what inspires you?
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
Sisterhood of the traveling (cursed) pants
A doting friend of mine had been passed down a pair of denims. We are approximately the same size and shape, so I was interested to hear that she had been passed down this item, only to find that they do not fit her and she wanted me to try them for keeps.
Now the jeans themselves are quite good. Brand new (with tags on) classic brand, and would probably retail at about $150 dollars. And a steal at $10 from a local opp shop! The only problem is..they don't fit. I was mildly confused, as this is my size in panty wear, however, just because it's labelled at a particular size doesn't guarantee perfection to all women. Different shapes etc etc.
I was, however, determined to find this puzzling pants a home. After deliberating and sizing up my friends in my head (in a non-judgemental way..of course) as to who they would fit. I decided that going to a friend who is smaller than the jeans by a fair shot would hopefully solve my issue. I approach cautiously and gave plenty of warning about how these jeans, although asthetically pleasing, are causing grief amongst many people, but was still encouraging of that fact that we can win this battle with her as our champion. She agrees, and states that they look a bit for her, which is totally true if this were a normal, pure pair of slacks. I hear her rustle around her changeroom, a bang against the wall! Could it be the bang of excitment??Could these jeans have met their match?? I grab the flag of victory, anticipating to wave loud and proud and...
No. They do NOT fit. This is absolutely rediculous. Models would not even be able to squeeze into these "normal" looking jeans. I guess looks can be deceiving. But for someone who has had to have tried on at least 500 pairs of jeans in my life, I am baffled. What now?
Back to the Opp Shop you go, where I'm assuming someone placed you in the same angry way that I am about to.
Now the jeans themselves are quite good. Brand new (with tags on) classic brand, and would probably retail at about $150 dollars. And a steal at $10 from a local opp shop! The only problem is..they don't fit. I was mildly confused, as this is my size in panty wear, however, just because it's labelled at a particular size doesn't guarantee perfection to all women. Different shapes etc etc.
I was, however, determined to find this puzzling pants a home. After deliberating and sizing up my friends in my head (in a non-judgemental way..of course) as to who they would fit. I decided that going to a friend who is smaller than the jeans by a fair shot would hopefully solve my issue. I approach cautiously and gave plenty of warning about how these jeans, although asthetically pleasing, are causing grief amongst many people, but was still encouraging of that fact that we can win this battle with her as our champion. She agrees, and states that they look a bit for her, which is totally true if this were a normal, pure pair of slacks. I hear her rustle around her changeroom, a bang against the wall! Could it be the bang of excitment??Could these jeans have met their match?? I grab the flag of victory, anticipating to wave loud and proud and...
No. They do NOT fit. This is absolutely rediculous. Models would not even be able to squeeze into these "normal" looking jeans. I guess looks can be deceiving. But for someone who has had to have tried on at least 500 pairs of jeans in my life, I am baffled. What now?
Back to the Opp Shop you go, where I'm assuming someone placed you in the same angry way that I am about to.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Done and powder-dusted!
Ms. Antoinette would have been dancing (head-less, of course) in her grave to her favourite soundtrack in celebration of what we achieved as the hottest social event of the summer.
Our soiree in remembrance of the outrageous queen made all of our guests giddy with the thrill of dressing in fine (op shop quality) lace, pearls, feathers, and beauty spots. Classic example:
So, in true eMBLem style, we have decided that awards are to be given to wrap-up the night!
Without further adieu...
B.L- Winner for the outfit that could have actually been her wedding dress! She charmed the night by telling tales of "friends of parents" who act pitfully to steal your cash, only to buy magazines with it, and graciously get caught in the act. Along with the chant-master, she made her imprint with the phrase "that is the best" repeated.
S.D- Equal winner of the BEST dare completion! Her dare - to allow four pieces of food items in her mouth at the same time. Result - success! She not only did it easily, but she showed us how hot she can still look with a face-full of food! Best.
J.D- Winner of working the sexy french maid outfit! She arrived in her ruffles and pearl choker and we never took our eyes off her. Well, we were at least visually glued to her for a good half and hour while she blushed through her recent secrets. wink wink.
E.K- Winner of the most Antoinette look-alike! Words will not do this justice, so a picture needs to tell us of her fabulous transformation.
(The one with the winning beauty spot)
L.C- Winner of the sexy sex pose! While this one also would not be adequately proven through words only, we should inhibit the use of such photographs, in order to keep ones pure image. However, as a tease-r, imagine revealing leg lines, fans that barely cover-all, bedroom eyes and lusty looks that will make you weak at the knees. Sorry readers, she's taken.
