Cuz I Rhyme Tight

I used to read Word Up magazine.

(No, I didn't.)

It's really no secret that I think I'm kiiiiiinda gangsta. Before you have a chance for rebuttal, I'll help you (I'm aware; I just like my delusions):

• I grew up in the middle-class suburbs of Ottawa.
• My dog wears a little tartan coat.
• Clueless is, like, one of my favourite films.
• I like Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA" and I'm not sorry.
• I'm into yoga. And lattes.
• Sometimes, I have to use the Urban Dictionary. Like, for real. 

But guys, can I puhhlease get some props for my latest sorta-gangsta gig? I was in a muthafuckin' hip hop video, yo! Canadian hip-hop, but STILL. You can read more here about how any of this is even possible considering the facts above.

Well, this is it:

Directed by the ever-lovely and talented Dan Jardine, pulled together by a cast and crew of some of the awesomest people around, this is the newest vid for Muneshine's track, There is Only Today. Check him out! (Ignore that snarky bit about "Canadian hip-hop". I was being facetious.)

It's been a fairly ridiculous and (almost) completely unattainable goal of mine to dance in a music video. Janet Jackson was my longtime spirit guide. My friend Vivek cast me in the never-released video for one of his tracks, and Sweet Thing pretty much stopped making vids before I could weasel my way into a bit role.

But this finally happened. It's not dancing, I know. And I requested minimal camera time because I felt a bit drag in all of that makeup. Whatevs. I'm close to being "mid-30s" so these kind of opps are rare, amiright?

I also have wardrobe credits on the vid for the Pan Am looks I pulled together for the fly girls (including me)!

ISN'T THIS AWESOME!?

Now I drink champagne when I'm thirst-ay? (Nope again.)

p.s. I will also have you know, in an effort to gain additional gangsta points, that I once lyrically KILLED Bust a Move at Hip Hop Karaoke. Like live DJ, no-bouncing-ball-stylez. Only looked at the lyric sheet once. Wut-wut. That is some hard shit, you guys. Also received a high-five from a HHK veteran with some spot-on Dead Prez rap steez. I haven't been brave enough to return to the stage because it got all profesh somehow, but I could pull out some mean Salt N Pepa lyrics in an emergency. Just so you know.

colour-lust: red + mint

I'm "colourful". OK, that's a euphemism for "criminally insane" (borderline, yeah?). But I'm OK with it. I wear it on the outside with irrational pattern combos and upwards of five accent colours in one outfit. If I had my way, our apartment would be saturated in tangerine and fuchsia and shots of turquoise and crazy conflicting pattern-on-pattern (that's what my insides look like, or so I imagine). But I'm sharing Lead Decorator role with a decidedly more stubborn conservative human.

I won't stop dreaming in full colour, though. Dorothy is my homegirl.

Maybe it's because I leafed through a book on cars of the 60s yesterday, or because Pinterest is swimming in S/S 2013 runway looks, but I'm daydreaming in a seriously unseasonable colour palette. It happens to be one of my most loved combos of all time, actually. I grew up in a 1950s time-capsule, so it's no surprise that my tastes err on the side of retro. 

Mint + apple-red + vanilla!

It's sounds like a very yummy cocktail, n'est ce pas? Wanna meet me at the diner and sip one? Two straws. Batting eyelashes. Footsies. 

Just for funsies (and to set the mood for this post), let's pretend we can experience colour with all of our senses. Yes, I am eight.

Smell: "In the Summer Kitchen" by CB I Hate Perfume

Taste: milkshakes

Hear: One Fine Day by The Chiffons

Touch: melamine + taffeta

Maybe this snapshot of my little kitchen studio will illustrate my love for this combo:

{ photo by: Jessica Blaine Smith, 2011 // dorky hair + awkward smile: my own handiwork } 

 More delicious examples of this gorgeous union of colour are everywhere in life (and all over the internetz)!

