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Showing posts from February, 2013

Day 59: A Red-Hot-Habanero Minute

Channelling Mexican senoritas today. Looks like I can just put my fashion style down to 'costume' at this stage. I have a niggling feeling it is a subtle way of my bestie encouraging me to make a fool of myself. She'll deny it. This year marks our friendship's twenty-fifth year! To celebrate our twentieth anniversary we went to Mexico (via Vegas, the Grand Canyon and El Paso). Anyone who has been to Mexico must know how how amazing it is. Such colour and smell and taste and sight and music and art and history! I'd go back in a red-hot-habanero minute. In Vegas our mission was to photograph as many casino carpets as we could—who thought carpets could be such artworks (tacky-type art? pop-art? work with me, it is art of a sort). We did the Horseshoe at the Canyon. I thought I would be okay. I usually think I am brave. But I had to get down on my hands and knees to get out onto the glass-bottomed platform. And even after I had managed to stand up, I was convinced tha…

Wear 58: Random Spillings of the Think-Box

Is this a fashion blog? It has clothing, or, even, outfits. But they're not really fashionable. Are they? It doesn't discuss fashion except, a couple of times, as a concept. It doesn't talk beauty or trends or designers or weeks associated with Fashion with a capital 'F'. So what is it? It channels into something creative in my brain. Something to do with beautiful things maybe. And it forces me to think about what I am wearing everyday. It forces me to utilise all the things that are in my wardrobe. It pushes me over comfort barriers. I think all of these things are good for me. I think. It makes me write everyday. And come up with something to write about everyday. But what is it?

List_Addict               Irene
I cannot stop thinking about food today. I am starving. Starving. Looking at Pinterest does not help one little bit. I have two questions about all the stunning looking cakes and cupcakes on there: are they meant to be inspiration for the Everyman'…

Day 57: All Work and No Play Makes Jack a Dull Boy

Look how tiny is our Irene there. The belts that cut off the circulation to my feet almost go around her waist twice. Is her physique too much to hope for? With my current diet and exercise regime, yes! I wish the good things could lose you calories. Sleeping does burn about half a calorie per pound of weight per hour. If I slept day and night I could probably lose calories into the low thousand and something, and I wouldn't eat because I would be sleeping. That seems easier enough. And watching scary movies is a burner too. Apparently the other night's Valentines gift, Paranormal Activity, is worth about a hundred and eleven calories. The most effective, diet-wise, horror movie to watch is The Shining at a hundred and eighty-four. The jump-out-of-your-skin scary moments are the key. Imagine studying this? Differing reports show knitting burns between twenty-nine and a hundred calories an hour which should get me working on my knitting projects again—especially if it's h…

Wear 56: Necessity Sires Invention

I have pulled something in my neck. There are a couple of ways I may have done this. It may be the rather silly posing. Maybe it is cold air-conditioner borrowed from the V—— over the last couple of nights blowing onto an exposed sleeping neck. It could be the rapid double-take I am prone to make when someone says something silly—and I am way surrounded by silly! It may be a super-cell stress storm in my neck. It could be old age. Perhaps it is paranoid over-the-shoulder checking after watching horror movies over the weekend. And then there is also the possibility it was avoiding sandflies on Saturday after the last sandfly incident in which I nearly lost an arm. Okay, that may be an exaggeration. Whatever the cause, it has me shattered and as a result I am unable to write a single word here. At all. And instead must leave you with day two of the LBD in photos only, and go to my lovely, waiting, fluff-cloud of a bed.

Irene               List_Addict
Before I do. I have my black dre…

Wear 55: All The Way With LBD!

This is the start of another themed week. Although I may not last that long. Or, rather, last without repeating. The Little Black Dress is supposed to be that staple of the wardrobe that can be simple and classic enough to last a number of seasons and versatile enough to be dressed up, down or sideways for a plethora of different looks and occasions. So theoretically I should only need one. Turns out, in my usual excessive way, I have a few. There are possibly not seven of them. And the following words may not apply to them: 'little', 'simple', 'classic' or 'versatile'. But they are black. Let me see what I can do with them this week. If you have a favourite picture of yourself in your little black dress, leave a link in the comments: I'd love to see it.

