“She’s just got big bones” takes on a new meaning

So... would you say she's just big boned?

So I walked past this window display the other day.

It’s been there for a while but today I actually looked at it.

I’m not sure I like it.

It’s probably an ironic statement about the skeletal frames we see on the catwalk but even so…

I mean it’s not Halloween or anything.

Does it entice me to go into the store.

Not so much.

I guess it stands out.

What do you think?

Yea or Nay to skeletons as manniquins?

The cushion skirt

skirt made from cushion material

It all started with The West Wing.

I love The West Wing.

I watched the whole series on DVD a few years ago and yes I’ve cried during episodes.

But I haven’t watched it since we’ve had a democrat in The White House.

I like to think that Obama’s White House is just like the TV series.

It’s my little fantasy.

And he’s had a bit of bad press, a bit of “disappointment” aired by commentators in his reign.

So my antidote to that is to watch The West Wing again.

That, and reading about Shelley Obama’s outfits.

Now you might think that having seen the series already I’d be more controlled in my watching habits.

But no.

It’s back to back – I am addicted.

So what’s this got to do with the skirt?

As I pressed play on the third episode in a row I started to feel guilty.

And I’m not sure it’s such a good look in front of my screen obsessed teenagers.

And Groover was starting to growl.

Or maybe he was just annoyed with the other gamers playing Half Life.

Anyway I figured that if I was making something, then watching the next three episodes would be okay.

So I got out my pile of material, and perhaps I was influenced by the fact I had been sitting on the living room sofas for hours, but the leftover cushion cover material fairly jumped into my hands.

And I wore the skirt to work the next day.

Should the same thing happen to you – here’s how I made the skirt.

I wrapped it around my waist.

I pinned up the back seam.

I then tucked in the top making darts around the waist to fit the skirt to my body.

I then measured out the darts so that they were equidistant around the top of the skirt.

I sewed the darts, then the back seam.

I sewed in a zip.

I left the selvedge of the material because it kind of looked funky and meant I didn’t have to hem the bottom of the skirt.

Then I turned over the top centimetre and hemmed the waist.

Job done.

And why am I writing about this post now?

Well I’m on the fifth West Wing episode of the day and I figured I needed to look busy.

Job done.

At the races… For charity obviously

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So we went to the races to raise money for St Barts.

Sadly no money was made for me.

Off to the glue factories I say!

Oh but they moved so beautifully and the jockeys were so… tiny.

As were their saddles.

Somehow even reading every Dick Francis novel didn’t prepare me.

Ah the races.

I was surprised how busy it was.

See you in another decade or so my dears.

A dress a day

I’ve come to a fashion decision.  

Well, it’s not so much a fashion decision as a clothes decision.  A practical, “Bloody hell! Nothing to wear again!” decision.

I’ve decided I’m going to give up on separates for work and instead buy five dresses which will end up being my uniform.

Okay five to start with.

I’ve already started – not with the dress pictured.

The other day I was flicking through the David Lawrence sales rack and came across a belted black dress marked down.

It fitted well and is perfect for work.

It washes easily and is a snap to iron.

I don’t have to match it with anything, and it looks smart.

I tend to wear it on Mondays.

On Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays I stare gormlessly into my wardrobe and try and patch together something that looks okay.

The dress is so easy I reckon it’s the way to go.

However finding a source of perfect dresses is not proving as easy as I hoped, and then my colleague turns up yesterday in a dress I would have bought in a snap (from Cue) had I seen it first but of course now I can’t because we sit next to eachother and wearing the same dress would be naff.

Groan.

I’m a bit fussy.

First of all I have winter colouring so all those nasty shades of yellow and brown are OUT.

Secondly I prefer V necks on me.

Thirdly I like it to be fitted to the waist and reach to my knee – but not to go below it.

And finally – it can’t be too expensive.

These conditions do seem to knock out most of the stock I’ve seen in shops.

In fact it’s proving so problematical I’m thinking of making one myself.

(although Mum, you know it is my birthday on Monday…)

Have you seen anything out there?

Speaking of sitting next to someone in the same dress, years ago, when Groover worked in Sales and had a box at the Hopman Cup, I experienced this first hand.

The box was small and seated four.  

I was wearing a peacock blue fitted dress – a stunning dress – not a dress you could ignore – I felt thin and special in it (actually I was pretty thin at the time) and as I sat there – I watched this lady ascend the stairs to our grandstand.  She was wearing the same dress.

“Ha ha I joked to Groover, I hope she isn’t your guest.”

“No she’s not.”

“Oh phew… how embarrassing to have to sit here all afternoon wearing the same dress…”

“She’s his wife.”

At the first break I excused myself and drove home to change.  

Groover to this day, thought I was over-reacting.

The wife thanked me.

Has that ever happened to you?  What did you do?

Have I missed a fashion moment here?


I found this image on Faking Good Breeding who pointed me toward an article on this very subject.

I saw Sex in the City the other night with some girlfriends – as you do – and enjoyed it. No I did. It was fun, flirtatious and frivolous. Perfect chick flickery.

But.

(C’mon you knew there was a but)

What was with the black bra backs? On several occasions Carrie Bradshaw (SJP’s character) wears a low backed dress and has the back of her bra on display.

Since when did that become acceptable?

Who didn’t send me that memo?! Frankly I wish you had because lets face it girls if we don’t have to care that your bra isn’t hidden… doesn’t it make life easier?

Forget all those tricky uphostery jobbies with weird extra long bra straps that wind around you everywhere except your back in order to give you some nipple protection… just show off that bra strap!

No need for dimmers, just wear your good old faithful with your slinky LBD. Preferably black of course.

I thought I was joking too until coming back into the hotel tonight I spied a woman – who must have been past 50 (or not so careful with her skin routine), she was wearing super high heels, peroxided long hair, and a slinky black backless dress with black bra-strap showing.

