Where angels go, trouble follows

I was feeling particularly Scottish, punk, rebel boarding-school girl, so this is what I wore.

This outfit also makes me think of the 1968 movie Where Angels Go, Trouble Follows, in which Stella Stevens, a young nun with gumption, and Rosalind Russel, Mother Superior, drive a busload of giggling high-school girls from St. Francis Academy to an inter-faith rally in faraway California. It was 1968, remember? This movie, which I saw on TV later, was the first time I thought nuns could be groovy.

So I've got on the "code" kilt, well below the knee, vintage (both the knees and the kilt), from Marks & Spencer. Plus, I bought it at a church, the West Vancouver United Church Flea Market. Probably the kilt/church combo made me think of that movie. The ultra-high-top runners (with rear zip, whew!) are from My Sister's Closet and the faux fur jacket is from Community Thrift.

I always liked Stella Stevens. She was in another zany TV movie called Call Her Mom, 1972. She played the housemother for a bunch of fun-loving boys at a frat house. Oh yes, highly plausible. I was very young when I saw it, but the movie inspired me to start writing my first screenplay. Hahaha. I wish I still had it! I drew Stella's face on the cover.

Another reason I loved Where Angels Go was the theme song. And I found it on YouTube!! It's a bit Gidget, but hey. It's by Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart. But I can picture myself bopping around home in my bib-front, two-tone purple bell bottoms and red striped top at the time.

A little sass below.

And below, what I wore today, and I wasn't even cold! My legs kept throwing off the camera's white balance. That's an expression of bliss, imagining that I have some brownies and a couple of C-notes in my lunchbag handbag. What more could a gal want?

I just noticed today that Montecristo Magazine has posted me on their Instagram account HERE. Hurray!! I'm happy how well that piece, Defying Ageist Fashion Rules: Styleactivism, has gone. You can read my post about it here. I would love to do more articles/photos like this.

Canada definitely needs more women over 50 in ALL MEDIA. Everyone needs more representation of women over 50!

I used a binoculars prop to gaze into my future. All I saw was my tripod, really badly out of focus. Heh. But I was still feeling like a beacon of positive energy having survived a dizzyingly (great word) busy couple of months.

Below is a detailed picture of the inner workings of my brain. I am very fond of this piece. It's just over 4 feet square.

That's all from here. Stay groovy!!

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

The most amazing, stupendous, sponsored post EVER!

Look at those pants. Will you just LOOK at them?!!

When I first saw these pants, I couldn't believe that I might get to wear them for a blog post. Eeee! And then suddenly, they were mine! This is absolutely one of the best offers I have EVER had for a sponsored post. Ultra, ultra high-waisted, six buttons, screaming pink, blue, and aqua plaid wool palazzos. (Edit: These are probably what I would have described as "baggies" back in the day.)

And I can't get over how sophisticated and demure my response to this offer has been, despite my puppy-that-falls-over-and-pees-everywhere excitement. See? I'm calm, totally calm, serene even, freakishly so, acting like I get this kind of thing every frigging day! Case in point: so far I've used maybe 0.13% fewer exclamation points than usual in this post. Now that's control, right? The serenity that comes with success, dare I say.

I'm bummed that I couldn't do an outdoor shoot - not happening in the snow and rain, and there was probably hail too, and lightning, just to piss me off to maximum effect.

This kind of luxury item deserves the best location to do it justice, maybe a fancy hotel lobby or an upscale restaurant, or an art gallery even. But instead I used my black fabric backdrop. (I hope that won't damage my chances for future sponsored posts.) This is probably the least chic location these pants have ever been photographed in, given the shocking price they command in store.

In the photo below the pink is slightly more accurate, at least on this monitor. And I was wearing a black scarf choker too.

So huuuge, huuuuge THANKS to my sponsor. Before I reveal who it is, let me just say that clearly I'm in the Big Leagues now. I was shocked to be offered this deal. Don't worry - I'll still be your friend. And don't be jealous!! I have loved (and occasionally loathed, I admit) this sponsor for years, and their commitment to chocolate and pudding and chips.

MYSELF. Yes.
Yes, I am the sponsor. I am the sponsor of all my posts, except I did one for Karina Dresses and one for Yuzhe Studios. I saw these pants, I liked them, and paid myself to wear them. They are vintage I suspect, and home-made. Dreamy.

When I was finished the pants shoot, I decided to exercise my magic wand, Grushenka, which had been languishing in the cupboard. O made it for when I gave my lecture, "Unlearning how to paint," at the art gallery a few years ago. Such a wonderful gift. This is my impression of Tinker Bell.

So, let this post silliness be a reminder: if you're feeling deflated about not getting lots of sponsored posts, don't be. The stuff we already have in own closets is pretty fecking awesome. We're ALL SCHTARS. Yesh.


I'll be linking something here up to Patti's Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style and Catherine's #iwillwearwhatilike at Not Dressed as Lamb. Of course.

I'm so cheeky, heh. Raspberry kisses to you all!!

Style doctoring without borders

The very best clothes change me - they move me, literally. They make me hold my hands a certain way, stride a certain way. They affect my carriage and expression and speed. For me, these are the things that propel an outfit from merely great to exceptional.

