for storytellers and dreamers

I have spent the last week satisfying a huge creative burst I’ve had. I think I’ve painted, cut, bleached, torn, pasted, wrote and burnt more things this week than I have in a LONG time. 

Backstory: I once used to consider myself an artist. I was completely inspird by literature, couture shows, modge podge, conceptual art and quilts.

I didn’t have a focus on one specific medium; I was never trying to perfect a craft, it was more like an experiment with substances and a release for myself than it was my aim to become a career-artist or anything like that. I don’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t collaging, sketching, making clothes and jewelry, lighting things on fire and taking photos of the damage or running a muck in the city slapping elaborate stickers on any surface that would stick.

It was completely innate. And as easy as it came, easily it went.

In the last 2 years I have almost entirely stopped creating any art. My focus seemed to take a drastic shift towards commercialism, perfection and making things beautiful. But I appreciate art for the opposite reasons. I love destruction,  chaos and the void when things are purposely left incomplete. The kind of art I like to surround myself with is that which evokes anger and pity or makes my heart race or my head ache. I get tired and frustrated looking at things that only offer a semblance of beauty.

Luckily for me, my phase of seeking out perfection has seen its last day. And while this creative high lasts, I will be locked in the house and creating destruction until I go blind. 

I am constantly inspired by the brand Rodarte and its designing sisters Kate and Laura Mulleavy. Season after season, they take clothing to a level of artistic creation that is genius. Fabric, metal and paper are transformed into conceptual pieces that look like they belong in fiction. 

Because this couture is for dreamers and storytellers. 

x.

other things that go bump in the night

dress:value village   leather jacket:aunt olive’s   shoes:nine west   belt:club monaco   bag:adrienne vittadini studio 

a history of monsters

“There is no such thing as evil. The concept of evil is a crutch…To perceive something as “evil” is to imagine that object, that person, is not a part of me. He’s something else…”


I just finished reading a book called Das Energi by Paul Williams, which is where I pulled the above quote from. Published in the 70’s, Das Energi is a quick read essentially about hippie spiritualism (disclaimer: definately not a read for everyone. I usually scoff at this sort of peace, love and happiness, new-age self help, but for some reason I started reading this book and it just struck a cord.)
Now this post is not about cosmic humanism or anything that may blow your mind, man, but rather the quote above got me thinking about my lifelong search for monsters and ghosts.


When I was younger, I was determined to write the greatest ghost story of all time; the only thing stopping me was to be scared to death. I told myself, “once, just once I need to interact with a ghost, run from a real monster or fear for my soul, then the story would come pouring out of me”.


I spent the better part of my youth hosting seances in my basement, playing with Ouija boards, watching horror movies that spanned the eras of film and sneaking out late at night to find demonic adventures. But to no avail, I was left untouched and unafraid. 
Frustration swept over me every time I would sit under the cedar tree in my backyard, pen to paper, ready to write. But I had nothing to write about. I tried to imagine myself as the narrators in the real-life ghost stories I read. I would close my eyes and pretend to be running from half man-half animal creatures or how it would feel to be woken from my sleep by closet door mysteriously slamming shut. Yet, still I was left in a state of still feeling safe and safety does not spur tales of fright.


As years went by and I got older, my pursue for monsters faded as certain elements of real life started to become scarier than any ghoul or ghost I could conjure up in my mind. 


I still love to try to scare myself. I may have forgone the Ouiji boards and the spells but I still like to run around forests at night, watch every horror movie I can and imagine the reason my apartment creeks and cracks is because its haunted not just old. I guess I can only explain it as it keeps my heart racing and forever looking over one shoulder.
x

ladies lunching over bloody marys

dress:ralph lauren   belt:urban behavior   shoes:aldo   scarf and purse:vintage   bracelets:random bangles, vintage, gifts from parted lovers

new places, favorite faces

Relationships are the gateway to the self, everything will show up. My friends are my mirrors and I try to be theirs.

Despite only living in the 613 for a few short years, I have acquired the most incredible group of friends. They are an eclectic bunch, nothing short of inspiring and bold. We have formed what seems like boundless relationships built on our mutual love of dressing up, setting things on fire, dancing, PDA’s and trying to shock/delight/ bring each other to tears at all times. 

As what only could be described as bittersweet, I got together with a few of these friends for a bon voyage brunch for Ju. My favorite little French girl is moving to pursue art and dance and life in the big city. It is hard to imagine Ottawa without her seeing as we both moved here around the same time and shared a similar eb and flow of new-city adjustment; this place just won’t be the same.

I think sometimes in life we are drawn to certain people because they are something we are not or can say the things that we wish we could say. I know that Ju amazed me with her creativity, drive and loyalty. Baby, you are gonna be missed!

