Saturday, 18 November 2017

How to wear fitted onesies over 55 for high adventure

Give me a purple or red fitted onesie and I'm on, hunting down baddies with headquarters in remote island volcanoes or exploring the Earth as a possible off-planet colony for my People. It happens every time. 

So here I am, still in the purple onesie from the West Vancouver United Church Flea Market, which I posted on here - I took it off in between though. The stirrup feet are miracles because they pull the fabric taut for an overall smoothing effect, which: 1) is calming when wearing a body-con outfit that flirts dangerously with my boundaries of public comfort; 2) provides streamlining for fast, comfortable deep space travel.

But first, let me write about that coat. That frickin' amazing coat from frickin' amazing Shelley of Forest City Fashionista. It came in a bulging envelope last week, along with something else equally amazing, which I am holding back from posting for delayed gratification. 

This photo is called golden leaf

Vivid fuchsia, vivid. By Danier, suede with shaggy fuchsia trim. It's almost (maybe, kinda, if-I'm-feelin'-glass-half-full) long enough for buttoxil area coverage (essential), but I brought along a stretch skirt in case I started feeling exposed, like I did behind the Strip shop below. Aliens must try to blend in.

They say, strip; I say, cover up. I'm practising being human by being unpredictable. Of course I wouldn't need the skirt if I were wearing a maxi coat, but this coat overruled all other outerwear considerations. Plus it has a secret weapon. Read on.


I swoon for that '60s groovy sci-fi vibe. Below, calling the Mother Ship with my Mantis. Or occupants of inter-planetary craft. Either will do, as long as their flight attendants serve Cheez Whiz ("processed cheese spread"), Space Food Sticks, ("developed for the U.S. Space Program"), and gherkin pickles (pickles).

I'm so glad I found this red wall! It's my first time here. These photos remind me of the piece Shelley did for VOGOFF magazine, where she's also calling her Mother Ship. 

The Purple People Eater, video clip, 1958 hit by Sheb Wooley)

When I was passing through Nordstrom during my inspiration walk, I ran into two friends who fell hard for this coat. Of course, I was keen to draw their attention to the glory of my spacesuit onesie as well, so I boldly hoisted the skirt to where no man has gone bef...* Oops, same era/genre, wrong script! To my high thighs to demonstrate its all-in-one-ness, which felt risqué, despite still being fully clothed. Well -

I needn't have worried one bit - they wouldn't have batted an eye if I had begun shooting ping-pong balls from my

Running in the vortex in Ackery's Alley

mouth, been wrapped in tentacles and slathered in Cheez Whiz and pickles - the coat had them in its thrall. They couldn't keep their hands off my cuffs and collar - the hypnotic power of the trim was alarmingly potent. (Note to self: Trim as secret weapon for future invasion strategy.) I almost had to Mantis them!

In the end, I gave up the onesie show and pulled my skirt back into place. Some stars, like the coat, shine brighter than others I suppose. 

Below, more evidence of the Fitted-Onesie Phenomenon (FOP) of super-sleuth/alien: my Emma Peel impression near the passport office, in a photo taken by Sandra Bernabei of Standard Deviations.


I'm wearing my vintage red wool knit onesie with original sewn-in belt at the hip, made by Gordi of Montreal. Also here. The seam threads were disintegrating so I had to resew the whole thing. Well worth it.

Below, a sneak peek in my bedroom. Is it possible I was abducted by one of the Occupants?!


And then I feast on a light breakfast. It's the new alternative energy.


To be clear, this post has been all about the SEO (search engine optimization), but you knew that, right? Now my blog will be inundated with hoards of women over 55 clamouring for tips on FOP. But to be fair, these tips can apply to any age. I'm sorry if I made anyone feel excluded.

That's it for now. I'll be linking up to Patti at Visible Monday on her blog Not Dead Yet Style and Catherine at #iwillwearwhatilike on her blog Not Dressed as Lamb.

May the FOP be with you, friends.

*From the original Star Trek TV series, 1966-69, line from the opening voiceover by Captain James T. Kirk. Relive it HERE.
Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.
Okay, now you'll be humming that opening theme all day. You're welcome. Heh.


Saturday, 11 November 2017

Clothes from church and HADES

Just to cover all my options, I am wearing clothes from both church and HADES in this post. Each of the small morality whisperers on my shoulders, angel on one, devil on the other, have finally gone to sleep in victorious exhaustion.

This first outfit features a wool Love Moshino suit, dark tartan with men's tie detailing on the jacket pockets and collar, and a bow of men's ties on the rear (sorry, no photo). There is also a men's tie sewn into the waist of the skirt, creating a distinctly masculine dangle effect.

