Dear Blog-Perusing Family and Friends,
You can find me at an all-new address! Better Living Through Squidulism is my new internet home. Thank you all for your readership and support!
Yours,
Elissa.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Dear Diary.
I remember my very first diary. Every Christmas, my elementary school would have a gift sale set up in the gym, so students could buy their family inexpensive presents. Jewelry, wind-up toys and money clips were the usual suspects. This particular first-grade year, I spied a single pink diary sitting atop a bunch of (snore) other children's books. It bore that hallmark that all diaries deemed desirous to young girls must have-- a lock and key. The sweaty, crumpled bills I'd earned by dutifully practicing violin couldn't leave my coat pocket fast enough.
I remember that the diary smelled sweet, like new toys from Japan do; and I wrote in it feverishly with a pen that had a snowman on a spring bobbling from the top. Sometimes it was about my crush, a swarthy classmate named Evan, other times I just made up stories about dogs. Because I shared a room with my little brother, who in my mind was merely sent to destroy, it was not enough that there was a lock on my diary-- I invented a code with which to confide. Any thought of anyone reading my diary struck abject fear in my 6-year-old heart. No, my coded ruminations on swing-set glances and heroic, sea-faring German Shepherds would stay safe from prying eyes, under lock and key, inside of my pillow case.
When I was 14, I was still writing in diaries; but I had decided that the best way to go about it was without suffering the indignity of having every day's dramas and epiphanies go showboating around in Lisa Frank. I started writing on loose-leaf kept simply, bound in a blue binder, hiding in plain sight. Who cares to look through a high-schooler's binders? I cheekily Sharpied "History" on its cover. This new method also jibed with my interest in conservation; with a 2" binder, I'd never have to buy a new diary again. I could just keep filling it with more of that recycled loose-leaf that --at the time-- looked kind of dirty in keeping with its post-consumer waste origins.
I spent a couple of years with this blue binder, until I became alarmed that, all the time I was becoming a different person, and yet these markers and milestones were just buried one under the other looking crappy and unimportant. I needed a new diary. Something for this year. Something that would be big enough to write florid narratives about how Jack Kerouac was inspiring me to boddhisatva-ism and that I needed a trench coat, a cool knife and an opium-laden thinker's existence in Morocco. However, this new volume also had to have a limited number of pages, for when I decided that being a junkie was for boys and that I had re-evaluated and was now going to commit my life to following Billy Corgan around and spiritually healing the elderly through Ecstasy.
Fast forward to the present in which I understand that Billy Corgan is a douchebag and that most of my interactions with the elderly revolve around watching crime shows. In my possession, I have about ten diaries, and those are the ones that I haven't (horrors!!) lost. They go up to 2007, at which point I ditched the pen and paper and started a blog about fashion, because fashion has always been kind of a pervy little secret between me and my magazines. I could exorcise it with pictures and prose, and not only that, get feedback and be part of a community of shoe-slobbering, thrift-store trooping, obscurity-relishing, proportion-pondering, wielders of artful clash. And, I managed to-- with as little shame possible considering my religious background-- take some rather smashing photos of myself as well. Never under-estimate the power of good posture and lighting.
But, lately, things are starting to smack of my blue binder. New things are happening, and they deserve a place of their own. I feel at odds piling them one on top of each other, lost in the greater whole. But this time, it's not just a personal diary I write the last page of, and close the book. There is no lock and key, and people read. And, gauging by how I feel when I visit others' blogs, they come because they're interested, they want to know what's going on; they come to be entertained. This blog has not only served as one of the most self-relevatory and gratifying journal experiences, but, judging by Google Analytics and your comments, it has also been a source of entertainment for kind-hearted, creative and curious you. It's a wonder.
An old diary is satisfying to say good-bye to; my custom is to flip back to the first page and write the first and last dates of my entries with a flouish, and the word "to" in between. Then I put it in a drawer and cheerfully crack open the next blank notebook, smelling the newness before committing my pen to this volume's first date. But here, it's as if there are people living inside my diary, that, if I shut the book I shut it on them. Anyone starting to read this post now is convinced I spent too much time in my trench coat in Morocco. But if you've been following all along, thank you for enjoying my blog with me for the past 2.5 years. It's insane how attached I feel to it, and readers are a great, big part of that.
But for now, it's on to the next chapter. On to the new. I'm closing the binder now.
Yours,
Elissa.
I remember that the diary smelled sweet, like new toys from Japan do; and I wrote in it feverishly with a pen that had a snowman on a spring bobbling from the top. Sometimes it was about my crush, a swarthy classmate named Evan, other times I just made up stories about dogs. Because I shared a room with my little brother, who in my mind was merely sent to destroy, it was not enough that there was a lock on my diary-- I invented a code with which to confide. Any thought of anyone reading my diary struck abject fear in my 6-year-old heart. No, my coded ruminations on swing-set glances and heroic, sea-faring German Shepherds would stay safe from prying eyes, under lock and key, inside of my pillow case.
When I was 14, I was still writing in diaries; but I had decided that the best way to go about it was without suffering the indignity of having every day's dramas and epiphanies go showboating around in Lisa Frank. I started writing on loose-leaf kept simply, bound in a blue binder, hiding in plain sight. Who cares to look through a high-schooler's binders? I cheekily Sharpied "History" on its cover. This new method also jibed with my interest in conservation; with a 2" binder, I'd never have to buy a new diary again. I could just keep filling it with more of that recycled loose-leaf that --at the time-- looked kind of dirty in keeping with its post-consumer waste origins.
I spent a couple of years with this blue binder, until I became alarmed that, all the time I was becoming a different person, and yet these markers and milestones were just buried one under the other looking crappy and unimportant. I needed a new diary. Something for this year. Something that would be big enough to write florid narratives about how Jack Kerouac was inspiring me to boddhisatva-ism and that I needed a trench coat, a cool knife and an opium-laden thinker's existence in Morocco. However, this new volume also had to have a limited number of pages, for when I decided that being a junkie was for boys and that I had re-evaluated and was now going to commit my life to following Billy Corgan around and spiritually healing the elderly through Ecstasy.
Fast forward to the present in which I understand that Billy Corgan is a douchebag and that most of my interactions with the elderly revolve around watching crime shows. In my possession, I have about ten diaries, and those are the ones that I haven't (horrors!!) lost. They go up to 2007, at which point I ditched the pen and paper and started a blog about fashion, because fashion has always been kind of a pervy little secret between me and my magazines. I could exorcise it with pictures and prose, and not only that, get feedback and be part of a community of shoe-slobbering, thrift-store trooping, obscurity-relishing, proportion-pondering, wielders of artful clash. And, I managed to-- with as little shame possible considering my religious background-- take some rather smashing photos of myself as well. Never under-estimate the power of good posture and lighting.
