Hold me closer, tiny dancer.

It's too weird that I haven't been all bandwife-y lately, right?

I admit it's been a while since I so much as casually mentioned a certain band. THE band, obvi: The Mister's (Wonder)-bread-and-(i-cant-believe-it's-not)-butter and the fodder for many a dramatic post. Really, a huge inspiration for this blog, at least in the affecting-me kind of way (because obviously it's all about me). Annnnnyway, I've been mum for a reason. While I can't really get into specifics, let's just say that the boys are on a bit of an "indefinite hiatus". That's what I'm allowed to say (and I'm trying to be less mouthy and rebellious). 

No rehearsing, no recording, no shows, no tours. 

 { why is this not happening? like, now? cold case. }

(If you know me in real life, I've undoubtedly blabbed the whole story in person. If I haven't, we clearly need to do coffee. Stat!)

What does this all mean in the grand scheme of life/music for Alex and me? We still don't know. But while Sweet Thing is on an unspecified break, I do know that I have a lot less me-time and it's making me squirm. 

Look at me! I soaked pillows upon pillows with fat tears feeling sorry for myself and my tragic lonely bandwife condition. Now I'm complaining that I never get the house to myself? Can you believe this girl?! Impossible to satisfy. I also know that I really, really, REALLY miss it. It = everything. Especially the cheering. Oh dear. I'm a piece of work.

 

{ I mean, who ARE these people!? }

  
I should be less self-involved. This big empty space is his burden, not mine. During this weird limbo stage in his life, Alex is contemplating this: what, oh what, to DO with all of this free time! 

Well.

Write an album, of course. 

I'm sure he'd rather I not trumpet this fact to the masses (or the 8 people who read my blog) but it's his fault for marrying an oversharer/big-mouth. INYOFACESUCKA! 

He's built himself a "music room" in our unfinished basement. I am convinced that mold spores will be the cause of his untimely death. But he's a badass musician, right? A big middle-finger/crotch-grab to death!!! Not really. He's just SO desperate for his own space that he's willing to make himself a little sick for it. Sigh. We need to move.

 

{ really? unfit for humans. even for THIS caveman. }

So the music plays on, Sweet Thing or no Sweet Thing. It's a good thing. I think. It's the only "career" he really wants. But I'm pushing for a more stable Plan B in case the music thing doesn't work out. I sound un-supportive. Oh no, no. It's not for any lack of faith in his awesomeness, just complete disdain for the pathetic, crumbling music industry (especially in Canada). 

Sure, I married the creative left-brain type. I AM the creative left-brain type: "Spontaneity! Romantic poverty! Starving for art! Love is all you need!" But that side of me is very equally balanced by my plan-ahead, pragmatic right-brain: "Investments! Budgets! Colour-coded file folders! 5-year plans!"

And this side of me is displeased. But he's trying. He has a solid background in the tv biz and is going through the soul-crushing task of writing endless cover letters and applying for roles for which he's hella-overqualified. I can't believe we're back HERE again.

And what of me? Since my bandwife role has been stripped bare, I feel disconnected from his music-life. 

 { scruffy beards and wayward dress-straps? we belong in a green room }

So I've asked to help. 

We've already decided that if the solo thing takes off, I'd be his daily biz manager (ahem, nagging wife with additional accounting duties) and responsible for all of his big-upping (I'm experienced). But what about now? Oh, well, y'know, I'm just going to...

WRITE LYRICS! 


So excited. He's agreed to give me 2 unfinished songs and I get to pen the words! Are you really understanding how awesome this is?!? Don't laugh. This part requires little to no musical ability (and I have little to no musical ability, emphasis on "no"). I'm not a bad poet and I love words to death, so I might actually pull this off. The vocal melody is there, so easy-peasy, yeah? Also, if we write a hit, I'll rake in the royalties. Ha.

John's Imagine was based on Yoko's imagination, after all. I need to live up to my handle.

