Back in 5 (Days)

Hey All: It's time for me to take a little vacation en famille. Actually, it's long overdue but we modern working folks do what we can.

I'm going to hang in the beauty of nature which means a) there ain't no internet and b) I'll be wearing precisely one outfit for a week.

Even though I won't be posting, I'll be thinking up some great things to tell you on my return.

Don't forget about me! I'll be back next Sunday...

PS I haven't forgotten about being tagged. I'll post on these when I return.

Next Up

My dear friend Sandra is one of those intently capricious people who shifts direction, in matters large and small, with nary a second guess. (You know the type: Here today, Middle East tomorrow...) Boredom loiters like a gnat on a peach and she knows just how to squash that sucker.

Me, not so much. I tend to kick at things again and again, long after I might have been better off moving on. Except when it comes to the beauty regime. On this topic, I have learned from the mistress, and - let me tell you - if you're a potion you have about 10 minutes to make me gorgeous before I'm done. Transform me - or I will cut you. Cuz I don't have time for this shit. :-)

Do you sense a rant about cellulite cream on the horizon?

The freakin' bottle is supposed to last 2 weeks and I've been following the directions but, at this rate, it's never going to finish and I'm so tired of slathering on (admittedly nice smelling) sticky goop day after day. Not to put to fine a point on it but, given the texture of this stuff, I'm starting to understand why the container looks so phallic...

Note to reader: As yet, I do not appear to have the backside of Laetitia Casta.

Ok, so I'm not going to stop this minute. I do have that bikini to consider and a vacation that begins tomorrow in the great north strong and free. And, theoretically, it's going to turn into summer and I'm going to be frolicking in next-to-nothing for a week, so this stuff has a brief reprieve. But, if you put me in a focus group right now, I'd be the irritating naysayer. So hold on to your wallets kids. (I've got this new face cream I want you all to try...)

Free Association

It's impossible for me to think of the ever-stylish Montreal without thinking of its most stylin' ambassador, Mr. Cohen. I mean, the guy is not young yet he manages to project a forceful, craggy, downtrodden vitality I am so down with.

Check out the silhouette:


Or, perhaps, stare into the eyes of a poet:


One of my many unrealized fantasies involves a fantastic dinner chez Cohen - a surfeit of red wine, super tunes, warm breeze floating over a cantilevered balcony (verdantly secluded). I'd love to know what it was like for him, growing up in Montreal in the 40s and 50s, about his time in NY, the impetus for his greatest work. Of course there would be awesome sex. (I know he's old but he's virile!) This is not one of those PG fantasies. How else could one truly know this man?

Don't worry. My husband and I have an arrangement. Should the opportunity arise, I get to get it on with Leonard Cohen. And, if the stars align, he can do (the far more vapid, if perkier) Kate Beckinsale. I say, good luck to us both :-) He concurs.

PS: The Thoughtful Dresser did an eerily similar post a couple of days ago. Mine was preposted so I wonder if we could have written about this (reasonably unusual) fashion blog subject at the same time. Wouldn't that be weird?

And You Thought My Pallor Was An Accident...

Sweater: Urban Planet ($12.50), Dress: Vintage Snakeskin Denim ($20.00), Hat: Lilliput ($70.00), Shoes: Those ubiquitous 9Wests I wear in every post!

Just wait till I post that tome on sunblock and the modern gal... (Seriously, it's coming.)

In Case You Thought I Was Exaggerating...

As I was uploading these pics, it occurred to me that SKM would approve. Remember when she styled me in this ensemble:

Um, hello, does this not prove I was listening??!

BTW: This little dress is on sale for $1500.00 right now. It's regular disposable clothing!

Sometimes I Wonder About Me

On Sunday, just prior to the antihistimine high/low, we all went out for a midday stroll on College Street. For those of you unfamiliar with said thoroughfare, it's a trendy strip full of clubs, churrasquerias, fantastic ice cream (Dolce, anyone?), grocery stores (large and small) and boutiques.