But, lately, things are starting to smack of my blue binder. New things are happening, and they deserve a place of their own. I feel at odds piling them one on top of each other, lost in the greater whole. But this time, it's not just a personal diary I write the last page of, and close the book. There is no lock and key, and people read. And, gauging by how I feel when I visit others' blogs, they come because they're interested, they want to know what's going on; they come to be entertained. This blog has not only served as one of the most self-relevatory and gratifying journal experiences, but, judging by Google Analytics and your comments, it has also been a source of entertainment for kind-hearted, creative and curious you. It's a wonder.
An old diary is satisfying to say good-bye to; my custom is to flip back to the first page and write the first and last dates of my entries with a flouish, and the word "to" in between. Then I put it in a drawer and cheerfully crack open the next blank notebook, smelling the newness before committing my pen to this volume's first date. But here, it's as if there are people living inside my diary, that, if I shut the book I shut it on them. Anyone starting to read this post now is convinced I spent too much time in my trench coat in Morocco. But if you've been following all along, thank you for enjoying my blog with me for the past 2.5 years. It's insane how attached I feel to it, and readers are a great, big part of that.
But for now, it's on to the next chapter. On to the new. I'm closing the binder now.
Yours,
Elissa.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Fireworks and Choppers.
Jacket: thrifted. Eyelet Dress: Forever 21. Leggings: Macy's. Shoes: Nine West.
Here in my burg, the fireworks were put on tonight. My Sweetness dusted off the motorcycle, and we rode down to the river to watch, but not without some minor hemming and hawing from yours truly. You see, my dear dad has instilled in me a deep and abiding fear of these machines. He seems to know a lot of people that have died on them, and the one who didn't had facial reconstructive surgery so intense that she doesn't even look like the same person anymore.
So, I spent the first ten minutes of this ride to the fireworks silently saying good-bye to my limbs and trying to figure out if, in a collision, if I should try to land head-first since that was the only thing that was protected. Clearly, I've survived, and in fact have deemed riding a motorcycle to see some fireworks to be the very best way to see them. In fact, I'm going to get to do it this way twice--
Today, we're taking a week's vacation to the beaches of North Carolina, staying in a rented beach house with some friends. We're taking the motorcycle with us, for beach-side riding adventures (I figure the sand will make for a soft landing)... we're having a luau, getting to see fireworks again on the 4th, and I have packed only red, white and blue articles of clothing... including one tiny red polka-dot skirt that I recently created from a giant, matronly one.
Happy 4th of July to all! Eat lots of fried chicken, listen to ZZ Top and ride yer hogs!! Huzzah!
Independently Yours,
Elissa.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Lead balloons.
Jacket: thrifted. Necklace: gifted. Shoes: Nine West. Dress: Grandview Weekend Outlet, purveyors of years-old Target merchandise with tags still on, altered by yours truly and a pair of Fiskars.
Thanks all for your comments on my last post, whether on the post, emailed, or in person... keep 'em coming. I'm feeling especially primed to hear others' opinions lately.
Last night was another stand-up night, and my first that didn't really go very well. It was a tough crowd, and even the most experienced comedians were having a rough go of it... that, and I was trying out all new material.. but who WOULDN'T laugh about inter-species relations, NAMBLA and one hell of a number two? Jerks, that's who.
But really, you can never blame the audience. Sure, a late-night drinking audience full of intelligent people with a depth of pop-culture knowledge is the ideal, but that's not always what you get... the hope is that you can be funny to all, or just shitty with grace. Me thinks grace is easier to cultivate than universal hilarity.
I am actually glad to have had a relatively bad night... just to prove to myself that my ability to go to my safe place is unshakeable. "I am sitting with a fawn in a sun-dappled glen.... I am sitting with a fawn in a sun-dappled glen...."
Above, the ensemble I wore to the whole affair... the dress used to be a maxi dress, but upon bringing it home, I discovered its horrific A-Line shape that made me look like any chess piece other than the knight. So, I cut it off into this asymmetrical flamenco-y hem. I wore this to work, and like a lot of things I wear to work, I only realize their indecency once I get there. One of my bosses did compliment me on it, but it was also her last day and she was drunk and full of cake and meatballs. Therefore.... this is a dress better suited to a barbecue...
Til later,
Elissa.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Bowie, Can you Rreeaaad Me?
I seem to be having a bit of an image-posting problem at the moment! I tend to not want to post if I don't have pictures, but pictures be damned! Here we go.
I recently received a very nice comment from reader Alya, who suggested I write more posts like this one. I have to admit that it may be the first time any one has directly told me, "I like this, do more of it."
So I'd like to pose the question to all of you, and I would love, love, love to hear from each and every one of you so I can understand exactly why you come and read! If you've been reading a while, you'll know there are some types of posts that I've drifted away from, such as the "here is a theoretically cool outfit" post and "here are 5 dresses I like that adhere to a price-point/theme" and also "listen to this/watch this video", mostly because they didn't generate as many comments as straight outfit posts, but I'd like to know exactly what you guys come here for so that I can use your thoughts as my blogging compass.
Thank you in advance,
Elissa.
I recently received a very nice comment from reader Alya, who suggested I write more posts like this one. I have to admit that it may be the first time any one has directly told me, "I like this, do more of it."
So I'd like to pose the question to all of you, and I would love, love, love to hear from each and every one of you so I can understand exactly why you come and read! If you've been reading a while, you'll know there are some types of posts that I've drifted away from, such as the "here is a theoretically cool outfit" post and "here are 5 dresses I like that adhere to a price-point/theme" and also "listen to this/watch this video", mostly because they didn't generate as many comments as straight outfit posts, but I'd like to know exactly what you guys come here for so that I can use your thoughts as my blogging compass.
Thank you in advance,
Elissa.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
UGH! Or, the story of why I never buy anything online.
Why should it be that one of my all-time favorite brands is one which I rarely ever buy anything from? Oh yes-- that's it-- because it's J.Crew and I'm a chickadee of simple means. But, I got in my email box today a notice that all sale items were an additional 30% off until midnight, so I gamely picked out a few things, then deleted almost all of them from my cart except for these lovely Tretorns...
