Beauty – Page 8 – Rant and Roll

All dressed up, with somewhere to go

So yesterday on Facebook I was tagged in a friend’s post that began, “Calling all my fashion-forward friends…”

Wait, what the – ?

I nearly fell off my chesterfield.

ME!? Fashion-forward!?

How utterly dumbfounding, and, if I’m going to be quite honest, pleasantly flattering.

It’s not that I don’t think of myself as “fashionable” (I think I have the capacity to rock an outfit every now and then), it’s just to be singled out as such gave me pause. I couldn’t help but wonder – how much of my identity, or self-perception to I take from my outward appearance, and the clothing with which I decorate my body?

And then I thought – AM I OVER-THINKING THIS WHOLE THING?

And I thought, “YES. YES I AM.”

Cool your jets there Judith Butler.

I then opened my laptop and what would you know? The brilliant, beautiful, amazing, and totally fashion-fabulous Laura from As Time Goes Buy had tagged me in a wonderful post she had written about her sartorial and shopping preferences, and I thought – THIS MUST BE A SIGN.

I WILL NOW GO AND BUY ALL THE CLOTHES.

(Don’t tell my husband.)

But before I leave the house to go bankrupt myself at Club Monaco, I will first answer a series of questions, because as a professional question answerer, that is what I do.*

*A girl can dream, can’t she?

Would you consider yourself a shopoholic?

I would not. I would however consider myself a try-it-on-aholic.

I am one of those rare weirdos who LOVES trying on clothes – of ALL kinds. I don’t care if it’s wackier than a three dollar bill, I will shimmy into that velour onsie and then pee myself laughing at my reflection.

As much as I get a kick out of modeling totally nutty clothing,my true favourite thing to try on is a beautiful dress. Sometimes it busts my heart into ten thousand little pieces knowing that I cannot bring every frock home with me, but alas, that is just the price that I have to pay when playing these dressing-room games.

How would you classify your style?

A real mixed bag. I love incredibly feminine pieces (see: my love of dresses), but I also love wearing suits with ties, men’s pants, and my husband’s cardigans.

I also (mostly) subscribe to the fashion philosophy that says if I am showing off my legs, I’ll probably cover up my top half, and vice versa.

Of course, I’m also one for breaking the rules.

Otherwise, the beach would be exhausting.

What store can you NOT leave without buying something?

Hmmm, tough question.

I would say Joe Fresh.

Mr. Fresh and I are VERY close.

Also Dairy Queen, but that is for completely different reasons.

Where do you find the best deals?

Hands down, Joe Fresh and H&M. I’ve scored some amazing deals at both of these stores, and I would say that the majority of the clothes currently populating my wardrobe were purchased from these fashion emporiums.

I also do well at Forever XXI, and Club Monaco (but only from the sales rack, for the latter, unfortunately.)

What designer are you willing to splurge on?

I would say it’s less of a designer, and more certain pieces. For instance, I paid good money for my Fidelity jeans, and four years later people are still asking me if they are brand new. I also bought Timberland boots three winters ago and they are amazing and keep me sane through the coldest of months.

If I could actually buy any designer wares, I would be all over Marc Jacobs and Miu Miu.

All over them like a bad rash.

Do you have a “go to” shopping outfit?

In the summer – an easy, breezy, beautiful sundress.

In the fall – jeans, a t-shirt, and thick cardigan.

In the winter – thick tights, a short skirt, a warm sweater, and good boots.

In the spring – long dress, light sweater, and a trench coat.

What is your “guilty pleasure”? (not including clothes)

[CENSORED]

Hahahaha!

Hmmm, I’m not sure. Maybe my ever-growing lipstick collection?

And 7/11 apple fritters.

THEY ARE SO GOOD.

What is one piece of clothing you can’t live without?

This is so tough!

My fashionista answer? A really great pair of jeans.

My real-life answer? My running shoes.

Who is your style icon?

This is also a terrifically hard question.

I’m really not sure.

I absolutely love Jenna Lyons – JCrew’s president and official fashion badass. She mixes feminine and masculine looks so well, and always looks absolutely immaculate.

