Palazzo pants for any occasion, not kidding

I took music with me to the alley this time. Tricky business. 

With headphones on, I strain to hear my camera's self-timer countdown and my head spins on the lookout for vehicles, although this particular location is relatively quiet. The biggest distractions are people who wander in on smoke breaks and make me feel like a dork (thank goodness I'm a pro dork and can handle it) and dumpster-divers, etc. (best not to go into details).

Definitely I'm NOT listening to Symphonie Fantastique 5th Movement by Berlioz, which you may recall was used as creepy theme music for Julia Robert's evil husband in the movie Sleeping with the Enemy. Memory jog here. No, these tunes were definitely more upbeat, a "mix tape." Oh those words from a bygone era, yeah, bygone like my youthful trampoline skin!! - sigh. But I'm at least waaay more mature and friggin' wise. 

These mega-leg vintage paisley palazzo pants are great with heels but a bit long for my Converse runners, so I hoisted them a few inches at the bottom with mitten clips. This gave the pantlegs a fantastic balloony effect, while also keeping them out of the muck - double yes.

On top are: upcycled white T-shirt with two chest-level ventilation holes for, uh, chest ventilation, worn over an ivory cotton T-shirt, a so-soft faux-fur and leather bomber jacket, and a big canvas/leather satchel. And my Yuzhe Studios coat is tied at my waist for temperature control emergencies.

For me, music is another cheap form of transportation. See the two exhibits below. Exhibit 1: In the alley.

Exhibit 2: In the forest with Dog.

Either I was really in the forest with Dog and photo-edited myself into all of these other alley shots or I was in the alley and photo-edited myself into the forest. Take your pick. Better yet, have ten martinis (or G&Ts) and tell me what you think.

Perspective is everything. Below I am in a 10 meter-deep empty water tank undergoing some weird cult initiation rite. I think the goddess is supposed to suck me up. Too much fun!!

And then a cool shot because, yeah, like, l'm wearing headphones, right? That makes this auto-cool. I should have put on my shades for double-auto-cool.

I'll link up with, guess who? Patti, Visible Monday, Not Dead Yet Style, and Catherine, #iwillwearwhatilike, Not Dressed as Lamb.

Perhaps you've had a fine week? I do hope so! I'm finally waking up. The snow is gone in Vancouver, for now. Bah-bye!! Sending you wishes for all good things.

Rainbow of black and white

Coarse fabric and oversized high-waisted pants are an awkward combination; strict measures needed to be taken. Now these vintage pants fit like a dream and the checkered flag in the front crotchal area has become a star. Bingo! The pants are also short, and while I contemplated adding a band of black or gold or red to the hem, I decided that the high-waters effect enhances their retro appeal. I mean, these pants could never look standard anyway. Why bother trying?

I'm also wearing my Frump shoes, so-named for their plain style, but they are favourites nonetheless. They were out of commission for a spell because the leather started tearing horizontally on the sides where the shoe bends. Gorilla glue and leather patches took care of that. The bandages are hard to see in this photo but I folded them over the top and glued them down on the outside and inside. The next day I noticed a dusting of white powder on them. Ah yes, that would be the tiny skin bits that riiipped off my fecking glue-covered fingertips while holding the patches in place. 

I'm linking this up to Sacramento's Share-in-Style, freestyle, at Mis Papelicos. And I'll link up to Anne at Spy Girl for 52 Pick-Me-Up: Dots even though these aren't dots, and to Sheila at Ephemera for Shoe Shine, even though these shoes are more of a glimmer than a full-on shine. 

Next:

"A citrus aroma with flavours of apricot, grape, and caramel, and a juicy finish" 

"Oh," you say, "that must be a new wine she's writing about." It's a new whine all right, about my coffee. This is the verbatim description of the "Drip of the Day" coffee from Papua New Guinea that was featured at my coffee shop this morning. I don't know about you, but I don't want fruit in my coffee. I do not want to start my day imagining plump bitter-skinned purple grapes drizzled in caramel sauce. And why would I want "juicy" coffee when I can have juice? That's what citrus is for - juice!

Call me old school, just call me old if you want to, but I want my coffee nutty, coffee-beany - not fruity, not candied (unless it's on the side), and definitely not citrusy. Or floral, which is another blooming coffee trend. Did manufacturers suddenly run out of coffee beans and go, "Hey, I know, why don't we throw in all these flowers and fruits? Nobody will ever know!" - except they broadcast it, except it tastes like crap. (I suppose we're lucky their plants are not next door to sock factories.) I'd rather sip coffee made from beans shat by a kopi luwak than a wet, fruity, floral abomination, although I can't afford that kind of shit. 

When I'm lucky my shop serves up a lovely Italian "Drip of the Day." We're not talking Steve Buscemi, but a more robust Pacino or De Niro, although they'd all probably order espressos or cappuccinos. In this sense, I'm afraid I would be the drip.

But let's get serious - am I to expect "A brussel sprout aroma with flavours of pizza, cheese, and banana, and a sour finish" next week from Iceland? Sure, why not just serve me wet minced bark with a tulip in it and call it day?

Where my Nescafe? Better yet, get me a highball, quick, double juicy.