The white rubber and gold-inflected canvas are perfect for summer anything, and at the "sale on sale" price, only $38. OK. Then, my interfering mind chimed in. It said, "Do you really need more shoes?" "Can you find something more practical to spend $38 on?" "You've never even seen these shoes before, and there are some that you have been wanting for longer. As long as you're venturing to spend $38, why not put it towards something you've actually been wanting?"
The shoes I've been wanting are another pair of Toms... During the 2008 election, I did a lot of work for the Campaign for Change, and found it meet to show my political proclivities with a pair of natural canvas Toms that said "Vote" on one shoe, and had a graphic of a donkey on the other. Now that the election is over (I think it was my shoes that swung the vote), it seems silly to wear them around now. I haven't until recently, when I found them under the couch and decided to try them on again. I took them on a walk around the neighborhood. These are damn comfortable shoes, readers, better than flip-flops. Having examined it from every angle, there really is no way to resurrect this dated style, and so a new pair of Toms is in order.
Behold, the burlap pair. I love solid colors that are highly textured, and this definitely fits the bill. But, I did read some bad reviews about the burlap coming apart, and then I decided to look into getting the natural canvas pair (none in my size) or the gray pair (is gray a falling star in the color-trends world yet?) or the blue pair (too mannish) or the red pair (not versatile enough). I returned to the Tretorns.
They're the right color, and they have this amazing deer print on them. God knows I'm a sucker for deer. Plus, I'm going on vacation soon with a few friends, one of them has a pathological fear of deer. I could wear the shoes and it would be a hilarious joke for us all to enjoy, and I could terrorize her with them all week long. And then again, my annoying inner voice said, "But aren't deer more like a Christmas thing?" "Is this too tongue-in-cheek?" "Tretorns are so classy. These.... aren't."
So I returned to the Tretorns. But they have laces, I thought... I love the appeal of just throwing ones shoes on as you skip out of your bungalow down the pier. But Tretorns are sexy. I returned to the Tretorns. I pried my credit card out of my wallet, all the time saying, "Hm... this is a week's worth of parking and two really good lunches worth of shoes." I entered my information. I entered the coupon code. And then--- what the what??? I was timed out of my session! I frantically re-did the whole process, only to find that by the time I got to the checkout, the coupon code had expired, and the shoes were no longer $38 with free shipping, but now $55. And as long as they're $55, I may as well buy a pair of Toms and use a $5 off coupon code from RetailMeNot. Or maybe I'll just use my gift card to Urban Outfitters. Or maybe I'll just see if I can be happy with what I already have....
AKKKKKKKKKKKKK
Anyone else have these problems???
Yours,
Elissa.
The white rubber and gold-inflected canvas are perfect for summer anything, and at the "sale on sale" price, only $38. OK. Then, my interfering mind chimed in. It said, "Do you really need more shoes?" "Can you find something more practical to spend $38 on?" "You've never even seen these shoes before, and there are some that you have been wanting for longer. As long as you're venturing to spend $38, why not put it towards something you've actually been wanting?"
The shoes I've been wanting are another pair of Toms... During the 2008 election, I did a lot of work for the Campaign for Change, and found it meet to show my political proclivities with a pair of natural canvas Toms that said "Vote" on one shoe, and had a graphic of a donkey on the other. Now that the election is over (I think it was my shoes that swung the vote), it seems silly to wear them around now. I haven't until recently, when I found them under the couch and decided to try them on again. I took them on a walk around the neighborhood. These are damn comfortable shoes, readers, better than flip-flops. Having examined it from every angle, there really is no way to resurrect this dated style, and so a new pair of Toms is in order.
Behold, the burlap pair. I love solid colors that are highly textured, and this definitely fits the bill. But, I did read some bad reviews about the burlap coming apart, and then I decided to look into getting the natural canvas pair (none in my size) or the gray pair (is gray a falling star in the color-trends world yet?) or the blue pair (too mannish) or the red pair (not versatile enough). I returned to the Tretorns.
But wait! I thought-- I have a gift card to Urban Outfitters. Maybe they carry Toms? Or maybe they have some slip-ons that would be just as cute as the ones my friend has with whales all over them? Yes, Virginia, they do!
They're the right color, and they have this amazing deer print on them. God knows I'm a sucker for deer. Plus, I'm going on vacation soon with a few friends, one of them has a pathological fear of deer. I could wear the shoes and it would be a hilarious joke for us all to enjoy, and I could terrorize her with them all week long. And then again, my annoying inner voice said, "But aren't deer more like a Christmas thing?" "Is this too tongue-in-cheek?" "Tretorns are so classy. These.... aren't."
So I returned to the Tretorns. But they have laces, I thought... I love the appeal of just throwing ones shoes on as you skip out of your bungalow down the pier. But Tretorns are sexy. I returned to the Tretorns. I pried my credit card out of my wallet, all the time saying, "Hm... this is a week's worth of parking and two really good lunches worth of shoes." I entered my information. I entered the coupon code. And then--- what the what??? I was timed out of my session! I frantically re-did the whole process, only to find that by the time I got to the checkout, the coupon code had expired, and the shoes were no longer $38 with free shipping, but now $55. And as long as they're $55, I may as well buy a pair of Toms and use a $5 off coupon code from RetailMeNot. Or maybe I'll just use my gift card to Urban Outfitters. Or maybe I'll just see if I can be happy with what I already have....
AKKKKKKKKKKKKK
Anyone else have these problems???
Yours,
Elissa.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Little floral skirt.
Shirt: TJ Maxx. Everything else: Thrifted.
Today is the first time I've tried to "work-ify" this skirt; scandalous? Maybe. The slightest updraft is dangerous, indeed, as is the slight sheerness to the skirt. Couple that with the fact that my shoes are dying a hideous, awful death and this outfit veers perilously close to FML territory. However, things remained in balance and the breezy skirt felt summery, casual and cheerful, and the flat shoes kept things from getting too slutty. Let's take a moment and honor the last wearing of these shoes...
Here are a few other ways in which I've worn this skirt:
With blacks and grays, very austere...
Hm... very similar actually! Looks like I enjoy pairing this belt with this skirt...
Mixing patterns up... I ended up giving this necklace to a friend. I hope she loves it! I'm missing it, looking at it now...
Yours,
Elissa.
What's goin' on.
I feel bad. I haven't had as much time lately to devote to blogging, and I feel like I'm wasting something or letting somebody down-- but what I'm wasting and whom I'm letting down are unclear.