J.L- Winner of pretending to be drunk in a photo! This fine lady knows how to perfectly pose to enhance any photographic opportunity!
E.L- Winner of being the real Antoinette! As shown in the above image, this sassy diva dressed to the nines in the true to form telling of Ms. Antoinette. Thanks for keeping it real!
M.S- Winner of the Duchess slash Chant-Master! (yep, it's a slashie award!) This prow-less entered our abode as the saucy, raunchy, strong, powerful duchess you will ever come across. however, she blazes through with many a chance to demonstrate her seductive skills, entrancing the group to chant the night away! Too powerful. Too awesome.
M.B- Winner of fine form! She made all the right moves on the night. Not only was her outfit more than adequate (I think we were all gushing over your nighty purchase... nothing suss), she contributed to a tee with all games (including whispering sweet nothings into your ear) and introduced us all to a sweet treat of a drink, which will go down as the dessert wine of choice 2010. Perfection!
E.K- Equal winner of BEST dare completion! From command of the Duchess (with finger to hand demonstrations of exact dare movements), and a glass of wine to settle nerves, it was on! Roaming streets, shimmies to the boy(s), fine tuned high kicks, giggles in tow, and...you have one completed dare and one more great memory of how you really can get people to do anything you want! As long as it's in "dare" format. love it.
Thank-you ALL for your contribution to our fabulous night of nights. We grace thee Newport ladies with hosting the next theme, and eagerly wait at out letterboxes for those glittering invitations!
Your hosts, B & L
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Wedding: Bliss-ters and Cougarrrrs.
I like love. I really do. As I am not currently in love I don’t think I quite love love, but I do like love.
Working at weddings is never dull. Actually that’s a lie. Holding 2 full bottles of wine out in front of you with effortless poise whilst some European father gives an incredibly longwinded, inarticulate speech is dull. Polishing 1000 pieces of silver cutlery is dull. Mopping beer-stained walkways is dull. But often there are ample things to entertain the dulled, sober soul.
Such as the most recent fiasco aka a wedding; whilst not as shocking as some can be, gave rise to entertainment oozing from every location- mainly out of the top half of evening dresses.
Here, I was exposed to a type of creature. A Creature that devours its prey at events such as weddings and neighbourhood pool parties.
I know the definition for cougar used to be: a large, tawny cat, Felis concolor, of North and South America: now greatly reduced in number and endangered in some areas.
For all those who did not know there is now a new definition: a pseudo-tanned female over the age of 50 with sagging assets held up by wondrous support mechanisms; these prowling creatures have roving hands, eyes and a bloodlust for the young, taut opposite sex regardless of marital status, intoxication levels and dignity.
They are wily. They are hormonal. They are lurking.
Weddings are the perfect place to spot these animals in their natural habitat.
I will tell of a few said cougar sightings..
1. Seemingly ‘elegant’ woman with a cropped pixie cut and approximate age of 54. She was a-leaning upon the bar chatting away to 2 adolescent (probably both have finally reached the age of consent) males. I stumbled across the conversation (or snuck behind the bar fridge to hear) of how she had “recently picked up 2 young Scottish backpackers that looked not-unlike yourselves whilst my husband was off playing with another friends wife”.. oh heck. The champagne flute I was polishing suddenly became very intriguing.
2. Whilst the first one takes the delicious black forest cake for cougaresque-behaviour, the second has probably eaten an entire black forest cakes every day for the past decade and probably devoured a fellow or two in the process. Large. She also had a fashion sense that rivalled.. rivalled.. actually to compare her to anything or anyone would be near impossible. I will not go on about her weight, though it was colossal. Instead, I will mention her lavender satin dress-slash-drape that did not cover her 2 Tinkerbell (oh the irony) tattoo’s or her elephantine, I mean delicate feet. Feet which were riddled with blisters that should have remained shoe-d. She ran around, yes ran around the ballroom like an obese banshee with a misplaced desire to dance with young boys who were roughly 300kg lighter than herself. Enough said. Astounding sight.
3. The third would take a lengthy sitting to write about therefore I will mentions only 3 characteristics of unavoidable note: Duran Duran tattoo on scapula, silver mullet and the 2 melons that protruded out of her halter dress with more force than I’d seen body parts exert, like ever.
