's suction power by 73.5 percent. Therapists are on standby in case you fail the stupid quiz. You loser.

Miz Bagg caught in an unguarded moment following the upright shoot. Photo courtesy of Takenzeepiss 2012

Okay, I'm off now to consult with all those high-power smiling advertising people in New York to teach them a hot dance for their new and exciting anti-fungal soap. They keep begging and begging me to be in their global network ad campaigns (it's rather embarrassing) and I keep telling them to feck off, I'm far more valuable in my role as guru and goddess. Then I'm off to consult on ballerina costumes for some female products.

I know it's a an exciting life, but I, Miz Bagg, am the only one to lead it, as I shall and can. Tra-la-tra-la. Ooh, my upright needs attention.

Till the next unbelievably fabulous issue, hugs and kisses, but don't wreck my lipstick!!! (Oh, you fecking bi-otch)

Miz Bagg XOXOXO


(The Real Writer's Notes)
In the next issue, probably December: The Implications of Hot Flashes. Are peri/menopausal women with hot flashes responsible for global warming or is it bovine flatulence? What would happen if power companies could wire hot flashes into the Smart Grid. Would we have to call it the Smarter Grid?

___________________________________________________________________

The Real Real Writer's Notes

I watched part of the recent silent movie, The Artist, a few nights ago and another movie from 1932 last night in which the lead platinum blond delivered this great line: "I'm as exciting as an ironing board." On top of that, I had a little correspondence with Curtise from The Secondhand Years about kitchen utensils... So Miz Bagg was sequestered in a photo shoot last night not knowing what would result.

I'm so happy this "magazine" popped out. I had been mulling the idea for quite a while and suddenly there it was - my perfect inaugural cover. If any of you want to contribute a little piece to a future issue, maybe next month, let me know, ultra-Vogue on drugs with cool photos.

About the outfit

• black satin ball gown above, last worn here 
• bunch of jewellery I dug out of my box, including beads from the Pride Parade and a few pieces that someone had left in our garbage room for the taking - I'm such a discriminating shopper
• canary diamond ring from the local dollar store. 

I haven't been commenting much but I have been lurking. Sometimes I have to pull back to keep the fun and spontaneity alive. I think you know what I mean...

I hope you're all having a FANTASTIC week.

EDIT:
Issue 2
Issue 3
Issue 4

Two statement pieces make a declarative

I knew I would wear my red cape today, but, ho-hum, not paired with my black jeggings and square-toe boots as usual. That would have bored me immeeediately, especially since my fingernails-on-chalkboard mood demanded something more irritating. So I decided to pull out the fall/winter/spring/summer colours of my mad thrifted floral pants. I reasoned that one statement piece needs another to achieve full-on declarative effect. The pinks in the trousers and under-T jarred shiveringly with the candy-crunch red of my cape, and the spew of flowers on the trousers grated awfully NICE with the faux leopard trim. Yumm-eew.

Details of the outfit:

• red wool cape with faux fur trim, thrifted, also worn here
• Versace floral pants, thrifted, also worn here
• kitten heel ankle boots, retail
• pink long-sleeve T, sample sale
• wool turtleneck, thrifted
• jewel-encrusted pendant, thrifted, also worn here
• magic loupe, made for me by O
• indigo beret, thrifted

Next photo: Flasher! Actually, this is my impression of John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. Stayin' alive, baby. Just stayin' alive - unlike the eviscerated rat close by.

Of course, these are not self portraits - I have Sandra, art project co-conspirator and blogger of Lens is More, to thank for that. We were both feeling low energy today, even after splitting a chocolate croissant and pumpkin scone, so in keeping with the mood we skulked around alleyways for a bit. Too bad (or lucky) Blogger doesn't have scratch and sniff... 

Next stop was Chinatown. I hopped into this shop for the photo op because it embodied that ultra-cool Chinatown vibe. 

Then Sandra scouted the doorway below, which she thought would really set off the cape and pants. I love this location.