I'm at a strange point right now. I had an interview last week for a position that by all rights is just the thing that I have been trying to do since I graduated last year-- being a merchant. But I went in, this time, with the mentality that I was also interviewing this place of work-- I wasn't just being interviewed by them. They described a work environment that seemed stressful and overwhelming-- when I asked what a typical day's hours were, there was no definitive answer. One of the interviewers said she had even once worked a 23-hour day. Technically, they said, a work day should be 8:30-6pm, but that was more theory than practice.
This place was also a 45-minute commute from home. I didn't consider this lightly. For the first time in my life, I pre-emptively rejected the position; and not just any position, but one I've been angling for, for like, forever. I know myself, and I know that having a work life that supercedes all other aspects of one's life whittles me down fast. No matter what it is that I'm doing, I need relief from doing it; and if I'm not in control of when I come or go, I get ants in my pants. And not cute picnic ants, but red, fire-breathing, corpse-munching ants.
I wrote the interviewers an email and let them know that the position wasn't in line with my desire for balance in my life, but the chapter isn't completely closed for me. Sometimes I'm afraid that the rabid squirrel in my brain that is ADD sabotaged me. Maybe I wouldn't have such a need for "quiet time" if I were properly medicated. Maybe I would have taken the long view and said, "Screw it, I'm going in. There's health insurance and some more money and maybe some choice promotions at the end of this road." Maybe, maybe, maybe.
But, I am of the opinion that most things happen for a reason... and besides, this didn't "happen", I chose it. And I did have my reasons. I just hope that there's something out there in the fashion universe for me to do that doesn't involve working constantly around the clock (as it seems most positions do), or maybe there's something else out there for me to do that I wouldn't mind working constantly around the clock, and all other things would just naturally fall into place around it.
We'll see. For now, I'm running late to see and possibly participate in an open-mike, different venue this time.
Yours,
Elissa.
I'm at a strange point right now. I had an interview last week for a position that by all rights is just the thing that I have been trying to do since I graduated last year-- being a merchant. But I went in, this time, with the mentality that I was also interviewing this place of work-- I wasn't just being interviewed by them. They described a work environment that seemed stressful and overwhelming-- when I asked what a typical day's hours were, there was no definitive answer. One of the interviewers said she had even once worked a 23-hour day. Technically, they said, a work day should be 8:30-6pm, but that was more theory than practice.
This place was also a 45-minute commute from home. I didn't consider this lightly. For the first time in my life, I pre-emptively rejected the position; and not just any position, but one I've been angling for, for like, forever. I know myself, and I know that having a work life that supercedes all other aspects of one's life whittles me down fast. No matter what it is that I'm doing, I need relief from doing it; and if I'm not in control of when I come or go, I get ants in my pants. And not cute picnic ants, but red, fire-breathing, corpse-munching ants.
I wrote the interviewers an email and let them know that the position wasn't in line with my desire for balance in my life, but the chapter isn't completely closed for me. Sometimes I'm afraid that the rabid squirrel in my brain that is ADD sabotaged me. Maybe I wouldn't have such a need for "quiet time" if I were properly medicated. Maybe I would have taken the long view and said, "Screw it, I'm going in. There's health insurance and some more money and maybe some choice promotions at the end of this road." Maybe, maybe, maybe.
But, I am of the opinion that most things happen for a reason... and besides, this didn't "happen", I chose it. And I did have my reasons. I just hope that there's something out there in the fashion universe for me to do that doesn't involve working constantly around the clock (as it seems most positions do), or maybe there's something else out there for me to do that I wouldn't mind working constantly around the clock, and all other things would just naturally fall into place around it.
We'll see. For now, I'm running late to see and possibly participate in an open-mike, different venue this time.
Yours,
Elissa.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Pussy bow fever.
All day long, I thought, "Somebody, please ask me what this thing on my neck is, please!!" I was so desperate to blithely inform them, "Pussy bow." "Take a look at my giant pussy bow, boys. Matter of fact, take a picture cuz the pussy bow don't hang around forever."
This look evolved out of some laziness. I woke up, feeling like putting on clothes was the very last thing I wanted out of life. But, I decided the closest thing might be to just wear a chambray chirt and a khaki skhirt. Alone, they might give off a casual, American flair, I thought. I was wrong. I riffled through the drawers to come up with some black to add zing to an otherwise Wal-marty palette.
What can I say? I added the sunglasses, and I felt all prowly and whatnots. For having thrown together some rather disparate elements-- khaki skirt, patent belt, untucked shirt, lizard shoes, the end result felt quite alright.
Til later,
Elissa.
Shirt: thrifted. Skirt: Target. Shoes: Steve Madden. Belt: Victoria's Secret. Scarf: Found on the street! Shades: 80spurple.
This look evolved out of some laziness. I woke up, feeling like putting on clothes was the very last thing I wanted out of life. But, I decided the closest thing might be to just wear a chambray chirt and a khaki skhirt. Alone, they might give off a casual, American flair, I thought. I was wrong. I riffled through the drawers to come up with some black to add zing to an otherwise Wal-marty palette.
What can I say? I added the sunglasses, and I felt all prowly and whatnots. For having thrown together some rather disparate elements-- khaki skirt, patent belt, untucked shirt, lizard shoes, the end result felt quite alright.
Til later,
Elissa.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Shady!!
Heeeerreeees Johnny!
Shirt: TJ Maxx. Tiered Skirt: TJ Maxx. Shoes: JC Penney. Sunglasses: 80spurple.
What the hell? Why yes, these are the third pair of sunglasses that I sprung for on a dark and stormy night. As some comedian other than myself once said, it's nice sometimes, to shop online on a head full of wine, because, come a few days later, your mailbox is full of mystery presents you forgot were coming to ya.
Score! I'm loving these, and I love to flip them up on people instead of guilelessly removing them from my face. You see, these sunglasses have evolved. Speaking of "score!" and "evolved", I'm happy to say that this entire look, head to toe, was $46.
I broke.
Also speaking of "evolving", the guy who runs a sketch comedy group in town has asked if I would write a skit for the show... I'm super flattered and pumped as hell--- visions of skits revolving around texting while driving, super-annoying cats and Bombshell McGee are floating through my head-- if it could be said that a skinhead chick with a neck tattoo floats through one's head.
And now, off to cogitate...
Yours,
Elissa.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Nailed.