 {ia's Vintage lunch box // AM Radio tackle box }

 

{ interiors // photos via: shelterness.com }

{ custom handmade oxfords by goodbyefolk }

{ awesome street style // pics by selectivepotential.com & laviepetite.blogspot.com }

{ wood chevron necklace on Etsy }

{ photo by ANDREKART // photo by me! }

{ berry bowl by Claylicious on Etsy }

 { vintage fan // AM Radio vintage desk lamp }

p.s. in case you thought I was joking about that 1950s time capsule stuff. This is my parents' basement:

---

Header photo, right panel: Ruby Belle Dress

Fall, head first.

I'm kinda resisting the change of seasons. Which is crazy because I LOVE fall. The season of layering and multi-coloured tights and crunchy leaves and pumpkin spice lattes. Oh, and Halloween! Seriously? The best.

But I've been purposely wearing sandals and leaving my coat at home and wearing white after Labour Day (gasp). The weather is making it too easy. Do I just have a rebellion-lust this year? Am I  stumbling upon uncharacteristic pessimism? "All good things must come to an end"? 

I don't really believe that. But this summer was pretty magical and also highly indulgent (read: unsustainable). It's OK, the new budget and food restrictions have been good for a girl like me who gets caught up so easily. Healthy. But I guess it's making me associate fall with the end of a good ride. The optimist's perspective: it's still a ride, but we're rolling up the windows. Just a little.

Truthfully, renewal (September is the new January) is exactly what I need. And in the way that you'll crave Hot Rods (yes, even as a vegetarian) when your body really just needs protein, my subconscious is already jumping in piles of leaves and sprinkling nutmeg with fervor. It's trying to tell me something. How do I know? My Etsy faves are suspiciously seasonal. 

 { a surprisingly subdued colour palette for this gal: soft black, goldenrod, slate blue... and sometimes a dash of cinnamon }

Of course, because of my ongoing shopping ban, I can't actually purchase any of these Etsy covets. Minor detail.

When I'm allowed to spend again at the end of this month, the weather will be less forgiving. Sandals are out of the question. It will be a great time to finally embrace the fact that time charges forward. My summer of excess will be but a sweet memory and cluster of Instagram captures. I will buy some pretty cardis (3/4-sleeved to show off my new tattoo!) and tall boots and maybe even give up being a quasi-blonde. 

Oh, look. All this talk is getting me excited. Finally. 

My dream fall, in things, inspired by Etsy:

I referred to something as "half Mad Men, half Girls Gone Wild" yesterday and my friend Dawn said it totally described me "200%". Oh boy. Probably I should lean towards the Mad Men side a little more, yeah? These should do just the trick. Vintage barware $23

I'm a bells-and-whistles kinda girl (tassels! snaps! fringe!) but occasionally, I find awesomeness in simplicity. This bag is perfection. Leather tote by Rib & Hull  $290

I'm kind of obsessed with burlap. Like the way it makes you cough a little when you breathe it in. I just made pillows for our living room out of some old coffee sacks we picked up in Perth last summer. This Etsy shop makes darling things out of the scratchy stuff. Burlap pillows $45

Simple, graphic, lovely.  Chevron print, $36

 

I had a long-term love-thing with peppermint. It was monogamous. Peppermint everything. But a little lip balm I picked up in Montreal turned me onto cinnamon again (in my post-candy-hearts adult life), and maybe I have two loves now. Scandal. Cinnamon soap $6.50

 

 I have great underthings. Surely they deserve a little show & tell. Kidding? But please, tell me this isn't the greatest dress you've ever seen. Stunning. I'd do fantastic things in this dress, I'm sure. Vintage sheer dress $145

In my fantasy life, as a Parisian boutique owner (slash model, slash journaliste), my baking needs would be stored in vintage enamel canisters in the kitchen of my petit loft apartment. Trés chic, n'est pas? $145

