Safety wear for the stylish woman

We were walking in tandem, me on one side of the fence, the construction guy on the other. He looked over and said, "That could be a safety vest."

I replied, "Yes, it is!"

Well, technically it's a life jacket so I get double the protection of a mere vest.

This paillette jacket protects me from psychic debris. Whew. There is so much of it around!

With my construction gear I'm wearing my rockstar pants, which are thrifted low-riders that I upcycled with Sharpie markers and acrylic paint, featured several times on Bag'n'B. They were noticed by Paul Stanley of the band KISS the first time I wore them. I was in a shoe store and oblivious to his presence, but my friend Sandra of standard.deviations clued me in later. I'm bummed that I didn't get the chance to ask him for pointers on how to wear platform boots with aplomb and his favourite makeup remover. I love that guy!

And I'm wearing my upcycled T-shirt, "I am my own brand," which I would change to "I am NOT a brand" if I were to do it again. Those are my super-duper discounted Topshop platform sandals.

Below I'm raising my arms to the universe. I was in the concrete studio but I digitally edited myself into a photo I took of the beach the other day.

Schlep schlep schelp schelp seems to be the little cartoon sound of my feet as they release from the hard reality suction of the concrete sidewalk. Each step schlep. How tiresome. This is also why safety gear is a top priority. One must never get sucked in by hardness!

Other protective construction pieces I wore recently.

That outfit features a vintage dress with a tulip hem. It's a fairly substantial brocade fabric, fully lined, too big and heavy for a dress, so I snipped it up the front and turned it into a coat. The sparkly owl pendant is from Patti of Not Dead Yet Style.

And I almost always go out with one of my parasols from Lily-Lark.

Below are my "safety" glasses, which I got from Vint & York in New York. They make me feel like a psychiatrist with panache and a love of the arts. Don't ask me why. Sandra, standard.deviations, thrifted that Maison Martin Margiela for H&M wool darted jacket. Sweeeet. Ever grateful to her.

And of course, I also wore this:

And then when I get home I unwind with Kitty.

Those are the highlights of my week, my friends. Remember: Always suit up. Always protect yourself from those harmful rays of negativity.

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

What do you use for safety gear?!

Me, Turniphead, and Rock-on Retrospective

It's possible you saw these little Turnipheads in a post I recently updated which came to your email in-box. I didn't know it would notify you. Auck. You may recognize some of Turniphead's outfits; she wears what I wear and usually hangs out with Kitty.

And I made another compilation video of some of my outfits from October 2016 to now-ish, Part 2 after Part 1, October '15 to '16. I uploaded a version, took it down, and then replaced it with this one. It's all so complex!

Have a look if you have a minute. Seriously, it's exactly 1 minute long.

Don't forget that I'm doing Style Boost Coaching now if you'd like help building up the courage to wear what makes you happy and live with attitude. See HERE.

Now, getting serious with playtime below.

This may look suspiciously like Vancouver Art Gallery, but really I'm in Italy! Yes, definitely, kind of! I stopped to whip around my dress and lean on marble columns on my way to a little trattorria, where I shall dine on pasta and drink red wine and wreck my dress, but I won't mind because, hey, I'm in friggin' Italy. 

Perhaps I shall need to rinse my dress in Trevi Fountain. The thought of laundry has never be so romantic. I should have brought all my dirty clothes with me!

Meet me at the Piazza di Spagna. See how great that sounds? Look for the woman with eyes like spinning saucers - that will be me, amazed that I am in friggin' ITALY!! 

I like the novels of Patricia Highsmith and loved the movie adaptation of The Talented Mr. Ripley with Gwyneth Paltrow, Cate Blanchett, Jude Law, and Matt Damon. In particular, I loved seeing Italy of the late '50s through director Minghella's eye. The clothes - sigh. Below, a montage of scenes with the characters Meredith Logue and Tom Ripley.

Okay, so I haven't been to Italy - YET. But the Art Gallery's plaza is just several million steps removed. And the light was amazing that day, very, uh, Italian. 

I'm wearing my light corduroy strapless dress with my Calvin & Hobbs suspenders from Bella, Citizen Rosebud, and black tights and my man shoes, which I often wear to toughen up a feminine piece.

Mavis did a spectacular job! My remote control used to be named Dick, but Mavis is so much better. She works twice as hard for twice the pay. She always anticipates my needs.

Below, a closeup of the cool suspenders. I have them on backwards which is rightwards for me, a bit like a halter top. The white "blouse" is a light, soft cotton nightgown, thigh length, with all the pretty eyelet lace trim removed. It's not only long but also very oversized and bunchy, which poufs out the skirt quite satisfactorily. And it spills out the top aided by my heaving cleavage. Heh.

