stupidmas day

parallels and perpendiculars

wearing this to bluebird for my roommate's 30th birthday... and then whirlyball.

no way i'm playing.

dress and sweater both urban outfitters, but sourced for next-to-nothing at their expansive, only-location-in-the-US outlet. it's in chicago, on clark and fullerton. pretty sweet.

forcefield against your charm

that quote has nothing to do with my drawing. i think.

"it took years to rebuild my brains forcefield against your charm and i feel ike u seal team 6'd ur way in again and caught my common sense sleeping on post"

once in a great while, TFLN is amazing.

usually, it's just a bad influence.

hipster girlfriends

this hipster paper doll is pretty stupid, and rather limited, but i just put together some chicks that look like me and some of the girls in my life. are you deserving of the pejorative smackdown if your paper doll is a decent approximation? i'd have made more of my friends, but there are no black, asian, or hispanic options.

it's kind of cute. whatever.

moi

cassandra

janet

kyra

rita

is it hipster because the illustration style is scott pilgrim-ish?

november daisy chain

outfits for yesterday, (second from left, the white flowers sweater as featured previously, worn with a collared shirt and gray cords) and the past few days besides. yesterday was a post-thanksgiving hang at my friend matt's house. we played "horse," (a nerdy spelling game) debated gentrification, and then i commandeered the music situation and loaded it with old funk and reggae.

1. black wool mini-dress, paired with dark gray tights and mulitmedia miu miu courts. worn to Girl and the Goat.

3. gray cardi, collared shirt, wool shorts, and sheer blue stockings, worn with garters and beater boots. worn to the CAN.TV taping of the Nick and Nora variety show.

4. blue velvet tube dress over gray silk-blend turtleneck and gray thigh-high stockings. black rubber melissas with open toes and tortoiseshell bows were involved. worn to the garfield park conservatory.


okay okay, i know that drawing is impossible to see, especially since i got lazy and the girls turned into stick figures. snapshots!

mara was wearing pale purple hose - cross-genertional twinzies photo-op

even with the fern room closed for repairs, one of the best spots in chicago

stems

an outfit that is mostly uninteresting unless you're the one happening to have on bright, Bright green thigh-hghs. the sheerness of the shirtdress doesn't really read in the photo. that is where great lighting comes in, or fashion illustration gains its communicative powers.

egon schiele was the jump-off point. the cons are a nod both to victorian lace-up boots and to the punk-grunge girls i love, who wear seamed stockings with their chucks or docs.

adopt me, please

tavi, the mulleavy sisters, miranda july, and kirsten dunst: a solid dys/functional sisterhood

(buddying-up at the 2011 MoCA gala)

lightness and weight

Men who pursue a multitude of women fit neatly into two categories. Some seek their own subjective and unchanging dream of a woman in all women. Others are prompted by a desire to posses the endless variety of the objective female world.

The obsession of the former is lyrical: what they seek in women is themselves, their ideal, and since an ideal is by definition something that can never be found, they are disappointed again and again. The disappointment that propels them from woman to woman gives their inconstancy a kind of romantic excuse, so that many sentimental women are touched by their unbridled philandering.

The obsession of the latter is epic, and women see nothing the least bit touching in it: the man projects no subjective ideal on women, and since everything interests him, nothing can disappoint him. This inability to be disappointed has something scandalous about it. The obsession of the epic womanizer strikes people as lacking in redemption (and redemption by disappointment).

Because the lyrical womanizer always runs after the same type of woman, we even fail to notice when he exchanges one mistress for another. His friends perpetually cause misunderstandings by mixing up his lovers and calling them by the same name.

In pursuit of knowledge, epic womanizers...turn away from conventional feminine beauty, of which they quickly tire, and inevitably end up as curiousity collectors. They are aware of this and a little ashamed of it, and to avoid causing their friends embarassment, they refrain from appearing in public with their mistresses.


