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.

Snapping back in pearls and bell bottoms

I've noticed as I've gotten older that when I pinch my skin and pull it out, it takes longer to snap back where it belongs. Why do this? Because I've seen other people do this. It's kind of like bothering a sore spot and saying over and over, "Ow, it hurts when I do that." ???

But I've also noticed that this snap-back thing is true about my face as well. When I smile about something during my downtown walks, my face takes longer to settle back into its resting diva state. Heh. I'll go blocks and blocks and totally startle myself when I realize that damned smile is still there!! Let's not talk about how this applies to my scowl face because...

...it's been a week of chaos with nature chasers to take the edge off as the result of a computer hard drive meltdown. Some things were backed up - yeah, like my BOWELS! with all this shite to deal with. I know I'll stumble across stuff here and there on USB drives as the days go by ("stuff" of course referring to my data, not bowels. Moving right along). And the tech guy who did last rites backed up a few things for us, essentials. It was like deciding what to pack in a capsule wardrobe for, say, Paris, and being charged by the hour after the trip is cancelled.

The only true and meaningful remedy was nature with pearls, pearls, and more pearls!! And a cute vintage wool crepe shift dress with glitter tights and pointy shoes. See how dainty I am? I've brought my teacup holder with me, the one I DIY-ed from a wooden matryoshka, and that's a family heirloom teacup.

See the monster with big eyes waving at me behind the fence?

But that's definitely not tea. Looks like I needed a little Extra Strength nature, some fermented organics with a kick. In fact, the cup was empty - even worse! Picture me wobbling and stumbling on kitten heels, fumbling with loupes and reading glasses, sinking in mulch, and then throwing myself awkwardly across these weather-soaked chairs before the 10-second warning on the camera self-timer went off - all of this while trying to keep my dress down and look aloof. I think I succeeded.

I had to face this direction on the chair because all the construction men were on the other side. Of course I lost all my photo editing software and video editing software. Pffft. It was time to upgrade anyway. These photos were done on the basic-est basic software - that's why I added so many effects, to make myself feel better. Look what I can do! Look what I can do! (Ow, it hurts when I do that.)

These heels were wicked leaf skewers. It was a fashion statement, all those golden maple leaves stuck to my heels. Very patriotic.

And below, more nature shots - my very cool striped vintage bell bottoms with a floral jacket and a Bowling-For-Dollars (name of American bowling game show) blouse. I intentionally pulled things from my closet that I thought would look putrid together. I really needed some fecking CLASH! I failed - it came out looking Gucci. I swear, that company has ruined the art of clash by making anything and everything go together. Puh.

During this shoot I thought it would be fun to do some stop motion shots of me throwing a bunch of leaves up in the air. You know: Hahaha!! I LOVE NATURE! Tralala! I set the self-timer and scrambled into position.

What I didn't know was that while the leaves looked dry and lovely on top, when I grabbed a huuge pawful I discovered they were half-rotted and wet on the bottom. And of course when I hear the camera beeping I can't shut off. Up went the rot pile and down it came again all over my head, probably with lots of critters too. None of the photos turned out. How poetic.

After that fiasco I moved locations. Behold!!

And then back in the stairwell below. Too much nature! This outfit was a no-brainer. The overalls said Not Plaid so I put on the tartan jacket for a "get it? get it? nudge-nudge" moment. I don't think anyone but me got it though and it left passersby worried about that puzzled, expectant, half-smirk look on my face, which didn't snap back at all! That's a blue silk blouse underneath. Everything is many sizes too large, except the jacket which I down-farked.

I call this outfit plaid/not-plaid undone, with reference to Canadian rock band The Guess Who and their 1969 hit "Undun." (here) She's come undone. Undone DIY jacket, undone DIY overalls with that gaping bib. At least my combat boots stayed tied, double knotted.

These photos are the first installment in Project New Leaf. I am venturing boldly where no middle-aged tween has gone before. Heh. A fresh slate is a good thing.

But I have to say that throughout this minor inconvenience my heart went out to a dearly loved member of our blogging community, Jessica Cangiano, author of Chronically Vintage, and her husband. All their worldly possessions, including her priceless collection of vintage clothing, were destroyed in a fire on October 13. Their dog escaped with them but their beloved cat went missing.

