Saturday, February 25, 2006
There was an old man from Peru
His wife was the size of Shamu
One blow to the head and his face filled with dread.
Now his body's dead-
all black and blue.
The lovely old man from Peru
Had a son to meet and a wife too.
He never got there, he collapsed on his chair
and now he can't make pot-luck stew.
The man from Peru had a wife.
She was filled with much weakness and strife.
Some say she was dumb,
'cause she cut of her thumb
while preparing their meal with a scythe.
Okay, that's all folks. Pretty silly, eh? In an unrelated story, the necklace I ordered off Ebay arrived! Yes, it is Vivienne Westwood and yes, it is shaped like a penis.
Cowboy boots are so last summer, right? Not if they're printed on this cutesy shirt.
Hmm. I'm not even sure why I like this skirt, but there's something in me that gravitates me towards liking it. Don't get me wrong though, the other graffiti-print pieces in the Luella collection are horrendous.
Again, I'm not quite sure why I like this one. In fact, I'm pretty sure I *don't* like this skirt. I hate yellow. Why did I even post a picture? Oh well, it's much nicer than the red cherry print. That one is waay too obvious.
I adore Vogue magazine, but I barely ever buy it due to...well, I'm more of an Ellegirl/Teen Vogue fan myself. I don't want to act and dress like I'm middle aged before I am. Youth is to be cherished. However, I had to buy the March 2006 issue with Natalie Portman and her overpoweringly ugly haircut on the cover because there was a feature on the wedding of Marilyn Manson and Dita Von Teese. Luckily, the article itself didn't let me down. Dita and Marilyn make a neat couple and I just loved reading about the clothes they wore. Contrary to what this picture suggests, Vogue captured her as being a lovely girl. I'm so glaf she's not blonde. I'd die if he were to date a blonde. That hair colour is overhyped California crap. Brunette may be having their fun in the sun, but us raven mavens with jet black hair never get any credit. I love my black hair, it's sexy. But about the house, I'll quote the article "Dita's kitchen is fifties show home pink and black, their living room horror-movie Victoriana...among the quirky curiosities: twenties children's store mannequins and medical study torsos, the pelt of a two headed-lamb, a leather and wood prosthetic leg from the Civil War, Johnny Depp's wig from Blow..." Wow, how awesome is that. The pelt of a two headed lamb? I want one to go with my pink and black kitchen. Screw that, I want the whole house. When I'm famous, I'm moving in with them. Hopefully they don't ask me to join in on any orgies... *shudders* Anyhoo, the photography is amazing, the article is great and this issue is definitely worth it's $5. Any fashionable Manson-ite should buy it. Plus, I never knew he was such a designer whore!
Monday, February 20, 2006
Being the offspring of a Jewish man and a Scottish woman, you've got to expect me to be thrifty. There's no doubt about it, I'm a cheap bastard. That is why I love when Payless Shoe Source has BOGO. A ridiculous acronym for Buy One Get One (1/2) Off. Of course you know that because off all the terrible commercials floating around out there for it. As a disclaimer, I know the shoes there are a bit boxy. I would know. I'm usually a size 8 but take 7-7.5 in Payless shoes, but they do sell some surprisingly cute stuff there. After the loss of my beloved denim Converse, I needed a new pair that matched with everything, so I bought a nice pair of black low-tops and a surprisingly adorable set of blue kitten heels that remind me of a carpet Mozart might have owned. Trust me, they're quite cute! And all for a whopping total of $35. Gotta love it. I didn't mention it, but on Sunday I encountered the best fashion find of my life to date. An Yves St. Laurent waist belt at Value Village for $4!!! It's obviously vintage, and though the leather is a tad worn from the inside, it still looks brand spanking new on the outside.
Anyhow, I'm inclined to believe that there is no shoe more classic shoe than the Converse All Stars. Emos, Punks, Gangstas, Hippies and Hipsters aand any other cliche sterotype you can think of can pull of these shoes. They're comfortable, stylish, match with EVERYTHING, even ball gowns, providing as they're an appropriate colour. Simple yet to the point, that is why everyone in the world deserves to own a pair of Converse. They're simply perfection.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Suprise darling! You have just won the lottery! How will you, the super fabulous fashionable blogger, spend your US$10m winnings? Tell us all about your money-spending plan!
Oi, what a demand! This question practically begs me to live vicariously through this blessed newfound $10M US, now doesn't it! But as a cold, calculated and heartless bitch, I might as rain on all of the fun that Carnivale Couture provides and inject some (not a whole lot) sensibility into the concept. First things first, the money is gonna take at trip through a currency converter and comes out at a little under $15M Canadian loonies. Second things first, I'm giving my mom $3M, so she'll give up her little sewing business to become my full-time design creator. Shall I explain this rationally pour vous? My mom was the pattern maker at Club Monaco's Toronto headquarters during their Eighties heyday. Then silly mumsy went and got pregnant with me so she decided to forsake her cosmopolitan metropolitan lifestyle in the big city to raise me in the sheltered country environment where she too grew up. Soon after, Club Monaco sold out to Ralph Lauren. Coincidence? I think not...