New Orleans Style – Part 1

This post is easily 3 weeks in the making. I just can't seem to make time for blogging lately. Ugh. Life. I'm traveling for work in a week and am thrilled that this particular trade show just happens to be located in New Orleans this year. Oh em geeeeee! There are so many pockets of the earth that I've yet to explore, and I'm thankful to get to see at least a little BIT of the world on the company dime. We have plenty of chill-time on this trip, too. Stoked!

So you know I love playing dress-up, yeah? Halloween trumps Christmas in my world. Themes FTW! And since I was somehow terribly ill-equipped wardrobe-wise for Vegas, I'm planning ahead. Dressing the part is a little less straightforward this time around. Vegas = short dresses + tall shoes + glitta, dahhling. Easy (though I failed). But Louisiana? Aside from wearing as little as possible (have you checked out this WEATHER?!), I need to do some investigating on appropriate/thematic style. Of course, this is all just me being a weird-o ("quirky", right?) - any city infected with H&M-itis will likely look relatively every other city suffering from the same, but I'd like to believe there's a hint of unique flavour wherever I travel.

For funsies, I decided to challenge myself with a colour palette. What better hue scheme than one inspired by Mardi Gras? We won't be in Nawlins for the event, sadly. The official colours - kelly green, bright yellow, rich purple - are difficult to cram into one outfit, but if anyone can do it, it's me. I intentionally try to incorporate as many colours as possible into my style-world. I'm hell-bent on abolishing matchy-matchy. Today I'm wearing two pink things, though, and it's killin' me (it's the dog's fault – don't ask). I'm not literally going for a Mardi Gras theme as I shop/pack for the trip, but I'm writing this as a fun exercise.

In Part 2 of this post (coming soon!), I will focus on space-saving packing with smart mix-in-match pieces and my must-haves for hot-hot weather. Basically, my REAL non-fantasy-dress-up travel style post. But for now, let's have fun with this theme. 

The two outfits above, deconstructed, plus some extra Mardi-Gras-esque goodies:

 

Larkspur and Hawk $1300 // Fulton $95

ModCloth.com // Stylebop.com

 

 LPCollection.com $225 // Dorothy Perkins $17

 farfetch.com $500 // Debenhams.com $95

 

J Crew "Minnie" pants $103 each

 luluguiness.com $495 // Marc by Marc Jacobs $420

 Karen Millen // ModCloth.com

 Steve Madden // Madewell

 oasis.com $100 each

p.s. Archie jumped up on the table and stood on the keyboard when I left the room. This was his contribution to the post: wssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

leaving las vegas... but not entirely

I popped my Vegas cherry this month.

And this wasn't a deflowering of the goin'-steady-promise-ring-back-of-your-Dad's-station-wagon variety. This was a hardcore-group-orgy-girl-on-girl-on-pizza-guy-porn de-virgination (not literally, mom, not literally). In my mind, I'm a jump-in-the-deep-end kinda girl. But, truthfully, these days, age and bruise-memory typically steer me towards wading in gradually. There was no room for wading. We went all-the-way Vegas (it was consensual).

Sure, yes, it was a work trip. CES, in fact. And we worked hard. Full days on our feet, smiling through the hangovers, shaking hands with shaky hands.

 

Proof.

I lost weight from replacing sleep and food with Red Bull (who AM I!?). Something I couldn't  manage to accomplish by eating salads and practicing yoga FOR A WHOLE YEAR. Is being healthy overrated?

(Full disclosure: my yoga/salad routine was intermittent and littered with burrito break-downs and way too much curry. Plus, I don't even like Red Bull.)

And... I gained back every pound in Utah a week later (next blog, peoples!). Back on salads.

So, well, here's the problem: this other facet of me was born (or better yet, re-born, born-again) in this strange, sleepless city. The dormant can't-stop-dancing party girl of my early 20s came alive again. Was I happy to see her? I'm still not sure. She's complicating my life back in the real world. She saw a poster on Pinterest this week that said "DO EPIC SHIT". She liked it. She adopted it as her mantra for 2012. Hubby reacted with a Marge Simpson-esque grunt. He is not amused. He prefers the adult me better, maybe. But will he ever understand unless he experiences it for himself? It's not really his bag. Yet, i didn't think it was mine either.