Sandra flew low under the radar today but we got a couple of shots of her with graffiti and neon - she knows the locations of the city's best graffiti. I wonder if she'll post any. (Edit: Yes, she put up a couple, including one with graffiti and below is one of her with a Chinatown neon sign.)

On the way home, just when my feet started screaming, "Hey, freakazoid, you're not 20 years old any more, ya know!" a young woman stopped and asked me, "Do you know Bill Cunningham? You remind me of his photos." For those of you not familiar with him, he does street style photography in New York. His work inspired to me do my own street style blog. Suddenly my feet shut up. That's what I call a good day: friends, chocolate, scones, art, and making it home without a single blister with Mr. C. on my mind.

I'm hooking this up to Patti's Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style, her fantastic blog. I look forward to visiting everyone, especially now that I have a little more breathing space.

PS: I wrote this Saturday just after my outing so when I say "today" I really mean Saturday.

Your Comments on the Last Post

Thanks, everyone, for your feedback on the questions I raised in the last post, particularly, what is "too far"? Your comments for me are what gave this post life. I liked the photo shoot, sure, but I enjoyed reading your views even more. I like to think anything goes and there is no such thing as too far. I am trying to achieve that as a state of mind in everything I wear and I am so thankful for the spectrum of styles you share in your blogs - so much inspiration.

One skirt four way-out ways

I had just polished off a tin of Helga von Trollop's wonderful Arsebiscuits (which she is about to licence to the Girl Guides) when I had an epiphany. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I haven't been able to paint big lately, so I decided to channel that spectrum of energy into Abstract Expressionist Styling. I immediately called Miz Bagg (who always assists with comedy and critique) to join in this gorgefest of colour, form, and texture.

Questions

How far-out can I stretch a central piece stylistically with limited other pieces?

What defines the limits of what we would wear in public?

Materials

Ground: neon lemon maxi skirt, aka the Circus Skirt (worn several times in the summer, posted here)

Main palette: thrifted ballerina dress, thrifted black sequin tank top, thrifted black 3/4 sleeve top, black tights, lilac platform shoes

Accents: patterned keyhole stretch top with suspenders, thrifted hot pink peignoir, and black and white cloth belt

Below are some of my favourite Miz Bagg stylings from this session. I also took some "normal" stylings during the session, which I'll post before this skirt flies off around the world.

Look 1: Marie Antoinette (or "Oh Please Let Me Eat Cake")

I'm either beseeching the universe to rain cake down upon me or pausing mid-step at a Tim Burton ball for Louis XVI.

Look 2: Lemon Meringue Wood Elf (or "I am not a Conehead")

Inspired by Judith at Style Crone, I wound the skirt around my towering red hat. The end result was very tipsy; I should have used my belt to secure it. 

Look 3: Ace of Lemon Spades (or "Don't Ask me to Walk")

This piece comes with a skateboard with a rope attached for towing purposes in case I actually have to move. Too bad the belt tied around my knees was not elasticized. I love the balloon effect of the skirt cinched under the tutu. Veeery tricky snapping this photo using a timer walking in baby steps.

Look 4: Triple Sudden Impact (or Miz Air-Bagg)

This look features three attractive air bags formed by pouching the skirt through the armholes and keyhole of this top worn as a skirt and secured with suspenders. It's an attractive silhouette, don't you think?

Conclusions

This exercise was not an adequate painting substitute, but it will do for now. "There is no such thing as mistakes" was my mantra  - just as it is in painting, which is what made the shoot so enjoyable. While it would be easy to see these outfits as costumes or fashion designs, these works sprang from the neon lemon skirt, not from the need to clothe a scripted character or sell a clothing brand. I also think there is much more I could have done here. 

I would not wear any of these outfits as everyday wear. Why not? How do we instinctively know what's "too far"? I know that the boundaries of my "too far" have certainly shifted in recent years and the "too fars" of other bloggers vary wildly. I think there's more to it than just being comfortable in something because I felt comfortable in these outfits, although I probably wouldn't feel the same without the mask of bow lips and rouge and the context of experimentation which gave me permission to dress like this. Another question: What is it about "too far" clothing that some people find so upsetting on the sidewalk but perfectly palatable in a magazine?

