the shore chronicles: the outfit...leopard

I have been waiting for an opportunity to wear what Big R refers to as "The Pimp Coat" and quite clearly, there is never an APPROPRIATE opportunity.

Nor any appropriate opportunities to walk around slapping people and demanding "My money, Ho!"

[wearing: thrifted leopard coat, crochet bag and brocade crop top, supre sheer shirt, karen walker 'the village' sunglasses, diva headband and rings, 2 gypsies pendants and acne 'atacoma' wedges]

So, I just bloody well wore it and let Big R's gold teeth, pimp stick and glittery uber-platform jokes slide off it's leopard-y furriness.

And though some people clearly deserved a slap and some Pimp Cussing for their sniggers, I refrained.

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the shore chronicles: the pry...belly

After the Proust incident, I was mildly depressed at my....averageness. I've decided that since I'm hormonally challenged at the moment, my answers will probably vary beyond that which is able to be psycho-analysed to any use and therefore-like Vanity Fair-will do one every month as part of The Pry.

But besides that, the point of The Pry was to let you uber-stalk me as much as I like to uber stalk others.

Todays pry is getting a decent squizz at the mini-me. Since my Stolen Girlfriends Club shorts are knitted they are two very important things: warm and s-t-r-e-t-c-h-y. Suffice to say, they have become my slopping around home shorts-for now.
 

Some say, 'BLASPHEMY!' Some say, 'I totally understand.' I like the latter people.

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the shore chronicles: the outfit...date

Saturday night was one hell of a night. Not solely due to it's awesomeness [no offence Big R, I DID have an awesome time, let it be known] but more because it was rainy, windy, yucky. I know I have been begging for such meteorological things. I am happy. I just forgot the logistics of "The Face" and "The Hair".

I looked like a drowned rat with that post rain-in-the-face sheen that removes all your hard work of your no-make-up-make-up-look by the time we got to the restaurant [grrrr]-but CARING! I was out of the house, I was not at the mall, I WAS ON AN OLD FASHIONED DATE AND I ATE SOME SERIOUSLY GOOD FOOD [not picking the plate of chips and a kiddie meal]!

[wearing: thrifted coat and mottled knit, william phillips 'cammay' tote as clutch, karen walker skull neckpiece and jeffrey campbell 'foxy' platforms]

Debuted a mottled jumper I scored from a random stall in Browns Bay. It's black-and-white-edness resembling tv static a la Poltergeist most definitely turns me on. Weird much?

Though if it started to produce eerie voices telling me to "Go towards the light," I would freak out for sures.

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the shore chronicles: the purchase...march 2011

Tickle me pink, my Mr Mohawk Lures have arrived! A coveted item no longer, they are mine, all mine. Rubbing my cheek with them as I type. Weird much?

I am a sucker for packaging. I hoard the stuff in shoe-boxes. I am NOT weird.

Deadly Ponies Mr Mohawk Lures are available from Superette.

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the shore chronicles: the outfit...beanie

The weather has been grotty but I have been da..da..da..da..daaa. Lovin' it. Baby's are like internal heating systems so sunny times turn me into a sweaty beasty of a creature. Windy, blustery, chilly days mean I feel somewhat normal-room temperature. Thursday arvo called for some extra layers. It was wiiiiiiindy.

[wearing: the warehouse beanie, thrifted furricoat, pearls and whipstitched winklepickers, max roll neck knit dress, karen walker skull neckpiece and just jeans arm warmers]

When I say wiiiiiindy, I mean it. Lost my beanie a couple of times. Ever seen a pregnant woman chase a beanie flip-flopping down the street? Entertaining!

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the shore chronicles: the outfit...cinema

Had a little girly time last Saturday and got to indulge in watching a girly movie [My Wedding and Other Secrets], eating girly food [desserty things] in the much more bump friendly surroundings of Gold Class.

And this indulgent time was prefaced by 4 solid hours of shopping.