I do like love. . it’s entertaining
Working at weddings is never dull. Actually that’s a lie. Holding 2 full bottles of wine out in front of you with effortless poise whilst some European father gives an incredibly longwinded, inarticulate speech is dull. Polishing 1000 pieces of silver cutlery is dull. Mopping beer-stained walkways is dull. But often there are ample things to entertain the dulled, sober soul.
Such as the most recent fiasco aka a wedding; whilst not as shocking as some can be, gave rise to entertainment oozing from every location- mainly out of the top half of evening dresses.
Here, I was exposed to a type of creature. A Creature that devours its prey at events such as weddings and neighbourhood pool parties.
I know the definition for cougar used to be: a large, tawny cat, Felis concolor, of North and South America: now greatly reduced in number and endangered in some areas.
For all those who did not know there is now a new definition: a pseudo-tanned female over the age of 50 with sagging assets held up by wondrous support mechanisms; these prowling creatures have roving hands, eyes and a bloodlust for the young, taut opposite sex regardless of marital status, intoxication levels and dignity.
They are wily. They are hormonal. They are lurking.
Weddings are the perfect place to spot these animals in their natural habitat.
I will tell of a few said cougar sightings..
1. Seemingly ‘elegant’ woman with a cropped pixie cut and approximate age of 54. She was a-leaning upon the bar chatting away to 2 adolescent (probably both have finally reached the age of consent) males. I stumbled across the conversation (or snuck behind the bar fridge to hear) of how she had “recently picked up 2 young Scottish backpackers that looked not-unlike yourselves whilst my husband was off playing with another friends wife”.. oh heck. The champagne flute I was polishing suddenly became very intriguing.
2. Whilst the first one takes the delicious black forest cake for cougaresque-behaviour, the second has probably eaten an entire black forest cakes every day for the past decade and probably devoured a fellow or two in the process. Large. She also had a fashion sense that rivalled.. rivalled.. actually to compare her to anything or anyone would be near impossible. I will not go on about her weight, though it was colossal. Instead, I will mention her lavender satin dress-slash-drape that did not cover her 2 Tinkerbell (oh the irony) tattoo’s or her elephantine, I mean delicate feet. Feet which were riddled with blisters that should have remained shoe-d. She ran around, yes ran around the ballroom like an obese banshee with a misplaced desire to dance with young boys who were roughly 300kg lighter than herself. Enough said. Astounding sight.
3. The third would take a lengthy sitting to write about therefore I will mentions only 3 characteristics of unavoidable note: Duran Duran tattoo on scapula, silver mullet and the 2 melons that protruded out of her halter dress with more force than I’d seen body parts exert, like ever.
I do like love. . it’s entertaining
Thursday, January 14, 2010
The Inner Buccaneer
Memo: January is National Pirate Month.
Well...according to C (husband) and myself it is.
His is more of a Pirates of the Carribbean, Captain Morgan Rum, bought a budgie and called it 'Captain Jack Sparrow'* sort of obsession.
Mine is definitely more Vivienne Westwood-esque. I can not get enough of my scrunched pirate boots and red and white striped shirts. My bff bought me THE CUTEST red and white stripey for Christmas with little silver anchor buttons, which I have worn probably 10 days out of the 14 days that is January along with my green Leona Edmiston scarf wrapped around my head in classic pirate fashion.
Though what I call 'pirate' fashion, some deem 'wench' fashion.
It's a fine line.
I'm also enjoying pina coladas** and long walks on the plank.
It's a fabulous time to be swashbucklin'.
m
*The bird is currently undergoing counselling for identity crisis issues.
**Apparently originally mixed by the Puerto Rican pirate 'El Pirata Cofresi' to boost his crew's morale. According to definitive source - wikipedia.
Well...according to C (husband) and myself it is.
His is more of a Pirates of the Carribbean, Captain Morgan Rum, bought a budgie and called it 'Captain Jack Sparrow'* sort of obsession.
Mine is definitely more Vivienne Westwood-esque. I can not get enough of my scrunched pirate boots and red and white striped shirts. My bff bought me THE CUTEST red and white stripey for Christmas with little silver anchor buttons, which I have worn probably 10 days out of the 14 days that is January along with my green Leona Edmiston scarf wrapped around my head in classic pirate fashion.
Though what I call 'pirate' fashion, some deem 'wench' fashion.
It's a fine line.
I'm also enjoying pina coladas** and long walks on the plank.
It's a fabulous time to be swashbucklin'.
m
*The bird is currently undergoing counselling for identity crisis issues.
**Apparently originally mixed by the Puerto Rican pirate 'El Pirata Cofresi' to boost his crew's morale. According to definitive source - wikipedia.
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