Intellectually, I think that individual styling is a small political act, the assertion of an independent will that may not necessarily embrace prevailing trends in politics, fashion, or art. I love the fact that if I wanted, theoretically I COULD wear these ensembles out for coffee, but for me they are still "too far".

What do YOU think?

It's been a frantic week of big words and bad sound so I haven't been able to comment much. I have squeezed in peeks when I could and sometimes scribbled a few words. 

Also, thanks to my new followers for joining!!

NEWS FLASH: New "Just Bad Enough" Video

Sandra made an AWESOME YouTube video of our Just Bad Enough downtown sessions.

I LOOOVE IT!

She calls it Just Zany Enough. 

The video doesn't have our original music but it definitely conveys the spirit 

of what the Just Bad Enough art project is about. 

Watch it HERE on Sandra's blog Lens is More.

(In my last post I wondered if Sandra would put up her moustache photo - 

well, she has certainly done more than that! Bwa-ha-ha-ha.) 

I hope you like it!

Debut of travesty-of-music video

Watch it and weep. I scribbled these "lyrics"... (every time I write about my "band" I put quotation marks around everything, so let me preface this post by saying that key words about my "music-making" deserve quotations thereby cancelling them all out, okay?) I scribbled these lyrics just before our last band practice. What you'll hear is the first read-through that Sandra and I did and me composing music on the fly (lots of quotation marks in that sentence!). This was our last song of the day so we were very good by then with those secret communications that go on between band people (and baseball coaches and players). I looove this video. I hope you do too. It's one of my most intellectual projects in a long time. You may need your dictionary. Warning: there is language in this clip.

PS - It's not true about oxygenation.
This is the second video I've ever made - the first one I put together in my university days when video editing equipment took up a sizeable room. Here I used free software, which made me feel old but oddly liberated at the same time.

AND - Don't mess with this cougar!!
I premiered these leopard-print pants yesterday. One young fella purred at me and said, "Mm, cougar!" as he passed by. I had that coming - very funny. I should have taken a closeup of the soft fabric which has a furry texture.

I went for broke and wore my D&G leopard-print heels and added a gold bag. I tried these pants with a black sequin top as well and decided to exercise a teensy bit of restraint because the spanglers get snagged inside the jacket.

Details of the outfit:

• leopard print furry pants, high-waisted, Perry Ellis, thrifted, $10, House of Vintage
• black fine-cord jacket, Plum, thrifted, True Value Vintage
• leopard-print shoes, Dolce and Gabbana, thrifted, True Value Vintage
• knit fingerless gloves, retail, Canadian Tire automotive store

That's all from here. I hope you can see the video. It turned out exactly how I pictured it - make of that what you will...

I hope you are all enjoying your weekend!

My new heavy metal band in the Guvernment

Gentle readers, I have always been disturbed by the antics of profligates in the Guvernment, Toronto, and I took it upon myself to do a personal investigation - I went in. Warning: These images are not suitable for mature audiences.

This is what happened.

Mick, eat your heart out! I've always wanted to do this...

What better time than the present to start a heavy metal band? 

Who cares that I can't really play anything professionally or sing that great - I've never let a lack of talent stand in my way. In fact, in this case it's rather an asset. I don't like listening to heavy metal either, but I like what it is - serious rocking out like action painting with sound. At the last minute I conscripted a friend, Sandra, to be my band mate. She can't sing or play either (her words, not mine) so we're well suited, plus she is a true rocker chick at heart and already has the proper wardrobe and hair!

And I have to say...

THIS  IS  SO  MUCH  FREAKING  FUN!

I mean it -

THIS  IS  SO  MUCH  FREAKING  FUN!

Above are the photos from our very first rehearsal, July 27. We went in with no scores and no lyrics but it was better that way... I was planning on going alone to the booking, but when I ran into Sandra at the coffee shop before I left, I asked if she'd like to join me. She said, "Why not?" The rest is history. 