I couldn't have done a better job at sports photography if I had tried. 

I am going to link up with Patti at Not Dead Yet Style, Visible Monday, and Catherine at Not Dressed as Lamb, #iwillwearwhatilike. 

Have your clothes transported you anywhere this week? Do tell!! Any romantic laundry happenings you care to share? Okay, maybe don't answer that...

Fifty and Other F-Words: Reflections in the Review Mirror

I occasionally allude to the menopause here on Bag and a Beret - it's hard not to. Mostly I feel majorly ripped off by the whole thing. "Pause" it is not! More like high-speed skidding on hairpin turns in the Alps (not in a good way) with a smile on my face that says I'm on a jolly holiday - "Tra-la, having a grand time!" - just playing my role in what must be the biggest brainwash of all time.

So when Margot Potter asked if I'd like an advance copy of her new book on the Pause and other life challenges, which she called Fifty and Other F-Words: Reflections from the Rearview Mirror, I thought, hell, yeah. I've known her online for years and she always cracks me up. We are the same age and she has pink hair, I mean, really, really pink. Those are Qualifications in my world.

Margot has also been in a rock band, auditioned for real Hollywood TV shows, has regularly appeared on stage and TV locally and nationally, and she was an on-camera shopping channel product expert for 11 years. As you know, I've misted my toes (doesn't qualify as a full-on dip) in some of those waters too, but Margot has plunged full cannonball! And she has authored seven DIY design/craft books and an e-book on personal branding.

So to the book.

The Outside: Excellent bright blue jacket with glittery bits, bubble-gum pink hard cover under it, satisfying heft at 220 pages, published by Sterling Publishing New York. And the colour age-progression shots of Margot on the facing paper are the perfect intro to what's to come.

The Insides: When I sat down to read, I kept turning pages and turning pages until there were none left. It was like a cleansing, invigorating shower, and I sighed with contentment when I was done.

I tagged all the places I laughed out loud or considered vital bits for backup during a harrowing hairpin turn.

Each chapter is a unique riff on an F word - fearless, frazzled, flabby, fashionable, feminist, et cetera - essays, poems, and other wry takes on life, from the highs and lows, to the sideways and side-eyes.

There were many Vulcan mind-meld* moments, like when Margot writes about her life path as a creative. I'm sure many bloggers and artists can relate: a company/buyer says, if you donate this amazing thing to us, we'll reward you, not with money, but something waaaay better - with amazing exposure! She laughs, if you're a knitter, try paying your landlord with yarn. Bwahaha!

I steamed and nodded my head at some of the off-the-cuff remarks she (we all) has fielded as a woman with visible life lines: aren't you a bit long of tooth for that? to be wearing that? to think that? Particularly remarks from men. Ouch. But Margot lobs her ripostes like scoops of ice cream, sweet, sticky, sometimes tooth-crushingly cold, which we catch joyfully in a crunchy sugar cone - decadent, calorie-free. Truly badge-worthy humour.

The top of page 41, bwahahaha! It's in Frazzled. You'll have to get the book. Heh.

Botox, high heels, chiskers, slutty pilgrim costumes, the Cheez-It problem/solution, private investigators, the unmiraculous powers of kale, muffin tops and Bundt cake, it's all in there, with lots of sprinkles and glitter on top, but no kale, definitely no kale.

The take-aways? We are not alone. Any time is a good time for reinvention, but especially after 50. She writes, if Julia Child can do it, so can we! Margot celebrates, cheers, cries, and high-fives us forward, buoyed by everyday magic. I recommend Fifty and Other F-Words: Reflections in a Rearview Mirror. I hope this becomes a bestseller. I do.

Margot's Webpage, FB, YouTube (book trailer) 

IG, The Lady Party (Margot a.k.a. "Madge")

Also, Margot interviewed me as part of her book launch. 

It's HERE, Mel Kobayashi: Fearless Fashion.

*reference to Star Trek sci-fi TV series, a telepathic mind convergence
I was not paid for this review. And Margot didn't give me yarn either. I'm not sure if she knits.

For this shoot at Vancouver Art Gallery, I wore beige tan caramel butterscotch light brown Missoni pants from My Sister's Closet, a striped silk blouse by Scotch and Soda, a felt coat by Yuzhe Studio, and Italian ankle boots from MSC.

The plaza is a very public place to use my tripod, but pffft, I'm such a pro these days. One kind woman stopped and asked if I'd like her to take my photo. Dick was doing a good job (my remote control) so I thanked her and declined. 