Irene               List_Addict
My nephews' cubby house provided today's backdrop. Those are them below. Rambunctious little rascals! BBQ dinner at D—— and P——'s. (Isn't it odd …

Day 54: Day-Tripping

Last minute decision over a very late breakfast: Let's take Lollii down to Fairhaven for a run. No better way to combat the warmness than with a sea breeze. It is always four or five degrees cooler down there. She was insatiable. And what a good surfer. She leapt over waves on the way in and used them to ride back out. Clever girl. But it's that fine line. No, the other one. Where you know it is probably too much but she keeps bringing the ball back and dropping it at your feet. We were having some dinner outside a cafe in Anglesea. They had doggy bowls full of water. I got her some dog food and V—— gave her a bit of his flathead. She started drinking and drinking and drinking. It seemed a lot. I figured she was salty-watered out. Then, in front of everyone at the cafe she threw up all the water, the dog food and the flathead. Ah. Awkward.

List_Addict               Irene
But she is all good now. Full return of appetite if the hot breathing and drooling on me while I have be…

Day 53: I'll Never Te-e-ell

Miracle. I just wore my outfit de jour to dinner. As the shoot approaches each day, I madly search for an outfit to wear. I choose something eventually, hopefully, and then look for a little extra za-za-ping to step it up a little way from ordinary. Today, for example, I added the socks. It is usually something a little out of my comfort zone. I was just recently prattling away on The Sartorialist about my love for socks and shoes being tempered by my thinking I look silly. So when it came to dinner time I didn't wear the socks (do you need me to go into my issues with the weather again? really?) but the rest was go-for-launch, extremely short skirt and all. The more usual thing is to drop back into the comfy clothes, like this, or this. Part of the point of this whole experiment should be to get me out in the street wearing what I wear on the net. Isn't it silly that I am more nervous to wear it down to my local shops than I am to put it up for the world to see. Maybe it is b…

Wear 52: Nothing Practical, Nothing Useful

It is disorientating to see well known TV characters out of context. There is the Fonze now, in a suit, being interrogated by the mathematically inclined FBI investigators of Numb3rs. Earlier tonight House was investigating the weird diseases of Riley from Buffy the Vampire Slayer (although he still worked for the government in a military capacity). I always thought, in writing and creating a fictional world, the essential thing was to create a believable one—even if it is completely surreal. The latter just takes more work, in the syle of JRR Tolkien for example. Numb3rs and House do push the believable barrier a bit—the more so because a hospital and a FBI crime unit that, like all crime units, deals with one, for the most part ultimately solvable, case at a time, are usually closer to reality. We have no orcs, fairies, time-travel or telekinesis to deal with after all. But it is almost easier to believe in the tree houses of Lothlorien (okay, yeah, I just want to believe in them…

Day 51: On the Indeterminable Nature of Time

It is getting increasingly difficult to do 'new' every day. I do, on the other hand, feel almost ashamed that fifty-one days in I still haven't repeated an item of clothing, and have only repeated my bare feet or thongs/flip-flops in the shoe department. It is almost obscene. In a way, as the 'new' options dwindle, I am getting excited about being forced to use items again in more interesting combinations. I was spying on the Sartorialist today: spying, drooling, coveting—I can't narrow down the right verb. They were showing the Anna Sui Fall Collection. It is stunning beyond belief. I hate to say it, but if I cant find enough pattern in my wardrobe to emulate some of these looks, I will have to go on the op-shopping warpath to further clothing ownership, despite everything I just said. In a way I feel that op-shopping is not about consumption so much as it is about moving existing items round through different people's wardrobes. Two things come to mind…

Day 50: What is Black and White and Read All Over?

A newspaper. A zebra with an 'I Love Lucy' wig on. Today's content is inspired by Running in Stilettos's one-off link-up (see below)

I'm the kinda girl who ...

... believes everyone has interesting quirks (just takes longer to find some than others)

... buys amazing shoes because you don't have to be a supermodel to fit into them

... appreciates that a sky is empty without clouds

... is socially inept

... thinks dessert should come first because you never want to not be able to fit it in

... is walking from one end of the UK to the other, in stages

... has her heart broken daily by how beautiful a dog's love is (even if it is from our strange Lollii)

... is exceptionally lucky to be, have and know what she does

... took way too long to realise that what other people think does not matter

List_Addict              Irene
... takes Scrabble seriously, but only to become better

... would like to have her belief in ghosts confirmed, maybe?

