Insides

Let me tell you a story. A story of long ago, and a tale as old as time. A story of girl meets boy. 

Just kidding - though there is a girl and there is a boy, and surely do they meet. 

So. Once upon a time a girl met a boy. A boy who her best friend said was waaaaay too much of a punk for her (sorry for the Avril Lavigne reference, but it’s true high school trope). So the girl told her best friend that she would become a punk rock girl, so that the boy would notice her. 

If you haven't figured it out already, the girl in the story was me, circa age 15. Now, me at age 15 was kind of a loner and definitely a weird kid, and as with most high school kids I generally tried to fit in. The trend in my high school was very influenced by the early 2000s emergence of gangster rap, led in large part by Eminem, Swollen Members, and pot, and I will absolutely admit to liking Swollen Members and buying their album (they had some catchy beats, so sue me), but besides hearing it on the radio I never bought into this white-kid adoption of black culture. On the surface I mostly conformed to the remnants of 90s pop culture - it may not have been popular with the "cool kids," but it was socially acceptable within my small group of friends. Little did they know that the alternative lifestyle was already deeply embedded into my soul. 

I'll never forget seeing the music video for Green Day's “Basket Case” for the first time; I laughed so hard I cried at their shenanigans, and promptly went in search of their music at our local library. I couldn't have been more than 11 or 12 at the time, so I can't believe that my parents let me come home with (and subsequently make a bootleg copy of) Nimrod, what with songs like “Hitchin’ a Ride” and lyrics like “Nice guys finish last… your sympathy will get you left behind”… I subsequently spent the next few years covertly watching Much Music's Friday punk show, searching out obscure metal albums like Closet Monster on trips to Vancouver’s Virgin Records store, and being immediately obsessed with Yellowcard's breakout single “Ocean Avenue” when it hit the Internet radio airwaves. 

So it really wasn’t much of an intellectual leap for me to want to translate what I had been listening to and feeling inside to my external appearance. The cute punk rock guy in my class was just a handy excuse that my boy-obsessed best friend could get behind (she of the ever-changing personality  to suit the needs of whatever current boy she was crushing on). So a plan was hatched, band shirts & a pink plaid skirt were bought, and I debuted the new look at the first school dance of the year. 

The whole stunt was totally lame in retrospect (except for the shock factor, since that never ceases to amuse), since I didn’t get the guy, but the change in out style was more symbolic for the shy high school girl I was. From that point on I felt like I had more of a voice, a voice which could be one of dissent within a very controlled social situation and one which gave me my own individuality outside of the herd mentality that dominates any group of friends when we’re young. 

My dressing like a rebel phase lasted for the majority of high school, and since then it’s come and gone depending on my mood. The look is one of my favourites, but I’m not really the kind of person who can be defined by a single “style” (which is awesome for expanding my wardrobe exponentially, but terrible when it comes to choosing how to dress) - which over time has led a lot of people questioning exactly who I am. The smart ones figure out that I’m not definable, but the rest of the population that only perceives a narrow part of my personality throws out the accusation “fake” faster than you can say “punk’s not dead.” 

Which of course, brings me to the thesis of this entire expose: it’s not how you look, how you sound, or a single instance in your life that defines you. Like the punk movement itself, we are each a swirling vortex of contradictions that seeks to find freedom among the banal and incredible experiences that are life. We are the riptide and the tidepools, eyes lined in sooty black with a welcoming grin on our lips, being swayed by people that surround us as we stand still as a stone and alone in the crowd. We can be defined for a second, but then we change to suit ourselves in the next moment and become a new being entirely. Through rebellion we find the freedom and understanding to make our own way in this world.

So to all the haters (and that’s what you’ve always been) - bring it on. I know who I am, and while I may not wear the uniform of your suicide girls during my 9 to 5, I’m still a punk rock girl deep in my soul. And a million other selves as well. 

