I like the idea of wearing a glamourous coat with comfortable shoes: evening dresses with flats. I like it when
there are two messages in one silhouette. I like it when it’s not first-degree sexy: when it’s not first-degree severe.
I like it when everything is mixed.
-Guillaume Henry, Creative Director of Carven
I’ve been swinging back and forth.
somewhere between a Mod and an angry librarian.
This leopard coat is my security blanket
and sadly I will have to retire it soon.
Leopard Jacket: Zara
Denim Shirt: Topman
Stripe Sweater, Peg Pants and Creepers: Topshop
The Carven pre-fall 2012 collection is everything that I have ever wanted to express through material means,
it’s a shame that I can’t seem to physically manifest it.
Yep. They celly is back in action. I’ve been phone free for about five months. But this past weekend I broke and picked up this sweet little iphone gadget. While it hasn’t been impossible to live with out a phone, I did drive a number of family and friends completely mental. Being unreachable has it’s perks, but a loss of connection can lead to a few strained relationships.
So now that I am back on the grid, I’m hoping to piece all the bits I’ve missed back together again.
I forget that missed connections exists. Both the spell and the entire Craigslist collection devoted to that very dubious moment of time. Then one day, while meandering about the internet, I will stumble upon it, and will usually fall quickly bored with what seems to be very desperate attempts at rekindling drunken make outs at Cheval. Or worse, salacious invites of the creepiest kind. But then this morning, there was this…
She’s the first thought I have every morning, she’s the last thought before I finally manage to fall asleep. I think of her when I dress knowing what she liked me wearing, I smell good and remember how she would nuzzle into my neck and tell me how good I smelt, I eat good food and great wine and remember how we shared meals together in great appreciation, I see new things, have new experiences and wish I could share them with her. I can’t seem to shake her out of my head, it’s like she’s flowing deep in my veins. Alas…..she doesnt have faith. I tried everything yet it is amazing how the past can determine peoples present and future. How can one not see love that is so blatant, one that gives me the power to change my life completely to be with her yet for her it is a mere game. She blamed me for what she was doing because it’s harder to accept and acknowledge your actions and easier to pass the blame on to others without realising how the consequences of their actions are born by people who love them. How can one have so much hatred for someone and have it rise within a matter of weeks. From spending time on a beach professing our love to each other to sheer anger and hatred within a few days. Why are people in love so scared, why do they judge, why can’t they have faith and believe that love can be so powerful and all encompassing that even if our minds sometimes doesnt want to believe it’s true, it is. Why do we use anger to push it away rather than joy to pull it closer.
She hates me and I love her madly….what a dichotomy. I love her and I will continue to and she will always be Ma Reine. Just being able to say it out to the world even if in this manner gives me a certain amount of calm.
So I am left mute. Feeling rather silly of my presumptuous dismissal of Missed Connections. Rather silly indeed (this is RARE). If this man were infront of me I would tell him to let her go. His heart will ache, then bend and mould for the better. To try and not be bitter, but drink warm drinks. Play music loud. Write feverish words. Kiss many girls and kiss them hard. Dance with friends then cry on their shoulders. But most importantly seek that rush of love again from someone willing to pour it back in to you. Symbiosis. Of the perfectly mutualistic sense. Till then I shall join you, dear Sir. A Tom Collins if you please and let a fender filled record spin.
Proper snow now. It’s all white out. All pretty and delicate. happy though. Bemused? What does it matter. This validates my current state of constant hibernation.
y hair is scraped up and back. Tight. Like a frizzy Croydon face-lift. Even under the duvet my toes are cold. I search the ground for a pair of strewn socks. Find two mis-matching. This will do.
I’m greeted by the cat. She’s huddled close. She feels it too. The icy wind. Left my window open last night. Silly move. Feels like -22 my phone reads. Shit. It’s winter.
The sinus headache creeps up and settles nicely. My skin bone dry. Ashy. And yet. No. I won’t let it bother me. I dig out my favourite sweater. This grey sweater. Pink fuzzy socks my Mama left me. A piping hot cup of coffee. And the gentle purr of a kitten that loves me. I need nothing more.
Since I’ve begun my new gig, I’ve had weekends off. Seeing as this is a relatively new thrill for me, I’ve spent every day out and about. Roaming the city like a weather beaten gypsy and soaking up whatever rays the sun decides to shed upon me. Fall has been and will always be my favourite season, but I must remember that sometimes it’s best to just sit back, relax and never leave the comfort of my jersey sheets.