Carey Mulligan is also fabulous, and I also really, really want to be her friend.

Hopefully after this happens she will lend me much of her wardrobe.

Because stealing from her is going to be bloody hard.

…

So there you have it! My fashion sense in a nutshell.

Thanks to the lovely Laura for tagging me – do check out her site. You will be inspired.

And I also encourage all of you to share – what makes your wardrobe tick?

All thanks to everyone; run runaway

This weekend we ran away.

We made our escape Friday afternoon: M commandeered the getaway car, stopping only briefly outside of my office building so I could throw my bags into the backseat, before sliding my little self into the front.

With the sun shining down on us, as well as lighting up the long-missed cerulean sky, we drove out of Vancouver proper and made our way to the, most aptly named, Sunshine Coast.

This, my friends, is a place filled with magic.

And I would like to share with you some snaps from our brief stint in paradise.

Fire.

Morning.

Games.

Ocean.

Trees.

Post-run.

View.

Beauty.

…

Sometimes I have great difficulty sleeping. I am either thinking too much, or I wake up in the middle of the night soaked in sweat. Whatever the case may be, my anxieties have a tendency to wreck havoc with my achieving the recommended eight hours.

Last Friday night, the night of our arrival, I slept better than I have for months. My head hit the pillow sometime around ten o’clock and I didn’t stir until eight the next morning. When I woke, I felt clear-headed and refreshed, as if emerging from a warm, safe, (and oh-so snuggly) cocoon.

Marveling at the early morning sunshine, M and I drank steaming mugs of dark, sweet coffee, and watched the families of ducks as they dived and dashed about in the water surrounding the dock.

We would have sat outside had the temperature not hovered around zero degrees celcius. There are only so many blankets in which a person can be swaddled.

Around ten thirty I set out for my weekly long training run. It’s always a bit of shock to the system, the first few minutes of the run, as the fresh, cool, coastal air, rushes in my nose and down my throat, frost tickling my heart and lungs.

But eventually, as always, I adapt, as does my stride and pace – although never my hands. My hands ache from the cold, and warp into hard demi-claws, that chap red and painful.

I run facing traffic, although on a Saturday morning, there is little to be found. I often smile to myself, as I am fooled again and again by the strong wind in the trees, that I too often mistake for an approaching engine, or tire.

The specter of a car.

I ran fifteen kilometers that morning.

I felt as though I could have run forever.

It’s like I said.

It’s magic.

Putting on a show

On Wednesday I pulled a King Lear and went for a run in a storm.

(Unlike Lear however, I managed to keep all of my clothes on.)

There really is something to be said for powering through totally crap weather. But then again, there is also something to be said for knowing when to say ENOUGH.

Of course, today is absolutely blooming gorgeous (though still chilly to the bone) so I’m excited to be out and about, actually feeling some of that sunshine on my face.

In other BIG NEWS – yesterday I purchased tickets for this year’s Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

YAY!

This makes me SO EXCITED.

Oh Ashland – I love you with so much of heart that none is left to protest!

This of course means, that the I won’t need to keep running in the rain to get my regular dose of old Willy Shakes. This year we will be seeing King Lear (my absolute favourite tragedy, I CANNOT WAIT), along with Cymbeline and A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

MEEP.

I love this production company SO MUCH it is hard for me to appropriately communicate just how much I am looking forward to this trip.

Much like last year, we will be camping, but unlike last year we will be driving straight to Ashland (with perhaps a stop in Portland because, you know, PUT A BIRD ON IT) and staying the length of our trip in the town.

This will be my fourth time at the festival, (and somehow my third time seeing Midsummer!) and I am basically already bouncing off of the walls just thinking about it.

Because dudes – I LOVE SHAKESPEARE.

Lovelovelove him.

It.

His plays.

(Or what you will.)

See what I did there?

Fry-up time!

Don’t give me that lip.

Currently I am obsessed with red lipstick. If I could only wear one piece of make-up for the rest of my life, it would be my choice.

HANDS DOWN NO CONTEST.

(Although you would probably also have to pry my NARS blush from my cold, dead hands.)

