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Tuesday, 10 March 2015

It's an addiction of sorts

Greetje was right: someone has been sniffing her eyeliner. I didn't wear any today but its effects are long-lasting and far-reaching. 

Wearing: thrifted (what am I? an idiot? do you think I would buy these new?) day-glo-pink ski pants with stirrups, made in Japan, the fabric feels completely freak-me-out gross but I needed that (colour is faded in this photo); ruby-red brocade Chinese-style short-sleeve jacket-top thing over a long-sleeve T; DIY-scribbled-on-ivory-'70s-style platform vinyl boots; thrifted lucky charm beaded bag, and magic loupe from O, and; my whiney muppet roadkill maxi coat. Yup. Photo farking and attitude, well, refer to opening sentence. 

I'm sure I squashed many a bug under these clodhoppers today. I feel bad about that. A construction crew tried to use me as a pylon and I refused because they wouldn't pay me union wages. Cheap buggers. Squish! 

Okay, I wasn't going to join VM because I wanted a blog break, but HERE I AM!! Back at Visible Monday at Patti's NOT DEAD YET STYLE. Anything to get that fabularsenic hat photo with eyeliner off my top page. Pfft.


Thursday, 5 March 2015

Hat Attack 20

There's nothing like a glam photo shoot to escape reality for just a little while. I am calmed by the process of secretly piling my beauty products around me on the floor of my room, sitting cross-legged as I sort through them, humming, hauling out my floor lights, clipping up the white curtain. O is not allowed. My excuse this time was Judith's Hat Attack 20 at Style Crone. 

I call this hat the acorn hat or Hershey's Kiss hat, vintage now but purchased new yonks ago in Kyoto. I wear it out once in a while but the wool makes my forehead itchy. I could wear a scarf underneath but I am so grabby-last-minute when I go out the door I never remember.

Unfortunately my shoot was cut short by a shower of bugs from my light when it tipped over, an assortment of desiccated baby moths, larvae shells, and a ladybug. I shall have stern words with my housekeeper, perhaps cut her pay or worse (oh yes, please fire me!). I carefully stuck the critters onto clear tape so O could examine them properly under his trinocular for signs of danger bugs (bed bugs, termites, silverfish). There were none. Whew. That calls for a raise (yeah, right, talk, talk, talk...).

So now that I've ruined the glamour vibe of the photos with this bug tale, I'll shut up soon. I wore cycling pants and my number sweater, which I haven't yet wrecked up properly. That's a hardware store heavy silver chain and clear beads I found in our garbage room around my neck. "Oooh, please, stop with all the glamour, Mel! I can't take any more!!" Okay, now I'll shut up. 


Tuesday, 3 March 2015

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.


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