Those banners are advertising the Takashi Murakami Exhibit at the gallery, almost over. If you want to see it, you better hurry! Below is Turnip Head in my outfit, reading this book.

I'm linking this outfit up with Visible Monday at Patti's place at Not Dead Yet Style, and #iwillwearwhatilike at Catherine's place at Not Dressed as Lamb. I also linked this up to Catherine's #SaturdayShareLinkUp, where you can share links to any topic. Thanks for that, Catherine.

And thanks for visiting!!

How to survive winter '70s style with a kitty

"Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!" (reference to '70s TV series The Brady Bunch). These pants could have walked right out of that show. Or The Partridge Family, another TV series from the same era in which "a widowed mother and her five children make a hit record." Sounds plausible to me. These baggies remind me of the Partridge's concert tour bus, painted patchwork-quilt style. No bus for me, but I have a lunchbag handbag with trailers on it. 

CLICK "Read More" BELOW FOR MORE EXCITING NEWS!!

What to wear for yoga and shopping

THIS is what you should wear to yoga: a third eye timepiece, assorted starched jeans on your head, braids, three heads on your torso and hands for feet because in yoga they like all that contortion-y stuff.

I've been doing collages and farking around with them with pencil crayons. Feels so good. But below is one thing I wore this week, a brand-spanking-new-to-me kimono-style robe, courtesy of Suzanne. Are we allowed to say spanking? Yer darn-tootin'! You have to check out Suzanne's Etsy shop, VintageBySuzanne, if you haven't already. She is sooo good.

Note the expert squinching.

And those paisley-ish pants are cotton, thrifted of course, plus D&G velveteen-rabbit shoes, and my farked T-shirt saying Middle-aged Kitteh. Meow. Grrr.

I drew this Turnip Head a while ago, but Kitty seems to be wearing a robe similar to my new one so I wanted to share. The sleeves on mine are just like that. Kitty says, "Sweets for everyone!" Yes, I NEED SWEETS.

And another montage farkorama below for good measure, since I'm friggin' late for everything online this week and the booze at Patti's Visible Monday is gone. Pfff. As it is, I'm just scraping the barrel with Catherine at Not Dressed as Lamb, #iwillwearwhatilike. 

[Edit: I also posted this on Catherine's #SaturdayShareLinkUp. Kitty wanted to join. Heh. It's nice sometimes to be able to link up a non-outfit post.]

This sketch shows you what to wear for shopping. NO, in fact, it's just what it is. Nothing to do with clothes WHATSOEVER. Maybe sunglasses though. 

I like the "pet." It's a cross between a Tribble from Star Trek and Thing from The Addam's Family. Importantly, it is wearing shoes. And I like the woman's handbag, and Kitty's Secret Knock club.

So it's a short post this week. Seriously, here I am wearing THIS and here I am wearing THAT, I needed a break. Me me me do ray la ti dah. It's a song.

I hope you are all well, surviving your weather and evading hideousness in all its forms, unless it's the good kind of hideousness. 

See you again soon!!

Squash and styrofoam and the ultimate in leisurewear

A colourful silk blouse. Which I love. Thrifted, of course. By Scotch & Soda, a slightly upscale brand from the Netherlands. The original tags were still attached, as well as all the brand's signature chains and metal gewgaws, which I find irksome, but I got it for a steal. I won't tell you how much I paid to spare your feelings. 

I'm standing in the viewing area of my building's squash court. The match I'm watching has apparently made me catatonic - or looking uber-boring fashiony. Heh.

Everything but the pants is thrifted and fine quality. The oversized men's overcoat below is British, vintage wool blend and water resistant. I thrifted the Miu Miu boots for $10 several years ago because the store thought the crackled leather meant they were worn out. The day after I bought them, I saw the exact pair in an editorial ad for Harley Davidson(?) in Vanity Fair magazine. I cut out the ad and hid it someplace so safe I'll never find it again.

The paisley pants are by some mid-tier brand, I forget, purchased at a consignment shop. They are awesome. And there's my "magic loupe" of course, a handmade gift from my partner O, worn daily for years not only as a talisman but also as a quick and easy substitute for reading glasses.

And below, I'm trying to be very cool in the stairwell. Val of Muse Fondue suggested on my IG post that I just need a candy cigarette to make the look complete. I so agree. Or a pink bubblegum cigarette because sometimes when you'd blow on them, powered sugar would puff out the end like real smoke. They probably don't make either anymore; I wonder if they sell candy fatties now.

In my mid-20s I decided to take up smoking for my New Year's resolution. I choked down about two half cigarettes and promptly gave up. I'm so glad I did. I couldn't even hold them in a cool way.

