There's a regular blazer-thon going down at the blazer corral a.k.a. some vintage shrunken blazers up for sale in my little home on etsy.
Friday, February 27, 2009
leggings & scarf: Shanghai market
white bag: H&M
Had an appointment with a professor today so I tried to dress a little more respectably than I usually do. Not that professors don't appreciate over-sized wolf t-shirts and skinny jeans. Just that I look half my age when I wear sneakers.
Friday, February 20, 2009
(knightcat via TFS)
When Alexa Chung first sauntered onto the scene I thought she was the bees knees. But upon closer inspection, I started to think she was a little too artfully disheveled and a mite inconsistent. But darned if she isn't near-perfect in this picture. Not too constructed, not too haphazard; the goldilocks of looks!
If I went to Paris I could probably just send a postcard home of this girl and everyone would know where I went. Wouldn't even need the Eiffel tower in the background. Just one achingly cool and nonchalant girl with an effortless scarf and unexpected purse.*
* as in, not a buttery black leather slouch purse nestled in the crook of her arm. I mean, those I love, but there's something so sharp about the shape (a little too big) and colour of her purse.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
These lovely owls came home with me from my latest thrifting session at VV last week. They're coasters, but I'm going to split them up and refashion them as a) a large button b) wall mount c) uh, coaster.
Interesting story behind the origin of these flightless birds. I had seen them at VV last week, picked them up, but ended up returning them to their shelf before I headed to the checkout. I'm deeply afraid of over-consumption and my room has been feeling cramped lately. After some thought, I stopped by a few days later to see if they were still there. Happily, they were! But, during my first run there were four, and now there are only three. Someone bought one coaster. Not that I can blame them- they're adorable. But they belong together! (yes, I'm splitting them up but they'll still be part of the same home).
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
The entire world of cosmetics has befuddled me for quite some time. There are only three necessaries in my beauty arsenal: Cover Girl CG Smoothers, Shu Uemera Eyelash Curler (legendary, I need not go on), and mascara (rotates between Maybelline Colossal and whatever I feel like stealing from my sister). Sometimes I'll dab on some blush (*rummage about in bathroom cabinet to find label- aha!- Tarte), but aside from those items, my little island of beauty products and expertise is quite limited. Had they offered to send concealer or bronzer, I would have had to politely decline. I have as much experience with those items as I have with unicorns.
But in the corner occupied by mascara, I've got a swinging chance and a steady amount of experience. I've been trying to plump up my lashes since my mid-teens. Alas, the same genetic heritage that has blessed me with hyper-metabolism and wrinkle-free skin has also cursed me with myopia and stick-straight stubby eyelashes!
The premise of the mascara is simple. First, you put on a layer of white goo (highly scientific term recently invented by myself) that moisturizes the crap out of your lashes and readies it for the next step. Then you wiggle on some of the black mascara, which forms tubes around your lashes for lengthening wonder.
I debuted the new lashes on Feb. 14. I figured I had already spent 400% more time than I usually do readying for my date- might as well tack on a few extra minutes to take pictures.
As you can see from the before and after picture, the Beauty Tubes fought the good fight, but in the end they were battered down by the overwhelming need for my eyelashes to be lazy and basically lie down. During the 'white' moisturizing stage, all the good curl that the Shu Uemera curler effected slowly became undone, and by the time I frantically applied the second step, they were already wilting pathetically. I was able to boost them up a bit by re-curling, which I generally try not to do after I've put on mascara; they tend to just jolt upright in a very unnatural fashion.
Despite the failure of my puny lashes to stand up, the mascara actually did lengthen (if not curl) my lashes to the max. And for lazy lasses like myself, it was very simple to remove. All I did was lightly scrub with water, and it flaked off without making me look like a raccoon/Taylor Momsen.
I was also sent an extra Double Extend Beauty Tube. The ziploc bag that normally holds my meager collection of make-up has reached its breaking point. So, if you are a gal or guy with lashes with natural curl (p.s. I hate you), feel free to leave a comment, and prepare yourself for some lash-lengthening madness. I will choose someone next week to send a wee packet of tube-y goodness.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Happy day of cinnamon hearts and loaded expectations! I will be spending this evening at the boy's house. We're not much for the outdoors, and by outdoors I mean sparkly date-night prix-fixe menus overflowing with smoochy couples; a high-end noah's ark. Tonight we are hermits hunkering down for a night of peppermint hot cocoa, elaborate snacks, and a dvd or two.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
For a Saturday night house birthday party/dance-off.
I get antsy when I wear light and wispy clothes like this top. They don't necessarily fit with my personality (which is not necessarily prickly or sharp-edged, but certainly not cloud-like and sun-speckled). I picked it out from a Shanghai market for $7 way back when. The dreamy cotton, layers of necklaces and growing-out perm scream 'bohemian princess', and combine just a little too neatly into a 70s motif. I certainly didn't want to look costume-y, or as if I fell out of some absurd flower patch.
My solution was to balance it with an ancient (10+ years) pyramid stud belt that likely found its genesis in some bin in Claire's accessories. It has survived my teenage faux-punk and raver phase, many-a pair of flared pants, and other assorted indignities. Its reappearance in my wardrobe after many years of closet banishment just reinforces the foundation of my packrat mantra:
Never. Throw. Anything.Away.
It will come back to you, like a fashion boomerang, and you will smartly piece it together with something in a creative fashion. I wonder what else in my closet I can bring back up to the majors. Fleece bags? Over-sized Mossimo shirts? The possibilities are endless (and embarrassing).
Friday, February 6, 2009
ONE-THREE Make dinner date with school friends at fancy Italian restaurant for Winterlicious, pop into dress, imagine self as Peter Pan, prepare to dash out the door.
FOUR: Drop electric toothbrush down the front of dress (edit: with toothpaste on it! blast!), wash, blowdry, curse the heavens.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
I will be spending this evening in front of the television watching hulking multi-millionaires in tights run after an egg-shaped ball. Not normally my cup of tea but I've been told there will be elaborate snacks on offer, which appeals to me greatly. I spent a large portion of last night on the dance floor shaking my tail and possibly throwing out my back; I am excited to loaf about in front of the television for a bit.
More my cup of tea: old school Bruce Springsteen. Especially pre-Born in the USA lanky and bearded Springsteen. Simplicity- well-fitting jeans and a t-shirt- seems to be lost in the world of men's fashion these days, awash in boot cut jeans, square-toe shoes and tribal-symbol button-up shirts.
Look for him at the half-time show. The years have beat down on him, and he has been sporting a spotty goatee and earrings lately, but his music still breaks my heart in the best possible ways. I would sell all my worldly possessions to go back in time to 1975 and be at this concert.
Recommended Listening: I'm on Fire, Backstreets, Jungleland, Streets of Fire, Janey Don't You Lose Heart, Bobby Jean, Badlands, Growin' Up, The River, Dancing in the Dark, Darkness on the Edge of Town, Sad Eyes, Waiting on a Sunny Day, and everything. Also, Sexton Blake's sadsack cover of Hungry Heart.
Matt Dillon in Francis Ford Coppola's 'Rumble Fish' (based on the book by S.E Hinton) also has the sharp yet slouchy cool I admire in a fellow.