What more could I want out of a Saturday?

Admittedly, I did a little sneaky baby clothes shopping, buying a few genderless outfits but managed to pick up a couple of necessities for me.

[wearing: shakuhachi shag vest, karen walker 'the village' sunglasses, 2 gypsies pendants, mink pink tank dress, grey knit dress and saben says tote from the warehouse and topshop 'addison' wedges]

Shamefully, I now have a pair of elastic waisted denim skinnies [NOT jeggings, spray on denim!] and the comfiest man-jarmies from Peter Alexander...oh godski, slipping into comfy-preggo-territory.....DO NOT JUDGE!

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the shore chronicles: the pry...proust

I’m going to admit it. I like to pry into other peoples lives. I stalk in a just-curious, how-do-I-measure-up?, inspire-me, entertain-me, inform-me, non-intrusive [and untraceable] way. NOT the outside-your-window-stealing-your-undies-off-the-line-for-a-quick-sniff kind of way. Just to be clear.



Designers, fashion editors, fashion bloggers, stylists, the cool kids, celebrities: the usual suspects. I like me a good stalk. What they do, what they wear, how they wear it when they do what they do. Where they live, how they live, what they wear and how where they live looks, when they live where they are living. Harmless, so don’t call the police just yet. Besides, it’s an element, a driving force of blogging/tweeting/tumblr-ing/spring form-ing: is it not?


I hi-jacked a copy of Proust and gave it a couple of go's. The results? See for yourself.

[Click images to enlarge]


Me personally? I’m not as interesting as I had hoped [but I’m also not a member of The Usual Suspects] and I’ll keep hi-jacking questionnaires until I find one that does.

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the shore chronicles: the outfit...farro

"You like to Scuba?" asks the grotty dude in Speedos. 
"No. But I like to Farro."

We had a rainy, grotty-as Monday which I guess I could have made the most of by donning a scuba suit, walking around outside and laughing at everyone running and dodging the rain as I comfortably paraded in my wetsuit-ed-ness. But that is mean. And it is stupid.

Obviously, I'm still feeling very unlike myself and sick, which requires three specific things to remedy the overall crappiness. A Big R at home: worked cancelled due to rain..yusss. A DVD: Couples Retreat. A Treat: Macarons.

Our local food store [I refrain from calling it a supermarket since it contains zero branded junk food...commoner foods] is just a 4 minute walk away from The Loft and the home of scrummy macarons. Bonus: it is a 1 minute drive when it's raining. Added bonus: is a stop in at Mozaik for a hot chocolate to warm the cockles.

Delight for the belly, danger for the jelly. What the hey, I’m up the duff. Bring me more!

[wearing: supre sheer shirt, dotti alpine knit, thrifted leather shorts, bag and whipstich winklepickers. The sickly look is D.I.Y]

[NOTE TO READERS: I would have papped my beloved macarons....but I ate them in the car.]
 
[NOTE TO SELF: Blog fail. Whoops.]

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the shore chronicles: the covet...prada fur stole

No amount of anti-fur, PETA supporting, enviro-friendly tree hugging people are going to stop me from openly loving this colourful, furry, snuggly and over-the-top [over-my-price-range] piece of adornment from Prada. I cannot help myself. I WAAAAAAANT IT!
[NOTE TO SELF: Google if is fur or faux]

[ANSWER TO SELF: Fox]

Sorry to say it, but bring on the inspired-by-knock-offs-that ARE within my price range...and in faux please. Pleeeeeeeeeease?

  detail images from : style.com

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the shore chronicles: the outfit...new hangout

I hate The Mall. I spread my disease there last week, I hate it that much. Plus, I have an allergic reaction to generic fast fashion stores stocked with cheap, Made In Insert-Third World-or-Exploited-Country-Here clothes and racks of the stuff already marked down to $29.99 $9.99.

Call me a snob. I just prefer well-made, preferably NZ made/designed goodies and I love me a good thrift-reduce, reuse, recycle- that render my finds, one-offs.