My overactive imagination has me wondering: was that the REAL me? Is the rest of this just pretending? Panic attack! It's true that I feel like an overgrown child most days. That I'm playing dress-up. I shared these concerns with Alex and he said, exasperatingly,  that I'm having a quarter-life crisis. That perked me up 'cause it means I'm living FOREVER!!! (Or, until I'm 132, to be precise.)

OK, so, it's like this dude I saw on Dr. Phil last week (I was at the gym, OK? Don't judge.). He had infantilism or a "baby fetish", as in he liked to wear diapers and be spoon fed and sleep in an over-sized crib (all "non-sexual" of course. riiiight...). But when the good Doctor asked him if it was hard to keep up the baby act, he said that sitting there in adult clothes sans diaper was the acting part. That the real him was the baby. OK, a severe comparison, maybe. But what if Vegas-me IS me??? Or at least a tiny part of me?

Melodrama. Obvi.

Really, maybe I just need more dancing in my life. And maybe "DO EPIC SHIT" doesn't have to mean base-jumping or quitting my job to pursue a career as an R&B back-up dancer (I WANT TO SOOOO BAD) or moving to Morocco or getting Nicki Minaj bum implants. Maybe it just means being that jump-in-the-deep-end girl that I imagine myself to be. Maybe it's just going out-out more. And wearing my purple sequined hat or my "fashion turban" no matter how many new nicknames I might acquire at work. And drinking extra dirty martinis past midnight on a Thursday. Check, check and check. "Epic 2012" is off to a good start. Getting the Mister on board is my next feat.

I'm committing a big Vegas no-no. I'm not leaving it all behind. What happens in Vegas... follows you home and moves into your house and stays a while? Epic.

Clearly my experience can't quite be explained in words or photos, but I'll give it the good Vegas try. Enjoy.

 

[ Gah. I need to go home. ]

GelaMe

I've left this thing in a terrible state of suspense, haven't I?

Lots of changes since my last post, and while I couldn't spill at the time, I can finally return to my over-sharing self.

So, this is how it all went down:

I accepted a job with Upper Canada Soap sometime in mid-March. It wasn't an entirely perfect fit as the role was pretty admin-heavy with not much room for creative expression. But, I liked the people and there was definite moving-up potential. I started at the beginning of this month, and joined the commuting masses for a 1.5 hour trek (each way!) to and from Mississauga every day. The journey involved: a subway trip to the end of the line, a bus trip to the outer edges of the TTC service area, and a rapist's-dream walk through a desolate industrial/wooded area. Not ideal, but by the end of my 2-week stint at the job, i was beginning to enjoy the me-time. I devoured 2 books and incorporated some Starbucks motivation by getting off of the bus one stop earlier.

However, the job itself wasn't exactly doing it for me. By the end of day 2, I was feeling a bit bummed about the whole thing. Was I not meant for greater things? But, as Alex loves to say, "the Universe provides" and a very unexpected opportunity/rescue mission came my way. At 6pm, I was summoned to a meeting with the heads of GelaSkins and by 8:30, I had accepted an offer.

 

 (Kinda fitting after being an unofficial face of the company for the last year!)

I'm a nice girl, though. I honoured the 2-week-notice clause in my contract at Upper Canada. It was an unbearable thing to start and quit a job within the span of two days. It's not exactly a friend-making move. Did I come to work with a highly contagious rash? Did I engage in a scandalous office affair? Well, no. But I might as well have.

Whew. Done. Now I'm free to blab.

So, I've shaved 2 hours off of my commute, the office coffee is plentiful and awesome (thanks Dark City), and the new job rocks. Officially my title is Communications Manager, but the group isn't big on labels. It's a team effort, and I'm still trying to figure out exactly where I fit. I'm a little piece of jigsaw-puzzle sky. Regardless of what my role really shapes up to be, I am loving it. It's creative and challenging and I'm surrounded by passionate, motivated and funny-ha-ha people. Ahhhhh.

