Click Click: a Sunday Shoe Story

Sometimes I wish that I could click my heels together and things would magically work out. But clearly life isn't like that. I'm not Dorothy after all, and my shoes aren't covered in red glitter.

Deciding to make changes is one thing, but actually making the changes can take a bit more time than anticipated, so like the type-A control freak that I am I scheduled the time. One month exactly. The beginning of October will mark the third anniversary of my blog, so I figured that this would be as good a time as any to take a month off from posting to revamp the design of the website. Post content and scheduling won't change (I like those aspects), but I have lots of ideas that I can't wait to unveil.

Just think of this as a lengthy spa retreat, where the blog will emerge sparkling and super fabulous! See you all in a month!

* shoes by BCBGirls

Hope amongst the Stars

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." 

~ Oscar Wilde

dress by BCBG

When I'm Wiser & I'm Older

The concept of “fitting in” is something that I’ve never really understood. From my earliest days I always marched to the beat of my own drummer, and the people that I looked up to were not ones who took the easy way out. They figured out what they wanted and they fought for it, irregardless of what the rest of the world thought. I may not have known who I was or what I wanted (that takes a lifetime to figure out), but I was never willing to go along with the stablished social norms.

In grade school I was the girl who was friends with the boys, and got into trouble because I wouldn’t be friends with a rather snotty little red-headed girl. I spent my lunch hours walking circles around the grounds with my best friend and talking about Star Wars. We had a private club, and it was awesome.

In high school I was the girl who listened to Green Day (before American Idiot made them a socially accepted band) and dressed in plaid skirts over jeans. I spent my lunch hours reading books, and it never bothered me that my group of friends were considered the rejects. We were the Bench, and we let our freak flags fly.

In university I was the girl who never turned in her assignments late because of a party weekend. I had them done 2 weeks early, and I partied anyways.

In the first city that I moved to I was the girl who wasn’t a vegetarian, an environmentalist, or a hipster.

In the next city I was the girl who wore colour in a world washed in conservative neutrals.

Where I currently live I’m the only one (apparently) who doesn’t hike, bike, or ski.

Yet none of this bothers me, because I am living my life the way that I want to. Many people over the years have tried to convince me that I should be living their way and interested in the same things as they are, like I’m doing something wrong by making my own choices. What I don’t get about this recurring situation is why people feel the need to peer pressure someone who is different and obviously happy in their difference from the world. Sure, expanding my worldview and finding new interests is great, but sometimes their peer pressure (yeah, I said it) comes off as condescending and judgemental.

Why all the judgement people? I may not believe in being a vegetarian, but do you see me going around peer pressuring vegetarians into eating bacon? I may think they’re a bit nuts (because bacon is delicious), but their life choices don’t affect me so I really have no choice but to accept them. Do we all really want to make everyone like the exact same things as us anyways? Life gets a lot less interesting if we’re all carbon copies of eachother, because then the debates stop (the healthy kind, not the peer pressure kind) and our minds start becoming stagnant.

And when it comes down to it, no one really fits in; humans are all different, even if it’s just in the details, and the sooner we all start accepting each other’s differences the sooner we can start celebrating them. 

On the Edge: a Sunday Shoe Story

shoes by Fioni

Just because you're not ready to jump doesn't mean that the edge isn't there. 

(Lady) Suit Up

 Why should boys have all the fun? We may have more options to choose from, but the words of Barney Stinson still ring true: "Nothing suits me like a suit!"

shirt by Lanvin, pants by Et Vous Paris, jacket by Vero Moda

Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop

I had about a dozen ideas of things to write about this week, but my stress level has been so through the roof lately that I haven't been able to form any of them into cohesive narratives.

There was going to be a post about why I've read so many high school novels this summer. A post comparing waiting for a guy and a job to call. A post about the minimalist nature of my purse contents. A post about the person who has the most intense eyes I've ever met (yes, he's real).

But my brain can't sit still. It's running - running circles around itself - and clearly it's not following any sort of track, so I'm just going to let it keep running its little trail of random and try to distract myself with things like frappucinos, French cheese, and fancy chocolates.

See, my brain is even making me use alliteration, even though it is my second most hated literary device (after puns of course). Be quiet brain. 

Hidden Agenda: a Sunday Shoe Story

Beneath the starched shirts and regulation length skirts of this archivist 

lies the heart of a rock n' roll princess. 

shoes by Chinese Laundry, jeans by Silver Jeans

Retroactive

As the years go by we see certain things come into style, and then suddenly disappear, only to be remembered with a fond sort of horror and nostalgia. Like fanny packs. Convenient for carrying snacks and such, but complete fashion suicide.

I’ve never been one to follow trends, as it’s almost impossible to find things that are in vogue at the thrift store (even with my shopping karma), yet I often find things that are clearly from ages gone by but are once again fabulous. Or maybe I just think they’re fabulous because I’m living in the past.

Like this retro jacket from Givenchy. I’m not sure exactly which collection it’s from, but I have the feeling that it’s from the Alexander McQueen-era, since the tailoring is impeccable and the silhouette is exaggerated. Either way it’s absolutely fabulous, and I can’t wait til the weather cools down so that I have more of an excuse to wear it. Afterall, one must not sweat through couture…

* jacket by Givenchy, skirt by Annie Alexander

Butterflies

image from here

For the first time ever, the beginning of September has no meaning, since I’m not headed back to school. I’ve got the degree that I’ve been working towards since grade 6, and my life should be on its way. At least in theory. In reality, I’m still going to sleep every night and waking up ever morning thinking about all the things that I should be doing before September arrives. Things like making a list of textbooks, printing my course outlines, scoping out classrooms, planning a first day first class outfit, and buying blank notebooks and pens (Bic medium stic round) to fill them with.

But I don’t have to actually do any of that, even though the butterflies in my stomach beg to differ.

My theory is that brians react to muscle memory the same way that the rest of the body does. By repeating actions your body will react in a predictable way, and grow accustomed to said action. So 19 years of spending every August with mixed emotions of excitement and anxiety becomes a hard habit to break, and Schrodinger’s butterflies start their antics again.  

Of course, my life will change again in September – either with a return to my dustbowl of a hometown or a journey to somewhere new for a job – and slowly but surely my excitement is changing from school-anticipation to unknown-anticipation. I may seem to protest change on the outside, but inside my butterflies are thrilled. They know that change brings planning, and researching, and novelties, all things which give me an adrenaline rush to start my neurotic-planner brain going.

So while I may be sad that I don’t get to do any of my typical back to school activities I am comforted by the fact that I get to plan a whole new adventure: one where there are two paths, but both journies are totally unknown. And that’s just what living life means.