I blush to tell you what I paid - very, very, very low two figures - my devil was laughing loudly, especially because I was in a church when I bought it, West Vancouver United Church, their Flea Market sale. The prices were borderline unholy!


My friend Yvonne S brought this suit to my attention. I have her to thank for this incredible addition to my manly suit collection. THANK YOU!

And the scarf, it is a heavenly item by fledgling British knitwear label HADES. They sent it to me as a gift, with no obligations whatsoever, but of course, how could I not write about it? It is thick, dense and plush, utterly toasty soft made from pure lambswool, handcrafted in Hawick, Scotland. I've been wearing it a LOT!

The scarf smells like the countryside (the pleasant part). The chances of finding something like this on my thrift sale rack are slim - it's the kind of piece that's handed down and down and around and around until it simply goes POOF.


As a reminder, Hades is also the name of the Greek god of the underworld, also called Hades (or hell these days). That would be like me saying, "Hi, I'm Melanie and now I must return home to Melanie."

Hades was guarded by the Hounds of Hell (loosely interpreted, everything I write here is loose). My home is guarded by my bloated closets. Enter at your peril. You can read more about Hades here. More about my closets here.


I pumped the photo levels above so you could see the fabric better. Yes, when I am excited the waist tie elevates - because I would be jumping of course. The ties are sewn right on there as part of the original design; they were not farked by a previous buyer.

I added my own tie to this styling but took it off - no need to belabour the point of ties with a cartoon hammer on the head.


I'm also wearing a vintage British men's overcoat by Dhobi, which is "showerproof."

Below is the box from HADES. I love opening parcels from the mail.


The sunny yellow goes great with the HADES name, but even better, they included two cute hair pins with a pink HADES with a headache. Hahaha!!! These are awesome. I'm going to a dinner party tonight and these would go perfectly with my outfit.


And next, oh dear oh dear oh dear. It came from church. We're not quite sure what "it" is yet, but it is sublime.


When I wear this, I'm in a sci-fi movie. The mantis pendant is my communicator with the Mother Ship.

This piece was also pointed out to me, this time by one of the incredible volunteers at the flea market. I couldn't grab it fast enough when she marveled how it is a one-piece with stirrup-style feet. I didn't even try it on - sometimes you just know.

There is another part to this - a high-thigh-length sleeveless vest that goes on top, same fabric, no buttons or zips, but the front opening is joined together along the hem, at the hip, with an infinity knot. I didn't include it in any of those photos because I like the bodysuit part best.

I made the pendant from a Donna Karan Christmas ornament years ago. Still, a mantis pendant only goes so far, don't you think? I still felt just a touch under-dressed.

So I added a little HADES to the mix. Much better. After all, this was sinfully low-priced.


The bodysuit outfit label is Linda Lundstrom, who is a highly-respected, award-winning Canadian designer of up-market clothes. I suspect this is one of her earlier works. So soft, maybe wool and cashmere...? I'll let you know if I find out more.


You can see the stirrup feet in the photo above. If only I had a silver puffer jacket to wear on top. That would be so cool!

This last shot shows you how big the scarf is. Huge snuggle power there.


If this scarf appeals to you, check out HADES' other scarves. They also sell pullovers and Ts made of fine merino wool in a selection of colours, lots of pastels. Gorgeous. And HADES is on Instagram.

I hope you've all had a fantastic week. I'm behind on my replies to your comments but I so appreciate them and shall catch up in the next couple of days.

Go forth and feel stellar, as I always say.

I'll link up to Patti's Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style and Catherine's #iwillwearwhatilike at Not Dressed as Lamb. Cheers!!!

---------------------------------------------

PS. I was asked from the last post, if menopausal years are known as Wisecracking, what do we call the post-menopausal years?

I thought of the word Freebirds, having pecked or cracked through those constricting shells into full flight, along with allusions to giving the bird. But I think we can do better. Any suggestions? Let me know in your comments.


Thursday, 2 November 2017

Wisecracking in High Heels

I can't believe what I've done! I've made (gulp) an "old" decision, old as in old age. Quick, get my fan and smelling salts on a black and white film set.

How could this have haaaappened? It's not too late to reverse my actions - probably. If I act fast. It's like my whole world has turned upside down. And it PISSES ME OFF!!


The catalyst? The Lourdes Embroidered Platform Heeled Sandals with 5.5-inch heel from Topshop, now 75% off. A mere year or two ago I would have leapt, paid, purred, and slunk home.

This time? I only made it as far as leapt. Then I PUT THEM BACK IN THE BOX!!!! But by god, we bonded in that short time together. I don't even know how I ended up in Topshop in the first place.
Clearly, I've been dipping my toes in -

LOW-HEEL SHOE TERRITORY!

