skip to main |
skip to sidebar
life sucks and then you die. or so the saying goes according to some rather pessimistic realist. hopefully untrue for actual real life living. but could pertain to this here blog with my sincerely crappy lack of posting lately [whoops] and even crapper blogger-etiquette-lacking-blasphemous-behaviour by not responding to comments. [boo me, go on, i know you want to.]
i have an excuse.
but it's lame.
i have a reason ready in my back pocket.
which is NOT by any means lame, rather more in the exciting part of the spectrum.
buuuuuut....i can't tell you yet. can't tell. won't tell. wanna tell. maybe later.
okay, so, my excuse? sharing a household with two teenagers who require an abusive amount of time online and spend an exorbitant amount of time lounging around the house, that encroaches upon my privacy and freedom to blog with an excruciatingly frustrating frequency.
i still don't street snap. and i sure as hell don't take pictures around the outside of our house. [how would you feel with westies actually staring at you as you go about your business? [very unnerving. very embarrassing.]
so rock? meet hard place.
still under the influence of dapper dan magazine and circus.
still overly obsessed with these newly acquired jeans--and rightly so, they're fricken awesome. decided to stage my photos since i've literally being confined to my room but will definitely venture this look out the front door....sans the prop of my chair. and for the haters of faux glasses? those are prescription. i'm blind and require a little help to stop me from smashing into you in the street, the cafe, the supermarket, the carpark.......they're for your safety-trust me.
[wearing: glassons shirt, dollarstore braces, leesh jeans, thrifted mens italian loafers]
big r and i have disagreements. sometimes, we have agreements.
big r and i have different views on style. sometimes, we share the same view.
i sometimes think what i like, big r will hate and vice versa.
with my growing drop crotch obsession [why does this sound like VD or some sicko fetish instead of reference to a garment?] i have endured many a snide remark [all meant with sugar coated love, i'm sure] about:
* saggy, baggy elephant book signings
* baby-catcher
* poo-catcher [oh yeah, big r still sniggers with every fart or poo reference]
* aerated balls [jealous?]
* being fed more mickey d's to grow an ass to fill the pants
* looking like i have filled my pants
* great hiding place for five finger discounts at the local store [i swear, i have never five fingered ANYTHING]
* gangsta wannabe
* 2 legit 2 quit dancing moves [\/:2 fingers, L :l fingers, \/:2 fingers, L :l fingers, \/:2 fingers, <<:cut ...he="...he" accompanying="accompanying" and="and" dance="dance" entertaining...="entertaining..." exclamation="exclamation" hammertime="hammertime" invaders="invaders" move...shame="move...shame" over="over" quit="quit" rather="rather" really="really" s="s" sign="sign" space="space" span="span" stop="stop" the="the" throat="throat">
* you get the idea
so, when my good friend leesh sent me these jeans she had designed, i freaked out and did a little [read: big] victory dance [finger waggling, whoop-whoop noises and knee wiggling included] while mentally preparing myself for what was bound to be a further onslaught of well-meaning-but-confidence-depleting crotch related comments.
i was.......ahem...wrong.
REALLY wrong. he likes them. not i-have-to-cos-i'm-ya-boyfriend-likes them. he REALLY likes them. i think my jaw dropped lower than the crotch when he stated: "huh. those are cool. did she actually design and make them herself?" nod. "huh. they look sweet. nice one babe." smile. "they are very cool. i'd be seen in public with you in those."
trust me, this is like having a d&m with big r--that's his word quota for 3 days: gone!
so, yay! a few days grace.....but here's hoping, he'll just drop it.
[wearing: alexander wang shirt, leesh jeans and jeffrey campbell 'lita' boots]
obviously influenced by the latest issue of dapper dan magazine, you'd be forgiven for assuming these are shots of my brother. i assure you, it is i.
thrifted this nifty knit and rue the fact it is summer. big r rue's the existence of said nifty knit--he H A T E S it. hates it. with a passion. i don't. i L O V E it. love it. with a passion.
and do not therefore rue the existence of anti perspirant.
i love the americana-preppy-thrifty-nifty nature of this knit. i imagine some kid, perhaps LEONARD HUFFNAGEL, owned it.....and possibly got owned by some other big kids with more brutal names like, DAVID PRECIOUS or CHIP HAZARD for wearing the sweater.
little does leonard know, he owned one kick-ass piece of knitwear.
[wearing: thrifted LH knit, glassons shirt, dapper dan magazine, circus #1 fashion, drop crotch jeans and nana's bowling shoes]
to whom it may concern,
fashion westie was unable to attend blogging class due to enjoying the summer weather. she has been feeling summery and well, so i thought it best to keep her home to thoroughly enjoy herself.
fashion westie has expressed concern in regards to her absence from blogging and generally feels relaxed and revived enough to ensure full blogging to resume tomorrow.
i sincerely apologise if this has caused any inconvenience, please feel free to contact me on 0900-totz-odd.
kind regards,
westies mum.
also, M A J O R standing ovations, applause, snaps, vigorous shaking of hands, bloggy woggy hugs, virtual high 5ives and all that warm fuzzy stuff to one of my fave kiwi bloggers, Miss Nina at The Style Hive, for her kick ass rendering of me [yup, ME!!?!] on her blog. I'm rather stoked to be artistically immortalised [forgive my lack of correct term usage here] and even more stoked that i'm #2 after another fave blogger of mine, Mr IsaacLikes.
sometimes the best gift you can get is a good old fashioned ego boost. THANK YOU NINA!!!!!
image from www.thestylehive.co.nz
P.S....i pinched your pic by the unruly use of left-click.
check out her blog, she's SO cool, loves...no...craves lanvin, has a savvy way about her and has wardrobe items you'd give your left nut for.
Posts