*image from Tumblr

How to have an Alter-Ego and not Lose your Mind

In high school my best friend Liz and I were a little strange. We were the kids who didn’t really talk to anyone, we were the kids who wore strange outfits (plaid wedges for me, yellow rain jacket for her), we were the kids who nicknamed our group after a dad show (the Possum Posse from the Red Green Show). We were also the kids the wildest imaginations, and who were always busy creating a magic land of make-believe. Sure, most of the kids in our school thought we were nuts (and in retrospect we probably were a bit too much to handle), but we were happy living with dual personalities because it gave us a means of escaping the banalities of petty high school drama and gave us something interesting to do on our lunch hours.

Creating a persona who was the opposite of who we were in reality was a means for us to explore different lifestyles. By creating stories about our characters we could experience adventure, magic, strange creatures, faraway lands, and most of all, love. Our characters were the brave, strong, independent women (who always got the guy) that we both hoped to become someday. Both of us were pretty shy when it came to being social in high school, but seeing our alter-egos do things we were never able to in real life laid the groundwork for becoming the slightly more outgoing people we are today. Neither of us is the most popular girl in school now of course, but Liz has managed to swing herself a pretty awesome boyfriend, and moving across the country didn’t really phase me, so we must be getting somewhere.

The key to having an alter-ego is to know when to turn it off. They may be an inspiration, and they can push us to do things we wouldn’t normally do, but they are essentially a secret part of our lives. Doing things that are crazy all the time can get you into trouble if you indulge too often, but if applied with a careful touch can add a sense of mystery to your personality and lead to some fun adventures. My rule of thumb is always: be crazy and uninhibited with your friends, but not your boss. If it could have repercussions in the wider range of your life think twice, and keep those leather thigh-high boots in the closet. Putting on an alter-ego is much like putting on that crazy outfit that’s hidden in the back of your closet. We all have one, whether it’s that ball gown we picked up at a thrift store “just because,” that pair of ridiculously neon pumps that make any outfit a party, or that fashion forward trench coat that we’re not quite mature enough to wear. Putting on that crazy piece of clothing changes how we see ourselves, and changes how we interact with the world in much the same way that adopting an entire alter-ego can. It can be a fun experience, or we can be left feeling slightly ridiculous.

But what’s the fun in always playing it safe? Go ahead and do something  you wouldn’t this week, and blame it on your “other self.” You never know who you’ll meet, and it might just be me, out doing the exact same crazy thing!

If the Tiara Fits

Since it’s grad season (the Canadian version of prom), as well as Disney Princess theme week, what better fashion trend to feature than pretty party dresses fit for princesses?

It’s been five years since I graduated high school (oh GOD I’m old…), and five years since I got all dolled up for the spectacle that is the “Grand March” and our grad dinner and dance. Oddly enough, the dress that I chose to wear for grad is one that I still love today, and that I do wear on occasion. It’s a pretty simple dress: A-line skirt, strapless, and just a little bit of crinoline under the skirt. What makes it so special is the colour. Emerald green is not a normal colour for a prom dress, and this dress isn’t actually a prom dress. I actually bought it over a year before my grad during a clearout sale of Christmas party dresses. But I was determined to get a jewel-tone dress, not a green that’s lime, celery, or heather coloured!

Aina’s grad dress would have been perfect for this photoshoot, but she isn’t feeling the love towards it. In fact, the outfit that she chose to wear instead is almost exactly opposite what she wore for grad. The original was cream, the new one is black; the original was highly detailed (full body ruching), the new is a simple sheath; the original didn’t need much jewelry, the new is all about the bling. But I have to say I rather like the focus on jewelry, since it’s an easy way to be super fancy without spending a fortune on a dress.

I’m not even going to mention what Liz’s original grad dress looked like, and I’m definitely not showing you any photos. Suffice to say that Liz does not approve of it anymore, and I agree. Plus she would probably have my head if I posted any pictures of it. Instead you all get to see the dress that I cajoled her into buying a few years back, just for fun. Not only is the gorgeous amethyst colour better suited to Liz’s skin tone, but the flounces are super cute without being overwhelmingly girly. Don’t forget that historically purple was the colour of royalty!

BTW sorry that this post is so late! It's been a super crazy busy week at work, and I just haven't been in the mood to deal with photoediting and putting stuff together. I could have done it this morning I guess, but I wanted to go shopping :p But it's up now, and it's fabulous, so forgive me <3