I'm in for a bargain but there are hidden costs. [I'm not getting into the whole sweatshop debate. I'm tired. And fat. And can't be bothered to think above a level of a fashion-obsessed-freak-a-zoid.]  
Essentially, there is the higher-hit-rate-cost of seeing your cookie-cutter-fashion-find on every second chickadee strutting down to get her talons done or push in line at Macca’s while tweeting about what she’s gonna order and taking a sip from her Tank Juice-all while her sunnies sit precariously on her little balliaged HEAD! IT BUGS ME!


[TUESDAY]

[wearing: thrifted knit, diy deconstructed knit dress from the warehouse, jeffrey cambell 'litas'] 


Someone get me a chocolate bar? I’m obviously experiencing the nasty rant that coincides with pregnancy cravings…cough, cough.


[WEDNESDAY]

[wearing: dotti alpine knit, thrifted sheer dress and jeffrey campbell 'litas']


But I also have a MAJOR-negates-all-my-reasoning-and-excuses-and-concerns-and-basically-acts-like-a-big-fat-line-through-this-whole-post confession.


I'm a skody MALLRAT. It's close to home: minutes. It's nice and cool: air-con. It's got wi-fi spots: free. I'm increasing in mass, changing in shape and cannot find/fit/afford to be a snob when it comes to clothes shopping.


[FRIDAY]

[wearing: big r's plaid 90s jkt, minkpink tank dress, valleygirl tux dress and sam edelman 'zoes']


Plus, I like people watching while stuffing my face with greasy fries and burger....and sushi....and a frappe.


The Mall is my new hangout. Been there 3 days so far this week...and the weekend approaches.

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the shore chronicles: the outfit...crispy mornings

Crispy mornings are upon us here in the NZ, which emits one of two sounds from it’s inhabitants. Pro-Summers? “Booooo!” Or for Pro-Winters? “Yaaaaaay!”

I happily sit in the Pro-Winter cheering section and the notion of wearing warmer gear pleases me. Coats, knits and other warm fuzzies that were relegated [mournfully] to the back of the closet are about to return to centre-stage. No more the understudies of the leads...hoping for their chance to shine, patiently [and spitefully] wishing for broken limbs, brain tumours or kidnappings.

[wearing: jumper by dotti, thrifted skirt, market clog sandals, karen walker sunnies, 2 gypsies necklaces, rings by diva and cuff from random store on k'rd]


So while you Northerners spend hazy summer days, basking in happiness and light, don’t spare a thought for me in my winter dreariness. I’m taking one for the team. Happily.

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the shore chronicles: the covet...mr mohawk lure

Meet Mr Mohawk Lure.


He's so cutesy.....and sheepskin-ny.
I want him clipped to my personal effects on the daily.

Available from Superette on pre-order.

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the shore chronicles: the outfit...night vibes

This is why I friggin' LOVE where I live....no neighbours. None. Zilch. Just the low hum of the city and bright lights of distant industrials that provide some wierd vibe to our nights.

Parading about in my new Alpine-esque knit from Dotti. Pay no attention to the slippers. Hey, you can take the Westie out of the West, but you can't take the leopard print out of my DNA.

[wearing: dotti alpine-esque knit, glassons shirt, sissy leggings, diva cross knuckle ring, skody old leopard slippers.]

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the shore chronicles: the outfit...mozaik

Finding ’our local’ coffee spot out West was…tiresome. Two years of takeaway cups filled with burnt, tasteless, watery or too damn slow coffee [sorry dunkin donuts-you actually managed D- all of the above] and a strong whiff of wasted time and moolah. We were coffee whores. Poor, homeless coffee whores.



[Dreaming of the quick first million? I suggest a GOOD coffee house, franchised in West Auckland. Definitely a gap in the market there. A gaping big hole, in fact.]

Big R and I committed our first non-un-packing weekend to the hunt for ‘our local’. And found it. First place. Three minutes WALK away. I like those numbers.