One of these, Article 8, is entirely too youthful for the likes of me. (Let's call it as it is, shall we?) The place started out as a T-shirt textile printer and eventually morphed into a clothing store which sells dresses the size of Ts. Despite this, somehow I managed to walk out with a dress that doubles as a shirt (no joke). It's blouson with a tight, skirt-thick hem. And it's acid yellow. With a picture of a lady stencilled on in black. And some silver thrown in for good measure.

You know I'm going to have to take a photo of this, because it sounds too horrible to look at, much less buy. I promise, it's novel (if nothing else). And it's the kind of thing I can wear in the hottest weather because it's practically nonexistent. And ray repellant! With my red gladiator sandals I think I can just about pretend I'm 23 and bartending in the East Village...

Not My Kind Of Trip...

I've been having horrendous summer allergies for the last couple of weeks - the kind that make you want to gouge your eyes out with a screwdriver. I haven't been able to hear properly from the plugged ears. I haven't been able to taste well (the horror). My skin is unhappy. Sleeping has been a challenge.

So, yesterday, I broke down and took an antihistamine. Big deal, you say. Well, it was a big deal because they really don't seem to agree with me and I ended up, seriously, having an hallucinogenic stone in my bed for the majority of the afternoon.

Now, I realize, for some of you that might be just the ticket on a cloudy Sunday afternoon. But I hate hallucinating! I mean, I'm the kind of girl who likes to actually feel she's inhabiting her body. Like, all the time.

Part of the impetus for taking the antihistamine was to regain enough skin normalcy to try out some fantastic SKII prods that the incomparable Enc both wrote about and mailed samples of to me earlier this week. In a fancy package. Including classy lady monogrammed stationery. And a dark chocolate square. If this is blog etiquette I say, bring it on!

When you read Enc's post, you'll note that there's a whole special way of using the line but, if you follow the rules (and spend a good portion of your disposable income hereon in), you will be a veritable Dorian Gray (minus the scary moralizing)! I'm so on board. But I have to get over the allergy moment first, or I run the risk of conflating an allergic hayfever reaction with a beauty product one. Which would entirely defeat the purpose. Please stay , though, for details of my experience coming up in the future.

And while we're on the topic of experimental beauty, here's an update on my ass :-) Let's just say I wouldn't go into debt buying this product on the basis of its results to date. Admittedly, I'm supposed to use up the whole bottle and that takes at least 2 weeks and blahdeblahdeblah. So I'm reserving judgement. But the best thing I can say about it at this point is that it makes everything slightly firmer. Break out the quarters!

Drunk in the Sun - I mean "on the Sun"

Here are a few pics of a fine afternoon...

Why I couldn't have taken these photos in the landscaped part of the garden is beyond me... Tipsy stupors are so lacking in foresight.

I like to call this little composition "K Contemplates Walking in a Straight Line":

(Pls. note that the outfit is boxier looking in the photos than it was in real life.)

You know how unpredictable flagstone is...

Cropped Sweater - Urban Planet (Have you ever even heard of this place? The thing cost 12.50!), Skirt - AA, Bodysuit - H&M, Sandals - 9West

So happy the sun was shining!

Random Stuff

So, this morning, I'm checking out my (ever tauter) derriere in my teeny new two-piece - it's research, ok? - and my kid says to me (in reference to this pic she quietly observed when I was blogging the other day): "You know, no offence, but you do look quite a bit, um, better with a tan." Sad, but true, that this is undoubtedly the only time I will ever be confused with Halle Berry in my entire life.

How, you might ask, as an insanely overscheduled, modern working parent, do I have time to scrutinize the fat ripples on my buttocks on a Friday at 8:00 am? It's called taking a vacation day, something I decided to do to celebrate my husband's birthday. We have both been beyond busy and somewhat stressed by jobs and life lately, so we intend to spend this partly sunny, 19 degree summer day lunching and boozing and shopping and having sex (egads!). And then, this evening, our lovely friends S and N are taking us out for dinner in celebration of our combined June birthdays. It's a day of debauchery. I LOVE debauchery!

And just to leave you in suspense, soon to come is a fun post which includes more potions, lovely blogger experiences, everyone's favourite observer Enc and chocolate. More to come peeps. Enjoy the day...