The movements here are large. They are not something you would do going down the sidewalk. Even so, when I hit the pavement, these bold physical expressions are still there, coiled inside, ready to spring, not necessarily through a kick, but maybe a quick smile or high five. An energy has been created.

It's getting easier to express the particular supremacy of a cut or colour or texture and its effect in my photos. Is it because I am more in tune with these connections or because I am becoming less timid in the use of my camera and locations? Probably both.

I am patient too. I know there can be no exceptional responses without the short-of-exceptional in between for comparison, which can feel interminable, so when I do find that magic combination, well, it's something to relish, something I couldn't fathom giving up.

This week I imagined what it would be like if I woke up one morning and found out freedom of expression had been banned during the night. Specifically, from now on we would only be allowed to wear state-issued khakis and button-downs with plain black cotton shoes. Bobs would be the only sanctioned hairstyle. In other words, the pinnacle of norm core.

The blow would be staggering. But I wondered about those people who have always suppressed their style choices fearing what other people would think. I can't imagine the regret they'd feel staring at, say, a little red dress they'd secreted away in the closet before the clothing police raided their home.

They'd probably be asking themselves - why didn't I wear my dress/platform shoes/palazzo pants when I had the chance!? Why was I worried about a few raised eyebrows?

So I say, PUT ON THAT FECKING RED DRESS. Put it on NOW!! Freedoms are nibbled away bit by bit until, yes, it's possible we could wake up some day to an altered reality. It happens. So right now, this very minute, is as good a time as any to revel in our freedom to wear whatever the feck we want. Abso-fecking-lutely.

I use my individual expression to create antibodies against the pestilence of intolerance. This particular outfit created an especially powerful batch. In fact, I shared it with people I met on the street who were also eager for a big dose.

I bought this coat at My Sister's Closet after it had been rejected by shoppers in a pop-up shop at a cinema before a fashion film I couldn't attend. When I didn't see the coat at the shop the next day, I was sure it had been snapped up, but I had to ask anyway. The volunteer on duty went to check, and when she came back, there it was. Apparently, many people had tried it on and passed. Whew!

These tartan palazzo pants are made from a heavyweight brushed twill and I bought them at Used House of Vintage several years ago. This was my first time wearing this particular combination. Pretty damned strong antibodies if you ask me.

It's been quite a week.

UH-OH, SHE HAS A BAD CASE OF...

BEING BAD.

       SHE IS BAD       

I'M OVER 53. I've EARNED ME THE

RIGHT TO SOME BIG BAD - 

we're talkin' 'tude.

I SPIT BAD FLOWERS. DON'T TRIP ON THEM;

MAKE A BOUQUET?

I'M WEARING CLOTHES. SOME THRIFTED, SOME GIFTS. ALL TERRIBLY, HORRIBLY BAD. 

Bad plaid. Very, very bad. Baaad.

say it like a goat

worn to the nordstrom opening, sep 19 post - 

farked tartan jacket, big bad pants.

adding to bella's linkup for plaidurday at citizen rosebud 

(edit: the link is not on anymore. oh well.)

AND

THERE'S CARROT IN MY SCARF/WRAP, MAYBE EVEN 

STUCK IN MY TEETH, SO I'M LINKING 

TO ANNE'S 52 PICK-ME-UP: CARROT/PERSEVERENCE

AT SPYGIRL

______________________________________

THIS IS A NO-GUILT POST. FEEL FREE NOT TO COMMENT. 

TOO MANY POSTS TO KEEP UP. 

Edit: I had a birthday during 2015, but not terribly, horribly recently. All I can say is I'm not a Libra. I've just been thinking about age lately.

Yellow Skirt Freak Show Update!! and more...

The Mystical Freakish Yellow Skirt

F R E A K S   O U T!!!   fer realZ 

Each teensy glitter bit gets its groove on when

SULTRY  JEAN of

Dross into (Disco) Gold 

struts into town....

See her freakishly fabulous FREAK-out in this 

magic spectral yellow skirt

Complete with S O U N D T R A C K!

We KNOW you wanna dance...

G O!   G O   N O W !!!

________________________________________________________________
Thank you, Jean. You look awesome!! Great timing for this post, for both of us...

AND -
Today is Visible Monday over at Patti's - which means it's time for Excruciating Elegance.

This outfit was soooo excruciatingly elegant that I wore it TWICE last week, yesterday and the day before that. I don't know if anyone noticed. I am currently in a video phase so I had to capture this look in a kinetic-wise counter-clockwise-like fashion. If the video looks blurry (and you are not ill after the first few seconds), lock and reload - it should be high-def.

This look is called "Bonjour Gung Haggis Fat Choy" for the French, Chinese, and Scottish elements it incorporates. Gung Haggis Fat Choy is a Vancouver cross-cultural event which celebrates Chinese New Year and Scottish Robert Burns Day. Haggis is a dish made of sheep heart, liver, and lungs; I've never had it.

The T-shirt is upcycled from a rag of a crap shirt. I lopped off the sleeves and transplanted one of them onto the bodice in elephant trunk-like fashion for supreme practicality. Naturally, I used black glitter yarn as thread. The robe was last worn here inside out. Everything is thrifted, ah, I mean purchased at the finest boutiques in Paris, New York, and Milan.

Let's raise a glass to silly celebrations and come up with our very own. I'm curious - what nonsensical celebration would you invent? Hugs, all!