Below is the same outfit but with my shaggy coat and DIY faux fur collar thing. I'm reading in the styrofoam recycling room. Bwahaha - no I'm not. I always do flash photography in there, meaning I take my pictures in pitch black and the flash only lights up for a split second, which would give me time to read one or two words max if I were on a roll. Rather inconvenient.

I needed this book, reading glasses, and stool as props this time in case people came wandering in. What would they think finding me in the styrofoam recycling room not actually doing anything? This way I could say, "I'm reading, what does it look like?!" (And hope they overlook the fact that it's dark and there's a tripod and I could ask them the same question.)

I'm wearing my denim sweat pants, distressed denim on the outside and soft fleeciness on the inside, hip slung with a drop crotch and a sweatband ankle and waistband missing its tie. Thrifted, all thrifted, except my reading glasses, which I bought at the Art Gallery gift store, and my magic loupe.

The book in my hand is called Lady's Maid by Margaret Forster. It is a fictional account of the maid of poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning, single and later as wife of Robert Browning, based on scattered real life records. I've read the book several times and every time I scream in my head, Run! Sadly, my esteem of EBB plunged after this book, although my distaste was no doubt coloured by the conventions of the class structure of the time. I would not recommend this book if you want to maintain your high regard of this poet. But I enjoyed the book in an annoying (but good) way.

I'm linking up to Patti at Visible Monday on her blog Not Dead Yet Style. I'll see you in the garden. I'll be the one trying to look aloof in the reclining lawn chair, getting sloshed on low-salt V8 juice, and smoking bubblegum fatties.

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In other news...
The near-impossible has happened - I was featured in Marie Claire Brazil magazine, their print March issue, along with Sarah Jane Adams, Lyn Slater, Iris Apfel, and Helen Winkle (Binkie Winkle). Ouch, ouch, ouch - that's the sound of me pinching myself. Hahaha! That was an honour, I can tell 'ya (being in the magazine, not pinching myself). If you are reading this MC, thank you! I have a pdf of the article and I'll get a hard copy later this month and share more.

The only reason I was in there was because you guys give me such AMAZING support. I'm not all cool like other mega-stars who rack up this kind of thing all the time; I'm just a woman who wanders around Vancouver trying to grab at the little good things, wearing stuff that makes me happy. So thank you!

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!

Brain sexy

Ooo-eee, isn't she some sexay biatch in those crazy-ass earth tones? Yeeeah baby, the sweet neutral boxiness of straight-cut vintage with baggy-butt high-waters. And whoa, don't look now - nubbly knee socks. Holy hot non-mama, I'm faint! Can she just stop ramping up the heat? 

It's a brainporn outfit. I felt androgynous and sweetly outside the fray-for-pretty on the streets, partly because the glasses were a physical shield between my head, which is my primary residence, and Out There, where everyone else runs around. And while not hot, the cool oddity of the clothing mix still felt attractive and empowering, especially with the Einstein hair and ruby red lipstick. 

For me, this look says, I'm outside the market but you can still gape and be confounded. 

I wielded my toolbox handbag with the fierce abandon that comes from knowing I'm in charge. Of what, I don't really know. I  need staff when I wear this so I can order them around.

Wearing brown: boxy vintage wool suit jacket; high-waisted, short wool trousers by local designer Jacqueline Conoir; men's shoes, miraculously narrow, so pointy they have upturned toes; blue T-shirt; vintage men's tie knotted '70s style; magic loupe; brown knee socks. Except the socks, everything was thrifted or gifted, including the Firmoo prescription glasses, which sit low like reading glasses. 

I read an article about a psychological study done at the University of Minnesota, which said women use their luxury handbags as a signal to other women to back off their man.* Yeah, if a rival saw my toolbox handbag she'd be afraid I have a hammer inside. See? O, who gave me the bag, is all about the mind games: I win before the game is even on at a fraction of the price. Hahaha!

There are so many things wrong with the handbag finding - don't get me started - although sadly I don't doubt the result or their other conclusions.

*I found the link at Inside Out Style by Imogen Lamport, her Weekend Reading Sep. 12, but the link destination is persnickety. She always has cool links.

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That's all. Happy weekend!

I'm linking this up to Patti's Visible Monday, of course, at Not Dead Yet Style when it goes live on Sunday. 

PS I've linked this up to TARDIS Tuesday as well because Kezzie thinks this is a very David Tennant Dr. Who look. Although I haven't watched the show, I'm happy to join the party! The more the merrier. You'll find me and the gang at KezzieAG and Maricel's My Closet Catalogue.