This hat! $40

Not gonna lie: as soon as this shopping ban is lifted, these are the very first things I'm buying. High-waisted? Metallic? Animal print? You're speaking my language. Snake print leggings $45

OK, maybe there is actually something wrong with me. I just really, really want you to look at my underwear, obvi. Lace racerback $95

My childhood typewriter is still in the possession of my parents. I tried to reclaim it when they forced me to absorb the rest of my junk trying to exercise squatters' rights in their storage closet. But apparently dad uses it to type up the labels for their juke box. Dedication to authenticity? I just want to look at it because it's pretty? OK, I guess he wins. Typewriter $80

The $0 Wardrobe Re-invention Project: UPDATE!

[ highly suspicious outfit activity... ]

Technically, I should have successfully completed my shopping diet almost a month ago. If you need to know more, read here. Basically, I've grounded myself from shopping for anything frivolous and unnecessary (ermmm, clothes and beauty). Cold turkey, baby. I can only function in extremes.

But guys, I'm going to be totally honest here.

I cheated.

FOUR TIMES.

My "diet" which officially began on June 11 was slated to end mid-August. But bad behaviour  landed me back in the slammer. I added another month to my sentence.

I'm sure it would have been much, much worse, except that my birthday conveniently landed smack dab in the middle of my ban. Mom treated me to a little shopping spree at the new Marshall's (apparently a very big deal in Ottawa, though it's pretty much exactly like Winners). I scored the a denim shirt, ikat/geometric skirt, and green leather clutch. Gifts. Not cheating.

[ yay, mom! ]

Then, my lovely friends lavished me with beauty essentials (girl-crack) and bought me gift cards for Philistine (umm, YEAH, I link to my own articles) and MAC. 

 [ my new philistine "tunic" is a dress on normal-sized humans ]

But still, I fell off the wagon.

FOUR TIMES.

Here are my crimes, petty as they may be:

1. Bowling trip to Vaughan Mills on our July staycay ended in innocent "poking around" in some of the outlet shops. I resisted a French Connection Maxi and deeply-discounted tees with sassy slogans. But a cute pair of on-sale skinnies (photo above) at H&M broke me. I even ignored my "no cheap denim" rule. I was in a bad way. Damage: $20

2. Konad polishes. Cathie bought me the kit, and it kind of became a new obsession. My mom also bought into it (she thinks she's 17, mostly) and we were possibly both a little high on acetone. I beefed up my kit with a new colour and design plate. Damage: $25

3. Joe Fresh. Gets me EVERY TIME. Mom (bad influence!) and I went to grab groceries at the SuperStore while I was in Ottawa in July. In the 'burbs, the Joe Fresh shops are RIGHT INSIDE THE GROCERY STORE. As in, next to lettuce: moderately priced pants. Oy. I genuinely needed new sweats for camping, and I was lured by $6 tees. Damage: $30

4. Maybe I shouldn't even count this one, but in the interest of full-disclosure, I thrifted a like-new J.Crew gingham top for $7 at Value Village. 

 [ cute shirt, right? ]

For me, $82 in almost 2 months wasn't bad. But I'm disappointed that I couldn't make it through. Alas, early parole DENIED! 

Then: I didn't buy a THING in August and most of September. Yay, me!

Today is my new release date. 

Correction: was. 

I almost made it. I could almost smell the mall-smells in my imminent future. New leather and Cinnabon and heavily-perfumed sales ladies. Then, I spied an adorbs pair of cherry-red vintage bowling shoes (in my size!) on Etsy yesterday and just HAD to have them. I don't bowl a ton anymore (I was a league kid), but I'd like to, and maybe these kicks will kick it off. Damage: $40

I need a support group.

Besides my slip-ups, I'm pretty happy with my restraint, and otherwise, my wardrobe reinvention has been coming along nicely. I've tinkered with some jewellry repairs, tie-dyed some tees, reinvented an out-of-date skirt, and altered a pair of pants. I also took home a sweet haul at a clothing swap last month. My biggest projects are still sitting untouched on my sewing table and I'm putting myself on house arrest for most of the month to get things done.