Neither Sandra nor I swear - I can't even WRITE swear words - but we can certainly SCREAM expletives until we're hoarse and bandy them about with calm logic as they pertain to our "lyrics." We are equal parts profane, rude, silly, and vain in the studio and we capture this in sound and through photos. Sandra is also a great  photographer - she took these shots of me.

Sandra brought refreshments to our second rehearsal, Friday. How thoughtful. Some lovely iced tea.

Oops, I carry my reading glasses in my tool belt (pocket on the right), and when I put them on I could see why this tea was so special. (Neither of us drinks in the studio - in fact I don't really drink at all - but it was a great prop!) 

Mag Ruffman, eat your heart out (very cool Canadian actor and handy-woman who had a TV show). Below is my Curtise pose!

Details of the outfit:

• leatherette hot pants with front zip, $5, Wildlife Thrift Store
• mustard tights
• thigh-high leatherette boots, belong to Sandra
• tool belt, gift, used as reading glasses holder

On the way to the studio I wore flats and a demure skirt over my stage wear.

"Songs" so far are below but I need a little more tutelage from O to improve my recording skills. I am on keyboards, which I manage reasonably unwell, and Sandra and I both do "vocals."

Songs so far:

1. We're going to the f***ing mall
2. We're two hot *itches
3. Have another look
4. She sure swears a lot

I suppose we're more of an abstract expressionist art project with lots of punk and heavy metal thrown in the mix. The point is to enjoy the process - any product that results is a bonus. Raw is best. After two sessions, we are both somewhat hooked!

We play at Soundhouse Studios, a new rehearsal space near downtown Vancouver with extremely reasonable rates. Each room is named after a famous studio from cities around the world - ours happened to be Guvernment. You should check them out if you are looking for a space. If you mention my name I get a discount next time we go. Tee hee! 

Have you ever dreamt of being a rock star? All it takes is 10 bucks for a studio rental for an hour (unless you're lucky enough to have your own place) but you'll come out feeling like a million. And hats off to the many people who have serious talent and play in bands for real! 

I'm linking this up with Patti's Visible Monday over at her fantastic blog Not Dead Yet Style. I certainly felt visible in this even if I only wore it to the Guvernment. What would you wear to the Guvernment?

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PS. A big Thank You to beautiful Lyosha at Inside and Outside for nominating me for a LIEBSTER AWARD!! I'll include a proper response in an upcoming post!!

One mouth four ways

Foreskins and corpse and bovine fat are just some of the lovely ingredients that women, and sometimes men, inject into their faces, especially their lips, to look beautiful. Of course these ingredients have pretty names once they are packaged, but they are what they are. Why do we do this? Why are big lips such an attraction, especially for 40+ women? Why is it that I'll never hear these words as I walk by: "Wow, she has the most awesome thin lips!!"

So I-Of-The-Thin-Lips decided to do my own big-lip investigation as part of my series of art projects on identity and some of the results are scaaary, in an unexpected way, which you'll find out if you read on.

Below is my lip transformation. On my face I am wearing foundation and translucent powder to maintain colour under the lights. Unfortunately, I didn't smooth out the powder on my nose, which I suppose is not such a big deal considering all the other little imperfections competing for attention under the bright lights.

The Transformation

Top left: no lips, foundation on my lips; Top centre: outline of natural lips; Top right: Look (1) lipstick on natural lips. Bottom left: Look (2) lips drawn bigger than real lips; Bottom centre: Look (3) lips drawn even bigger; Bottom right: Look (4) big, huge, ginormous lips so I can't even talk without drooling.

It's easy not to appreciate how much my lips have taken over my face from start to finish, but have another look. Compare the bottom right photo, Look (4), to the one directly above it, Look (1). How, you may ask, did I achieve those whopper-licious lips? 

Bounty (the papertowels). "Mah wips ah bwootifoe. Kwiss me bwaybee!" You can actually see the wadded papertowel sticking out on the left - those are not my teeth, great illusion though. And the next photo is me removing the papertowel... Pitui. But better than having corpse fat in there...or is it?