Loving Lately…
the latest issue of The Gentlewoman. This may make me sound like an idiot, or perhaps that I’ve been living under an illiterate rock for the past few years but I hadn’t hear of Jennifer Egan before now. The piece on her is quite perfect, I need to get my hands on a copy of A Visit from the Goon Squad.
I’ve had The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis on my night stand for about a week or so now. Finally cracked the binding this morning. I’ve missed reading. PROPER reading. Mostly because I’ve been tripping down nostalgic lanes, listening to music on youtube, that drudge up feelings I thought I had lost.
There is something so ludicrously beautiful about this image. ‘A Map of the Open Country of a Woman’s Heart’ by D.W. Kellogg where he exhibits its “…internal communications, and the facilities and dangers to Travellers therein.” It seems to boast that women are all rather silly, untrustworthy and rather foolish at heart. Which I find hilarious. I had no idea being coquettish was dangerous. Couldn’t a girl have any fun in the early 19th century?
And a massive thank you goes out to Noemie of As Ink Remains for bringing these most amazeballs kitty postcards in to my life. OBSESSED.
Holy Mentalness Batman! I’ve been sucked in to a work time-warp. But I’m loving every moment over at Topshop/Topman and I work with a creative and visual team of true wunderkinds. I couldn’t be more pleased, and for the first time in the history of my life I actually look forward to going in to work everyday. This was realized after given my pay-stub from set up week and noted that I had clocked nearly 100 hours in two weeks. HUSTLE REAL HARD. The good news? We’ve managed to open with great success and Canada’s 1st store is a hit. YAY! The bad news? The shopping I’ve been doing. I mean it’s good, but my Lord is it also very terrible.
Aside from all of that hoopla, Toronto Fashion Week is upon us. This nearly three week debacle has pretty much passed me by this season. I try and catch via the Toronto Standard, Toronto Life and Fashion online when I can. But it seems like I really haven’t missed much. I mean aside from The ShOws and the Calla/Todd Lynn presentations which I would have loved to see up close and personal.
TOP FIVE THINGS ON MY MIND (cause you really want to know):
Have been stomping around this wet and dreary city in my latest acquisition (above) and wondering if I should get them in fire engine red as well.
I’ve been eating my body weight in Greek penne pasta courtesy of shit mall food options. Pickle Barrel will give me gall stones.
Coming out of rave-retirement for the Skream and Benga show Friday. It’ll be a grand FamJam reunion and I fucking can’t wait.
I’ve spoken about my super talented friend Michael De Pippo before and his rad illustrations. He’s pretty much taken it to the next level with these amazing vintage inspired concert posters for Sesame Street’s ‘Electric Mayhem’ band. He’s managed to generate such a massive buzz, I can’t wait to have the entire set up on my walls!
Oh sweet Jesus, I’m going to the cottage. In what seems like a massive coup of sorts, I am finally getting the hell out of the city and heading up north to Huntsville for Halloween weekend to squat at a friends cottage. The last time we drove up there it was the dead of winter (see featured photo) and despite the snow squalls, it was a beyond perfect weekend of movie screenings, eating, Vapo, board games and one massive love in. I can’t wait to do it again now! Nature in the Fall? I DIE.
ps: THIS REPEAT. shit I’ve fallen for Rihanna. I blame Calvin Harris.
Dear Mummy, There is no rest for the wicked and I am exhausted. The good kind. I think I am finally learning to surrender and make peace with what the universe has in store for me. Maybe someday soon my wounded heart and weakened will will stitch right back up and mend again. I’m slowly feeling it working. Scar tissue tender, breaking. Stretching.
I suppose that is it. I guess this is all.
Love you and talk soon,
Your eldest.
ps: just in case. Send me an envelope of twine, pinned with your blessing to wrap around my heaving heart. Binding.