 [ church rummage size-16 midi skirt gets a new life as an above-the-knee size 6 ]

As thrifty and crafty as I may be, though, that last little shopping infraction just cost me another 2 weeks. I'll need the busy-hands distraction.

Plus: I'm currently putting myself through a month-long detox AND Alex and I just drafted up a pretty aggressive budget plan for the next year. Yeah, all at once. Because, well, I enjoy torture, obviously.

As of October I can spend (and drink and eat junk!) again, but I think the break from my toxic ways has been so positive that I'm going to be smart about falling (purposely) off the wagon. Using my credit card for anything other than emergs? Never. Doing shots on a work night? Rarely. Midnight burritos? Well, sometimes.

You know how much I love getting into trouble. This is hell. But worth-it hell. 

(Right?)

(I need a bloody drink.)

lowercase-b, boobs.

Before we get started, children, pick up your pencils. I'm going to need you all to complete a short questionnaire.

Are you:

A. My father

B. My brother

C. One of my in-laws

D. One of my male co-workers

E. Prudence McPrude

F. None of the above


If you selected F, read on. If you selected A through E, I must warn you that reading any further could result in permanent blindness, post-traumatic stress disorder, nightmare-driven panic attacks or all of the above. Proceed with extreme caution.


(Also, don't let the subject matter fool you. You won't like this nearly as much as you might think.)

...

Anecdote! I was visiting my new-mom friend a few weeks ago. Her babe was maybe 2 months old at the time. When the men left the room, she grabbed my arm (hard) and gave me what she thought was super helpful advice for a soon-to-be (not that soon) mom: "YOUR BOOBS WILL NEVER LOOK GOOD AGAIN."

Wait.

Alright, I knew about the body-morphing and the tearing and the episiotomy and the after-birth and the pain and all of the other "miracles" of child birth. I also knew about the temporary huge boobs. I was looking forward to having a cup (or two?) promotion while pregnant, but I guess I'm romanticizing it? I figured I'd bounce back. I *gulp* won't?

I mean, I'm not delusional enough to think I'll be one of those mini French women with the little basketball up front. Trés petite! Nor will I fit back into my skinny jeans the very next day. Nope, I will most definitely be a HOUSE. I'm not a "big girl" necessarily, but I'm tall and I like to eat. Add: "eating for two" and irrational preggers cravings, and well, watch out. The Japanese make movies about these things. 

Rawr! I will eat your skyscraper!

But yeah, boobs.

Here's why I'm concerned: I'm 33 but I have the boobs of a 20-year-old. The rest of my body is aging appropriately, but my boobs! It's because they're little, though. 

Whatever, I'm not gonna make excuses about liking myself! I deserve this strut, so let me. Ladies, we don't say enough good things about ourselves. (Can I get an amen up in hurr?!)

I absolutely hated (hated!) being tall and meager-chested during high school. It was (according to my fragile, irrational teen brain) the absolute worst punishment Mother Nature could have ever bestowed. Dramz! TV and fragrance ads told me that men like big boobs and tiny women. I conveniently ignored that fact that I had essentially a runway-model body (back then, people, BACK THEN). It was boyish and willowy no matter how many calories I crammed in my face. Foot-long, please, extra mayo. Oh, to have that metabolism again! Stupid, stupid girl. So many years wasted on insecurity and slouching and the grunge era. 

I piled on almost 30 pounds since the 9th grade. 30! PURE MUSCLE, OBVIOUSLY *ahem*. My doctor says I'm still at the "low-to-average end of normal for my height". However, the smug trainer at my gym pinched my arm flab with that cold blubber-measuring machine and proclaimed my body fat percentage to be higher than normal. Betch. The extra fat wasn't kind to my face or thighs, but it may have helped in the boob department. OK, they didn't actually grow, but fat from my armpits can double as extra bra-filler. Resourceful.