-kundera

washed up

i really want these hasbeens combat boots but i cannot afford them, even with an insider discount.

amortizing isn't the issue; i simply don't have enough money.

my everyday boots are so bruised up... because i wear them almost every day, and neglect the rest of my collection. it makes me sad, on a couple levels.

miranda

miranda july is on a forecasting kick of late. as part of her promotions for her newest film "The Future," she is doing some light prognosticating. a lady after my own heart!

this is the fortune i received after a little meditation and a spin of the wheel:

actually, that really describes the kind of day i am having. haven't gotten out of bed yet! and it's super-gray and blowsy beyond my window.

find out what's (vaguely) in store for you at http://thefuturethefuture.com/oracle.php

opened like a peony

A Friend Killed in the War

by Anthony Hecht

Night, the fat serpent, slipped among the plants,

Intent upon the apples of his eyes;

A heavy bandoleer hung like a prize

Around his neck, and tropical red ants

Mounted his body, and he heard advance,

Little by little, the thin female cries

Of mortar shells. He thought of Paradise.

Such is the vision that extremity grants.

In the clean brightness of magnesium

Flares, there were seven angels by a tree.

Their hair flashed diamonds, and they made him doubt

They were not really from Elysium.

And his flesh opened like a peony,

Red at the heart, white petals furling out.

halloweekend day 3

my own version of belle du jour.

halloweekend day 2

going to lamon's birthday party, and then...

a werewolf bar mitzvah.

my yarmulke isn't going to fit.

halloweekend day 1

thea and kyra (as mf doom!)

tselaine (fox) rita and sam

my last-minute argus costume

jody's farm

probably my last visit for a while. for any family member, really. hopefully, before another two years pass, i'll get a cousin to do a sojourn. it's so beautiful.

chocolate, going up the mountain

zoe, jumping a creek. overdoing it much?

heading back towards the farm

crow

if i had my act a little more together, i could build this for my halloween costume. but i won't. no idea what i'll be, but there are a bunch of parties this year. i don't really feel the need to impress anyone. 

white flowers

so this is me being not-classy. can i say ghetto? as a shopgirl, i'm always irked by 'customers' that take pictures of the products on display. people don't shoot items and then buy them. it's not that i stand to lose pay, but they're essentially taking the idea, even if they can't display it on their bodies or shelves.

my irritation notwithstanding, i've been taking pictures in fitting rooms since long before camera-phones. total hypocrisy. i was a teenager, trying on lela rose* or giambattista valli at filene's basement. (r.i.p. filene's) great dresses that have been lost to time, or ebay. 

anyway, here i am at h&m, trying on their "conscious collection." that means they're using organic cotton and recycled polyester, with a nod to sustainability. the pieces were romantically embroidered and largely white. the sweater with the long-stemmed flowers, and the leaves climbing the sleeve; i fell in love with it. i went back and bought it the next day.

because my income is basically nil, i couldn't also buy this frock, which had great details in 360°. it's a little too bohemian for what i'm doing right now, anyway.

*this is the gold brocade lela rose dress i tried on back in the day. the photo i took is gone, but the back had a lovely cut-out. (it wasn't a trendy detail yet.) the body in this pic belongs to stupid rachel bilson.

windy city social club

went to big star for kyra's birthday. i never would have gone here of my own accord -- so yuppie -- but the tacos turned out to be decent. i tried to play 'desert island' with my kyra's friends, to very limited success.

sort of my signature look for the season. it's the easy, masculine, serge gainsbourg-inspired look that i'd wanted to achieve. i'd never accuse the man of sparkly sweater vests or russian army hats, but there's a mens' chambray shirt under this; skinny pants; he did a leather jacket. my face is appropriately boyish/weird.

at the empty bottle for windy city social club. i can pick out a lot of friends in this shot: myself, kyra, brenda, cassandra, ashley, 'shua, jake, and ray. noah is in there somewhere.

before, obv.

taken october 29th

twerking for the weekend

spent decent-sized chucks of thursday, friday, and saturday running around with lab rat. while engaging in his raison d'etre, he put me on the list at two parties, but we also got in some just-us quality time. we barbecued it up joy yee's in chinatown and judged people at the 18th street pilsen open studios artwalk.

cut my hair. not feeling so good about it. too long or too short, i'm not sure. not edgy or glam enough? it's kind of a long prince valiant pageboy instead of a bedhead-y shag. i think i look like ramona quimby, and i never even read those books.