Nothing makes me feel "prepared" quite like having my nails done. I have to be prepared for this week, so I set out to the nearest nail place, armed with a bottle of orange polish.
Finding none of the usual joints open on a Sunday, I passed a Wal-Mart that happened to have a nail place in it, and decided to see if a) it was open, b) if it was cheap, and c) if it might be the place to go in the future. Well, it was open and it was cheap. As for condition C? I have never had such a painful and traumatic nail experience. I feel like a POW. I was too shocked by the situation to think about asking not to pay for it (and also I didn't want to embarrass the guy, who otherwise was friendly and nice), but damn. I need to go back there and say something, because even now it still hurts, and I can't have it interfering with my game...! I just joined an Ultimate Frisbee league and I have a game tomorrow... I need all fingers present and accounted for!
Have you ever had a bad salon experience?? What did you do about it?
Yours,
Elissa.
OPI In My Back Pocket, Espadrilles: Colin Stuart.
Finding none of the usual joints open on a Sunday, I passed a Wal-Mart that happened to have a nail place in it, and decided to see if a) it was open, b) if it was cheap, and c) if it might be the place to go in the future. Well, it was open and it was cheap. As for condition C? I have never had such a painful and traumatic nail experience. I feel like a POW. I was too shocked by the situation to think about asking not to pay for it (and also I didn't want to embarrass the guy, who otherwise was friendly and nice), but damn. I need to go back there and say something, because even now it still hurts, and I can't have it interfering with my game...! I just joined an Ultimate Frisbee league and I have a game tomorrow... I need all fingers present and accounted for!
Have you ever had a bad salon experience?? What did you do about it?
Yours,
Elissa.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Jerry Orbach can wait, I have presents from the thrift store.
I can't say that I "don't do pants", but for someone who lives in Columbus, OH --home to both Abercrombie jeans, Express jeans, and Midwestern people-- it could be said that I don't do pants.
Timex bag: Target via Grandview Weekend Outlet. Scarf: Thrifted. Jacket: Macy's. Tank: Urban Outfitters. Pants: Old Navy. Shoes: JC Penney.
Today, I do pants. The last time I wore black flares was in 2001, when I went on a trip to England and-- for versatility's sake and ease of packing, the only bottoms I bought were a pair of stretchy black flares (shudder) and a pair of UFO pants-- silver. The rave scene came late to my corner of the universe, and by the time I got to the U.K., I could do some glow-stick poi that could blow your mind-- if anyone there wasn't so past 1995. I'll have to dig those pictures up, if I can find any where I'm not being obscene.... Americans.
Nowadays, my black flares are crafted of the finest denim Old Navy has to offer in their clearance department, and they are perfect for days when I wake up, look at the alarm clock, and say-- how can I be washed and decently non-naked in the next 6 minutes? Time crunches, my friends.
I really have to remember not to eat seafood anymore. The last several times I have, I've become violently ill, and yet it's siren song lures me to its lurid pleasures every time I dry back out. Last night, after I performed (once again), I sought late-night refuge in some leftover soup from the Thai place... leftover seafood soup. The first half of today was wobbly to say the least.
As soon as I arrived home, I jumped in the chair and flipped on Law & Order. My sweetness pulled into the driveway and said, "Jerry Orbach can wait. I have surprises from the thrift store." Behold:
A needlepoint JFK in a scrolly frame... I can definitely picture my mom having this on her wall as a teenager! Although needlecraft is not necessarily the domain of those between the ages of 11 and 80... Who do you think had this on their wall?
The sweetest bag of all time!!! I'm only mildly into astrology as a practice, but as a decorative motif, I am bananas. If it's zodiac-related, I'm hooked. Couple that with the "Love is..." style art, collage-y look, unconventional wording and the fact that my own little sign is right on top, I am smitten...
Here's a wider shot of the bag... we've got Cancer, Virgo and Aries here... oh my sweetness and his fancy taste!!
Til next time,
Yours,
Elissa.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Shoes, pills, eagles.
Vest: H&M in Amsterdam. Dress: Forever 21. Bag: Thrifted. Shoes: Nine West. Cuff: Cedar Point.
I received a nice compliment today from the Fed Ex guy, who has told me that every day-- when our paths intersect as I go across the street for a coffee-- he notices my shoes. Any trace of incredulity in my mind was assuaged as he began to rattle off my shoes: "The gold ones that lace, the ones that have lions on them, the silver sandals with seahorses..." Amazing! Or weird, depending which Flickr groups you belong to.
It's just the nature of the beast that accessories are cheaper than clothes-- well, my beast. Yours might be different. Part of my problem is I don't like to buy inexpensive clothing because it never fits (except at Forever 21... curious...), so I buy clothes almost never. Therefore, I always find that the most interesting part of my get-up is typically the accessories, but I don't really devote many photos to them-- I think it embarasses me to put my stuff "under the microscope". Ah well... voila the second of my three pairs of sunglasses.... the still catty, though less markedly so, tortoiseshell pair.
Shades: 80spurple. Ring: Target
The ring is clear acrylic (one of my favorite ring-types) filled with what looks like pills. I love the pukey pink color and the subversiveness of its contents. Not shown, due to my non-microscopic tendencies, is my cuff which I got at Cedar Point, an amusement park near here, when I was 12. It's tooled with a U.S. flag and an eagle, and looks pretty bad-ass. I'm patriotic only in the most spiritual of senses (maybe a topic for later discussion?), but I do love American symbols-- what's to hate about a good star spangling? Though wearing them is another topic entirely, and one usually met by derision-- seriously. Gauge how you feel next time you pass someone wearing a shirt with an American flag on it. But having it on my little cuff is kind of low-key and possibly subversive as well. And if anyone asks, I have a pet eagle.
Til later,
Elissa.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Case of the Confounding Dress
Probably it's because it's out of my normal range of thing-wearing, in that it ties further up than I'm accustomed, highlighting the girls, which typically I try to keep as streamlined as possible. Also, I kind of hate jersey for its clingy properties, and typically go for wovens. So maybe, if I put Sal-like logic to the problem, it doesn't matter what I actually look like in it-- its outside of my boundaries in a way that makes me not feel my best when I wear it. So I toss it out on its ear.
Something that is going right today??
Hot shades!