It's a foreign, unfriendly land, full of, uh, low-heel shoes. Blast and damnation!! And why? Well, not because my feet are screaming at me, at least not loudly or daily. No.

I blame it on the season: fall, as in autumn. Insidious subliminal seasonal brainwashing. Fall, as in falling, as in down, as in fear of, as in slippery wet leaves.

Who decided to call it frickin' FALL anyway? Probably some young woman in stilettos, that's who. I think I'll rename it, HIGH HEELS.

Spring - Summer - HIGH HEELS - Winter 
Much better.

It's not too late to go back and buy my sweet Lourdes. These shoes are why we have training wheels. And skateboards with handsome young men who tow you with skipping ropes you so you don't even have to walk.

This has all been a horrific menopausal moment!

Oh, feck - that word menopause. Where do all of these ill-conceived words come from?

I ask you, who but a man would name a woman's life passage after his own gender? Men-o-pause, poor delicate creatures afraid of women blossoming into new-found wisdom and strength!!!! Yeah, it's all about how he feels. He pauses? Pffft.

At the very least it should be called women-o-freakout, although it doesn't exactly slide off the tongue.

Fine. How about this for a pause - from now on it shall be known as:

Wisecracking 
Wisdom breaking through the shells of self-sacrifice and self-denial

Heh. No more menopause! Blast that word!

I see doctors around the world now: "Yes, [insert name here], it appears you have hit your Wisecracking years," and then him/her running for cover under the gurney stirrups while [insert name here] screams with delight.

Where's my skateboard? Where's my skipping rope? (Where's O? Has anybody seen him? Oh, maybe that's his shaking toe sticking out from under the couch.)


Everything is a fog. Stumbling around on egregiously low heels. Stumbling towards that frickin' ecstasy, meanwhile praying to the Lourdes in their cardboard cradle for salvation.

At least I have my quintuple glasses to help see my way through. Well, in truth I only wear three pairs of glasses stacked (one regular, two reading glasses), not five, and only when I'm sewing with black thread at night. Works so well.

It's all about the focus.


Elevation not with the sole, but with thine eyes. Looking outwards, not at one's feet, to achieve a higher state of being, whilst eschewing the opportunity to grow up (at 75% off). Gaaaa!!

Quick! Bring more sequins before this ill-shod Wisecracker runs out of slipshod double-entendres.


And now clarity. Here's a sober view. That's an old low-rent hotel with the crosses of a local hospital and a long-armed crane across the block looking down on it. I couldn't get a better photo - there were people partying in the parking lot and I didn't think my kind of Wisecracking would be fully appreciated.

This view could definitely be enhanced with quintuple-self-elevating vision, with or without the black thread at night.

Speaking of black threads, I'm wearing my favourite (only) black blouse below. It has a weird stretchy fabric that feels borderline gross. And my train engineer pants with the saggy dropped crotch. The rear view is too special to share.

Wisecracking during High Heels

See? I'm not advertising anything in this post, although it's too bad. Topshop shoes for free wouldn't inspire fear, guilt or remorse nearly as bad as paid shoes, in the same way that chocolates received on special occasions have no calories. 

I hope you're having a lovely season so far. Here, the leaves are the colour of pumpkins. And there's something magical about Wisecracking under a High Heels moon. 

I'm off now to see if that's O under the couch or a guest I've forgotten about. 

I'll link up with Patti at Not Dead Yet Style, Visible Monday, and Catherine at Not Dressed As Lamb, #iwillwearwhatilike when the time comes. BUT WAIT! - What's that?!! 
A big unexpected PS! 


Using a little magic, I granted myself these shoes on Halloween. I'm glad they didn't turn into pumpkins at midnight - they would be much harder to walk in than heels.

It's amazing what 48 hours, since I wrote the first part, can do to a person. Heat, time, and pressure create diamonds. My own heat, time, and pressure got me shoes. Sure diamonds are good, but for only 48 hours on the clock, shoes ain't bad. 

Look, I'm space-borne!


Not exactly Twinkle Toes - better than Twinkle Toes! 


I went to a Halloween Party at Vancouver Barbara's place. So much fun! I wore this gown for the first time, purchased maybe a year ago at My Sister's Closet. The lace of the skirt is super soft, not picky. Underneath I wore one of my two hoop skirts. Check out that jewelled breastplate. It weighs a ton!


Okay, now you can go! Hahaha!! Thanks for visiting. 

 P O O F !!
I hope you had a wonderful Halloween!
 I howled at that High Heels moon. Did you?


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...