It was 2007. My sister and I had hopped on the Go Train escaping the bitter Hamilton weather for a weekend in Toronto. It was her birthday and as luck would have it we had managed to pick up tickets to a massive Ed Banger show at the Mod Club that same evening. Justice. Busy P. DJ Mehdi. SebAstian. On the bill. Spotted So-Me weaving through the crowd taking snaps of an incredibly electric Toronto crowd. Perhaps this was pre the ‘Screw Face City’ monicker. There we stood thick in the middle of it. Sweaty and thrilled. My sister and I. My darling Tiyana and my soon to be bestie Metzti. It was unlike any dance party I had been to before, and mild compared to the antics we got up to six months later. It was at that very moment, when a neon cross lit and blazed across what seemed like a thousand screens and “Water of Nazereth” ripped through the speakers that I had been converted. I wanted to dance forever. DJ Mehdi and the Ed banger crew have pretty much been the soundtrack to my first few years in the big city. Then came CiRCA and Randomland. About a billion more Justice shows and smoking with Kavinsky. Creeping through back doors and interviewing The Clipse. Running head first in to Thomas Bangalter and staring gobsmacked at one half of a super group that I was obsessed with in my teens. Meeting Simian Mobile Disco and drinking green tea with So-Me, as we watched his first Toronto art show come together. I was a proud fluorescent adolescent! Dressed in sparkles, leather, lace and neon. Dancing in to the wee hours of the morning, ending up at after hour loft parties and wondering how the hell I wound up there in the first place. In those moments I had made some of the best friends a girl could ask for. Together we’d gather. A pile of young people and in a messy, yet joyful huddle we kicked through the slush and mud of winter right through to the sweaty grime that was summer, and always made it home in one happy heap. Piecing fragments of vibrant memories with bass beats still skipping through our veins.
We were young, and I look back now, we were fearless. We danced like no one was watching, we danced because everyone did. So thank you Ed banger for creating our bubble, of pure musical joy. My besties and I, salute you.
Rest In Peace DJ Mehdi. It was lovely to have met you, and I am still sorry for running off with your Finlandia bottle.
My hair frizzy assaulted by this muggy weather. Feel silly complaining about an Indian summer, but I was promised fall reds, mustards and burnt oranges Instead I hear pigeons nesting and the arcid smell of dirty barbeques. Flames licking up flanks of meat, the smoke feels like it’s sticking to my skin.
In NYC, fashion week has creeped up on me. I can’t bare to look at any of the shows, thinking of spring feels far too forward and I am limping so terribly behind.
I’m digging my heels in. Stopping. Inhale. Exhale.
I’ve been restless as of late. Since I’ve come back from my short little trip, I been finding it more and more difficult to sit still. To listen to my mind. I’ve been overcome with inspiration and thought. So I’ve decided to strip my cork board of past muses and start fresh again. I feel Mother Nature thought of the same thing. Thunderstorms crack over the city, washing our sins clean and sweet fresh winds whip through my apartment.
I am cooking more and more. My favourite so far? Salmon stir fry with a side of spinach tortellini and greens. I sent this photo to my the Mothership, mainly to prove that she hadn’t wasted all her culinary coaching after all.
While cleaning/re-organizing my room I’ve managed to find a pile of dust covered disposable cameras all waiting to be developed! I can’t even begin to imagine the images they may hold, and I am hoping they haven’t expired to terribly. I’m especially intrigued to see what the LOL cam carries and if any of the fun comic details turned out.
I always marvel at the amount of colour that saturates my wardrobe in the summer time. So bright and print obsessed, the complete opposite of my usually more muted/goth/grungy winter palette. I have promised my self that this year I will continue on the color parade right through the bleakest of our city’s winter months. A little leopard madness is exactly what I need to beat the moody blues.
I’ve been back a week now, and I do apologize for the lack of posts. Since I’ve landed, I’ve embraced Toronto in the tightest of hugs. Have barely been home since. Pride and Canada Day celebrations have made it nearly impossible. But I am certainly not complaining! It’s been one incredibly sun drunk few weeks, and I am so very blessed.
Here is to more adventure in the near future. Till then promise to be back with more random ditherings, wants/needs, mega music playlists and general what have yous.
xo
ps: please do follow me on twitter! I’m only four followers away from 400!
As the hot wind blows, the door creaks. Much too loud, I fear it will wake the girls from their sleep.
Sometimes, as its eerie sound cracks open my night. I lay in bed with my eyes open, searching. Wishing, hoping, hazily dreaming that you will walk through the door and the last ten years have been nothing but a rip in time. A lost and lonely dimension.
The cat does not stir anymore. As she hums in her sleep at the foot of my bed. She no longer hears the door sigh, or my breath shallow, deep and raw that follows soon after.