These Wang-esque cat-eye shades. The other night, I was paralyzed in front of the computer with 4 pairs of sunglasses in my shopping cart, but with 2 sunglasses worth in my Paypal. None of the pairs would budge and I resigned myself to the sad thought that I may, in fact, just bite the bullet and buy 4 pairs of sunglasses. When, lo and behold, an Etsy order came in right at the moment for the exact amount of all 4 and the "buy" button was gleefully clicked-- though not without finally ruling out one pair. I don't know about you, but it's easier for me to not spend money when I actually have some. Hmph! So this is the first of three-- I can't wait to present them all to you in moving photo-essay format...
Til then,
Elissa.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Exhausted!
Let's take a break and indulge in some cat porn. Why? In short, I am mega tired and have my fingers in too many pies at the moment. Writing is how I like to unwind, so it annoys me that I don't even have time to do that-- I'm looking at the clock going--- mmm okay, that's 5 hours and 34 minutes of sleep, if I don't take a shower...
So while I figure out some good ways to sleep while awake, let's meditate on my own little kitty here, so very good at what she does.
Maybe "cat porn" should be a regular feature...
I just got a box full of all the sunglasses of my fantasies, so expect to see them on me shortly, oh so shortly.
Yours,
Elissa.
So while I figure out some good ways to sleep while awake, let's meditate on my own little kitty here, so very good at what she does.
Maybe "cat porn" should be a regular feature...
I just got a box full of all the sunglasses of my fantasies, so expect to see them on me shortly, oh so shortly.
Yours,
Elissa.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Celebrate, betch!
"Yeah, I made this hat" he told me.
Every now and then we like to throw a huge party... we've never had a yard before, so we're doing it up with a fire to sit around, we're smoking 30 lbs of meat (vegetarians, look away!), and we're projecting a movie on the side of our garage. I'm pretty much the definition of hot mess right now-- I ran 4 miles, weeded, cleaned the (shudder) toilet, raked grass clippings, removed grime from patio furniture and... picked a winner for the Louis Anthony Jewelers Pearl Earrings Contest!! Don't worry, the prize is being sent from the jewelers themselves, so I can't get any of my schmutz on them. I turned to the randomness professionals at Random.org to produce a winner...
.... and the lovely and talented Eyeliah of Style Symmetry has nabbed herself some pearls earrings! I'll be in contact with you shortly!
A big wet, sloppy thanks to all of you who participated, tweeted, blogged, and followed! Your participation warms a girl's heart. Hope you all enjoy your long weekend!!
Yours,
Elissa.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Don't sweat the petty things, and don't pet the sweaty things.
You can't spell smuggy without muggy.
As mentioned in my last post, this walking to work thing is beneficial to my health but World War III on my "fresh feeling". Here I am, after work, about 3 minutes before everything came off and I cooled out in a t-shirt in front of the open fridge.
Scarves. Who needs them, especially on a hot day? It served me well in the air-conditioned office, but when it came time to trek home, I flopped it over one shoulder, thusly. My dad has always been a fan of unconventional stylings. In my experimental youth, I might emerge from my room with a long dress and a crazy hat on, in between outfits, and he'd say, "My, that's elegant and unusual," with wondering admiration. I felt he might also feel the same about my scarfage. Whaddya think? Sari, or baby sling?
Before I go, I would like to mention that as of.... NOW there are 12 more hours left to enter the contest! Do it, and do it well!
Yours,
Elissa.
[Blouse: Gap. Skirt: Kaspar. Shoes: Nine West. Scarf: Gift from a friend.]
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Boo, quak quak, keek!
Now that I'm walking the 5-mile round-trip to work and back, I look sweatier than Jason Davis when I get home. So, while outfit sharing has been foiled for today, I have in store for you a collection of my favorite things... it's like a tiny little electronic pop-culture magazine!
This is the song that has, happily, been stuck in my head all day. There's something about summer that lights a hankering for Brazilian Girls deep within my heart. And after all, don't we all just want a giant puffy dress and to have a good time?
Just press play and enjoy the tune (though there may be an ad at the beginning... ugh...) while you read on... !
Reader Viola has turned me on to the art of Diego Gravinese. His paintings are hyper-realistic, candid snapshots, with amazing detail and bright colors, with some elements of collage. Blah, blah, blah... they're freakin' beautiful!
Ever since my ill-fated trip to the dentist, I've been doing what only the truly nebbish do: brushing my teeth after every meal. Not only am I ready to hold a conversation about anything starting with the letter "h" with anyone at any time now, but I think I've lost a couple of pounds on account that now I think twice before snacking because I'll have to brush my teeth again.
I was typically a Weardrobe fan, until I took a better look at Chictopia. While their "chic-rating" system is lambasted by some, I actually like giving and getting feedback, plus their system is loads more organized and easy to use. I especially enjoy browsing looks by body type. One of my current favorite Chictopians is Franco Fernandez... I love her filmy layers, dark red crop, and intensely cool (typically gigantic) accessories.
Have you entered the contest? No? Well there's still time-- 2 more days, in fact! Click here to enter to win a pair of 7mm freshwater pearl earrings courtesy of Louis Anthony Jewelers.
Awright awright! My Sweets is currently into making milkshakes, and there is one waiting for me right now, downstairs melting surely as I write. So, I sign off here and grab my reward!
Yours,
Elissa.
Page 1: Music.
This is the song that has, happily, been stuck in my head all day. There's something about summer that lights a hankering for Brazilian Girls deep within my heart. And after all, don't we all just want a giant puffy dress and to have a good time?
Just press play and enjoy the tune (though there may be an ad at the beginning... ugh...) while you read on... !
Page 2: Art
Reader Viola has turned me on to the art of Diego Gravinese. His paintings are hyper-realistic, candid snapshots, with amazing detail and bright colors, with some elements of collage. Blah, blah, blah... they're freakin' beautiful!
Page 3: Diet Tips
Ever since my ill-fated trip to the dentist, I've been doing what only the truly nebbish do: brushing my teeth after every meal. Not only am I ready to hold a conversation about anything starting with the letter "h" with anyone at any time now, but I think I've lost a couple of pounds on account that now I think twice before snacking because I'll have to brush my teeth again.
Page 4: Fashion-- turn to the left!
I was typically a Weardrobe fan, until I took a better look at Chictopia. While their "chic-rating" system is lambasted by some, I actually like giving and getting feedback, plus their system is loads more organized and easy to use. I especially enjoy browsing looks by body type. One of my current favorite Chictopians is Franco Fernandez... I love her filmy layers, dark red crop, and intensely cool (typically gigantic) accessories.