Yes, I knew I was meant for bigger things. I am among peers. I am sufficiently caffeinated. I am thriving.

9-to-5-ish

Fashion Week has come and gone. Really? Did I blink? Such fun. OK, I'm kind of lying. Well, perhaps it would have been fun, had I not been clenching my teeth together (a reaction to anxiety) the entire time. I feared botching blogTO's coverage. But I'm over it. I'm not even going to read the comments. And a few of my quasi-journalist peers were at least complimentary. (Oh, and p.s. my OR by Angela Chen review is up!)

[ photo by blogTO partner-in-swag-crimes, Dennis Marciniak ]

But if LGFW was a triple-layer buttercream-iced gateau with spun-sugar bows (yum-yum-yum!), this week is a Kellogg's Pop Tart in comparison (ho-hum). OK, melodrama is one of my (non-resume-worthy) skills but if I was really exaggerating, I would have said Wonder Bread. At least I'm tossing in a little strawberry(ish) filling.

 

[ ummm, too early to renew my vows? ]

I am waking up at six. I am commuting over an hour in each direction. I have a physical in-box. The office coffee isn't free. It's not all bad, though, and I have some seriously exciting career-news to share shortly (yes, more changes), so I'll survive.

In the meantime, I'm going to need to find time in the non-working-hours for me-me-ME. It's all about balance.

Oh, and planning!

And follow-through!

Oh my. I need to rediscover my organized self after a year of making my own schedule and keeping late hours. I need to be that super meticulous and "together" person that I am in my head. Putting it to practice is challenging, but in the works:

 [photo via: Things Organized Neatly ]

I have:

1. Organized closet into "work" and "play", and by type (skirts, blouses...); purged fugliness = easier coordination of outfits while half-asleep
2. Committed to night showers = shaving a good 20 mins off of my morning routine (and not waking Alex with the blowdryer)
3. Bought new tupperware = making healthy lunches in advance, reducing risk of meals built around expired desk-pudding
4. Sorted out commuting activities (my NY Times Crossword book, that Vonnegut novel that Alex recommended, that small biz book that I still haven't read) = productivity during new-found idle time
5. Bought new work bag (well, mum did) = room for #3 and #4
6. Broke news gently to affected parties = Alex is aware of his new housewife role, and is adapting nicely (his Tuesday involved dog-poo management and laundry)
7. Google mapped every possible route to work = saved myself $5 per day (and several calories) by adding a 20-minute walk (albeit through a woodsy/industrial area, frequented, I can only assume, by search parties, rapists and various victim-types)
8. Bought actual alarm clock radio that is not my phone, despite overwhelming ugliness = lowered sleep-in potential and increased waking-up-to-Shakira potential

Excellent.

I'll stop now before I "accidentally" spill the beans. Oh, and because it's 8pm and I need to be in bed soon.

Sa-weet!

 [ happy, happy! ]

So, I guess all of my fretting over interview attire and cutting my Ottawa vacay short were not in vain! I landed the job! OK, it's not official yet - still waiting on the offer letter and am in the middle of negotiating a post-Fashion Week start date ('cause I'm covering it for blogTO!!), but it's probably safe to break the news. And, really, I've been unemployed/freelance/self-employed for a whole YEAR, so obviously it's big news that I'm dying to share (and I'm bad at secrets).

So, back to the 9-to-5. I wasn't entirely convinced, at first, that I wanted to work a full time office job, but it sunk in as a necessity over the holidays, and now? Now, I'm excited about it. Pencil skirts! Office coffee! Co-worker chatter! A sense of purpose? Yeah, I've had some lows lately, and I think that the working-from-home thing, combined with being pretty broke was getting to me. I'm the designated breadwinner for the next couple of years, while Sweet Thing makes their steady climb to music fame (*fingers crossed*) and the Mister starts bringing in some dough.

 

[ Alex soundchecks somewhere far from here. He'll be back. Photo c/o Sweet Thing ]

The challenge - and I'm ready for it - will be balance. I want to ride the momentum of Dudley & Bea and keep working at it in my spare time. I'd love to keep writing, too (Alex is somewhere out in the world frowning right now). It's ambitious, but I'm pretty adept at multi-tasking. Idle hands are not my friends.

