On clothes

I was reading a blog yesterday of a woman who felt that clothing is something to have fun with. Now, I can get behind that - it's pretty much my entire philosophy of clothing, as can be attested to by my ridiculously large collection of clothes, footwear and jewellery.

But as I read on, I became a bit more... thoughtful about it. This woman and her husband are clearly very well off, and she fully admits that most of her clothes are from one designer.

I don't begrudge her the love of clothes, or the fact she can afford designer togs, but I was wondering whether she had the thrill of the chase that I do. And whether one can really call it costumery if you are simply buying the latest collection from the same designer each season.

Being a veteran of 'cheap chic', I love browsing the charity shops and cheap high-street chains. I enjoy knowing that it'll be seldom that I find something great, but the thrill when I do is a wonderful thing. I'd love to have the money for more expensive stuff, but I don't.

So... what do you think? Just a difference of opinion? Am I being dreadfully narrow-minded? Should I just celebrate the fact that both of us, no matter what, enjoy clothing?

I Am Not Robin Williams

Good morning, Vietnam!

I have been having a vague idea for a post swirling around in my neurons, but I realised it basically just boils down to this:
"It is nice to be important, but it's more important to be nice".

I like chatting to people. I am interested in their lives, and I enjoy finding common ground with them, no matter how tenuous the link is. I like... being nice to people. I compliment people on their clothes or dog or baby or accessories if said items/ beings are cool. Because I think it's nice to hear a compliment.

But, often, people are so surprised to be complimented. Is it not normal to show appreciation of cool things? I mean, I have my generation's attitude of feigned disdain down to a fine art, but I think my inherent enthusiasm about awesome stuff shines through.

I wish I'd got more pictures of people at the vintage fair that Rowenna and I went to yesterday. There was a girl in a Star Wars dress that I think she'd used the fabric from a Star Wars quilt cover to make. Honestly, I nearly swooned with delight (as did Rowenna).

Here are a few pictures I did get.





In the queue. I loved her outfit, and she and her friends were absolutely charmed by Zeph.


Earrings!

Suspicious eyebrows.

So, in conclusion, I advocate complimenting people when they have something awesome. Because it's nice.
The End.

Procrastination

I got up this morning, ready to go tippety tap and write a post.
Unfortunately, I then started watching Agents of Cracked videos (featuring my imaginary boyfriend Dan O'Brien) and, well, that was some time ago.

And I updated my friend's website for her books. And read articles on wikipedia about white blood cells and H. G. Wells and Stevengraphs. And I re-read half an Agatha Christie novel (Third Girl).

If there were an award for procrastination, I'd totally win. I'll be there to receive it in a moment. Just let me finish this one thing...

And writing this blog is something I enjoy doing! Just imagine how bad I am when it comes to boring stuff. Boring to me, I mean. This may well be boring to you. If so, what are you doing reading it? Go outside! Get some fresh air! Ride a donkey!

*ahem*
Anyway, today is 'get rid of all the useless non-fitting clothes that are cluttering up the house and giving me anxiety headaches' day. Or GROATUN-FCTACUTHAGMAH day for short. Hmm. Doesn't 'groatun' sound like a really unpleasant scrotum? But I digress.

I did a purge of clothing recently. And having given it a month or two, I am doing a secondary (and more vicious) purge. Have I worn it in the intervening period? If yes, fine. If no, why not? And if there is no satisfactory reason then out it goes.

I also spent some time on Friday trying on all my pairs of leggings and jeans, and getting rid of ones that were too big, or too small, or had holes in (unless they were meant to). And I managed this without going into a huge depressive body-image spiral when some of them were too small. Go me! I now have about a fifth of what I had, but I know they all fit, which is nice. When Matt wakes up (he looks pretty damn adorable and snuggly in bed, damn him!) I'm going to be going through all my drawers and getting rid of stuff I don't need or want or wear. It's pretty satisfying, actually.

And I may, last night, have looked at the state of our bedroom and called items of clothing "bitches". I am not willing to confirm or deny this.

Ok, I'm desperately trying to find a way to draw this all to a close. Maybe link the ramblings together in some coherent way.
*taps fingers*

Oh, I know! Let's just pretend it's the end of a Thundercats cartoon. Lion-O will say something moral and vaguely condescending, and then we'll all laugh at Snarf whilst only moving our heads.
Yeah, that works. Totally.

Grownups

Matt and I have full-time jobs. We pay the rent and the bills. We have pensions and a savings account and bus passes. We donate to charity. We look after ourselves and our pets. And yet, there are a lot of people out there who would (and do) say we're immature.

Why?
Because we play computer games.
Because we are passionate about science fiction.
Because we have long and involved debates about fictional or hypothetical scenarios.
Because we buy toys.
Because (as Matt told me) every day is costume day to me.
And for myriad other reasons that make no sense.

Personally, I don't understand it. I mean, is a large part of maturity not learning who you are and being comfortable in your own skin? I think that with my thirties has come a better understanding of who I am, and an examination and embracing of all those weirdnesses that make up my personality.