... pays too much (critical) attent…

Day 49: Grand Designs

Do you like a coloured front door? Bright and contrasting with the rest of the property. Glossy enamel, hard and shiny. It seems to me quintessentially English. Ten Downing Street. I believe I was born to be stylistically British. Oh, except like the stylishly stylistic British, not the ones you see on either Snog, Marry, Avoid, or, Embarrassing Bodies. I envisage a meeting between punk and stone Cornwallian cottage. It seems, when you see them, that lots of amazing British homes have this honest opulence about them. As if, unlike more minimalistic design, they display their hearts. B—— read an opinion which stated that much of the interior design we see around is aimed at re-sale—people decorate and live clutterless lives on the premise that they may, at any given moment, have to show their property for sale. We aim for the banality of magazine covers, Pinterest pins or hotel rooms. We manufacture a distance and a non-attachment to 'stuff'. Don't get me wrong. I am not …

Wear 48: I Go Out Walking After Dark and Reminiscing

I learned a new word today. It snuck itself into The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Yay, for kindle and instant meaning gratification. Exiguous. It means very small in size or amount. In a sentence: The volume of my love for this weather is the very opposite of exiguous. This is the weather that is going to start to make people do more than usual horrid things. This is the weather that increases the visible gap between the haves and the have-nots where what is had is an air-conditioner. It isn't healthy. And I am not just talking about mould. Although it is good for washing, stiff, bend-me-and-I'll-break washing. It is the weather of sepia coloured memories too. Of summers past. Of the smell of burnt chocolate and orange Prima when we emigrated. Of grass so dry it is like walking on splinters. Of towels on hot leather car seats. And it always ends with large, dusty, slow falling raindrops smacking the pavement. Oh, roll on those raindrops. I cannot wait.

List_Addict            …

Day 47: Blue and Green Should Never Be Out In Public Together

Why? You'll have to tell me. My internet is all used up with five days to go until the next billing round so I can't Google, I can't look at all your blogs, I can't find a link-up for Saturdays, I can't research and I can't start trying supermarket shopping on-line. It isn't one of those plans that just stops all access. No, it is much more torturous than that. It gives you the internet at the speed of slugs. You keep trying to do stuff and the little whirly bits go round and round but the only thing that happens is your head hitting the keyboard in a repeated bashing action. Five days is eternity. It makes me almost—just almost, not all the way—glad to be going in to work tomorrow. It is sad.

Irene               List_Addict
This heat wave is killing me. I haven't been able to do anything because moving results in rivers of sweat. Or rivers of glowing if I want to seem more feminine. Can you believe I haven't even been cool enough yet to try on m…

Day 46: Now That Was Productive.

It started slow. At the Senior's Op Shop I only managed a pair of (slightly over-priced) knitting needles. They had a couple of things that were lovely, even slightly unusual (because the unusual was all I was after today), but it was the old dilemma: not unusual enough to pay twenty dollars for something that is just to be bought because it is unusual. You know that dilemma. The Salvos On High St, Kew was next. A great disappointment. There is a core element to thrifting which says there needs to be the sense of getting a bargain. This, above and beyond the fact that you stop things going to landfill, slow (in some miniscule way) the production of new ess, aitch, one, tee, and land yourself unique and characterful pieces distinct from the monotony of retail. And I understand that for charities this is business. But fifeteen, twenty, thirty dollars for recycled, not vintage, not haute couture, clothing and shoes is borderline too much. The occasional piece justifiably priced th…

Day 45: In Preparation

At midnight the messengers of Cupid came around the control room floor (sounds exciting you say, what does she, or they, control? Answer? The short one? Chaos. But maybe not well) and left valentines cards for everyone with an egg (caramel). Then the Significant Other gave me my present (unexpected). A copy of Paranormal Activity Four. Romantic? We can be scared witless together by small children rocking in the corner of a yard as a clock counts through the night. And then I thought it was all over. Ten past midnight. But it turns out Valentines Day goes all day.

List_Addict               Irene
I slept through most of it, and now I am getting ready for tomorrow. Op-shop outing! Translation: Thrift store outing! OMG. So excited. I have so far found one thing that I am maybe done with, and can take back to donate. I then only have to find room for three bizillion, four hundred and eighty two gridillion, seven hundred .... etc things that I find tomorrow to come home and be my new clo…

Day 44: How Would You Like Your Eggs in the Morning?

What do you think would be the worst job in the world? People do suggest things like wait staff (I used to have nightmares where I couldn't remember orders and had to write them down on my pyjamas when I was a waitress. Was quite bad.) or dishwasher (You have to work with chefs and they sometimes throw things at you. Like tongs, or hot chicken wings. Experience.) What was really funny on the web site I was looking at about this was that below each 'worst job', the content-based internet advertising was coming up with jobs in that category. So you look up 'worst jobs' and then decide to apply for one? Umm, okay, that seems like it makes sense. I am watching that guy on Dirty Jobs and he is in a factory where their main ingredient is anything onion related. That would be hard on the eyes. Another site quoted clean up crew in the Japanese nuclear plant, head chef to Kim Jon Il, and, Kofi Annan's position as envoy to Syria. On paper, yes, these are probably stati…