stowaway

kickhatrun

Escape is a part of my psyche. I need it. I crave it. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, it always lingers, either hopeful or sinister.

It’s time for the magician’s final act. Swarthy, with a painted moustache, he rolls out his clunky contraption. Behind one mirrored door, his assistant awaits.

He has many rings on his fingers, they sparkle, diversion worthy. His bedazzled sausages waggle amidst unintelligible words. She’s gone, escaped onto her next adventure.

“Drat!” he thought.  “Now I must buy another.”

credits: untitled hat, asos pleated blouse, 7 for all mankind shorts, rachel comey penpal boots

filthy beach

filthy beach

MM and I went to Matador Beach a few weeks ago.  We got an early start and it was a beautiful day.  We laid out our blanket and shifted some of the seaweed away that had washed ashore. Tossed in with the seaweed, was some non-descript plastic, most notably a tampon applicator.

My head is crowded with so many thoughts — fanciful, depressing, idyllic, hopeful, honest, stupid, thoughts. They attack my peace relentlessly like a twitter feed, skipping from one topic to the next. There are only a few places I can go to turn off this incessant fodder . . . and one of my favorite places to go is the beach. Once I close my eyes and focus on the rhythm of the waves, my mind, if only for a moment, is still. I don’t think about ANYTHING.

So that day at Matador, I settled onto the blanket letting my weight sink into the sand. I closed my eyes. I listened as the waves started to pick up momentum. The noisy thoughts quieted and there was blankness. Until, something began to materialize. It was an unrecognizable shape, but as it came closer it was unmistakable. It was a tampon expertly coasting the waves on a surfboard. “Fuck youuuu!,” she cried.

credits: juicy couture bikini top, seafolly goddess eva skirted bottom, wildfox couture inside out cassidy tank, kenzo aviators

Electric Danse

electric danse

electric danse

electric danse

electric danse

Many things can inspire you .  A person, a city, a photograph . . . maybe even a microwave.

It simply began because my microwave broke down.  There it sat, in front of my doorway, a metal box eyesore.  Until it sparked an idea, which led to some creating, which resulted in this post.

Amazing, if you stop and think about it.

If you open your eyes, who knows what you’ll see.

And if you stop watching Korean dramas all day, who knows what you’ll create.

credits: asos boudoir set, kiss me deadly garters, untitled thigh-highs, premiata pumps, samsung microwave

 

PAANIE

paanie

New blog, new girl.  Come sit and visit!

paanie.com

SARCOPHAGUS

Jumpsuits, or roomy unitards as I like to call them, can be full on utilitarian, sometimes tailored and often sexy.  Either way, I haven’t felt like wearing one since early last year.  Causes?  Maybe because it’s down trending.  Maybe it’s because we’ve designed a ton of them at my job.  I can’t really pinpoint the reason enough to say.  But when I went to the Diesel outlet Black Friday weekend, I forgot about everything.  30% off of 50% of what?  Jock strap looking thing?  Sure, I’ll take 12!  I was like a starved pig at a corn hash county fair.

So I bought this Diesel flightsuit, wore it once and hated it.  When I threw it in my “for sale” pile, (less passionately impulsive) Moustache Man came to it’s rescue.  “Let’s do a post and see how you feel.”  And here it is, looking pretty darn cool.

I haven’t decided whether or not to keep it, but I’m certain when my inner mechanic re-surfaces, I’ll wish I had it.  I guess that should be reason enough to stash it away for a rainy day.

credits: diesel utility jumpsuit, banana republic beanie, y-3 wedges