on a less vapid track, my saturday and sunday largely took place at the design harvest festival, where i hustled goodies for swim cafe, my favorite spot in the city for chai, sandwiches, and soup. it was wonderful to work with karen and her team, and both days were super-sunny. (actually, i kind of got a sunburn on my face.) there were lots of beautiful babies and happy dogs. you get a shot of pride from representing a restaurant that believes in fair trade, organic, veg/vegan, and fresh-healthy options. after hours, karen let me help her bake. this was my first time working in food service, and i loved it.

belle&sebastian night at darkroom

 w/ max at chromeo

white lines

right now it would seem that zara, above any other "affordable" shop on michigan avenue, has their finger on the pulse of what i'm looking for in fashion. modern, sleek lines, with a decent weight to their fabric.

there seems to be a confidence to their vision, which is sadly lacking at most retailers, that try to play for every taste, but end up having no point of view. the actual designer that is probably getting bit the most right now is celine or stella mccartney. usually i wouldn't name-check either of those as my favorite designer, but in terms of what can be copied well for a low price-point.... couture details never translate well. convicted tailoring, on the other hand...

in terms of zara's tailoring, i will admit that they cut for a slim figure. i can't fit into their smallest size. several of their items were produced in one size only - M. i know they don't have garments for bigger girls.

wiggle frock

i bought these two beautiful cottons at vogue fabric. there are a few yards of each, and i'd like to make dresses, even though these colors aren't typical of what i'm wearing right now. (lots of minimalist, structured black, white, and gray.)

the dress envisioned would have a modest, slim cut, which would contrast with the exciting orange and yellow wax print, or the peach and blue shibori. once in a while, in a thrift store, i come across a 1950s-cut dress in this gorgeous african textile, usually with short sleeves. when i was staying in london, my host (a jamaican-born teacher) took me with her to church, and i saw a bunch of ladies whose prim silhouettes were enhanced by knockout colors. 

i haven't drawn up a pattern, but that's the next step. count on narrow sleeves, knee-length pencil skirt, with maybe a slight origami-fold bustle. wasp waist, collar-bone neckline. form follows fabric, and this isn't draping gauze or slouchy knit. suppose they should be lined, too.

another idea would be to make a dress in ...black... and use the brights for contrast paneling, like over the hips, but that seems kind of tame.

m.yeates

the girl that drove me from birmingham to new orleans (and back) said she really liked my sweater, so i did this watercolor for her. i'll be sending it, as a postcard, in the mail, with a thank you note.

stems, draft 1

my legs: booted, stockinged, and frocked, to be painted-in. hesitant, because i like the bare lines a lot. should there be sky in the background? treetops? should i dense-ify the outer line, poster art style?

carry-on for birmingham

is pain anachronistic?

my note-to-self continues:

"...speaking pace is measured, deliberate. That Hopkins, Ryder, and Oldman play reincarnated versions of themselves - the maiden, the clergyman, the lover/warrior. The feel is earnest, but the quality of the images is... arch. Violence is immediate but not pleasurable. When Dracula lunges at the cross and it pours forth blood, it is a dark miracle that transmutes eternal life death."


basically, my love for this movie should bring on a bout of chagrin, but there's too much enthusiasm in me to leave room for real shame.

le bonheur est dans le pré

my typical weekend rolls from wednesday to friday. after a lovely dinner party on wednesday, kyra and i took the southshore line up to my mom's farm. we needed to get out of the city and be somewhere that time passes a little differently.

i'm taking a little credit for kyra's outfit, since that's my suede jacket, and later, my red scarf.

both pairs of amazing duck boots belong to my mama. these are about three sizes too big on kyra, (and two sizes overlarge on me) but there wasn't really anything else suited to canoeing and general mucking about.

middle lake. we'd been rowing against a strong current.

big ben at dusk. 

the true PYT is doing feathers for the season.

i'm glad to be back in the city, eating lunch at work, but i really look forward to visiting michigan again soon. kyra hadn't been up since my fifteenth birthday, which was too long ago. it feels wonderful to bring new guests.