There is just something about a strong lip that makes me feel like a super hero. I like to imagine that when I am getting ready for work in the morning, I am magically transformed from glowering ork to ethereal Galadriel – so terrifying and mesmerizing I am, in all of my splendour.

ONE LIPSTICK TO RULE THEM ALL.

Uh.

Reign it in there lady, reign it in.

But serious, if you were to look in my purse at any given time, I can guarantee that you would find on average three different lip products, of varying degrees of red (I like blue undertones the most – nothing too orangey or brown because GALADRIEL DOESN’T MESS WITH THAT STUFF.)

And I really wouldn’t have it any other way.

Coming attractions.

I love Jean Reno.

Is that weird?

It might be a little weird.

But seeing as though I cannot properly answer this question, if you lovely people could weigh-in, provide your two cents, opine on the subject, etc., etc., it would be much appreciated.

But I really love him.

Like, a lot.

Playing dress-up.

One of my favourite books of all time is The Buddha of Suburbia by Hanif Kureishi. I could wax long and eloquent FOR YEARS about why this is one of the most brilliant and beautiful stories I have ever read – so while that post percolates away in the recesses of my brain, take my word for it when I say that you must read it IMMEDIATELY.

One of the characters Eva is always waltzing about her East London flat in these amazing maxi dresses, so when I saw this piece the other day, my immediate reaction was:

BUY IT! PRETEND TO BE EVA!

BUY IT AND THROW GLAMOUROUS EAST LONDON PARTIES!

I mean, I would probably have to procure some headscarves, and maybe a couple of pairs of over-sized earrings to really pull off the entire ensemble, but I think that owning this dress is definitely a step in the right direction.

I’ll let you know if I take the plunge.

…

So there you have it beauty cats!

Are any of you planning on catching any of the Bard this summer? And what makeup (if any) turns you in a battle prepped warrior?

Do let me know – because after all, we’re in this good fight together.

A very hairy situation

Let’s talk about body hair, shall we?

So.

As a white, western woman, I feel as though it is socially (culturally?) expected of me that I remove most of my visible body hair, save for that atop my head.

I don’t know if it’s my newly minted old age* or what, but I just really haven’t had the time for these expectations of late.

*SARCASM PEOPLE, OKAY?

But seriously. I mean, I really, really hate shaving my legs. Almost as much as I hate shaving my armpits. I hate shaving my armpits THE MOST. Especially in the winter. I’ll go for months without taking a razor to my limbs because of my rampant MEH syndrome.*

*Also sarcasm, but sometimes it does feel this way.

I’m also completely lax about plucking my eyebrows, and I’m starting to believe that the only time I really get around to using my tweezers is when it becomes apparent that I’m only using my eyebrow pencil to differentiate my actual eyebrows from the ever-thickening unibrow taking over the width of my face.

And I don’t know how to feel about this.

On one hand, I don’t want to have to worry about carting around a fainting couch for all those I inadvertently scandalize should they catch a glimpse of my underarm hair, but then on the other hand, I do worry, because my initial reaction to seeing my own armpit hair is pretty darn unfavourable.

(Luckily though, I have yet to employ the use of the couch.)

But overall, this reaction of mine does bum me out.

The fact that I’ve internalized prescriptions of what’s acceptable and what is not when it comes to the completely natural growth of hair on MY OWN BODY makes me glum.

And it is this glumness, combined with my before mentioned apathy, that makes me feel as though I am catapulted back and forth between NOT CARING and CARING about my body hair.

(I should look into whether or not that correlates with not summer, and not summer.)

Either way, right now, I have engaged NOT CARING mode.

Plus, at the base of it all, I am one of those people that just doesn’t care for sticking around any longer in the bathroom than I absolutely must.

I don’t want to faff around getting ready for LIFE, because LIFE is already completely bonkers and as such, I have enough things to do already.

And also, excuse my horn blowing, but I kind of think that I’m pretty darn snazzy looking as is, and I’m of the mind that whether or not I remove my leg hair everyday – during the eighteen years of winter I am currently living through no less – isn’t going to put a significant dent into my hotness quotient.