-Anyhow, the next sensible gamble I'll take will be to open up my own fabbity thrift store. No way, it's not your run-of-the-mill sift thrift charity store that you spend the whole day in to find absolutely nothing. You see, I'll employ my bloodhound's senses for sniffing out fashionable deals and resell them all for a higher price at my store. Of course it's been done before, and many times at that, but hey, this is my fucking money, I can do what I want with it. Now, of course this line of work forces me to scour the globe for thrifty finds, so I might as well put some money away in a fund exclusively for plane tickets.
-The sensible stuff is now over and done with, and now through the currency converter I've got around $6.5 million US left. Let's get this shit bananas. 3 mill each goes to Vivienne Westwood and Marc Jacobs respectively, for first dibs on my favourite pieces from all of their seasonal collections from now until my milk card expires. (Milk card = my life, by the way) Maybe if I befriend the lovely Vivi enough, she'll bequeath to me all of the punk clothing the produced in the 1970's. After all she is getting on the geriatric side...
-You know what that means? It means that I've got half a million dollars left, and you know who that gets divided between? The first ten people to comment on my fucking blog! I like gratification. Feed my ego, please! Leave me with the first flattering adjective that implants itself in your brain when you read it, for Gandhi's sakes. Thats right, money for the first ten people to comment on any post in this blog. Get typing, folks.
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Well, the buses were cancelled on the day of my Semi-formal, but luckily the semiformal event itself was not cancelled and I still got to break it down...fabulously of course. Black was pretty much everyone's uniform, and always a conformist, I didn't choose to deviate. Here's a picture of me in it at the actual event, even though you can't see any details of it whatsoever. It's black with lace trimming, a full crinoline and a spiderweb patterned fabric overtop. It's very "deranged ballet dancer". Positively lovely in real life. Maybe I'll post a better picture later, but as of now it's the only thing we've got. Though the cute party dress that I gained (It was made by my seamstress mother and I, by the way) one of my fashion staples was lost. It appears to me that a denim faux-converse shoe fell out of a hole in a plastic grocery bag and was...lost somewhere. Lost being a nice word for it. If we're speaking in honest terms I think hobos are probably kicking it around and peeing on it right now, because canvas absorbs urine quite well, you know. Oh well, they were the most reliable "match with everything" shoes I ever bought. For $5 and that were a size too big for that matter. R.I.P faux-converse.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Hmm, tabloids have apparently snapped out of a long and dreamlike sleep and are now proclaiming Mary Kate Olsen as "uncool". She was on Blackwell's Worst Dressed Celebrity of 2005 list? Hello, that girl started every fashion trend of 2005! Call me an outdated romantic, but my love of Mary Kate will never diminish. Hello, peasant skirts, cowboy boots, chunky beads, long scarves and layers can ALL be attributed to Mary Kate's closet before any bad chain store ripped her off. Of course, I'll be the first to admit that at times the boho bag lady look went a bit overboard, but no matter how strangely she dressed, she always managed to look amaazing. Despite the tuna-like smile she puts on for the camera, Mary Kate is the prettiest celebrity out there and this blog entry is actully a sad excuse for me to post loads af gorgeous pictures of her. Oh how you light up my life in so many more ways than that awful song ever could! I'm so glad you were an anorexic crack addict, it helped you shed your wholesome Full House image so quickly and gave you a plethora of publicity which you naturally deserved. I just love those "Save Mary Kate" shirts that your illness spawned. I must admit, I still wear mine, a year after your "recovery". Then Paris Hilton stole Stavros Niarchos from you...or is it the other way around? And then we all got to see your adorable face in the public eye once more. I was a slave to US Weekly, and I now mourn the death of your "coolness". Rest In Peace, my sweet MK, I'll love you forever, and I'm not even a lesbian.
