Parisian men gone wild?

By the look on my face you'd think I'm reading Parisian Men Gone Wild.* But no - this is a slightly classier, weightier book, which can also double as a doorstop or lethal weapon. It's called The Parisian Gentleman, by Hugo Jacomet. The men here aren't doffing their duds but rather donning studs and cravats, pocket squares and socks, and cologne and suits - all of the very finest accoutrements of style respectability. (There's a glossary at the end of this post just in case.)

Jacomet wrote the book to address the short shrift he felt is given to French men's style compared to their female counterparts, by highlighting the makers and connoisseurs of Parisian gentlemen's fashion through the years. A friend loaned it to me.

It took Herculean effort to keep this heavy book upright while pressing the remote control and maintaining an expression of calm sophistication. 

This book was a quiet respite of beautiful existence. 

I couldn't help thinking that while a wealthy man can buy any of the exquisite items in this book, there's no guarantee he won't still come out an emperor with no clothes. As you know, the politesse, respect, and kindness that define a gentleman, or any civilized being for that matter, can't be bought at any price. 

It's summer and I'm too lazy to actually stand up for outfit photos. You'll have to imagine these outfits in a frontal full-vertical position. 

Speaking of wealth and style, I'm wearing a men's tuxedo shirt, discarded I suspect by a billionaire type gauging by the heavy fine cotton, monogram, labels, and removable buttons. I don't think it had been worn even once - it was still so chemically white I had to squint. Of course this garment required immediate farking.

I reduced the sides by about 8 inches and overlapped the collar and back of the shirt, as you see in the bottom right photo. I put a slit up the back as well and kept the edges raw. For the sleeves, I slip my hand through the opening above the cuff; no adjustment necessary.

The silhouette and back view are my favourite; the front is just your basic startling-white tuxedo shirt with long sleeves. I love the contrasting black thread. I chose it not because I was too lazy to change the colour on my machine - although that can happen - but because each stark stitch made the shirt visibly more and more my own. 

I've taken this shirt out for a test drive once on my morning walk, worn with my sneakers and tux pants, and with my hair down and aqua brows, as seen in the first photo, but when I wear wear this shirt next time, styling it to the max, oooh, I am going to enjoy it so much. Although I'm not sure I'm done farking just yet.

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

Also, I was interviewed a short while ago by REglam here. The article is called "Evolution of the Fashion Industry with Melanie." Do I even know what I'm talking about? Hwahaha. I appreciated the questions.

This has been a slightly cool summer, which I don't mind in the least. We've had a couple of hot days where I've had to resort to hiding in the shadows of light poles at each intersection like a bungling Inspector Clouseau to avoid the sun, as I may have mentioned before. I just wish downtown was a little quieter in the summer - but it is what it is.

Thanks for dropping by! Have a great week, all. 

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*Girls Gone Wild was a wildly popular candid-camera-style video series which featured young drunken women baring their boobs on beaches while partying hard during spring break. The maker of these revolting movies became a multimillionaire, although he is now living in Mexico to evade US authorities.

Glossary just in case

doffing duds: taking off clothes; donning duds: putting clothes on

accoutrements: clothing and accessories

short shrift: not enough credit

politesse: politeness, etiquette

farking: upcycling, refashioning, and/or screwing up existing clothing or other things

Inspector Clouseau: fictional comic detective, most famously played by Peter Sellers

But is it still a T-shirt?

Finding your art oomph after it's been lost for weeks can be a religious experience. I had been wandering listlessly through a haze of bleh, pfft, and meh. I was practically drooling in lethargy. Daily I would stare with blank eyes at my art materials and fabric carefully arranged all over the living room floor in emergency preparedness and as hopeful prompts for a fark attack. (See glossary below for clarification.)

Then, WHAM!!! Turn down the volume!! I got the fever. I farked a T-shirt! Hurrah!! This white XL T-shirt is now a kimono-y T-shirt with dual-purpose sleeves - short or extra long. It was a transcendental farkathon. 

It's a mysterious world. Oh yesh. 

This calls for some singing: "I can bring home the bacon, ba-rah-da-dum, Fry it up in a pan, ba-rah-da-dum, And never ever let you forget it's not spam..." Cause I'm classy like that. Getting my fark beat back makes me feel almighty. I want to sing like Peggy Lee.

