Yet the tendinitis in my wrist is thinking i should say it not type it....so, until the busy bee who is me can find some time to get to physio or at least take a break from the sewing machine, you will have to wait. Until then, here are some Coles-notes updates on my life:
- forget the ones that were in my home, my balcony is now host to two baby pigeons. The not-so-newly hatched are about ready to take wings and fly...as soon as they do we're balcing* the nest
- Candy Pants are almost ready to hit the market. Coming June 6th, 2009 these eco-friendly, bamboo undies can be seen at various fests, online, and at the Shopgirls boutique on Queen Street West. Don't forget, their made in Canada so buy a pair and support our dwindling manufacturing sector. (candypants.ca is coming soon)
Love Forever,
Jamie
*balcing (balck-ing): adverb; to balc
balc (balck): verb; the act of throwing or launching an object off of ones balcony
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
At 8am on the first Tuesday of my university career, I swore i would never do it.
The oath had something to do with the pretentious man who was my illustration professor scoffing at the fact that I had never been. Shiny eyed and straight from Alberta I didn't know the first thing about the industry. If you asked me to make a list of designers I wouldn't be able to fill half a page. He told me if I wanted to make it in fashion i needed to know what was going on. My assignment; go to Holt Renfrew. I was furious. And idealistic. I refused to succumb to the pull of overpriced fashion. I did not believe that a department store filled with two hundred dollar t-shirts and two thousand dollar bags was anything but part of the problem in our consumer driven world....I wanted to prove that i could be successful without playing the game.
Over the past three years this turned into a kind of pretension in its own right. When others spoke of Holtz i turned my nose to the air. While in lectures, when the other girls were on their Macbooks browsing lookbook and style.com I was...well....napping. But one can only overt their gaze for so long. This year i began to crack; I too have a folder in my bookmarks dedicated fashion sites, blogs, and forums. exchanging my Addbusters for Vogue I began to attend fashion shows and other events. To my surprise I actually know people in the crowd, with the press, and sometimes on the runway....
Two weeks ago I finally did it. The last step before casting the sheet from my eyes and entering the world of higher fashion. I went to Holt Renfrew. It was amazing. I never knew shopping could be such a beautiful thing. Not that I shopped. Who can afford to? But I fantasized. Fantasised over four hundred dollar lingerie and four thousand dollar Gucci blazers. Fantasised about the day when I would have my own corner on the fourth floor. My name stenciled on the walls in fuchsia. The freedom to use quality fabric, intricate design details, and the fan base to purchase my wares. As I took the escalator up I felt my social stature rise with it....well until i left empty handed and headed for the Goodwill down the street.
...so what does this mean? Does it mean iv left my angst ridden years behind? Do I leave my green hair, doc martens, and bullet belt at the door? I don't think so....well I hope not. Right now their holding on by a thread. I'm trying to find a place where the two converge. I still refuse to play the game, I will not bite the lure of fast fashion and trash consumer culture. But I also except the high price tag of designer clothing. It's worth it. How do we convince society to spend three hundred dollars on one dress that they'll have forever instead of thirty dollars on one that will be out of style in a month? And where do i fit into all of this?
Love forever,
Jamie
Over the past three years this turned into a kind of pretension in its own right. When others spoke of Holtz i turned my nose to the air. While in lectures, when the other girls were on their Macbooks browsing lookbook and style.com I was...well....napping. But one can only overt their gaze for so long. This year i began to crack; I too have a folder in my bookmarks dedicated fashion sites, blogs, and forums. exchanging my Addbusters for Vogue I began to attend fashion shows and other events. To my surprise I actually know people in the crowd, with the press, and sometimes on the runway....
Two weeks ago I finally did it. The last step before casting the sheet from my eyes and entering the world of higher fashion. I went to Holt Renfrew. It was amazing. I never knew shopping could be such a beautiful thing. Not that I shopped. Who can afford to? But I fantasized. Fantasised over four hundred dollar lingerie and four thousand dollar Gucci blazers. Fantasised about the day when I would have my own corner on the fourth floor. My name stenciled on the walls in fuchsia. The freedom to use quality fabric, intricate design details, and the fan base to purchase my wares. As I took the escalator up I felt my social stature rise with it....well until i left empty handed and headed for the Goodwill down the street.