On Talismanic Clothing...

I've been rather irritated by the incessant, affected cynicsm on Jezebel lately, but I have to say I was quite drawn in by this great piece.

What piece of clothing has stood the test of time with you?

It's all About the Attitude (I Hope...)

I went out at lunch to find my daughter some waterproof sandals, as we will be going on a little up-north family resort vacay in 10 days and I'm trying to tie up all the loose ends. How this morphed into "K buys a tiny bikini" is beyond me - cuz if you know me, you know I've never worn a bikini in all my 38 years. Unless you count a tankini - the respectable mom version - which (you probably know) is like a one piece that's easily disassembled when you have to pee. And once you have a baby that may be something you need to take into consideration :-)

Admittedly, the new suit is a feat of infrastructure. Somehow, it manages to be almost non-existent and still supportive of the boobs. And it's orange. Like, burnt orange. (Did I mention it reveals, like, my entire stomach? Did I mention I'm 38 and I have a kid? Did I mention I'm experimenting with anti-cellulite goo?) The top is underwire (naturally) but not so that you'd notice. Nor is it one of those underwire tops that has a band underneath it obscuring the underwire. This is counterintuitive, I realize. The triangle fabric is ample (naturally). And the bottoms are somewhat like the ones Halle Berry wore in that Bond film (the homage to Ursula Andress) (see above). Really, the whole thing is a rip off of the swimsuit Ms. Berry wore.

Somehow, I think it looks great on me. Of course, I could be deranged. But I'm willing to take the chance as my primary audience will be children under the age of 10 and their harried, mid-forties parents who have averaged 3 kids each. I figure, between their fatigue and my relative youth, I'm not likely to be the worst looking one of the bunch. I am slightly concerned about the mass of my pallor refracting northern sunlight into laser beams that seek out small, fast moving objects. Cuz I don't need that karma, you know?

Strange, Shaping a Womens' Cellulite Cream Like a Penis...

If you look in my wallet - in that messy sleeve where I store all my paper bits - you will see 2 primary categories of receipt. They are: Shopper's Drug Mart* and miscellaneous health food store. And let me tell you the ones for SDM are winning. Canadian readers will know about this mecca for everything from prescriptions to snack food to beauty produits galore. Some Shoppers are upscale, some more oriented to the neighbourhood crowd. I happen to know every one of them within a 5 mile radius and boy do they see me coming...

Last week I went in for some sunblock and, $150 later walked out with 3 types of ($$$) sunblock, a magazine, vitamins, toning product for the face and "special gifts with purchase". For my effort, Kathleen, my fave beauty specialist, offered me either a beach tote or cellulite product but almost immediately changed her mind decreeing that I, being who I am (that's code for: easy touch), should have tote and cellulite diminisher both. Have I mentioned how much I love a good potion?

So, it occured to me that I should make use of this freebie moment to experiment on myself in aid of discovering whether this cellulite removing product (Elancyl) is worthy of your consideration. I should disclose that cellulite is not my big problem. I should also disclose that I don't really think it's anyone's big problem, and I hope they concur. Which isn't to say that figuring out how to get a backside like Jessica Alba sans surgery or effort isn't a worthy undertaking if it doesn't come at too much expense or aggravation. My cellulite is localized, unobtrusively IMO, at the base of my bum where it meets the top part of my leg.

At first, I thought I might take a picture, daily, to chronicle the effectiveness of the product. (Not for your consumption, gentle reader, simply for my own...) Then it came to me: do I really have such ego that I can manage daily scrutinizing of the lumps and bumps shot, by the husband, using the SDL?? I mean, maybe I'm not traumatized because I never pay any attention. So I scrapped that idea and have decided, like the majority of bum-smoothing potion users, to crane my neck a the mirror in the hopes of observing miraculous results.

Here's what I can tell you so far (Day 1): It's a lovely, cool, gel-like texture and it smells a bit like a forest. Not chemical, as I understand these lotions sometimes smell. Very pleasant. Its primary ingredient, like in all of these cellulite products, is caffeine. But it didn't manage to alleviate the need for a 4 dollar coffee drunk post-haste. Updates to follow. (I'm sure this thrills!)