Humidity breaths heavy against the wall to wall windows. I still marvel at all the light. Dawn cracks the sky open so blue, it’s embarrassing.
I’m dressed in cotton cloth steeped with tradition. The scent of homemade incense licks about at my collar and feet. Mother finds this most pleasurable, and for this reason alone I wear it.
Her smile screams triumph, Like I’ve finally succumbed to her cultural demands of me. I just like to see her sharp ivory teeth, peek through her strong bowed lips.
Submarine. Richard Ayoade has done a stupendous job with this movie. Can’t say much aside from it was really good, and if you are looking for a non cheesy coming of age drama void of cheerleaders, footballers and prom queens with more heart, depth and ridiculously witty writing then this is the flick for you. Soundtrack happens to be provided by Alex Turner of Arctic Monkey genius. Six tracks so delicious I am listening to it right now.
Too much pizza. If you could see the contents of our recyclables the gluten/carb/mccain content is enough to make you hurl. And yet we buy more and more. Ick. Sigh. Boom.
Denim shirt as skirt. Headed to Hanlan’s point to celebrate kid sister’s birthday on the island. No clean clothes = improvise! Much to her disapproval of course. (grey tee, H&M/Denim shirt, Zara) Lobbed off my face as I looked slightly mentalist/troll like.
Body covered in After-Bite. The itch eraser? I smell like clorox due to the mosquito aftermath. Rain Man Chic.
Thought: This quote has been floating about my head for a while now.
‘So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be.’ excerpt from ‘The Perks of Being a Wallflower’
Headed Home. It’s been five years and I know nothing of what to expect. Mainly nervous, want to make a good impression. For I am oldest daughter and a lot rides on my presentation. Shame. Mostly in want of hugs, tamarind stains and clove kisses.
This past week I have been plagued with a toothache so bad it’s left me lifeless, pissed off, sleep deprived and starving. With pain so acute I’ve been bedridden with migraines of epic proportions and all I seem to take pleasure in is lashing out on the siblings. After popping nearly entire bottle of extra strength tylenol on day one, by the next morning the effects started to wear off and I was left desperate. But thanks to the glory of the internet I’ve found a few home remedies that actually work! (TAKE THAT CRAPPY INSURANCE PLAN)
The salt water flush: Add a table spoon of salt in to a cup of warm water, then gargle. Although this is a temporary fix, the flush is great because it reduces the swelling and dull throbbing pain in your gums. Swish the salt water concoction in your mouth a few times until you feel the pain alleviate. This method is best while waiting for the pills to kick in.
Painkillers: I’ve always been an Advil girl but when it comes to any for of swelling, be it joints or gums, Ibuprofen or Tylenol is your best bet. As mentioned above try to knock these back these in moderation as eventually they will have no effect. I usually save my pill popping for bed time.
Whiskey: A solid shot of Jack Daniels flushed about the achey tooth works wonders for it deadens an exposed nerve! Perfect if you’ve been suffering through the weekend and still want a night of debauched fun.
Peanutbutter: Need a cavity filled? Splodge some smooth PButter goodness on said tooth for a pretty decent sealant. Mind you this is incredibly temporary as it will obviously dissolve, so keep the jar by your bed for easy access.
Keep your mouth closed: Obvious I know, but if your teeth be mad sensitive a simple breeze can set a nerve off and have you writhing in pain. There are temporary cap medications for this reason, but I’ve personally have never used them so I won’t be recommending them.
Pure Vanilla Extract: I have never been happier to discover this remedy. Perfect for baking AND soothing your vicious tooth nerve demon. Place a drop of extract on a q-tip then rub around the sore tooth and PRESTO the pain vanishes and you are left with a lovely sweet aftertaste. I don’t know why it works or who came up with the damned idea, but it’s the one remedy that I have found to be the most effective!
And that’s that! Sidebar/note/whateves…I do hope these teensy tips help but please understand that these are temporary remedies and ideally if you can afford to go to a dentist then drag your ass to one. I will eventually, when I head back to Dubai and pay nought farthing for it. Till then I’ve got my best mate Vanilla E by my side.
The baked goods sat limp and cold. The coffee? Watery. The stale scent of burnt toast hung limply in the air The rickety wooden tables, held up slumped bodies. The sharp biting sounds of shattering hearts, bounced trapped between stained yellow walls.
This was the city’s best break-up bar. And there I sat. Staring at you.