Reason number #154 why I’m going to miss J: at the drop of a hat, the girl would let me dress her up in outrageous outfits and prance around outside in extreme weather condidtions for the sake of satiating my creative impulses! Now that is LOVE.

These pictures were published in The Dinner Jacket Magazine August 2009 issue. 

mmmm

x

siren

Beautiful. Vogue cover model. Singer. Outspoken about the fashion industry. Married to Jack White.  And serious style muse. What isn’t Karen Elson. I lovelovlove her style and want to raid her closet.

A.

dammit i wanna dance

weekend warrior

friday

shirt:club monaco   belt:vintage   skirt:zara   boots:aldo   earrings:F21   bracelet:vintage

Spent the night at a dive bar drinking syrupy cocktails and practicing patience and tolerance. The place was nasty and not in a Janet-Jackson-sexy-kinda-way, but in the epidemic-kinda-way. I regularly enjoy venturing out of my comfort zone and putting myself in questionable circumstances for the sake of observation and voyeurism. Normally, I take no pleasure loitering in establishments where cutlery is only an option, shirtless frat boys dance on tables and catfights (a la Jersey Shore) are status quo, but heck, a girl’s gotta live a little.

saturday

Visited the Canadian Museum of Civilization to see Sharks at the IMAX. Stroked the sleek wood used to build installations of enormous First Nation’s housing structures. Counted tree rings feeling unusual and tragic and alive. Drank dark & stormies, cooked shrimp quesadillas and dressed up in monocles and top hats for a monopoly marathon with friends.

sunday 

Bootcamp, guilty pleasure reality shows and hiking in rockcliff park. 

loulou

Love Lou Doillon in this quirky little movie for Vanessa Bruno spring 10!

jeans:diesel   shoes:nine west   blouse:isabella rodriguez   hat:china town ottawa   necklace:aldo   bangles:random&vintage   snake ring:vintage   bag:aldo

Now I know that my erratic posting can be a bit annoying, but I am a woman obsessed with change and improvement….well, at least lately.

And breathe. 

After facing a spout of bad luck over the last three weeks, things are looking up. This week was spent mostly with a few girls that may soon take over the world. No joke. These inspiring friends of mine have injected me with hope, positivity and a realization that things happen for a reason. (A sentiment I would have drop kicked last week, but this week, it makes sense)

I have no doubts or limits in my life. Constantly forwarding yourself has taught me that ups and downs come and go.

x

polaroids & party dresses

dress:rubyX  boots:aldo  belt:zara  bag:chloe  tights:club monaco, earrings and bracelets:vintage, random jewelry stores, F21, coat:vintage

I may need a weekend to rest after this weekend. Busybusybusy!

Hit up La Petit Mort last night to check out Remi Theriault’s exhibit, “Instant Stories” followed by Beaujolais at Chez Lucien and then a friendly gathering at Social  with my extended family and friends I don’t see often enough.

x

seeing red

images from unknown sources and prunelle.tumblr.com

cutcutcut

Cleanliness is godliness, as my grandma not only told me while growing up but scoured into my head with a brillo pad and a toothbrush…for those hard to reach cracks.

This time of year I tend to be in a spring cleaning mode frenzy. Out with the old, in with the new!is a phrase I am all too accustomed to hearing growing up. I tried to fight the urge to purge and for years I was successful; a rebellious little pack rat. A bad girl hoarder. My filing cabinets would be bursting with papers and articles ripped out of newspapers. My closet, a clash of trends, seasons and years gone by, everything becomming lost in a weave of fabric. I was content with my feeling of nostalgia and nothing short of smug when I would need something (albeit months/years) later when it was almost forgone in the previous spring catharsis.

But times have changed and as I like to say, bad girls never die, they just get more refined. And with refinement comes organization, at least some contrivance of organization. I have learned that one must pick and choose their battles and mine will no longer be for space in my closet or otherwise.

On that note, my waredrobe and pantry are not the only parts of my life that feel the brunt of my organizational mission. Music stored on my computer and MP3 player get their turn on the chopping block as well.

During day one of the music overhaul, I compiled a mixed tape for a friend of mine that I thought I would share with you. Enjoy!

Had dinner at Vittoria Trattoria with Ju, a friend so true to my own heart.

We dreamt of romantic getaways to Rome, strolling the streets with the cool sophistication of a local.  Sporting leather jackets and Hermes scarves in our hair we would eat sandwiches stuffed with slabs of fresh mozza cheese and ripe tomatoes while sitting around extraordinary fountains.

We fantasized about sitting under a tree in a park, reading prose and drinking espresso generously gingered with sambuca. 

We are simple girls with simple tastes.

skirt:pink rose  shirt:army supply store  shoes:winners  necklace:antique skeleton key on old chain  earrings:a cheap jewelry store from the mall  belt:club monaco