Blue brows above. I wore them that morning with a manly outfit and my black moto jacket, no lipstick because I was digging the sallow pallor. When I finished the shirt in the afternoon, I decided to team it and the brows with my farked rocker pants and boots for a shoot in the concrete box round about midnight. Lipstick was essential.

Note the hair cut, courtesy of O. Above is a jeans photo I took today, when I actually wore the T-shirt outside for the first time under a vintage ivory Asian-style silk jacket. 

:: DETAILS - START ::

[Skip to the end if this stuff bores you. There is no test.]

I sliced the T-shirt up the front middle, overlapped the two sides and stitched them in place with contrasting thread. I had an old blue cardigan and I cut off the sleeves, then separated the front and back pieces. I folded the front piece in half length-wise, keeping it buttoned, and sewed it shut to make a tube. Then I sewed the waistband end to the T-shirt sleeve. Now I can easily stick my arm through wherever I like.

I did the same for the green floral shirt, except in reverse - I sewed the green shirt collar end to the T cuff. I also kept the short-sleeve on the green shirt so I can have short sleeves or long.

The slit opening at my right wrist used to be the cardigan V-neck. And there's the green shirt armhole at my left elbow. I turned the sleeve up in this photo - they are both very long, which I like. 

I also took up the shoulder of the white T on the left side, added a black patch for detail, and slit the side seams a little bit. The tag came off so I had to sew it back on because I like that mess.

:: DETAILS - FINISH ::

I love my new T-shirt. I was originally going to write all over it - "I am not a brand!" - but I hesitated at the last minute. Some things are done when they're done. I'm not sure about this piece yet. 

There's something slightly zombie about this photo.

The blue cardigan and green top were already bagged for donation, too small, I shouldn't have bought them in the first place but I was seduced by their colour and the pattern. I was sad to see them go, so I enlisted them in my T-shirt project figuring if I make a mistake, no big deal, they were goners anyway. And of course, that's exactly the thinking I need to cozy up to the sewing machine and sew like a madwoman!! 

And have a blast! Threads flying! Machine wheezing. Pins poking and sproinging pell mell. It was quite a vortex of energy. O hid.

You should see me whip those sleeves around like little helicopters. And note the cowlick in my hair. It comes from my whorl. When cows tongue-bathe their young, they create swirls in their hair, hence the word. Lovely. Ain't nobody going to be licking my hair!

Anyway, I proclaim this:

INTERNATIONAL LOVE YOUR WHORL MONTH

Glossary:

art oomph - creative spark

bleh, pfft, meh: words that kind of mean blah with a negative edge if you can work up any emotion whatsoever

fark - farked, farking, farkathon, words I made up, a combination of f*cked/faked/farted, in reference to altering, upcycling, or refashioning an existing item, especially clothing, with unexpected results

digging - member of the groovy, heavy, far-out family of words only dorks like me use these days, meaning loving

whorl: the twirly part of your hair usually on top of your head, which you curse and hide or, like me, play up like it's meant to be there - can't beat 'em, join 'em. Question: Do whorls goes the opposite direction in the Southern Hemisphere, like water going down a drain?

the lyrics: From a song made famous by Peggy Lee. Instead of "spam" the real lyrics say "man."

pell-mell: Means here and there in a chaotic way.

My blue brows and my green sleeve and blue sleeve, shoulder patch of olive mesh and black fleece. That's a ring O made me from scratch. See, yes, I do get wife bonuses all the time (in reference to last post). O is awesome.

I'll link something here up with Patti's Visible Monday, Not Dead Yet Style, and Catherine's #iwillwearwhatilike at Not Dressed at Lamb. And a big thank you to Catherine for her post this week HERE on how more brands should be enlisting 40+ blogger women in their campaigns. And I'm happy to see Claire get this exposure for her brilliant designs. Thanks, Catherine! 

And I can't believe with all these colours I'm not wearing amethyst, Anne's prompt at SpyGirl for 52-Pick-me-up. Oh well, go have a look anyway and link if you're wearing amethyst.

What have you been up to lately?