...so what does this mean? Does it mean iv left my angst ridden years behind? Do I leave my green hair, doc martens, and bullet belt at the door? I don't think so....well I hope not. Right now their holding on by a thread. I'm trying to find a place where the two converge. I still refuse to play the game, I will not bite the lure of fast fashion and trash consumer culture. But I also except the high price tag of designer clothing. It's worth it. How do we convince society to spend three hundred dollars on one dress that they'll have forever instead of thirty dollars on one that will be out of style in a month? And where do i fit into all of this?
Love forever,
Jamie
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
My screen door is broken.
It doesn't open from the outside. To get in from the balcony you need to pry the screen off the corner and stick your hand through to unlatch it. We used to spend the two minutes it takes to fix until winter came and brought with it the impending laziness.......
There i was, sitting in my room working on my computer when i saw it; A pigeon. Perched on Ophelia's tank. Looking right at me.
"Coo?"
"AAAHH!!!!!" I screamed and slammed my bedroom door in panic. (If your wondering why then you've never seen a St.Jamestown pigeon*)
After collecting my wits i convinced myself it would probably leave on its own as long as it didnt venture into a different room. I tiptoed out to close the doors to the bathroom and Irinas bedroom.
"Coo?" said the pigeon as he walked accross the floor
"Coo" said his friend perched on the doorframe
"TWO PIGEONS?! AAAAH!!!" as i locked myself in my bedroom once again. One pigeon i can deal with. But Two? thats way to much for me to take. I sat there hyperventilating. Hoping he would take pity and come down to help I called my neighbor. The poor guy was recovering from a late night and i'm sure my shreiking was not his idea of a good morning. He talked me down, gave me some pointers, and went back to nursing his hangover. I was on my own.
Every move i made caused the pigeons to take to the air. The flapping wings and flying feathers caused me to shreik and run into my room again and again. Needless to say it was a long process. As they hid in the kitchen i moved all my furniture creating a path to the now open door. I went through the kitchen the other way waving a blanket at the pair. Tentatively they walked side by side to freedom.....leaving nothing but a pile of poo behind them.
Now im bleaching EVERYTHING
Love Forever,
Jamie
*St.Jamestown - most densely populated area in Canada.
- 17,000 people in 19 buildings.
- 1:20 person to pigeon ratio
.....and by pigeon i mean overfed rat bird.
There i was, sitting in my room working on my computer when i saw it; A pigeon. Perched on Ophelia's tank. Looking right at me.
"Coo?"
"AAAHH!!!!!" I screamed and slammed my bedroom door in panic. (If your wondering why then you've never seen a St.Jamestown pigeon*)
After collecting my wits i convinced myself it would probably leave on its own as long as it didnt venture into a different room. I tiptoed out to close the doors to the bathroom and Irinas bedroom.
"Coo?" said the pigeon as he walked accross the floor
"Coo" said his friend perched on the doorframe
"TWO PIGEONS?! AAAAH!!!" as i locked myself in my bedroom once again. One pigeon i can deal with. But Two? thats way to much for me to take. I sat there hyperventilating. Hoping he would take pity and come down to help I called my neighbor. The poor guy was recovering from a late night and i'm sure my shreiking was not his idea of a good morning. He talked me down, gave me some pointers, and went back to nursing his hangover. I was on my own.
Every move i made caused the pigeons to take to the air. The flapping wings and flying feathers caused me to shreik and run into my room again and again. Needless to say it was a long process. As they hid in the kitchen i moved all my furniture creating a path to the now open door. I went through the kitchen the other way waving a blanket at the pair. Tentatively they walked side by side to freedom.....leaving nothing but a pile of poo behind them.
Now im bleaching EVERYTHING
Love Forever,
Jamie
*St.Jamestown - most densely populated area in Canada.
- 17,000 people in 19 buildings.
- 1:20 person to pigeon ratio
.....and by pigeon i mean overfed rat bird.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