I have also found myself being more publically and openly me. I'm not hiding my nerdishness, not trying to be seen as cool, not trying to be in with the 'in people', not wondering whether I maybe shouldn't say something or post something online because people will tell me it's stupid or immature or wrong.

So yeah, every day IS costume day. I'm not talking about underpants-on-the-outside type costumery, but more a work-appropriate outfit with a theme. Such as Victorian safari. Or witch. Or techno-futuristic. It's amazing what one can do with a basic outfit and some good accessorising.

And yes, today we went out to the supermarket intending to buy yoghurt and vegetables (see above re: taking care of ourselves). Instead, we bought yoghurt and vegetables and masses of reduced meat for freezing. And also a double-ended Darth Maul lightsaber. Because it's fucking awesome, that's why. (I cut the tape on the box using our axe. We're just that awesome.)

There were two noticable types of reactions from other shoppers. 1) A kind of I-also-am-a-nerd-and-I-approve nod or 2) A look of disgust.
I don't get it. In what way is this a thing that's worthy of disgust?

Yes, we're adults and yes, we're buying a lightsaber. We're not selling babies wrapped in dead kittens.

Fuck it. Matt and I are embracing our quirks. And it's marvellous.

Shazam

Oh, the pretty clouds. Taken at the bus stop that we walk to in the mornings. It's not long until the dawn will be after we set off for work, though.

This is a display in one of the posh shops in George Street. I understand it's supposed to be the Nutcracker, but it's fucking terrifying. Especially at quarter to eight in the morning when we go past it on the bus. Note the man's shoe in its mouth. *shudders*

Misty castle.

We went down to Portobello today. We went to the butcher (pork and leek sausages and two types of haggis) and the fishmonger (coley and haddock) and we dropped into this deli to see what they had. We bought goat cheese, and venison pate. Om nom nom. I always laugh at their sign.

Matt took me to a greasy spoon for lunch. I was charmed by their version of an omelette. It was folded over, but all the cheese and onion and bacon were on the top. It was, however, pretty damn tasty.

Mislabelling.

I think I might have reverted back a few years, clothing-wise. I was wearing my short pirate trousers with clumpy boots and stripy socks, and my new Sunnydale High School t-shirt.

Later, taters!

Hakuna Matata

I finished By The Pricking Of My Thumbs by Agatha Christie last night, and moved on this morning to Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury. I wasn't deliberately finishing the quote, it was just a cool coincidence.

Something Wicked..., by the way, is creepily scary. It has carnival freaks and people that can change you, and horrible repercussions for wishes. And it totally unnerved me - I was finishing it this evening by the light of the lampposts as I was walking home. Don't read creepy books in the dark. Word to the wise.

What else?
My birthday was on Sunday. It was a good birthday. I now have a brand new (well, old) N64 and all my favourite games. And I got to talk to Nettie, Matt made me a cheeseboard, and I had birthday truffles.


The weather's got deliciously chilly. I am making good use of my big warm coat with the fur lining and giant hood. Mmm, snuggly.

We've made a start on the new El Toro Fuerte ABC, too. It was an awfully fun thing to do on a Saturday night, even if all the cool people were out clubbing and whatnot. Don't hold your breath for it, though - we're only about a fifth of the way through, and it's got to be in order!

I also got my blood tests back from the doctor, and it appears (in their words) that I'm normal. So put that in your pipe(s) and smoke it, all you doubters!

So, as it is a nice chilly night, I'm off to make potato and leek soup.
Now, be good while I'm gone, or else.

No time!

I'm lacking a proper update this weekend because we're doing a gigantic de-cluttering of the house and, well...


On the bright side, we've put out bags and bags of junk, filled the recycling boxes to the brim, and this picture shows the massive pile of stuff to go to the charity shop.


We're quite proud of ourselves.

Post-Apocalyptic

As you probably know (no point pretending that people I don't know read this), I have been quite sartorially steampunk recently. Not proper steampunk, pure steampunk, but more steampunk / military / Agatha Christie novel / explorer. Tweed and buckled boots. Goggles and caps. Cropped leggings and waistcoats. Jewels from the depths of ancient temples, and big floomfy skirts.

But there's another look that's been hovering in my mind for nearly a week, and I don't know why.

I want to be post-apocalyptic. Black and grey and dull greens. Layers and layers, patched and worn. Fingerless gloves. A satchel and sturdy boots.

I want to be the character who knows their way around the post-apocalyptic world. Not the protagonist, but the one who helps them when they stumble across this wasteland. The one who can spy the dangers and read the signs. The one who's scavenging and has cobbled together a rudimentary generator. The one who's quick and surefooted and knows the terrain.
Because, despite their almost inevitable death, they're always the coolest character.