If any of you have ever tried this product - or one of its shelf sisters - pls. let me know your thoughts...

(*Please note: SDM ain't no Boots, but it's moving in that direction...)

On the Hunt

Thanks to fashionambition for introducing me to Susannah Hunter's insanely beautiful handiwork. If you happen to have £770 burning a hole in your pocket, pls. go purchase this bag and post about it to make me sick with jealousy...

Susannah Hunter Shopper, handmade leather bag, silver fittings, velvet lining, inside pocket

We Interrupt This Regular Programming...

My blog creativity (hell, my regular brainwaves) has been interrupted by a rather crazy series of events at work. I am optimistic that the worst of it is over, but I'm likely to be a bit slow off the mark for the next couple of days as I recharge my batteries. Will be catching up on the blogs / comments / posts tout de suite so please bear with me! K xo

Bumping Lovelies

You know how, when you meet someone you're destined to um, (how to be demure in case the parents are reading), spend the night with on a whim? You never can say if the chemistry will translate from, for example, dinner table to wherever you decide to take it. But there's that tingling, anticipatory timeframe, when all is possible (mindblowing orgasms, living together in Paris, marriage, children - not that the last item is particularly sexy, in truth)...

Luckily, as I've been monogamous for lo these many years, this encounter has a shopping analogue. And I have experienced it, most recently (and quite profoundly, I'm happy to tell) with B - my great friend. We are so joyful together in shopping, it's ridiculous.

By way of history, we met when our children were very young (my one and her six!) and B was instrumental in guiding me through early parenting with a gentle, mellow perspective no one would accuse me of exhibiting naturally. I am not an earthy nurturer. Motherhood - as I came to it - filled me with a kind of anxiety I wouldn't wish on anyone. Of course, there is a complex story that goes along with this pronouncement, but I will spare you the details.) However, in watching B - as she more-or-less calmly directed children of all ages - I began the slow process of finding my own way. The painfully slow process. Of course, time is a great teacher too.

Which is how I managed to have that sleepover birthday party in April without the assistance of street drugs. Really.

But enough of the serious stuff - here's one more outfit to show off:

(PS - I got this skirt at the vintage shop across the street from Refinery. Uncharacteristically, I cannot remember its name, but I will find out and let y'all know. It's the same late-60s polyester-plus as the plaid one I got a couple of weeks ago at Apt. 909! And, it too, is lined with shorts.)

Y'all Heard?

In March, Zink launched a Canadian version of its US mag, publishing quarterly. The second issue is out now. I realize I'm late to this party but it's one of those substantial, beautiful looking publications that goes so well with cappuccino.

Has anyone read it? Or its American counterpart?

Oh, and do you ever wonder why you drink so much luscious, foamy, 4 dollar coffee in a hideous rush? Something tells me the Italians aren't doing that...

If you happen to be Italian, pls. advise. (Oh, and aren't you lucky?)

When One Small Step is One Giant Leap

When I was 12, I was a gregarious nutcase - strung out from 12 moves (the parents didn't like to settle too long) in a few countries - one of those kids who is outgoing by nature and necessity. But I was tired. And anxious. I went to a private school in TO. It was a rough assimilation but eventually I fit in. It was a place for smart girls who cared about being smart and worked their asses off. Especially me because that was the only way I could stay afloat. Which only made me more tired.

Of course, my parents thought I was a genius! :-) My sister was the willowy, attractive high-achiever in the arts. She had difficulty taking tests, while I loved them. (I still love a good test. I get off on that sparky feeling that only comes from being tested and succeeding. I never know how I'm going to save myself but I seem to find a way, which thrills me and reinforces my awareness of resiliency...) But I was not good with failure.

So afeared was I of fucking up, let's just say it really took a toll. I was a creative child, a creative adolescent. I wanted to write (I know, I've mentioned this before in other posts...); I was afraid to write. Eventually I lost the urge to write. People would ask me why I'd stopped. "You were so talented" (my mother would say). I stopped because I'd never started. Burbling creativity was a touchstone for my (far more insistent) urge to repress.

