Thursday, December 13, 2012

Hair Beautiful Hair

It's funny how hair can create such an identity and really defines how a person is perceived- my boyfriend has maintained the same length of hair (sort of longish) for maybe a year and a half and he got a shorter haircut and I hate it. I also don't see him the same way since it sharpens the features of his face so much so I, acting differently than I otherwise would. That's probably a negative and too personal anecdote on how hair works and is sort of magical in determining our appearance but I miss my 1970s looking rogue with the mop of dark hair. He kind of reminds me of an army reject at this point... For this reason I would feel guilty performing radical changes to my own hair because I know what it feels like and I'm pretty particular about this kind of stuff. Trying to be a feminist, I know I shouldn't but this relationship takes two people you know? So I should show them the same consideration and care that they've shown me.


Last night I went to the Alexisonfire farewell tour show for my city and my favourite audience member was a big guy, in his late twenties I'm guessing with a shaggy beard and shoulder length wavy hair. He wore a hot pink "Free Pussy Riot!" t-shirt and it won me over. But I felt pretty miserable when a bunch of gossipy girls sitting behind me complained about a "fat woman" with a sweat patch on her back. Yeah, it was a hot day and he was in the mosh pit- what do you really expect? He was awesome though, cared about women's rock on a global stage and probably had better views on feminism than that particular group of girls. They were preoccupied with chatting between songs, (however short that was) taking selfies, and totally oblivious to the fact the bench in front of them was a seat for other patrons and not their own personal footrest. Some people make me so made sometimes and are immune to who annoying they truly are. We would all be better off if we were more like Winona Ryder and danced around like a jellyfish floating through custard. Love you Winona


Seeing Fred Butler's collections and stuff from old London Fashion weeks has me aching to recreate schoolgirl ponytails and braids with plaid skirts and barrettes bought from Etsy. Too bad I'm broke and I haven't bought my family Christmas presents yet. Boo hoo. The good news is that I didn't give into peer pressure last night to buy some merchandise when I didn't think it was as great aesthetically as it could have been and I saved myself a handsome some of money that can buy lots of glittery, ironic pin backs and maybe even a great pair of vintage pants. Hooray! The sad thing is that soon my work will end for the Christmas season and just when I need the work the most badly I'll be unable to go to proper work but instead spend my time blogging twenty-four seven. Also, the less I leave the house, the less only I'll end  spending so that will  probably work until my knees weaken at the sight of my watched list on Etsy and I buy everything and then cry because I'll have no money and no room in my wardrobe.



My life has been without balance lately; what with the doctor's appointments and general lack of reading but I'm slowly churning my way through more teenage girl marketed literature and H.J. Wells tonight. There's also a comic book illustrated copy of Frankenstein sitting in my room to give me more ideas on colourful language with lots of fancy flourishes if need be. I want to be the auditory equivalent of a stunt jet plane with the billowing pretty smoke and back flips. I also have very little magazines without sentimental value to create amazing collages from at the moment so I'll just enjoy other people's work over the Internet although Tumblr has a distinct culture of removing original sources of images. Despite this complaint, I was left pretty flustered and lost in the middle of the day when the site broke down. I'm just so used to it being the website analogue of a shoulder to cry on I didn't expect it to not be there for me in my time of need...



A girl in my high school had this affect of brightly tinted red hair dye running through her bangs- but she had a bad reputation for being a little weird and was the leader of a merry band of misfits. Also, she wasn't overly obsessed with makeup or wore any noticeably so the effect lost it's lustre and was sort of sickly pale with peroxide for a few weeks there.  This photograph rekindles my love affair of the faux red hair charm in punk girls, and those amazing floral tattoos which look to be temporary only sweeten the deal. She just looks so focused like she's trying to a.) possess a girl she's sworn enemies with or b.) enchant a boy into falling in love with her. For this reason and so many more I love the teenage witch coven/ sisterhood aesthetic. They also have cool hair and minimalist dress sense. I kind of want to try this for the Summer because if it doesn't suit me then there's no big deal and it's also difficult to attach hair extensions streaming from your natural hairline at the very forefront of your face. On the other hand, I'll need the help of lighteners and the guidance of a hairdresser (groans). I'll just need to gauge how I feel about the trend in the next few weeks because my normal blacky brown hair isn't a detriment and total bore in my outfit posts at the moment. Which suits me just fine, thank you very much.


As much as I did delight in being terrible at tennis when it was a component for P.E. and tried terribly hard to retrieve as many lost tennis balls and dawdle as much as possible- I regret it now. Some of my favourite fashion editorials and photo shoots feature virginal women in pure white still in dangerously alluring positions because it's just so unexpected. It's a tennis court for crying out loud. There's no trees around to obstruct the view and if you play professionally someone tends to sit in a high chair so that they can oversee EVERYTHING. Maybe that's what's really attractive; these women are purposely rebelling against what's expected of them and being utterly seductive in what really seems to be a sporting arena and they look damn good. Aside: I never liked any of the girls who played tennis for my school. Ever. It wasn't just the girls either. It was everybody who played tennis. If you're nice and play tennis shoot me a line and be my first.
 

A mega-dork like me usually dreams of belonging to an extra-curricular activity like the Mickey Mouse clubhouse or whatever and having a cute uniform, but I still have my old basketball gear which is fabulous and local so that should really subdue my wishes. Can you imagine coming across a little turtleneck with something like Darlene, Cubby or Bobby on it though? Girls like me that have long ago given up on fitting to trends and focus mainly on dressing with an ironic flair dream of this. I'm probably obsessed with names like Darlene and Betty because they're just so crass and American in movies like Grease which are cult classics for everyone and at the pyramid in terms of movies about an all American high school in the 1950s and past eras. Plus, when you wear something that is clearly not your real name that makes you a spy wearing an elaborate disguise or the right to act like a character in a play. Both of which are super fun.


Models are meant to have an obnoxiously infuriating reputation for looking excellent with the least amount of effort, but this vintage-looking gem only reminds me of that sour-faced Internet feline sensation: Tard. You may know Tard as 'the original grumpy cat'. It's probably the intense blue eyes followed by reddened sockets and primly trimmed eyebrows but also the crown cinches the whole look. Who can look so disgruntled when their head is topped off by a tiara comparable to that worn by a beauty queen but without the gaudiness? I dream of finding the perfect jeweled crown, preferably french and antique but not costing thousands of dollars. It will never happen in all my wildest of dreams but this is one crown that doesn't come with a pre-made Rookie DIY video to help guide clueless girls like me.


Occasionally I'm tempted just to lop off all of my long locks for a change of scenery, but then I remember that there's this magical computer program called Photoshop that can change the scenery for me and make hair look even shinier. Or in a totally different colour if you so choose. I personally don't change anything about the images myself, but if I want to transport myself in front of many pretty flowers and then put some ornamentation in my hair a la Frida Kahlo then it only heightens the look. This way I can enjoy pretty flowers without getting hay fever and itchy eyes for the rest of the day. How perfect is that? I'm sure that my social skills will suffer in the long run and there will be many an uncomfortable silence ensuing because of my lack of conversation but I'll type excellently and have a great vocabulary.

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