I love my height now. And my small boobs (avec extra armpit-fat help). It took me way too long to realize that these are highly coveted qualities. Being a typical never-satisfied woman, I, of course, have found new things to hate: I scrutinize pores, poke at fatty thighs, complain about my hair, frown at my less-than-satisfactory derriere in the double-mirror. Sigh.

So let me have this one, OK? 

[ this is all you get, puppies. alex is currently hovering, threatening to post his "junk" on Facebook ]

I think I have a point here, though. I do, I do! Mostly I started this post as a result of being traumatized by the imminent choice: kids or good boobs. I pick kids, but I will make them pay me back via years of chores. WINKY FACE! (One day they will read this, gawd help me, because the internet is FOREVER!) Oh yeah, a point: what I realized, while having self-centered thoughts as my momma friend struggled with "latching" under her nursing cape, was that I need to relish this (possibly brief) burst of good body image. I should probably just walk around naked and wear things that are body/age-inappropriate, yeah? Or take off my shirt at an LMFAO show (yes, I did that).

Or, I could just turn my epiphany into a PSA and soak up some good karma. Small-boobed? Here's a pep-talk about your girls, girls:

1. Guys like boobs. Not just big boobs. All boobs. BOOBS.
2. You won't sag. I mean maybe a little, but really where is an A cup gonna go, sister?
3. You can wear a LOT of things that other girls can't. Especially things that don't require bras. I've worn bandanas as shirts, band-aids instead of bras. Do it.
4. But bras? Still your friend sometimes. 4 words you need to know: Victoria's. Secret. Push. Up.

[ wear this, because you CAN // topshop $40 ]

I could have used a guardian angel when I was 14. Say, a foul-mouthed 33-year-old version of myself from the future? I'm sure I am somehow a better person for the "suffering", though.

We're almost expected as women to tear ourselves (and each other) apart but I kinda think I'm quitting that club. I'll probably still ask "does this make me look fat?" and wish my double chin was more of a single, but I refuse to be afraid to celebrate/flaunt what I actually love about myself.

Boobs.

 [ Header photo: Nasty Gal // Anthropologie // Sorcery on Etsy ]

The $0 Wardrobe Re-invention Project!

I am on a shopping diet.

It's self-imposed, but will happen under the judging, disapproving eye of my minimalist husband. He doesn't actually have a say in my purchases. My money is my own, and I'm currently the winningest bread-winner in our duo. However, he definitely has a right to pipe up about this shoe purchase or that new shirt: my closet is just the worst. I ran out of hangers. Again. And have I mentioned that I share the lone (and tiny) storage space in our whole apartment with that poor, poor man? My skirts constantly taunt his slacks. My blouses bully his shirts. His wardrobe ends up huddling together at the very edge of the rack, hoping for a safety-in-numbers approach to survival.

It's not just a space issue, though. if I'm ever going to pay off debts and save up for grown-up purchases like houses and cars and Airstreams and hot tubs (and tattoooos!), I need to curb spending.

So here's my challenge: no new clothing/shoe/accessory/jewellery/beauty/non-essential spends for 2 months. Nothing frilly. Nothing frivolous. NOTHING.

 [ oy, can someone puh-lease get me another beer? ]

I actually started (officially) last Monday, so I'm already more than a week in!  

Exceptions: a proper haircut, non-vanity products (deodorant, toothpaste, sunscreen), underwear if needed (needed), and a nude strapless bra (to replace the one that exploded while on my body in the middle of the No Frills produce section).

Oh yeah, and the necessities of life: tacos and beers and the like. Duh.

Yikes. I might wilt and fade and die without chameleon-like style-self-expression. How, oh how, do I reinvent myself each day with the same old pieces from last year? #firstworldproblems 

It's doable with a little resourcefulness, a mess of creativity, and a good pair of fabric scissors. Luckily, I have all three. But even the DIY-challenged can breathe new life into last season's rompers, pants that fit a much-skinnier former self, and dresses hoarded since high school. Without spending a dime. 