Now I’m wondering… could this really be a fashion trend?

Why you shouldn’t criticise Fashion Week

my little black dressA couple of days ago I was in Sydney for a work shin-dig while Australian Fashion Week was on and I posted a slightly sarcastic post about what a fashionista I was… not.

I waved a trendy vermilion scarf at the fashion gods my friend, and the gods turned to look at me in my LBD and sighed.

That one is tempting fate, they said. And poof! They flicked a finger in my general direction.

The fashion gods give

Oblivious I sashayed downstairs to meet my fellow part-tay goers, enjoy a little pre-dinner drinkie, and hop on the bus.

I love your dress, some cooed and I felt pretty good about my outfit. The ultra-cute Lisa Ho number (okay from last season but I just love it), my S&M boots. I felt hot.

We had the canapes, the entree and a few beverages and I wandered upstairs to the ladies.

The fashion gods take away

Now I should point out that the dress is a little – tight – and despite my best efforts – control tops – it had been a bit of a struggle to zip up.

So I sit down and breathe out and as I do, I feel something give.

A certain tightness across the torso had lessened.

I bring my hand behind my back and realise the horrible truth:

The zip had split. Completely.

A wardrobe malfunction of mammoth proportions and most of the evening to go.

How I survived

Luckily that vermilion scarf I’d waved earlier in the evening was draped, shawl-like, around my shoulders. I pulled it down to cover the zip and walked carefully back to my table. Luckily our table was against the wall and I was able to slip my leather jacket over my dress without exposing my back to an audience. But dancing later? No. I don’t think so.

The Lesson

And that is why I say, my friends, you must never diss the fashion gods or any festival they might choose to support. They have the power to use fashion against you!

Fashion week? A brilliant event for all. That’s what I say… now.

Sydney Harbour

The confident smile of someone who doesn’t realise her zip is about to leave the party without her.

OMG I’m a D-Cup

If only it was just the breasts that put on weight.

Don’t you love those lingerie ladies in the big department stores? Mine would have been in her mid fifties and an E cup she told me.

I knew my old bra – a B cup push up – wasn’t really fitting all that well – so I decided to invest in some new scaffolding.

The first thing you do is find the most senior looking assistant over floor – the older the better – they’ve seen it all. She will come in and measure you and then bring you a couple of bras to try on. Then she will “fit” you. She will make you lean over at the waist and “drop” your breasts fully into the cups. Then she will assess the fit.

Being a D-cup means some of the cute bras are no longer on my availability list but your assistant will know her stock well and has probably tried them all on for “product knowledge”. She will bring you a selection.

If you get on with your assistant this is the best. She will treat you like a long lost daughter and it will be a fun, positive experience.

I came away with two bra and pantie sets and some “guaranteed to take an inch off everywhere” undergarment thing.

Which I’ve bought for “thermal” purposes of course. 🙂

What are rashies?

River asks following my last post: “What are rashies?” I wrote a reply in comments but since a picture really is a thousand words I thought I’d illustrate with a couple of pics.

Adventure World Dec 22nd 2002 021

Adventure World Dec 22nd 2002 005

Now you’ll note that the children in this photo look quite young – that’ll be because these photos were taken in 2002 – 5 years ago. In those days my boardies fit and I wore skin tight rashies… 🙂

Anyway you probably get the idea.

I really don’t know why I stressed out about tight fitting boardies and my muffin top breaking loose. Once there we were treated to a great number of fashion victims people who just didn’t care.

Part of me was rejoicing. “You go girlfriend!” I thought Marcia-style as a woman who as a clear muu muu candidate chose instead to wear a bikini, sat eating her lunch not 20 metres away.

She obviously subscribed to my theory that the less material contained in the bikini the smaller your derriere looks. An acre of pink lycra fairly screams “big arse” n’est-ce pas? I’m rethinking my theory.

At this point you are probably fairly pointing out that the kettle may be calling the pot indigenous. And it would be a fair point.

Then we noticed another lady who had obviously come straight from the office. She was wearing a knee length skirt, a singlet and one of those little V-necked tops with three quarter sleeves and the ties that go round the back. Down the Aqua Racer! Of course she might have thought to herself that she wasn’t going to go swimming but was tempted by all the fun we were having and decided WTF I’m just going to swim in my clothes.

But perhaps she tried on her boardies that morning – like me – and found they were a little snug. Maybe she went down to her local surfshop – like me – and the shop assistants were so unhelpful she thought “fuck that I’m just going to wear my smart casual clothes to Adventure World”. Maybe.

The blokes of course don’t care at all.

 

Sandshoes and Cinnamon

sandshoesGroover has bought some new sandshoes. Or to be more accurate, I have bought him some new sandshoes. It had to be done.

His last pair – note those stylish ones behind the gleaming new white ones – were bought in 1992. And he has worn them every year since. Sure he only puts them on once or twice a year and the rubber crystalised from age but they did last well.

In fact apart from the back-to-the-future-flashdance-esque-black-speckledy-trim – they are not that much different.

Except that now, I will be seen dead with him wearing sandshoes – his new ones.

Carol has asked me to relate the Cinnamon Roll story Armistead Maupin told when he spoke at the Octogon Theatre lately… it’s a little R-rated so children… turn away now!

Apparently Armistead had a friend – gay friend – who wanted to check he was not hetero. So he “went down” on a female friend who nervously had sprayed herself with a cinnamon scent. Afterward he was so traumatised by the whole affair that he could never bear the smell of cinnamon rolls and felt physically ill when he smelt them in malls and airports… something like that anyway. Sorry Carol – he tells it better. 🙂 So much so that now whenever I hear the term or see a cinnamon roll… I’m not thinking pastries.