Page 5: Contest
Have you entered the contest? No? Well there's still time-- 2 more days, in fact! Click here to enter to win a pair of 7mm freshwater pearl earrings courtesy of Louis Anthony Jewelers.
Awright awright! My Sweets is currently into making milkshakes, and there is one waiting for me right now, downstairs melting surely as I write. So, I sign off here and grab my reward!
Yours,
Elissa.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
K-kinda busy...
Many of our neighbors are into the drag scene. Last weekend, one neighbor had a garage sale, and we went over to formally introduce ourselves (even though we've lived here, like, 6 months. We just aren't neighbor-meeting types.)
He took us down to the basement, to the "drag lab" and it was a-freakin-mazing. Wigs of every style and color, scepters and sashes, a giant vanity with a mirror lined in bulbs. The crowning glory of the room was the giant, commercial sewing machine and serger used for creating gowns, gowns and even more sparkly, spangly, ruched, ruffled gowns.
My sweets asked if they made any men's clothes, to which they answered that it would be a welcome change! We're going to the beach in July for a week, and he's dying to get a one-piece, 1920's-style swimsuit. But, he's a man of imposing proportions, so most standard-sized clothing doesn't fit him-- and seeing as the only place to get such a swimsuit would be online (virtually guaranteeing fit problems), he'd rather it just be made. He was hoping that I would take on the task, but-- while I do own a sewing machine, garment construction is not really my forte. I'm not a stickler for details and impatient as well, and those are things you need to be to create something to be worn. He handed over a sketch he'd made to the neighbors and they said-- sure!! Grab some fabric and we'll get to work!
I said, "I can't even believe that you've never been to school for any of this! I have and you trump me-- like, over and over again!"
And the neighbor said, "You went to school for fashion design?"
And I said, "Oh yeah."
The neighbor said, "Well I've seen what you wear, would you design a dress for me?"
And I said, after much spluttering, "Of course!! I would love to!" and then, "do you like Lady Gaga?" Idiot!, I thought.
"Hellooooooo!!! I love Lady Gaga! Can you design me something like that?"
This created a flood of exclamations of "Duh!" "Hot!" "Work!" "Shit!" "Sexxx!" "Fab!" like I've never uttered to another since school. It is so on.
I came away from this conversation with the bells of inspiration ringing in my head, and a burning desire to hear "Telephone". For the party I was going to that night, I picked out my most rad accessory of all time-- my giant silver "E" necklace, to plan my outfit around. And now I feel like I never want to go back into the beige carpeted room of dressing "nice".
Well, I'll probably have to for work, but in the meantime, I can litter my outfit posts with giant, brightly-colored shapes and indulge in lots of flash photography at parties...
Yours,
Elissa.
[Outfit details: Hat: Urban Outfitters. Jacket: Macy's. Dress: Mad for Mod. Shoes: JC Penney. "E" Necklace: Thrifted. Sunglasses: Vintage store in Seattle.]
He took us down to the basement, to the "drag lab" and it was a-freakin-mazing. Wigs of every style and color, scepters and sashes, a giant vanity with a mirror lined in bulbs. The crowning glory of the room was the giant, commercial sewing machine and serger used for creating gowns, gowns and even more sparkly, spangly, ruched, ruffled gowns.
My sweets asked if they made any men's clothes, to which they answered that it would be a welcome change! We're going to the beach in July for a week, and he's dying to get a one-piece, 1920's-style swimsuit. But, he's a man of imposing proportions, so most standard-sized clothing doesn't fit him-- and seeing as the only place to get such a swimsuit would be online (virtually guaranteeing fit problems), he'd rather it just be made. He was hoping that I would take on the task, but-- while I do own a sewing machine, garment construction is not really my forte. I'm not a stickler for details and impatient as well, and those are things you need to be to create something to be worn. He handed over a sketch he'd made to the neighbors and they said-- sure!! Grab some fabric and we'll get to work!
Round glasses are cool, but octagon-shaped ones are better.
I said, "I can't even believe that you've never been to school for any of this! I have and you trump me-- like, over and over again!"
And the neighbor said, "You went to school for fashion design?"
And I said, "Oh yeah."
The neighbor said, "Well I've seen what you wear, would you design a dress for me?"
And I said, after much spluttering, "Of course!! I would love to!" and then, "do you like Lady Gaga?" Idiot!, I thought.
"Hellooooooo!!! I love Lady Gaga! Can you design me something like that?"
This created a flood of exclamations of "Duh!" "Hot!" "Work!" "Shit!" "Sexxx!" "Fab!" like I've never uttered to another since school. It is so on.
I came away from this conversation with the bells of inspiration ringing in my head, and a burning desire to hear "Telephone". For the party I was going to that night, I picked out my most rad accessory of all time-- my giant silver "E" necklace, to plan my outfit around. And now I feel like I never want to go back into the beige carpeted room of dressing "nice".
Well, I'll probably have to for work, but in the meantime, I can litter my outfit posts with giant, brightly-colored shapes and indulge in lots of flash photography at parties...
Yours,
Elissa.
[Outfit details: Hat: Urban Outfitters. Jacket: Macy's. Dress: Mad for Mod. Shoes: JC Penney. "E" Necklace: Thrifted. Sunglasses: Vintage store in Seattle.]
Friday, May 21, 2010
City Prints
I am just wild about city prints, so when Market Publique sent me notice of this little dress, I immediately fell in love with it. It doesn't get more romantic than Morocco, no? Well, unless you read Burroughs. Or maybe especially if you do.
Yours,
Elissa.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Your love can't pay my bills.
I've been thinking a lot lately about getting paid what one is worth. While it's hardly the best time to go around demanding a raise, I think that in general, we as ladies tend to err on the side of just being thankful to have a job. I know I, myself have consciously thought to myself, "Don't rock the boat," or "Don't ask for anything, it's tacky."
For the past year -- a bit more -- since I graduated from college, I've stuck to my guns and worked my nose to the grindstone trying to land a great career in fashion. I picked up a few odd jobs here and there to pay the bills in between, but nothing I wanted to be "stuck" in-- too grueling, too underpaid, run by demeaning psychos-- but I was willing to take it while I was there because I had my eye on the prize. And while I still haven't found that perfect career, I have found something that-- when compared to the horrifying roster of positions out there in the world-- is pretty damn close.