Per usual, I have no idea how I've managed to natter on so incessantly when this post was not supposed to be about me.

It's supposed to be about a terrific 12-year old blogger I discovered a couple of months ago. Her name is Tavi and her blog is wryly entitled "Style Rookie". This girl is adorable, irrepressible and (from the looks of it) wise beyond her years. She manages to write entirely age-appropriately but with a sassy undertone that belies her age. She takes great photos of herself. Photos that reinforce my belief that style isn't learned. Or, at least, if it is - it's learned very, very young. And she's a veritable marketing machine. Can't tell you how this girl delights me. Such spirit, such exuberance, such confidence!

The amateur forecaster in me suggests you keep your eye on this one, because - take it from someone who's been reading vogue lo these 25 years - the future of fashion rests on the broadening shoulders of girls like her. Let's support them, shall we? Encourage them to strive. Offer up our experience as ballast. In failure and success, they're going to shape the world... Just like we do now. One post at a time.

And Finally... (a.k.a. Age is so Liberating)

Shoe with short skirt:

(OK, I'd be an utter liar if I pretended to post this for any other reason than that it makes my tits look good :-))

As I'm Not Getting Any Younger

I'd better work this look now. Like tonight.

(In skin tight, plastic-y leggings, shadow is your friend...)

Maybe If I Dress Like This...

Someone will take me out for a special birthday dinner...

Dilemma of the Modern Professional

And if I can tear myself from admiring those, soft-as-butter mesmerising chausseurs, maybe I'll actually make it to work for that 9:00 a.m. briefing...

OK, You Know A Shoe Is Good...

When you are compelled to bend down, a la Rumi from Fashion Toast, and pet it:

It's "OMG, I Love these Shoes" Theme Week

Ed. Note: How strange and fitting that I wrote this week of posts about a pair of new YSL shoes that blow my mind. M. St. Laurent: Thanks for your gorgeous canon of work! Rest easy in that Rive Gauche in the sky...

So...

Welcome to K does the same pair of shoes in 83 (or so) gratuitous poses. (But thankfully - or painfully, depending on how much you like this idea - it'll all be spread out over the course of the week.)

First, meet our star, the shoes:

In case you're not looking at the goldy, special inside: they are YSL. Vintage. Taupe suede - including the heel. Which is 3 inches and stacked. But like no other stacked heel I've ever seen. I got them at Apt. 909. They cost $80.00. Yes, I know, a fortune for someone else's antique footwear, but they are scarcely worn and they're YSL, man.

Then meet the shoes on the feet attached to the girl:

Do they not scream, "I'm sorry, I'd love to chat more but the car's out front and I do need to get to the opening before insert name of preferred NY philanthropist socialite here starts serving dinner. My boyfriend (subtext: filthy rich, adventuresome, well-dressed and even more well-endowed) will been so worried about me by now."?

Don't you want to see them paired with everything from shorts to tight skirts to short skirts to latex leggings and lady shifts? Good. It's settled then. Meet me back here tomorrow for the next installment.

Love, Tastefully Shod in Toronto* xo

(*Doesn't that sound kinda dirty?)

Here's Something I've Never Done Before...

A couple of weeks ago I saw these vintage shoes on the Headquarters Galerie + Boutique blog:




They were instantaneously appealing in their kitteny / cutout goodness. So I emailed to learn about their size - imagining they'd be too small. Um, hello, they were an 8.5 (just right on paper!) and they were $20.00. So I called them, bought them over the phone and I'll pick them up in July when I visit Mtl!

Kind of crazy I realize. Like I need another pair of shoes. Like I, a person who's only ever bought bags online (for others, I might add), should buy something as finicky as shoes, all but sight unseen.

Call it research. Having read Susie's post about the fantasticness of Angie's handmade dress (she's co-owner of this Mtl. boutique), I was all the more motivated to give this grand experiment a go. Can't wait to show you what they look like on my feet...