Monday, November 29, 2010

An Oxford Classic

There’s nothing like a quirky shoe to brighten up an outfit. I’m not going to go on too much about these. I’ve had a collection of pictures lined up for this post for a while now and haven’t really come up with a sufficiently witty and arousing post to accompany them.

What I will say is that I agonised for some time, looking at these first ones online. I loved them, but wondered if they were a bit wierd, but more and more I’m seeing oxfords or some variation of them on feets and streets around town.

Laces on a high heel might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but the fashion goes back a long way, and usually something so longstanding is a classic look that can be reinvented throughout the ages without looking dowdy or rehashed.

Some are labelled shooties, the ol shoe-boot mash up, some are a bit more strappy than laced – some even go for an open toe. Mine have fake laces and a quiet zip up the inside, which makes them very practical – and it means you don’t have to worry about your laces coming undone or getting broken, because you want to keeps those babies quite tight.

Quirky colours and patterns and contrasting panelling makes these shoes hot for casual or glam fashion, and the perfect transition from office to out.

Btw, I did buy the coveted shoes and love love love them.


Tuesday, November 23, 2010

The uninvited

I am, and always have been, something of a social outcast. Ok, that’s a lie – these days I am awesome. But I think people appreciate confidence and nonchalance more when you are older. That did not go down well for me at school. Not caring about getting into a clique is a sure-fire way to not get yourself deeply embedded in any cliques. Stating outright that you don’t give a fuck about people’s cliques because you are bigger than this stupid town – that’s a sure-fire way to get yourself hated. Literary humour and self-derisive satire apparently wasn’t a big hit either. But I digress.

I think in a way I have maintained an element of my outcastery in to my adult life, but it recently dawned on me that if I am left out of certain events, it is at least half my fault. That is to say, there is something I could have done about it, but did not, because of this weird sense of social convention that I stick to.

So here it is. I’m like a vampire – I have to be invited in.

I have assumed over the years that I have been looked over or left out of an event because no one outright asked me to be there. After explaining (complaining) to someone about this, I was responded to with “you know you’re always welcome, why didn’t you just come?”. Why indeed? Why didn’t I at least send a text to check?

I guess to me it seems awkward and a little bit desperate to ask someone to invite you to their thing. My enduring sense of nonchalance when it comes to whether people like me or not keeps me from doing such a thing. But in every other part of my life I am of the “if you want it to happen make it happen” persuasion. So what happened here?

Perhaps it is the great job my parents did in raising me that has enforced what I see as politeness and social norms that holds me back on this one. Or possibly the sense of being an unpopular child has lingered into adulthood and I just expect a door slammed in my face. However, I’ve grown into my skin enough to surround myself with people who like me, bad puns and all, and said doors are generally wide open.

Something to work on I guess. Self-betterment is never a bad thing. And neither is a challenge.

Do you wait to be invited? Or are you the type of person who just rocks up to someone’s house without even checking what they’re up to? And what are the social norms that hold you back if you don’t?

Monday, November 15, 2010

do these come with bacon?

Potato wedges. One of the tastiest most delicious melt-in-your-mouth meals I can think of. All that crispy baked goodness, smothered in melted cheese, sour cream, tomato sauce, and mixed in with sizzling bacon.

Excuse me while I go and clean up the drool.

YES I LOVE WEDGES.... when they're going in my belly. But shoe wedges? Uh uh, i'm afraid these get a tsk tsk from me. Somehow this shoe fashion just keeps coming back, and they never get any better. There are a few styles that I can admire from afar, such as the sleek black dress wedge, but lets face it, the majority of them are cork ridden and just shout "trailer trash".

Acceptable Wedges :)
I don't even understand the practicality of them. Sure, they may be a whole lot more comfortable than your classic stiletto, but they look far too casual to wear to work or out partying. Which really only leaves the option of prancing around on the street, strolling along the waterfront, or at home. And why would you bother wearing 'heels' in any of these locations? Well unless you're one of the SATC girls....

Unacceptable wedges :( UGH

This reminds me of a gift someone once gave me -  silver jandals...with a heel. A HEEL!!! Who came up with such idiocy? I can't even find a picture of them, that's how stupid they were.

Back to my wedge rant.

This season in the shops, the wedge has mutated into some kind of I'm-going-to-obliterate-your-feet-beast. The foot becomes lost in a mass of bulky black suede or a tangled web of strapped horror. I always picture Brittany Daniel playing that trashy white girl on Joe Dirt... she may be 'hot' by trailer park standards but that's not really saying much is it.

Usually I love a trip into Wild Pair, they ALWAYS have shoes to fit my carny feet and at a reasonable price. But this summer ... doing it wrong! I don't even want to look in the window at the moment because of the crimes in there.

Shoe Crimes @ Wild Pair
I'm not saying all wedges are wrong, in fact I just bought back a pair from Sydney. But they should be subtle and elegant, not like you accidentally stood in a log.

Now I want to eat wedges....dammit

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Drop it like it's... crotch?

Really New Zealand? We’re going there are we? Really??

Today Angeli walked into Supre only to be surrounded by drop-crotch/loose/harem pants. The first three square metres of shop was overwhelmed by the things. We’ve had this discussion before, have we not? I thought I had established a clear shift away from these monstrocities? Is nobody listening?

Apparently not.

As we walked past the first poo-pant encampment we cracked up. I think the words “ew, those pants” may have slipped from someone’s lips. And Then! Then some girl behind me says to her friend “oh I love those pants!”.


Maybe it’s a sign of aging, but ever since the famous $7.50 sale last year I have failed to find anything of interest to me in Supre. They used to have a good range of “crappy fast fashion for the youth”, general articles for work and a few “finds” dresses etc that were genuinely good. That just doesn’t seem to be happening lately. I’ve had more luck at Jay Jays recently – which I used to think was all teeny bopper tees and well, that was about all I thought – but they have some really cool dresses and skirts for like $40! Not just a million articles of the same ilk in different colours.

As per usual, my rant has steered away from my point.

The pants. I’m still not over the last rant on pants. But these ones are that much worse. This awful trend is affecting my gender. My people! I do not want to see you on the edge of this slippery slope! Supre is calling them “Summer Pants”. That seems like a pretty general term. How about Fugliness-which-hides-your-thighs-before-you-get-in-shape-for-the-height-of-Summer Pants?