I'm working for the government. I have a regular schedule, I can walk to work if I want, I get an hour's lunch, nobody breathes down my neck, everybody likes my culinary contributions to the office potluck. I get paid enough, I get Memorial Day off. I get to wear cute shoes and I have my own desk with a key. I don't lock it, but I keep some English muffins, peanut butter, hair stuff and packets of oatmeal in there. People say hi to me. I put on my crappy sneakers at lunch and go roaming to find a new Jamaican place. I come back and Facebook a little before it's time to clock back in. I leave at 5 and can meet any of my friends for dinner or drinks if I want, or go home and work out, or go home and watch TV with the cat. It is, in the parlance of 2006, bossy.
Today, I was offered a position doing something more in line with fashion, but for half of what I'm making now, and with a variable schedule. And it pained me, but for the first time in my life, I told them that I had a salary requirement, and if it couldn't be met, I couldn't work there. At a different time in my life, I would have said, "Screw it, I'm being more true to me by doing something for work that is more in line with my passion. So, I'll suffer a little."
And while working in the field you feel most passionate about is certainly the ideal, there's something to sticking with a job that is giving you what you need to carry out the rest of your life to plan-- enough money, enough time, enough respect. To that end, and for whatever it's worth (eh... $20? No, $50!) this post is dedicated to the women who are filing a class-action lawsuit against Wal-Mart for consistently paying women employees less than men. I know I'm going to be paying strict attention to how this one turns out...
Yours,
Elissa.
Trench: thrifted. Eyelet Dress: Forever 21. Leggings: Old Navy. Shoes: JC Penney. Necklace: H&M.
For the past year -- a bit more -- since I graduated from college, I've stuck to my guns and worked my nose to the grindstone trying to land a great career in fashion. I picked up a few odd jobs here and there to pay the bills in between, but nothing I wanted to be "stuck" in-- too grueling, too underpaid, run by demeaning psychos-- but I was willing to take it while I was there because I had my eye on the prize. And while I still haven't found that perfect career, I have found something that-- when compared to the horrifying roster of positions out there in the world-- is pretty damn close.
Here, I make good on my promise to wear more watches. This one I consider to be more flattering to my short and wide arm proportions, because it's clear (I got it from Filene's in Union Square). I have a beautifully long relationship with clear accessories (just not bags... I trash the inside of them to much for that!
I'm working for the government. I have a regular schedule, I can walk to work if I want, I get an hour's lunch, nobody breathes down my neck, everybody likes my culinary contributions to the office potluck. I get paid enough, I get Memorial Day off. I get to wear cute shoes and I have my own desk with a key. I don't lock it, but I keep some English muffins, peanut butter, hair stuff and packets of oatmeal in there. People say hi to me. I put on my crappy sneakers at lunch and go roaming to find a new Jamaican place. I come back and Facebook a little before it's time to clock back in. I leave at 5 and can meet any of my friends for dinner or drinks if I want, or go home and work out, or go home and watch TV with the cat. It is, in the parlance of 2006, bossy.
Today, I was offered a position doing something more in line with fashion, but for half of what I'm making now, and with a variable schedule. And it pained me, but for the first time in my life, I told them that I had a salary requirement, and if it couldn't be met, I couldn't work there. At a different time in my life, I would have said, "Screw it, I'm being more true to me by doing something for work that is more in line with my passion. So, I'll suffer a little."
And while working in the field you feel most passionate about is certainly the ideal, there's something to sticking with a job that is giving you what you need to carry out the rest of your life to plan-- enough money, enough time, enough respect. To that end, and for whatever it's worth (eh... $20? No, $50!) this post is dedicated to the women who are filing a class-action lawsuit against Wal-Mart for consistently paying women employees less than men. I know I'm going to be paying strict attention to how this one turns out...
Yours,
Elissa.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
All this weekend's parties... Part II
Party Number Two definitely turned it up a whole other notch. My plans to go as a unicorn were foiled last minute by my planned-upon dress --which I haven't tried on in six months-- being way too big. On to plan B, which involved a favorite vintage dress of mine that, due to its esoteric awesome, never gets trotted out as often as I'd like.
When I first started on as the manager of a vintage store, the owners let me pick 1 dress to have right off the bat and I immediately chose this #1 Stunna. Oh, and yep, I'm wearing a purple feather crown and geisha/clown makeup. But wait til you see my Sweets...
He decided to go as our cat, complete with cat-ears he made from a pair of bunny ears, a tail made out of a white feather boa, and 6 charming cat nipples (which were tweaked ceaselessly throughout the night).
Besides the bar (I kept it to a drink called the Dark and Stormy-- spiced rum with ginger beer), there was costume karaoke, burlesque, an amazing DJ and general, extreme buffoonery. But since most of those pictures are pretty intensely NSFW, I'll populate the rest of this post with hot outfit action.
I loved this girl's gigantic bow and Elizabethan collar that she made herself.
I didn't realize til posting this that Cherry Blossom Barbie and I had nearly the same face makeup going. These girls were the ultimate in confectionary cuteness.
And because I'm a friendist, here's another shot of D., in his party attire. I should of rolled him for that jacket!!
Here, I play games with my dress and the projector...
And my personal favorite picture of the evening... who can explain to me why flash is sometimes so bad, and at other times, so very, very good??
Well, back to reality, folks... hope you all had a fantastic weekend yourselves!
Yours,
Elissa.
When I first started on as the manager of a vintage store, the owners let me pick 1 dress to have right off the bat and I immediately chose this #1 Stunna. Oh, and yep, I'm wearing a purple feather crown and geisha/clown makeup. But wait til you see my Sweets...
He decided to go as our cat, complete with cat-ears he made from a pair of bunny ears, a tail made out of a white feather boa, and 6 charming cat nipples (which were tweaked ceaselessly throughout the night).
Besides the bar (I kept it to a drink called the Dark and Stormy-- spiced rum with ginger beer), there was costume karaoke, burlesque, an amazing DJ and general, extreme buffoonery. But since most of those pictures are pretty intensely NSFW, I'll populate the rest of this post with hot outfit action.
I loved this girl's gigantic bow and Elizabethan collar that she made herself.
I didn't realize til posting this that Cherry Blossom Barbie and I had nearly the same face makeup going. These girls were the ultimate in confectionary cuteness.
And because I'm a friendist, here's another shot of D., in his party attire. I should of rolled him for that jacket!!
Here, I play games with my dress and the projector...
And my personal favorite picture of the evening... who can explain to me why flash is sometimes so bad, and at other times, so very, very good??
Well, back to reality, folks... hope you all had a fantastic weekend yourselves!
Yours,
Elissa.
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