buffalo band-aid

Loving this video. Maybe its not too late to pursue a career in belly dancing, snake charming and caravan-gypsy living?

travels to the ukraine

Yelena Yemchuk   is the kind of photographer I love: soulful, diverse and every image jarring because of the sheer disparity, honesty or effervescence. 

good good gone

The Flour Shoppe: spreading the love in the Glebe.
A new cupcakery just opened and as their website states, they promise to make the Glebe a little sweeter. Let me tell you, this sweet shop keeps its promises!
As I was making my way past the store front a few days ago, I just popped my head in to see what this place was all about. I had good intentions of not indulging,  but when the generous and super nice cashier offered to let me take a box of cupcakes home for free because it was around closing time and she didn’t want to see any of the perfect little cakes just be disposed of….how was I supposed to say no?!

I probably don’t even have to say it, but I will, those little cakes are simply the bomb (especially the macaroon cupcake), as is The Flour Shoppe. I’ll definitely be going back for future sugar fixes!

As for the rest of the weekend….working, wilting in the sun, drag shows at the Lookout, a hopeful family reunion and maybe a bit of dancing!

skirt:Diesel   tank:F21   boots:aldo   bag:vintage   armband:giraffe   bracelets:vintage and j. lindeburg


planet lips

Finally got to see the Flaming Lips live this past Saturday. I have deperately wanted to see this band preform for the past 6 years and then once I watchd their documentary, Fearless Freaks that came out in 2005, my desire to see them increased exponentially.

I think their music is perfectly suited to be the soundtrack for a futuristic space movie, a romance of course, set during a time of political unrest on the planet zladamiro. I dunno…what do you think?

The concert was incredibly dreamy and they put on a lovely, messy, unique show. Looking forward to more Bluesfest over the next week!

..Tshirt and suede bag:zara   shorts:calvin klein   belt:diesel   boots:gifted   armband:giraffe

stranga danga

I’ve made a pomise not to fall for strangers. However, it is harder than it seems.

Sometimes I sit and stare out cafe windows, looking intently at handsome strangers with their boyfriends by their side spinning the combination locks on their bicycles or linen-clad gentlemen, in cream colored panama hats turning the postcard rack at souviner shops, looking for just the right city image to send home. 

I love to think about these people. Strangers. People, who I have never met nor seen prior, but am instantly attacted to from a far and for no reason other than from where I am sitting they look interestingly beautiful and mysterious.
Strangers are called just that for a reason, they are strange because I don’t know them and they don’t know me. They are strangers and I am apparently a creeper.

The musings I do in my mind when I see someone I don’t know, but who is attractive to me from a block distance and a window pane away are quite possibly the most romantic and half-baked daydeams I could possibly have. I like to map out their fictitious comings and their goings and what they had for lunch. I like to think about what our babies would look like and how messy the divorce would be.
When strangers manifest themselves into odd, poetic and thought-provoking stories, but can also assume such immediate significance, I begin to doubt their authenticity in this world. Either, I chose to remain doubtful, not approach them and continue the dream or pop the bubble with a “hello”.

Like most, I have dreamt about strangers I have casually met. They appear out of nowwhere and within my subconcious I feel like I know them. 

The gent I met last week who showed me his tattoo of Trent Reznor outside a book store, then went on to tell me that if my heart hurt and if I miss my lover, not to fret: just live in my head and he’ll always be there. This man made it into a dream or at least his sense of wisdom did; I don’t remember his role. He was probably chewing gum or something inconsequential. Ha! Irony. Because in real life, he affected my day and every day henceforth.

I once gained a boyfriend because of a dream. He was in my sleepy mind on Wednesday and in front of my waking body Friday. I had never spoken to him before, but one day he just appeared and I said, “we ought to get to know each other”. And so we did. Our relationship took on a form that was smokey and fluid and had a life of its own. 

We had very little in common while awake, but under the darkness of the sheets and from a strangers’ distance we were mysterious to one another and exotic and in love. The relationship was like sexy voyeurism, where you know that someone is watching you, but you are fine with it; the kind of thrill that makes your palms sweat and the saliva in your mouth thicken.
The beginning was enough in itself to stand certain tests of time.

So, I don’t really have a good way to wrap this post up. I don’t even know if I am trying to make a point here…….. maybe don’t be afraid to talk to strangers? Or maybe you should. Try falling in love with stranger from a far, who knows where it could take you. The excitement will be stronger than the hesitation. 

All photos by Silvio Tanaka

sweet as pie

skirt:value village   shirt:preloved   shoes:nine west   bracelet:vintage

just beachy

All you Ottawa readers don't need to hear another word about how hot it has been lately. So, to avoid whining about all the sizzling and sweating I have been doing in the city, I’d rather fantasize about me + saint tropaz + anything from the list below. 
Ah! Blissful thinking.
castaner darling espadrille
J. Crew sateen backpack
Otto necklace
Alexander Wang t-shirt
salt swimwear shorts

not your free ride

 tank:club monaco   skirt:zara   hat and beads:june’s vintage on somerset  shoes:stuart weitzman

another day in the sun and just because its summertime doesn’t mean its i’ll -give-you-everything-time



breath taking soul shaking

tank:kimchi and blue   skirt:club monaco   belt:vintage   shoes:nine west

I’ve discovered the only way that actually relieves a person from a hectic work week is by dancing to doo-wop. I swear by it! Tumbling and swinging and stomping thickly; making it your final purpose to shake off a week’s worth of stress in one blissful night of sweaty, rustled moving!
Last night, I tried to catch a bit of the Sharon jones and the Dap Kings concert at Cenfederation Park. I had my swing skirt on and dancing shoes set to “GO”, plus seven days worth fire of in my belly I was looking forward to stomping out, but, due my tardy ways and meandering inclinations, I only caught a few of the songs from afar.

Oh well. Hopefully they will swing back round these parts again soon! 

And now some fun stuff to look at: