Monday, 23 March 2015

Don't step on my pointy shoes

WHO ARE THEY?!! 
And what are they doing
on my blog?


Hee hee, it's Sheila of Ephemera and her partner L making SERIOUS decisions.
And that's moi, intrepid reporter who captured the action at the Fluevog shoe store - where else? - on Friday during out meetup. My friend, talented artist Nalidsa Sukprasent, took that photo of me last month and I'm using it here because: a) I didn't think to get any shots on my camera that included me, and; b) that's the same outfit I wore for our meetup: gold spangled top, stovepipe houndstooth ankle-zip pants and sexay Naturalizer granny shoes.

Sheila, L, and I kicked off our afternoon with a delicious lunch at Acme Cafe, hopped over to Community Thrift for a wee poke around, and then went on a shoe-shopping safari. Blue shoes, silver shoes, bronze shoes, pickle shoes, champagne and yacht shoes. Sheila and L came to town to celebrate their anniversay and they do. it. right. This was our third get-together and it was a blast! Someday I hope to make it over to Vancouver Island.

Edit: Sheila has written up a far more entertaining post on her trip and our meetup, HERE, with dorky fun photos. GO! Go now! 

And below is what I wore today (Sunday): my thrifted reversible maxi kimono-robe-type dealie, thrifted tie-die, ravaged cotton long-sleeve top, thrifted Perry Ellis furry high-waisted vintage cougar pants, thrifted DIY scribbled-on Converse runners, gifted vintage neck pieces, and magic loupe, not shown here. I photographed this on the floor - I had too much work waiting to haul out my tripod, blah, blah, blah - you know what I mean? - but better than nothing...I hope. The robe billowed extravagantly and the runners made me feel bouncy.


Those are my new shoes above, $25 from my fave local thrift shop, leather, made in Italy, superb quality. I found them in the men's shoe section, but men's, women's, who cares? I wore my blue silky polka-dot head scarf with the outfit, which you can see in that tiny second photo - click to enlarge it if you feel the need. And you might be able to see my wool fringed vest as well. The scarf felt weird, especially when it started slipping down over my eyes and I didn't want to tug it back up because it would puff up my hair! One more block and I would have been in trouble. Heh. Vanity, thy name is Mel. 

I'll take this blog romp over to Patti's for Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style. Now back to work!
Sheila - Lost in Fluevogs

Wednesday, 18 March 2015

Electric toothbrushes and fringe

I recently almost spent a ridiculous amount of money for a vintage coat online but was saved at the last minute by an email from Sheila of Ephemera. Buying it would have gone against my golden rule of thrifting: go with the flow and make sure you check out the five-dollar rack. Still, I wonder if that coat is gone. I'll just have a little peek…

But I'm more than happy with my new upcycled shaggy jacket.
I bought an oversized off-white shaggy jacket for $15 recognizing its Hideous-With-Potential Value (HWPV). I enhanced it with fabric paint, which maintains its softness, and Sharpie markers. I don't think the painting is done yet but I wore the jacket out anyway. The button at the bottom needs to be realigned to shrink the size in a cheating fashion, but in a pinch I grabbed a single suspender clip from my odds-and-ends drawer (I use them for emergencies of all sorts) to snap the front together. It worked a treat.
I wore this with my embroidered wrecked-up oversized jeans, scribbled-on Converse sneakers, Middle-Aged Kitteh DIY T-shirt, silk scarf, and magic loupe. Crowds parted on the sidewalk to let this MAT (middle-aged tweener) through. Grrr.
We disconnected our TV. There have been so few shows O and I enjoy, apart from the building's entertaining security channel, that cable was a waste of money. Suffering from withdrawal I ate two protein bars in a row to make myself feel good. Then I felt bad because they were the excruciatingly nutritious chocolate chip protein bars. 

Finding succour in chocolate has meant more quality time with my appliance – no! you dirty-minded trollops, I speak of another wand – my electric toothbrush. To clarify: for brushing teeth! In my mouth!! It boasts a separate digital smiley face counter that acquires more facial features the longer you brush. I've been wondering what it looks like if I brush for five minutes instead of the standard two but I max out at four when the paste goes watery and I start to gag. For that I am rewarded with a smirking smiley face with twitchy eyebrows, as if to say, you idiot, what did you expect? 

Did you know there are WiFi power toothbrushes now? Imagine if you're at an executive meeting and your phone tinkles: "Sweet Mel, time to brush your teeth! Healthy gums, healthy mind!" Won't happen – I'm the sole attendant at my executive meetings, in which case the only thing that would embarrass me is having a transcript of my unhealthy mind leaked to the press, kind of like what I'm doing here in this blog.

I'm linking this up to Sacramento's Share-in-Style at Mis Papelicos. 
Electric toothbrushes, yay or nay? I love mine, but not for four minutes!


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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