If you think the above letter is cute, just you wait till you see my latest package that arrived from Etsy today. Size doesn’t necessarily matter but I think it is relevant to point out that mine is bigger and therefore there is more crazy printed handmade goodness to love about it as well. The package looks like thick, vintage children’s wrapping paper turned into a packet and is so pretty I think I will keep it and celebrate supporting handmade/ vintage goods forever and ever. Sorting everything out at the moment is proving to be a considerable headache and I can at least rest assured that I would never in my right mind throw away this unique treasure. I also don’t have to worry about matchstick flowers, buttons or tulle falling off of my package and it safely holding a lot of the more fiddly treasures of felt brooches and accessories bought specifically for dressing up outfits and adding sparkle/ colour. It’s a suitable guardian with a picture story book vibe to it and I can’t wait for another excuse to buy from this store in particular again.
I’m already sort of bored in the mediocrity of holidays but I do rather like the challenge of beautification of the soul as well as immersing myself in the plot of cartoon shows from the 1990s and trying to follow every popular culture reference made in Tavi Gevinson interviews. At this very moment, I’m failing abysmally at following everything said, but I’m not so lost that I need to rewind the DVD which I will be content with for this moment. It’s obviously a lot more challenging than I thought and raising money by selling junk is moving at the pace of an asthmatic ant carrying heavy shopping but that is going somewhere at least. I’m proud to say I remember what this screen capture is from: a movie under two names which are ‘The Hairy Bird’ and ‘Strike!’ about political young ladies facing their all-girls boarding school integrating with the boys’ school up the road. I thoroughly enjoyed it because it was made in the 1990s about the 1960s; the two era which I am immersed in lately. Also, Kirsten Dunst was a total babe and had a string of really good roles involving school and relationships between peers.
Yes it’s totally PhotoShopped dip dyeing hair that reminds me of a very tacky candle technique I once endured at an old timey recreation park or whatever when I was eleven but you know what? I’ve already searched through minimal listings on Etsy for rainbow wigs, surprisingly none were clown related and none of them had a glorious horizontal graduation to it so this is the best we got unless I volunteer to bleach my naturally black hair in the name of fashion. While having brightly coloured hair would give me the poetic license to wear very bland and plaintive outfits for a good month or so I have already hated dealing with regrowth and dry hair is a nightmare so I guess that option is still out. Also I can’t imagine coming up with rent on my own on a basketball referee’s salary for heaven’s sake so let’s not rock the boat too hard till we fly the coop you dig? I haven’t watched any movies based on the 1950s today or even within the last week and I’m taking like a poodle skirt wearing beauty school drop-out. My language is even more spectacular without studying then I ever dreamed it would be.
If I wanted to really set myself a challenge I’d try to put on my dad’s old collection of vinyl records while ironing but apparently when I was three or something I scratched some with a sewing needle in an attempt to make them play without the machine no doubt and years later I don’t want my father to think I’ve come back for round two. It’s also his birthday and a bad present would be ruining his beloved music collectibles. In the back of my mind I think there must be some Bob Dylan somewhere but it’s a pretty eclectic collection that avoided some of the bigger popular musicians of certain era. But who would possibly teach me more about being cool than the wonderful man that helped bring me into this world and has played Santa Claus at the Christmas BBQ for his work for the past five years?
Glittery tights; my kingdom for a durable pair of dead stock glittery tights! I never watched the Wizard of Oz from start to finish, but I did read the book with illustrations based on the imperfections of life and know enough about Glinda, the good witch of the west to sense a wardrobe heavy in cupcake motifs, fluffy kittens and sparkles. She embodies everything sweet and wonderful that Professor Umbridge did until everyone got to know what a sociopath she was in the Harry Potter series and with notably better legs and a finer taste in shoes. Now there’s a real challenge: decorate my room in the vein of Umbridge’s office complete with some holographic kitten portraits on the walls and knitted pink everything. Maybe then I’d begin to vomit rainbows after a night of heavy drinking. That’s all I’ve ever wanted apart from almost being classified as a unicorn.
Criticism of the 1990s and grunge/ raver aesthetic often comes from those who became victims of brightly coloured, neon mesh tops and wide legged pants when all you really need is a singly aspect of style to dazzle and dress up an outfit with a sauciness the likes of which has not been seen for two decades give or take. I go absolutely gaga over Tibetan lamb jackets in crazy colours and a young Kate Moss would have be weeping if I were just that bit more sentimental and hormonal. These days she’s slathered in makeup urging women everywhere to ‘Get the London look’ which looks complicated and involves a dangerous amount of eyelashes that could even make the eye of a cross dresser twinge with unpleasantness. But above she looks almost virginal and wrapped in what looks like the pelt of Cookie Monster from Sesame Street. Also she’s clutching a enormous book of her own name and face used within the title itself. That readily outdoes any model within the last few years or so and sucks the pretentious nature of modeling as long as you keep in your neat little time-locked bubble and Mylar bag as I intend to fastidiously.
For those of you have indulged yourselves in Tim Burton’s latest film, Frankenweenie, I’m sure you’ll enjoy the wide eyed psychotic stare of this cat as much as I did. It’s a shame it’s not white but with bulging bug-eyes like that I can make amends. Also the girl holding the cat is hiding behind her feline friend in the most attractive way possible. This is why I want a cat; I want to make it an Internet sensation in the same way I’ve been trying to be one myself for the last year and a half because there would still be a small shadowy sense of accomplishment in that. If Tumblr has taught my anything thus far (and it has) the stranger your cat looks and the higher in pitch the dubbed voice you give it, the better.
As much as I do want to become the Ladybug woman and search for some seriously silky polka dot dresses I know I won’t quite be as sexy till I begin smoking against a red wall so that sucks the fun right out of playing dress ups. My mother has already been sucked in by the spotted trend but without the sultry 1940s tones to it and Stepford wives suppressed sexuality. Well it was suppressed until the neckline was cut into a v shape and black lace was sewn along the edges. Wonderful stuff black lace- it can really set a romantic mood and sort of invite attention but be warned; I’m not advocating that this is a secret code we women use to get men’s attention. I’m just creating a narrative for a particular type of material/ trim because I am bored out of my cranium and haven’t fallen hook, line and sinker for the current book I’m reading yet.