MOZAIK on Constellation. BOOM!

So, that out the way, I’m moving onto my next challenge: my local thrift spot. Much more exciting, possibly an exercise in patience for Big R and most likely to cause empty pocket syndrome.

[wearing: thrifted coat, big r's federation tee, jeans west belt, glassons jeans and kathryn wilson boots.]

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last days as a westie: the final episode....

Welcome to the last post as plain, old fashion westie. I figured a chronic, uncohesive mash-up of outfits was called for. Kind of like an exorcism of my now-redundant westie-ness.

Hey. I'm excited about my new residency Shore-side.

Sue me!

The last week of packing, recycling, donating, giving away, bin-raiding, excessive clothes washing, crying, frustratingly sorting out utilities and organising trailers, whiteware and all the headaches that come with relocating, didn't stop me from demanding Big R take me out for calming beverages [non-alcoholic, of course] and window shopping. Look, a girl NEEDS to don something other than the obligatory packing outfit of leggings, a baggy singlet and the messy updo.

So, each chance to venture to a place NOT resembling a scrap yard? I dressed up. I dressed inappropriately. I overdressed. I didn't care. Big R DID care, I'm not gonna lie.

B.R: "Babe, it's Robert Harris Coffee-it doesn't matter."
F.W: Squinty evil eye.

Yes. That's the leather-tee-of-acrobatic-origins. Yes, I endeavoured, nay, endured wearing it again. What can I say? I'm a sucker for punishment.
[wearing: thrifted tee, vest and trousers, random mens socks and celine-esque platform sandals.]

B.R: "Babe, we're only looking at fridges and washing machines, it's not a fashion show."
F.W: Squinty evil eye and mad sniffy bunny nose scrunch.

Minor success on the Colour Challenge front. Green blazer AND green chiffon shirt. Double whammy. Red lip. Triple whammy.
[wearing: thrifted blazer, shirt and trousers, kathryn wilson brogue boots, vintage oroton bag and bandanna from random dollarstore.]

B.R: "Babe, it's sunny outside."
F.W: "Babe, it's sunny outside," in mocking tones. "Besides, the mall is air-conditioned. Smart ass," in sarcastic-caustic-soda tones. Squinty evil eye, mad sniffy bunny nose scrunch and the middle finger. Adorned with massive silver ring, no less.

[wearing: thrifted vintage burberry blazer, fuzzy top and trousers, rubi bag, just jeans armwarmers, diy shearling trim on jeffrey campbell lita boots.]

So, what now?

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last days as a westie: remix....

Limited Internet=Unhappy Me.

Grrrr. Apologies if I cannot answer all your comments. It's hard enough checking emails. Double GRRRR!

Being rotund is proving rather an issue when getting primped and preened and can seem more like getting blimped and      ...dammit! Cannot. Think. Of. Rhyming. Word. 

But a word that has 'difficulty-fitting-clothes-because-pregnant-and-rhymes-with-preened' connotations: please insert there.

Failing memory A.K.A 'Baby Brain' is no urban myth, ladies. I have it BAD! Or at least, that's what I'm attesting it to because damned if I can remember where my keys are, wallet is, passport, the $2 coin I found under the bed, my half eaten Mars Bar Caramel [possibly located now in Big R's tummy] and any trousers I could possibly own that might have a stretchy waistband. I know I have any and all of these items somewhere.

Probably in the abyss with hairties, 'the other earring' and teaspoons.

What to fricken do? Lack of memory and missing sensibly proportioned body? REMIX!

I have to tell you, the cut of this Alexander Wang shirt is perfect for a burgeoning belly...might be my go-to for the next few months.

 And I have not forgotten my colour challenge....whacked on a fuschia lip before deciding I was ready to go.

[wearing: fuschia lip, alexander wang shirt, linen skirt from trade me, thrifted camel coat and celine-esque shoes.]

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