And below you have the evidence of my fun experiment. Those lipstick stains around my mouth took some scrubbing with Bounty to get off. 

And one gratuitous movie star photo of me below with the most huge lips, minus the papertowels, Look (4). This is the kind of photo I would use on my book jacket if I ever had a book. But now you know my big-lip secret...

Oh no! I like big lips!

Oh gentle reader, I may not be ready for injections but I do indeed like the bigger-than-natural lips from drawing outside the lines in Look (2) and below. Now I GET it - this is what all the fuss is about. But it still feels odd drawing lipstick outside the lines, even though I would be the first to tell you to break that rule. Joan Crawford didn't mind doing it. I like the bow-like shape below even though this photo looks a bit like a mug shot. This is from a test photo the previous day.

So now that I have become thicker skinned with my thin lips, I think I should cut some slack for female Hollywood stars in particular and their big lips, but if you should ever encounter me out walking my own new big mouth, say hi but ironically don't expect a reply - I'm afraid I'd drool and my papertowels would fall out.

Have you ever thought of buying big lips? Are you blessed with them naturally? Have you ever augmented your lips? Do you draw lipstick outside the lines?! Thoughts?

Happy Fourth of July to my American blogger friends!

One head four ways - wigging out!

Who are we? Are we defined by our hair, our makeup, our clothes? Of course, the answer is that we are defined by the intangibles, but I heard this from a woman I style-eyed recently: Nobody ever crossed the street to meet a personality. Our looks and presentation form first impressions and our personalities make or break them.

This post is a continuation of my investigation into women's identity and style, very a la Cindy Sherman, the New York conceptual photographic artist. The first post I did in this project was called "One face six ways."

The Investigation

How do our perceptions of people change with different kinds of hair?

How much does hair affect our behaviour? 

For this study I applied heavy makeup and tried on three wigs: Ginger, Annette, and Tina. 

NATURAL (below): Wigless is my natural state but I wasn't used to this much makeup. The makeup served as a cover so I felt freer to do things outside my usual self and it exaggerated the transformations.

GINGER (below): I felt vixen-like but overwhelmed by the hair! I dressed as Ginger for two parties about 12 years ago and really disliked the attention. I was the bone to a bunch of hungry dogs! I rarely spoke all night - I was in shock. 

 

ANNETTE (below): (The cone is misshapen after 14 years in a drawer!) This woman is from the sixties, say, Elizabeth Taylor Cleopatra. In kitten heels I walk a poodle in a diamond collar, go to a party and do the twist, and wake up in the morning with smeared makeup, stinking of booze, ready for a fresh martini and a gherkin.

TINA (below): This is the wig I have always disliked most and it is the one that made me feel like I lost myself the most. I don't really see myself here and yet I enjoyed the discovery process of the transformation.

These are closeup summary shots of the personalities that emerged in these wigs with this makeup.

In every wig I tried on, I had a sense of being someone else. Considering that a wig is really just an extension of a hat, our cultural interpretations of hair elevate the wig far beyond mere body adornment. For example, when I wore Ginger my personality was unable to live up to the expectations that the hairstyle invoked. Even hair colour has deeply ingrained stereotypes: ditzy blond, fiery redhead, white- or black-haired crone.

I once saw a movie in which women cancer survivors attending a conference joyously doffed their wigs; they threw them exultantly into the air as a symbol of empowerment and liberation. At the same time, I have seen women with deliberately shorn heads treated with derision or bewilderment. Throughout history, the cutting of a woman's hair has been punishment for a lapse in morality. Even biblical Sampson lost his strength when his hair was shorn.

I'm wondering, what's your relationship with your hair? Do you change your hair style to reflect or even evoke big changes in your life? Do you wear wigs? If so, do you mix them up depending on your mood or outfit? Do you wish wigs were more commonly worn? Do you think that hair colour affects how people perceive us? How does hair length affect perception? I'm just curious.

Have a good weekend everyone!