I've heard this crazy rumour. Apparently there's this big event happening down in Torino, Italy called the Olympics. It's supposed to be a big deal, but I personally wouldn't call it important. Honestly, the Olympics must have the shittiest press coverage on the planet, because I know absolutely jack shit about what's happening down there. I know of no famous athletes, medals wons or kickass scandals as of yet, and I have the feeling it has nothing to do with me getting 2 measly t.v. channels. The Olympics are just really that boring. However, even lucky loonies buried in hockey ice rinks is more interesting than the fashion lines put out to "celebrate" the Olympics every year. Bad athletic jackets really aren't my thing and frankly, should not be anyone elses' thing either.I remember the good ol' days, when Roots made those stupid hats that looked like they were made by Davy Crockett's milliner on speed. Like they were supposed to have fur and a racoon tail on there, but he was so high he shaved all of that off, glued the coon hair to his pubes and haphazardly stuck some Canadiana shit on there. It's so ugly I can't even find a picture of it. The fashion masters have graciously erased all traces of that piece from the face of the earth. Thank you Anna Wintour! Ahh well. Tell me when Canada wins the gold for men's hockey. I think I have a kazoo in a closet somewhere. Zeus would be proud.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Contrary to popular belief, music has a lot in common with fashion. Lest we forget the late 1970's where the Sex Pistols skyrocketed Viviene Westwood and Malcolm McLaren to fame simply by wearing their designs? Then we have the Bromley Contingent, first existing fans of the Sex Pistols who were famous simply for looking cool. That is amazing! No one seems to become famous just for looking cool nowadays. There always has to be some misnomer of "actor/musician" attatched to every celebrity fashionista these days. Maybe Paris Hilton is famous for looking cool, but the sad truth is that Paris Hilton doesn't even look that cool. So maybe she's an "heiress", but that's not even a comical misnomer! I can't laugh at her for being rich. I can only laugh at her for being the massive bimbo she is. Because Paris Hilton is a massive bimbo. I would know. She tore my heart in two (on Valentines Day nonetheless) and now I have no choice but to insult her online. Anyhow, after a lovely tangent I think it's best to get back to the point. Here is the soundtrack of my favourite songs that I would most likely put on a movie encompassing by life. What do you think that says about me?
*Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle by Nirvana
*Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd
*Disposable Teens by Marilyn Manson
*Anesthesia by Bad Religion
*Mrs. Robinson by Simon and Garfunkel
*Submission by the Sex Pistols
*Train in Vain by the Clash
*Deceptacon by Le Tigre
*Dogma by KMFDM
*Army Dreamers by Kate Bush
*Horses by Patti Smith
*Stand and Deliver by Adam and the Ants
What do you think of that? A life encompassed within twelve simple tracks. Songs that fucking rock.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Wow, I have developed quite the out-of-character fashion obsession. Animal printed sweatpants. I've had a lifelong hate of animal prints and sweatpants. Though my leopard-phobia began to diminish with my purchase of $13.99 leopard-print flats at Winners, I have never stepped out of the house in sweatpants to go anywhere other than my Pilates class. Which ended quite a long time ago, by the way. Maybe this is a prime example of two negatives equalling a positive, because I fucking love these pants. They're $34.50 each at www.delias.com. Perhaps this blogs ushers in the dawning of Isabel's fahion life...Nah, I still pretty much live in black. It's not my fault colour doesn't suit me!
The quasi-debut of this blog shall be dedicated to a clique very prevalent at my high school: the dancers.These "dancers" are professional ballerinas from all over Canada who dance at the Quinte Ballet School (lovingly nicknamed QBS) and come to Centennial (my high school) for their academic schooling. The dancers are known for many things and dancing is not one of them: looks, eating disorders and sexual promiscuity are the biggies. Basically, they're all pretty and skanky. Pretty skanky. But what I have noticed is that they all wear an unspoken dancer uniform. It consists of a preppy cable-knit or argyle sweater on top, perfectly dishevelled hair with a few cute barettes thrown in at random, a short denim skirt and those terrible fashion menaces, Uggs.
Occasionally, the uniform varies a little with an American Eagle t-shirt replacing the sweater and tastefully loose jeans worn without a belt to reveal heavy ass cleavage - but one thing never changes. Their pants will still be mercilessly stuffed into a pair of goddamned Uggs, preferrably in a garish shade of pink. Alright, thses dancers are gorgeous, they know it and flaunt it to the fullest extent. It was -20 degrees celcius and snowing the other day and on particular mop-topped dancer waltzed through the halls in a distressed denim miniskirt and sparkly flats. Gee, she sure came prepared for the weather. Anyhow, they all seem to have a collective spirit of individuality. What an oxymoron. Caanada may be "Hollywood North" but it is nowhere near as warm as L.A. and we shouldn't try to dress like it is. I'll save my denim miniskirts for more appropriate weather. Even then I'll probably wear them with combat boots.
On a related note, I'm frightened that I might actually be beginning to dress like a dancer, sans Uggs. I like to wear cute barettes in my hair, plus I own a cable knit and an argyle patterned sweater. They're vintage (my mom's from the '80's) which justifies it. Sort of. I also bought some dancer-like clothes at the mall the other day. Please don't burn me at the stake, I'm not a heretic - I swear!