At least not in my eyes.

I mean, isn’t that what it’s all about anyways?

If you think you look good, who cares either way?

Unless you’re telling me that my leg hair is slowing down my running.

Then we might need to talk.

All the colours of the rainbow

Hey gang.

Do you ever wake up in the morning and feel the urge to dress like Amélie?

I do.

So this past Wednesday I put together this little outfit:

I snapped this photo whilst out on a walk-around of Forever XXI’s latest megaplex, a monstrosity currently talking up a huge chunk of (incredibly valuable) downtown Vancouver real estate.

FYI – upon dressing myself this way, I had no choice but to help a blind man make his way to the metro station, all the while whispering in his ear, describing all the comings and goings of the busy streets we travelled.

Okay.

So that actually didn’t happen.

Ho hum, pigs, bum.

Anywho, I only found myself at Forever XXI because I had a lunchtime hankering for some dressing room mischief, and I had arrived with the express intention of trying on absolutely bonkers clothing.

However, this plan fell by the wayside pretty quickly, as upon my entrance to the store I was greeted by a number of darling dresses, and I realized that I would much rather try on a bunch of adorable pieces than wreck myself laughing over a completely crackers floral jumpsuit.

(But only just.)

I scampered about, scooping up a few things here and there, and eventually purchased two dresses, of which the following is one:

I actually wore this dress last night at my stand-up show, along with a black and gold sweater, and brown scarf.

I like to think that I looked like the most beautiful bruise in the world.

And guess what! I’ve been booked into doing two more shows this month, so I’ll be jamming tonight AND on the twenty-fifth. Meep.

Even cooler? These are both Friday shows, which I can only surmise to be proof of the fact that I’m moving on up in the comedy world.

Oh baby.

So in honour of Friday awesomeness, let’s get this fry-on on the stove.

Colour me surprised.

So I was loitering about Sephora like the creeper that I am (okay, I was actually just using the store as a short-cut on my way back to work from lunch) when I saw this:

HOW TERRIBLE IS THIS – I CAN’T EVEN.

Thirty new shades you say?

Why, how utterly generous of you Clinique!

I mean, had I been in charge of this campaign I would probably have gone even bigger and marketed the whole thing as: “Fifty shades of beige!”

Good grief.

I mean, first, how many different variations of white can a company possibly make?

Maybe Clinique should spend some of their research and development dollars on creating a product (or, you know, products) geared toward the myriad of women out there whose skin tone doesn’t fall under the general category of “eggshell.”

Canada is pretty darn multicultural. The concept of diversity (and the fact that when diversity exists it should not be ignored) isn’t that hard to understand.

If anything, advertisers should be interested in providing a diverse, inclusive product, seeing as though it’s pretty common knowledge that the larger client basis a company appeals to, the larger their revenue.

Honestly, I totally get the creeps when confronted with this kind of crap – like when I see nylons or pantyhose (PS I HATE THIS WORD SO MUCH) labelled “flesh tone.”

Flesh tone for WHO?

I tells ya – white privilege. Coming to a store near you.

Next!

Feeling crepey.

Sunday morning, post-rain soaked run breakfast of strawberry Nutella crepes and coconut water.

NUFF SAID.

Bergman chic.

I took a photo of this sweater in H&M the other day because this style will never stop making me laugh.

I believe Noel Fielding put it best, when, wearing a sweater very similar to the one above, he said that he looked like a 1970s Swedish film director.

And I will never stop thinking otherwise.

Also, if you are unacquainted with the absolute madness of Mr. Fielding, I would recommend introducing yourself as soon as possible.

Maybe start out with a little Never Mind the Buzzcocks, then make your way over to the IT Crowd, and then finish off with The Mighty Boosh.

Disclaimer: the latter show is totally nuts, so if you don’t like anything as odd as Kids in the Hall, this might not be the stuff for you. Just stick to Buzzcocks and IT Crowd.

…

So that’s all she wrote, you beauty cats you.

The west coast weekend weather is supposed to be off the charts brilliance-wise.

I wish you all the same, and more.

Always, always more.