Super Advanced Style

Some time ago, people who thought they understood my taste directed me to Advanced Style, a Sartorialisty street fashion blog for Old Folks. 

I looked at it a couple of times & was Mildly Horrified.

 Is this me, I wondered? And where the hell do I put the question mark in a sentence like that, I also wondered?

It wasn't just the fact that I found Advancing Age creepy, but I actually didn't like The Elderly Outfits. The men looked like they were all out of the Original Broadway Cast of 'Guys & Dolls' & the women looked like Tarot Card Readers or Giant Cabbages or Strawberries. Or Oversized Lavender Bushes. 

I know that sounds 'Way Harsh' (I'm teaching the film 'Clueless' at the minute) but that's how 

I felt about Advanced Style. 

Until about Five Minutes ago. I just took another look & I've Almost, but Not Quite, Completely Changed my Mind, which is one of the great benefits from having a Flexible Outlook. 

OK, I still think that some of the women are Dressed as Vegetables (there's this one lady, who only ever wears green in a practical but stylish way,  but she really really looks like a Bunch, not a Stick of Celery), but just about everyone looks really interesting & creative & fun. 

And maybe having a half-ways decent fun time.

Like the Lady Artist above with the Snowy Hair & the red glasses. Her name is Sue & I'm totally crazy about the wonderful necklace she's wearing. Definitely worth double clicking on & enlarging. Go on & do it.

Next double click on Me & Aileen. 

We & her two children, David & MBF Marge were off to see 'Chicago' last sunday for Aileen's 96th birthday. 

In the photo Aileen looks like an Elf, I think partly due to her size & the new white beret perched jauntily on her white head. 

I've known Aileen since I was about nine or ten. I remember thinking then that she was as Old as the Hills. I was wrong.  In fact, she was quite a bit younger then than I am now.

Apart from winning the award for being the Oldest Person I have ever known, Aileen also wins the award for Finding the Most Designer Labels at a Thrift Shop. She has been a dedicated thrifter for as long as I've known her & was famous for unearthing prized gems from the Nastiest Places. 

Talking of Thrift, I am Top to Toe in it - Toy LouisLouis bowling bag, Real Bally Pumps, 'Country Road' shirt & nameless Dowager Navy Skirt. 

I'm actually not too sure about this outfit. It's supposed to be part of my new 'Slightly Slutty' look, but I think I'm trying too hard with the Camellia & the pearls. After the show, we had a snack in the disgusting adjoining casino.  Marge later told me that an elderly man who was sitting glued to a huge tv screen watching football & playing keno looked me up & down a number of times whilst licking his lips. 

I'm never wearing that outfit again.

Glaringly Garish Golden Gems

Of course I had to post a picture of myself next to the Tropical Fish Tank in the perfume department at 'David Jones'. 

In case you haven't read the previous post, I was Sampling Smells with MBF Marge who is visiting Sydney to see her 96 year old mother, Aileen, who I will feature in an upcoming entry. It's rather a novelty having a Mother That Old. But that's a whole other story, not this one.

Anyway, look at me.

Marge took the photo.  I look Slightly Dwarfed because she is so much taller than me. So she's forever looking down on me. But only physically, not in any other way. Ever.

But I'd love you to click on the photo to enlarge it so you could see the wonderful golden costume jewellry that Marge bought for me from an interesting garage sale she recently attended in Thousand Oaks, California.

 A Fish Pendant & two bracelets all made from the most Glaringly Garish Faux Gold imaginable! 

The garage sale was a kind of Deceased Estate. A old woman who had flown planes in WW2 with a whole lot of other women when they were not  old, recently died. I hope I'm getting this right. But I think they flew the planes. Maybe they built them. Or Something. But, in any event, these women  did one helluva job that was of course afterwards Completely Ignored & Forgotten. Like all the other brave women of WW2, after the war, they had to pack up their Flying Outfits & their Tool Boxes & pretend it all never happened. 

But this Woman didn't quite do that. I think she became a prominent person in aviation or something. Anyway, she had a husband but no children. So when she recently died, she left the contents of the house, which was apparently bulging with stuff, to Kindly Neighbours who've had about a thousand garage sales to get rid of it all. Marge only got wind of it all at the tail end, but  managed to grab these Still With the Tags On Golden Gems ,possibly from the seventies. 

I'm thrilled.

An Trip Down Olfactory Memory Lane

I must admit that I got a Slight Shock when I glanced at the date of my last entry. 

Last Tuesday. And where I live it's already Monday night almost bedtime.

Practically a week.

Of course, owing to my Strict Rule  of Never Defend Never Explain, I am not going to Say Anything. 

Except, look at that wonderful snap of MBF Marge who is currently visiting Sydney on a v. short whirlwind trip to visit her 96 year old mother, Aileen.

No, she's not visiting the Sydney Aquarium. We would never do that. 