Wardrobe CPR:

1. Trade. Have you not yet discovered the wonder of clothing swaps? Sister, PLEASE. I have a friend with a bit of an attitude about used clothing, but these are your FRIENDS, girl. Surely you will not contract imaginary/worst-fears-come-true parasites if the hand-me-downs come from a friend who shares your personal hygiene OCD. I have gleaned many an amazing piece and have peacefully parted with gems I couldn't bear to drop in the big metal Goodwill bin. 

 [ swap scores: vintage teal petal-print skirt // denim jacket // chevron tank ]

2. Revive. Dye, tie-dye, paint, embellish, restring, stamp, re-purpose, darn, mend... I actually darned socks once, during my poor student days. I felt all wartime-y. Like I was doing my part for my country. Of course, said socks did not end up on the feet of soldiers. Also, they were red with monkeys on the ankles. A girl with an actual salary can probably stand to avoid darning, but I'm excited for some more interesting revitalization projects. I restrung beads from two vintage necklaces to make this one. I'm inspired to make more!

 

[ $80 at asos.com or... I could DIY my plain white chucks with some easy stamping ]

3. Layer, mix, (mis)match. Not a new concept, and really my all-the-time M.O. I just need to start getting a lot more creative in the next 8 weeks. Example: I have this midi-dress in white with crocheted bits. I have worn the shit out of it. The top is a bit ill-fitting now and the armpits reveal many a sweaty summer bike ride. But the skirt portion is pretty lovely. Throw a light gauzy tee over the whole mess, and voila! I considered converting it to a skirt, but the top portion is perfect as a layering cami. Win-win.

4. Nip & tuck. You don't have to be a master seamstress to make quick alterations to your too-big, too-small, outta-style pieces. There are plenty of great online tutorials, some not even requiring a machine! See P.S. I Made This and A Beautiful Mess for some fun examples. My new projects for the coming weeks (if I can ever find time to do anything hobby-ish) are to convert two dresses into skirts. 

First: my actual wedding dress. Back in tha day, I ripped apart an off-the-rack BCBG dress and re-made it to suit my farm-themed wedding. Now, I'm going to lop off the bodice, slash out most of the lining and turn it into a semi-sheer summer maxi skirt. I'd like to vintage-up the colour but the poly lace won't take to normal fabric dye. Suggestions?

[ before // after... ]

[ after-after? // via chictopia.com ]

Secondly, I have a Won Hundred dress in an awesome pixel pattern, but the bodice won't close over my boobs anymore. I'd like to tell you it's because I'm suddenly a lusty, chesty broad. No such luck. I think I just got too fat in the armpits and back. Joy! This dress, too, is destined for a similar fate: the guillotine!

5. Dress up/down. Also not brain surgery, but think beyond the LBD (that's "little black dress" for the dads/husbands). I'm a firm believer that every dress has two personalities – Peggy by day, Joan by night. I originally bought this Zara pink peter-pan-collared dress for a wedding. I accessorized it with pearls and black patent for a faux-Chanel-Barbie look: sweet, classy & feminine. But I discovered that it can be work/play appropriate, too, with flats and tights! 

Also, I can do pretty much anything in any season with my little green dress (LGD!):

6. From scratch, baby. There are some awesome beginner patterns online that require only the machine basics. I tackled this Victory pattern in a barn in 6 hours.

We'll see if I have any time for even one of these projects. I am WAY too ambitious, pretty booked up socially, and terrible at time-management. I'm not setting any unrealistic goals here. However, I'm pretty confident that I can stick to my shopping diet. It will be tough, especially when I visit my mother next month: "Oh, just buy it!" and/or "It's sooo you." and/or "I'll pitch in half."

What are your secrets? Tell me! Help!