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...

A vamp, an angel, and a couple of stools

Look, new props! So excited. Well, not new, but they are items I dragged into the stairwell to liven things up - my red stool and my step stool. Hurray! I'm sure you'll agree they add a certain je ne sais quoi to my photos.

Below, my casual starlet look, or, uh, maybe a bit older than a starlet. In scientific fact, an older, burned out star is called a white dwarf or a degenerate dwarf because it only has a stellar core remnant, which means my nuclears have stopped but I'm still hot. Okaaaay. That might work. Astronomy has the best words sometimes. Space wormhole, for example, is another favourite.

All I really wanted to say was I am looking glamorously mellow, "Oh, dahling, I'm tiiiired of all the fuss. My driver is waiting." Nothing says glamour quite like batwing eyeliner, although putting it on was like trying to draw on a deflating balloon.

There is definitely a natural ease conveyed when one kneels on a super-hard, gritty concrete step in tights, then leans over and drapes one's arms on a stool with insouciance and props one's camera on a fully extended tripod against a wall so it doesn't fall over and one has to contort one's body to see the preview screen. It's practically second nature to me.

And more photos with The Prop.

Why is it that men can sit open-legged and not worry about putting a hand or a sweater or something else in front of their groinal apex? That's just wrong. Ain't nothing wrong with my envelope! And yet I persist in hiding, dare I say, the flaps, like my mail is on the prohibited list and has a big red stamp across it: customs and duty are owed! (snort of disgust)

If I see a man sitting like this on the train, hogging all the seats, I think, pig, go aerate somewhere else so I can frigging sit down. But a woman sitting like this? She's not only rude for hogging the seats, but she's extending an invitation, if you know what I mean, wink. Pathetic!

I don't sit like this on the train, by the way. I seldom ride trains. I seldom sit like this at all, but I'm making a point here, after the fact. "Knees together, ladies!" she trills. Puh. A little rebellion for the new year is definitely in order. I encourage all of you to sit like this for your next photos too. Hahaha!!

I'm wearing my DIY Middle Aged Kitteh t-shirt with a skirt hoisted with Calvin and Hobbes suspenders, a great gift from Bella of Citizen Rosebud years ago. I didn't like the skirt hanging below the hem of my coat. Under the t-shirt is a cotton camisole and another 3/4-sleeve shirt. And my boots.

I wore this, with a shaggy coat on top, to go buy frozen corn. We were out. I love corn. It's one of my favourite vegetables, categorized as such because I buy "fresh" corn. Dried-up corn is a grain. You may ask, does that mean over-cooked fresh corn turns back into a grain? No. It's just compost. Popcorn is also considered a grain, which is preposterous. Popcorn is movie food, a category unto itself. (And I worried whether I would have anything to write about in this post.)

And below, yet another prop, my step stool, which I also hauled into the concrete studio. These props are horribly unwieldy. Banging, clattering, me gasping, doors shutting on chair legs, tripod legs, real legs, expletives in foreign languages (which don't count). Where's my assistant!? Thus, these props will remain a special photo treat (liberal use of the word) for me.

The next all white/ivory outfit was interesting. So many associations - dairymaid, something from The Handmaid's Tale or Tess of the d'Urbervilles, tired hurdy-gurdy or dancehall girl in a gold-rush town (maybe because I just watched Godless), novitiate, and more.

Again, the Calvin and Hobbes suspenders were used to hold up this strapless soft baby-corduroy dress. The white top is actually a longish cotton nightgown. I removed all the eyelet lace trim to make it less nightgowny, and I floofed it at the top so it's spilling out of the bodice.

Patterned leggings and patterned socks and my brown booties finish the look. And we can't forget my magic loupe, which goes everywhere with me. Made by O and now restocked in his Etsy store HERE. Go buy one now. Heh.

From my stellar core remnant to yours, I hope you have a cosmic week. Keep that hot core and planetary nebula stoked! Yeeeeah! Hot nebs, it's a new term, you read it here first. And probably last. Or it could be a snack food.

Finally, for over a year I've been wanting to share this short ad with you and kept forgetting. See? I have a great memory for remembering what I forgot, but not for putting what I was supposed to remember. ???  It's for Shiseido brand cosmetics. I love it. O found it for me. You have to watch the whole thing.

Of course, I'll be linking up to Patti at Not Dead Yet Style, her Visible Monday gang, and Catherine at Not Dressed as Lamb and her #iwillwearwhatilike. Till next time, kittehs!