Sometimes we walk home on the path through the golf course. It's bounded by trees and tangles of rosehips, nettles, brambles and grass. We can see the odd glimpse of a person on the fairway, and we can hear noises, faintly, from the road at either end. And sometimes we pretend that the world is different. We hear a siren in the distance, and know it's the ten-minute warning before the darkness comes. We move quickly, keeping watch for the movements of the creatures beyond the bushes. We eye the compound to the left, making sure that there is no-one there.

I wouldn't want to live there, but it's a fascinating place to visit.

Streams of consciousness.

Yeah, you might have guessed that I'm in a dry spell, writing-wise.

I can't make any of the large amorphous ideas crystalise, and that leaves me at a bit of a loose end when it comes to writing posts, I'm afraid.

So, instead of lapsing (too much) into non-blogging, I'm just going to try and carry on. Putting up random pictures, and random links. The writing will come back sooner or later.



Because I was tagging my photos of the shelves, I was reading up on Fluorite this morning. Wiki says "The word fluorite is derived from the Latin root fluo, meaning "to flow" because the mineral is used to increase the fluidity of slags used in smelting flux." This is fascinating (I love learning new things), and the description also sparks other memories for me.

It reminds me of Wierdale (where we no longer go, as it was somewhere we went from my granny and grandad's house). And the reason it sparks memories is because when you wandered back down the valley at dusk, you could see the tiny crystals of fluorite glowing in the stream, there being more (although 'more' is a tricky word to use here) UV at dusk. So, yeah. Flowing streams and fluidity in general. Isn't it funny how your brain works?

Speaking of brains, does anyone else ever get a weird freaked out feeling when they suddenly realise that their eyes are just light-receiving holes for their brain to peer out of? No? Just me?

On that awkward note, I'll just throw some random photos up here.

Whole monkfish! The fishmonger said that it's expensive because 2/3 of the fish is wasted. I'm guessing most of that is head. Terrifying head.

Secret allotments! They are at the entrance to an industrial estate. I'd never have guessed they were there had we not had to go to the Post Office depot.

I like the Royal Mail logo. This one had the name in Gaelic.

Nah, pal.

Sword! (STILL not hung from the wall, as the stupid rawl plugs are flimsy and rubbish).

Dangermouse bag, ring, and ripped jeans. Yeah, I'm so cool.

Lovely belt, and ribcage t-shirt.

There are a few more photos up at Small Things, too. First post there in eight months!

Dresden's not been well, but seems to be responding to her antibiotics, which is a relief. And in a while we're off to listen to a talk about zombies as part of the science festival. It should be fun! This weekend's pretty good, all in all.

This weekend in images.

Just some extra pictures.

Probe 7, Over and Out

Well, I thought it was time to do a good, old-fashioned, rambling about stuff post, as all my posts recently have had a 'theme' or 'topic' or something equally grown-up.
Pah.

I'm on a bit of a clearing kick right now. I've spent a couple of days sorting through my clothes, and washing all the ones I want to give away. Because I have shedloads of clothes, and a lot of them are ones which are too big or too small for me, are unflattering to my body shape, or I just plain don't really like any more.
SO! Out they go to better homes.

I've also had to stitch the lining of my beloved bag of holding (holding abilities seen here).

Yesterday was a snow day (hooray!), and Matt and I went out adventuring.

(Going into the middle of town at this time of year is, in itself, an adventure.)
We went to do some Christmas shopping, and then went to the German Christmas market for lunch. Some of it seems to be a bit battered.

Spicy burger and bratkartoffeln. Om nom nom. We love this stand, and share these every year.

I... don't really know.


I had stupidly gone out with only one set of leg coverings on, so I needed tea to try and thaw my knees from the inside out.

The huge Big Wheel that I may be brave enough to go on again this year.

Helter skelter!

Matt looks beatific whilst eating the most amazing toastie we've ever had - cheese, leek, onion and garlic. Again, om nom nom.

I was in a brooch mood. I think I'm going to do a swap around tomorrow, and use the dangly brooches I have - a really pretty one my sister gave me for my birthday, and one that is a paint palette with little art tools dangling off it.

I just thought this was striking.

Awwwwwwww!

In Armstrong's. Matt is quite the gentleman (of straitened means). He did not buy the top hat, despite my impassioned urging.

Ewwwww. Glittery fabric colouring kits. Just right for Christmas!

1970s half-apron!

Mr Cook and Mr Cox. These gentlemen are now our ethical and moral guides. WWMCAMCD?



My evenings are being swallowed up by the archive of Questionable Content, a web comic that I cannot believe I haven't met before now, goddamnit!

A hit-list of some of the awesome people - fictional and non - and awesome things which are inspiring me right now.
Marianne Kirby
Tavi Gevinson
Penelope Garcia
Emily Martin
Claudia Donovan
Hercule Poirot, as he is in the books, or portrayed by David Suchet

Bags from the May 1984 issue of The World of Interiors, via The Snail and the Cyclops
Old British Red Cross Society badges which used to belong to my late grandparents.

Window displays in Walker Slater


Glass heads for wigs (I really want one)


What's inspiring you at the moment?