We were in the Cosmetics Section of 'David Jones', a large department store that has been around for centuries & prides itself on being Exclusively Snotty with Absolutely Nothing to Back it Up. 

 We were poking around  the crap perfume section which has more Tropical Fish in it than actual bottles of perfume. But I must say, that until the Bad Smell Under her Nose 'Dior' shop assistant came up & started commandeering the testers , we were having a great time.

It was a kind of Olfactory Trip Down Memory Lane, where we started with the newly-revamped Miss Dior 'Cherie' that smells Totally Wonderful , before moving on to 'Diorella' & then 'Diorescence', which reminded us both of the seventies, we thought. Maybe. 

It's funny about Smells. They're capable of immediately transporting you to some other time & place in a nanosecond. But I just couldn't quite remember when & where. 

Anyway, I far prefer these Old Dior Smells to slightly newer ones like the aptly-named, 'Poison', or any Smell that Paris or Brittany have lent their name to. So, do yourself a favour & rush straight to the Dior counter & smell them. I promise you won't be disappointed.

Rivers of Gold

I'm more than usually excited about today's post because I've actually got some genuinely interesting photos of Other People  instead of the usual endless Wardrobe Shots of me either standing next to The Potholder in the kitchen or in front of The Sacred Whiteboard in the classroom. 

You may recall that I had a stall at the Rozelle Markets on sunday with The Ex-School Nurse & her gamin daughter, Guinevere, who is featured in the above photo, on the right. She looks so fab & interesting, particularly after she layered her striped top with one of my own castoffs, a little reversible jacket by Australian, but really Japanese designer, Akira Isogawa. Next to Guinevere is is Belle Fleur. She is wearing a dress that she had made up in Vietnam. Belle had always wanted a Sailor Dress (perhaps echos of 'Gigi'?) but she had some difficulty in communicating what one looked like to the seamstress. So, it's an Approximation of a Sailor Dress. I thought it was wonderful.

Throughout the day, I had such fun bragging to all our customers that I taught both these girls when they were in Year 10. I'm sure people were thrilled.

And then there's Little Lolita above. I definitely didn't teach her. 

And The Red & Black Lady. She is also not one of my ex-students, but I was flattered that she bought this bag from me because I thought she looked so beautifully put together & stylish.

In fact, I was amazed that anybody bought anything. I tipped bags & bags & bags of clothes on to a trestle table that looked like an enormous pile of Dirty Washing. People spent ages happily ferreting through it all while ignoring a fairly well-organised clothes rack that  I placed across from  it. Maybe flicking through a clothes rack isn't as exciting as Digging Deep for Bargains with the thought that there could be a Hidden Brand lurking underneath.

And talking of brands, don't people just love them? I had a number of really daggy old Von Trotska & Allanah Hill (Australian designers) dresses that were snapped up immediately by Salivating Shoppers. But then I had a pure wool pleated 'Jaegar' skirt that I thought people would go nuts over.  One v. picky woman examined it closely & immediately pointed to a Moth Hole. When I said she could have it for five bucks she sniffed & walked off. I was mortified.

And here I am in front of the clothes rack. See how well-organised & tame it is. Absolutely No Thrill of the Chase . 

And when many of the dresses  hung there all day just Longing to be picked up & taken off to a New Life, I felt sad. Why didn't people want them, I wondered?

But I'm creating the wrong impression.

In fact, many items were sold & I spent quite a while at home counting notes & golden coins. But sadly not enough to have my teeth Professionally Cleaned.

Here I am again with Belle Fleur trying not to look like a Tarot Card Reader.

 

But by far the most exciting outfit of the day was worn by Hamish, below. He is fifteen, & attends a kind of  'Fame' School for Performing Arts. But he's also a part of the Australian Junior Equestrian Team which accounts for the one riding boot that he had on which I now realise you can't see. He had on a Mocassin or maybe a Boat Shoe on the Other Foot. He was also wearing a kilt. Or maybe it was just a pleated tartan skirt.

Violet Lady. I just loved the huge bunch of violets that she stuck on her beret. And not forgetting the Parasol. She had an enormous amount of Red Xmas Balls in her bag. Getting in early, I guess.

I was sooo thrilled when this fabulously stylish lady, whose son (on the right) dragged her into Our Nest & made her buy him a singlet covered with pictures of Mao that looked simply horrible on me. Who wants to wear a Nasty Dictator anyway? 

The Stylish Lady  is one half of wonderful Australian brand, 'Easton Pearson' & I guess she's Head to Toe in it.  

I tried hard not to be too envious or jealous or in fact to Compare Myself. 

I nearly succeeded.

I'm getting a little fed up with this now. It's taking forever & I need to finish so that I can get in front of the bathroom mirror to  examine my newly tinted & shaped eyebrows which I hope is in the style of Michele Obama.  I want Mobrows. At least, that what  I think  they're called. I also had my eyelashes tinted which may add to my New Slightly Slutty Look & may stand me in good stead when I have a meeting with Mr. Ex-Middleaged this coming thursday. Hopefully, I wont cry. But if I do, I can be secure in the knowledge that they'll be no Nasty Black Rivers running down my face.