This good news opened another door: since I'm no longer bogged down with job hunting, and I don't start work right away, I can spare a few days to hit the road with the boys on their mini tour south! First stop? New York! I'm hitching a ride and then staying for a bit to visit one of my bestest girls (a one-time Canadian transplant high-ranking in my favourite-people-ever list).

 [ getting in trouble in NYC is the most fun with Tabor ]

The guys will continue on to play some Austin, TX shows during SXSW. This little jaunt comes on the heels of their latest cross-country tour with Down With Webster. They play their final show tonight at Massey Hall in TO! So, Alex is back in the city after being away from me for 3 weeks, but I can't see him yet. I've been trumped by soundcheck. The truth: I took too long to get ready and missed a little window. He'll be on his way home very, very soon, though. FINALLY!

I have a feeling that this will be a good year for the band (and maybe bad for me, if that includes a lot of touring). It will all pay off, though. Right? Right? They just played Much Music AND Breakfast Television. Leah just heard Change of Seasons on a Disney program. We also heard it landed a spot on 18 to Life although I've yet to hear it. The little song that could.

2011 is looking up. My mom was right. "You'll be fine."

Style for hire.

I've parked myself at the kitchen table at my parents' house in Ottawa this week. Coming "home" was in one part reaction to my wounded ego (see Bummersville), one part loneliness due to my MIA husband, and a dash of longing for a vacation. Of course Ottawa ain't no Cayman Islands, but on my budget, it would have to suffice. My down-in-the-dumps attitude over my job situation (or lack thereof) was surely something mum could handle. She has a no-tolerance policy for self-pity and that's just what I need. Sure, she's sympathetic, but she won't let me dwell on it, and she distracted me in the best way she knows how: comfort food (ahem, poutine) and dress shopping. 

She bought me a Calvin Klein print shirt-dress perfectly suitable for office jobs, and I snagged a gorgeous leopard print pencil skirt at 80% off. But, they won't get much wear until I land an actual job. This brings me to interviews. I really have no idea what to wear to an interview. I can't stand matchy-matchy suits and they're just not "me" anyway. I also don't want to put forward TOO much of "me" - my love of out-there colour combos might be a bit over-the-top for a first impression in the work world.

My go-to interview outfit is my classic black pencil skirt, cream polka-dot silk blouse and my cap toe patent pumps. It's classic, professional, and still very much reflective of my style. 

I'm getting a little tired of wearing the same outfit at endless interviews, but i do think I've touched on a pretty great combo. Spring is imminent, and since I'm still jobless, I'd love to inject a little colour into the formula. If I had  just a little extra cash, I'd invest in a few extra pieces.

[ Glee's Emma Pillsbury ]

Taking inspiration from Kate Spade, Emma Pillsbury, Joan Holloway and vintage Chanel, here's my dream interview-worthy wardrobe:

[ Suzannah silk pussy bow blouse ]

[ Kate Spade ]

[ Kate Spade Janelle Skirt ]

[ Kate Spade Madeline shirt ]

[ Clemens en August wool crepe pin tuck skirt $150 ]

[ Top Shop $70 ]

[ Alice + Olivia $260 ]

[ Kate Spade swing coat ]

I could also use a more professional bag:

[ Kate Spade satchel ]

[ Kate Spade satchel ]

[ Dooney & Burke $240 ]

While I just love-love-love my shoes (above) from Zara (scored for $50 3 years ago - they're almost vintage Chanel), I could probably use help in this department, too.

[ JCrew ]

[ DSquared ]

[ Michael Kors ]

UPDATE! I just secured an interview for Thursday... too bad I'm stuck with my usual attire. 

Photos via: Michael Kors, polyvore.com, Kate Spade, topshop.com, Dooney & Burke, stylehive.com, Alice + Olivia, shessmart.com, jcrew.com, barneys.com, piperlime.com