A crowdfunding page has been set up HERE to help them get back on their feet. And Jessica's friend Bonita of Lavender & Twill set up a Facebook page HERE for helping in other ways. The fire happened a couple of weeks ago, but the need I'm sure is as strong now as it ever was. Think about it, won't you?

And now one more outfit for the road:

This is my first back-to-nature photo. I'm living proof that when the going gets tough, the tough put on pearls and bell bottoms, grab a camera, shower themselves with decaying plant matter, frolic in mulch, clamber up hills and stairs, and pull out the fine china. I tried wielding a pitchfork and a very heavy watering can in my pearls, but I'll save those photos (on an external drive) for later. Heh.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that I met up a while ago with my friend Sandra, who is now active on IG here. You can see her rocking her drop crotch pants on my street style blog here. Mighty fine.

The end. Congratulations - you made it!

I'll be linking something up, of course, with Patti at Not Dead Yet Style, Visible Monday, and Catherine at Not Dressed as Lamb, #iwillwearwhatilike.

Have a good week. And remember: two steps forward, one step BACKUP!!

The shoes that ate Vancouver

You know how I go downtown almost every morning to check out my turf, right? Well the other day, I cut through Nordstrom on my way home and was overcome by a crowd of highly-excited women who appeared at a glance to be dressed in black blazers, black skirts, white blouses, and heels. They were scurrying around like bumper cars in a velvet-roped corral in the shoe section.

I didn't have a photo of bumper cars so this will have to do

Holy cow! Clearly I didn't get the memo and looked down at my bathmat white maxi coat, three-sizes-too-big white chinos, white DIY boob-cooler T-shirt and turtleneck, black Italian ankle boots, tower hair, and Joan Crawford red lips. I thought, hm, this might end badly for me.

What?! No memo?!

Had I missed the "filming in progress" signs and stumbled onto the set of a new David Lynch movie? Was this Purgatory!? To their credit, everyone looked great but in a mass-fabulous way that makes it hard to see the trees for the forest without a little neon pink tulle for focus. Blazered eye correction can do that to a person.

Blazered eye correction

Regaining my composure, I then noticed lines of anxious women in a phalanx along the perimeter of the store, all clutching shopping bags. And wait! They were being fed champagne. Whaaat? Where's my champagne? Quickly I spotted the head security guard looking like a god from central casting. I approached him with my best VIP face and asked, How do I get in?, What's happening?

Seeing red in the Louboutin shoe department

He explained that Christian Louboutin was expected on the premises in about 30 minutes to sign purchases of his footwear, then indicated the table and throne behind him where the maestro would sit. So the price of admission was new red-soled shoes, which clearly the lined-up women had paid, and apparently this was non-negotiable as no amount of seductive Norma Desmond eye bulging on my part would change his mind. I'm losing my touch.

Guess which one is me.

I wanted to tell these women, hey, I'll scribble on your old shoes for free! Maybe it's a good thing I left my folding card table, Sharpie, and lawn chair at home. Well, maybe not for free. I'd be like Lucy from Charlie Brown comics and charge 5 cents.

But really, all this fuss for a signature on a shoe? Isn't that weird? You're just going to put your stinky feet in there and literally drag his name through the mud. But maybe these disciples have shoe shrines in their homes and never wear them or are carried by servants when they go out. Maybe they will try to sell their shoes on eBay. Or maybe they've had the sweat glands in their feet surgically removed. Do they even do that? Could I make my millions with this idea? Would Louboutin invest?

My farked boots - post on them here. Note my signature. Free.

I wondered what would happen if Valentino had an in-store signing of thong underwear. Would women wear them? Can you sell pre-owned undies on eBay? Is there even a Mr. Valentino and does he make thongs?

As for me? I only wear diamonds on the soles of my shoes, baby. I find them in the thrift store. Priceless. Okay, maybe not diamonds, but they are still rocks of a sort. They get stuck in the cracks.

Goners. Days ago both shoes in the right pair cracked. I should have bought some Looboos.

I'll hook something up with Patti and Catherine when they go live later, Visible Monday/Not Dead Yet Style and #iwillwearwhatilike/Not Dressed as Lamb, respectively. (In fact, I linked up an Instagram photo for Catherine instead.)

Oh, I made a video of most of my posted outfits from October '15 to October '16, photos from here, Instagram, and a couple new ones.  I put this on IG too but this version is the original size. Much better.

THE VIDEO

That's all. Have a great week everyone!!!