Friday, April 26, 2013

boy girl, boy


Welcome to a new segment where I break the divide between mens and women's clothing. I call it: Fuck Gender Constructed Textiles. Hey brother, I know you really want to wear McQueen's beehive dress and you totally should and you'll probably look fabulous. Hey gurl, I know it is already safe for you to don a suit, board shorts and even a baseball tee without any context being insinuated on your sexuality. However, if you wear ill-fitted mens clothing then you might be called a U-Haul lesbian, but if you wear a skin tight Versus dress then you might be asking for rape. Either way, women are fucked and we men are fucked too.

I've chosen this adorably cute and slightly oversized sweatshirt by the youthful Pierre Balmain. I played it a little safe for this first post and this sweatshirt doesn't break too much of a divide, but only by the fact that it is located in the women's department. Next time I'll choose a pair of Alaia pumps because we all know Cher put it on the map. We all need to exercise our manly soccer kicking calves. Instead of that chic pleated perforated skirt, I would probably insert a pair of simple and basic blue shorts. Boring, I know. But spice it up with a pair of tan oxfords and you're set to hit the library or a pussy riot.

I choose the latter.

Photo: SSENSE

Thursday, April 25, 2013

staring into nothing, nothing



The last gay novel I read, or book of essays rather, was a discussion about why faggots loathe and discriminate against one another. That book was shit and I'm back to analyzing gay culture. Jorts and tanks and plenty of water based lube! My daily visit to Mr Porter searching for the perfect pair of slippers swayed me in a direction that I was unprepared to handle.

Swoon.

Que Max Wallis who is a young British poet, is gay (and so darn cute) and wants to sell you a reasonably priced Raf Simmons sweatshirt for your spring wardrobe. All we men really want to do is stare into an abyss and ponder our existential life looking trendy and shit.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

giving birth


Do you remember when lunch breaks were just lunch breaks-cum-smoke breaks? I left work to grab lunch with a friend only to be stopped by a photographer who works for a blog. I gladly accepted his offer. I was envisioning Abbey Lee Kershaw via Gucci Floral campaign or Raquel Zimmerman for Alexander McQueen. I was at that apex of my professionalism that my $9.99 vintage shoes deserve.

We went on to some Q&A and I totally should have said some real bullshit, but I went with the truth. I should have created some rad pseudonym like Fern or Peach. My occupation should have been Kill Bill's Gogo Yubari or a hot yoga teacher preaching kale and loose leaf tea. My worst fucking response of all was how I  stated my style: casual with a twist. Such a pre-pubescent response. I just need some debriefing and clarification of this childlike answer. I do categorize my style in the casual department, but I feel casual doesn't justify my cuffed denim, my oversize jumper and my vintage jacket, yah know?

I like to garner inspiration from Leandra Medine to Alexa Chung to Morgan Jones (my muse). I don't want to be one of those pretentious bastards describing their style as undefined because you're so abstract, you douche bag.

Coachella-ella-ella-eh-eh in Canada I stay.

Photo: BlogTO

Sunday, April 7, 2013

35mm


Manifesting Solange will only set you back $20 and an hour of your time. Picked up the latest issue of Fader to see Vampire Weekend on the cover and only to realize Solange in a Carven skirt on the other side. Getting real exposure on my coffee table and flipped by many friends that overstayed their welcome.

Did anybody see Bey snoop through Solange's closet prior to her Cuba trip?

Managed to convince my father to bequeath his 35mm film SLR to me. Middle aged people think digital cameras are cool when really, dad, the 90's are back.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

i need a derivative of mr. porter, but with more designers




I have this elitist friend/soon-to-be-roommate perpetually conversing his love for Japan. This recent expat was smitten with all things Comme des Garcon, etc, etc. Elitist right, etc. I'm not well aware of Japan's designers, okay, maybe a few. What comes to mind is said designers Rei, Yohji Yamamoto, Tadashi Sohji and Junya Watanabe. I want to visit SSENSE and purchase something with polka dots.

Look at those legs. Panthering better than Karlie Kloss.

I've been meaning to incorporate floral and paisley into my wardrobe many seasons now and I haven't quite found the right pieces. But really, I just want the floral pieces. Zara are you with me on this trend? I want floral prints with more than basic cuts, preferably of the oversized scoop neck tee variety.

The option to travel to Japan to purchase some Phenomenon is looking pretty dim. With the lyrics of Gwen Stefani: "they're hard to find in the States, got me feeling couture."

Monday, April 1, 2013

an open letter


Perry in the afternoon.

My intentions to move forward with my style by donning a snap back has rendered me to become contrived. I might try the meggings trend - JK, JK, not JK, JK. I understand the capacity of my style and I somehow managed to stray far enough that I lost sight of who I was. And that was someone who wore fashion versus style and drank Tim Hortons over Pamenar.

This Toronto spring weather has left me impotent in my ability to estimate the amount of layers I should  consume. In the presence of sun: 1 layer. In the absence of said heat source: 2.5. I always gravitate towards sidewalks with the most amount of sun exposure. Dear Canadians, 9 degrees does not entitle you to shorts and flip flops. I understand we've been deprived due to a prolonged winter that is concurrently happening with spring, but your desperate need for vitamin D is conveniently bottled.

And can we discuss our final thoughts on Walking Dead? (We could maybe discuss Game of Thrones.)