So now I'll be brief. Look at her bakelite twenties brooches. Fab eh?

Look at the masterful way that The Ex-School Nurse handles customers. She's on the left.

And lastly, Look at Me.

To Market To Market to Lay a Fat Egg

I'm Almost, but not quite, Half-Crazed. 

It's saturday night just before eight. I've just posed on a pile of clothes & bags that hopefully I will sell tomorrow at the Rozelle Markets. 

By the way, I can't believe the Half-Arsed way I'm posing like I'm just about to star in my v. own MILF Film (Rude Films with Middleaged Mums having sex) - like  I'm a  salivating middleaged woman hungrily waiting for the Pizza Delivery Man to arrive with a Salami Pizza. Or maybe the plumber who's going to Unclog the Drain. 

Let me assure you, Nothing is Further from My Mind.

As soon as I finish writing this post, I'm going to cram all that stuff & more into newly-purchased plastic checked Homeless People's  zippered bags. Then I'm going to lug them about a hundred metres  to the Kings Cross Car Park where my car is stored on a lower level. And then I'm going to pop them into the Boot, or Trunk if I was in North America, but I'm not, so it's The Boot. Maybe I'll have to make a number of trips.

Then I have to immediately Get into Bed & turn the light off. Hopefully by 9.30. This is my New Official Bedtime because I read a book by rubber-faced ex-actress, but expert on ageing, Suzanne Somers who said that we all should go to bed at that time because all the Hateful Cortisol or whatever that makes us look a hundred & poisons us, leaves our bodies most effectively if we're asleep well & truly before twelve. Hope she's right.

Then I have to get to the market which is across town by 8.05 am. sunday morning.

I'm sharing the stall with my friend the Ex-School Nurse & her beautiful daughter, Guinevere, who incidentally I used to teach many moons ago. They are super-stylish & organised. 

I'm definitely hoping that some of that will rub off on me.

I have not much of an idea of what to charge for things. 

Stomach Churning as a Lifestyle Choice

It's been a Stomach-Churning Week.  The photo above, where  Year 11 students have appropriated The Sacred Whiteboard whilst I look on in   puzzlement, has nothing to do with it. But then again, rarely do my accompanying pictures have that much in common with what I'm writing. 

Both the photos are of course Wardrobe Remix shots, & my wardrobe rarely, if ever gives cause for Stomach Churning. In fact, I think it's fair to say that My Wardrobe, which is Definitely Not a Static Entity, is a source of Continual Delight & Amazement to me.

You may think I've stepped over the line here into Shameless Bragging. And perhaps you're right. But all the same, it's True. 

Every day except Sunday when it's shut, I visit 'Bednobs & Broomsticks' Thrift Shop which is conveniently located at a half-way point  between my home & my place of employment.  In other words, it's about a hundred metres from home, & a hundred metres from school. Just about every day I manage to find some item to drag home & place inside My Wardrobe. Like everything I'm wearing just about in both photos. Actually, in this case, it's strictly not true, but the boots & the skirt & the top are from there. 

.

I suppose I should tell you why it's been a Stomach-Churning Week, not that I use the blog as a Confessional or anything.  Quelle Horreur!

Well, I finally sent a email to Mr. Ex-Middleaged who I hadn't heard from since New Year's Eve. No one that I've met in my entire life has been in a relationship for fourteen years where they've owned homes & apartments & beach houses & raised a blended family inside them only for their partner to suddenly leave without any warning & not hear from them.  For months. And   not do anything about it. Just carry on living like it Never Happened, only that it did happen. 

Other women look at me in amazement. I can hear them saying to each other 'You know, he walked out on her & she's just taken it. If it was me, I wouldn't put up with it for five minutes'. Hard as it may be to believe, a few sensitive women have actually said something like that to me. It's a real Conversation Enhancer.

So, I finally got sick of feeling like a Modern Saint Sebastian, you know, the poor bloke who was martyred by being struck by like a hundred arrows or maybe poisoned darts. Or the Poor Old Woman dragging the little wagon of wet firewood, which I believe is known as 'faggots', behind her. 

So I sent him an email at 8.25 am yesterday morning & received a reply by 8.32. It took me four days to write something that was literally Dripping in Dignity & another whole day to actually 
click  'Send'. 

I'll keep you posted.

The Towering Inferno Shoes

While I'm on the topic of Shoes, I couldn't help but post this gobstopping photograph of Kate Hudson's Towering Inferno  Shoes taken at the Time100 World's Most Influential People Dinner last week. 

I wonder if Kate Wobbles or Totters when she walks in them? 

For some reason These Shoes make me Full of Rage.