First off: happy screams that Jane Marie is on The Hairpin! There is a The-Toast-dot-net-sized hole in my heart (that is, a gaping chest wound) since the site shuttered earlier this summer, but The Hairpin has had some good moments lately, and seeing Jane Marie back there is a good one.
Second: I totally scoffed at the concept–after all, I wear a lot of denim–but the sketches and outfits look cute.
Third: but does she only draw thin women?
I’d like to flip through this book once, but don’t feel the need to own it.
Another Yeezy Season 4 link, because apparently I’m not done being annoyed by this. It was shallow, abusive, and meaningless when Vanessa Beecroft was doing it in galleries; and it’s shallow, abusive, and meaningless when Kanye West does it as “fashion.”
If the Fringe Association blog starts to fill up with genius solutions for tackling that stack of dirty dishes you want to avoid, and how to balance your desire for all the cool Craigslist finds with the space available in your one-bedroom apartment, I’m going to start worrying.
Yeezy Season 4 Disaster Overshadows Kanye West’s Live Show Triumphs (Jezebel) [I find the suggestion at the end of this piece that the models’ suffering and the show’s location at the Roosevelt Island plague hospital are somehow linked and meaningful to be spurious. Beecroft has a long history of forcing models to stand around and suffer in less monumental spaces, and West abusing models in the name of “fashion” and “fame” offers no respect to the people who suffered and died of the bubonic plague.]
I almost never wear makeup because feminism (okay, because lazy). But this technique looks like it would work for my eyes and be easy to do. Just maybe not with any of the expired palettes lurking guiltily in my linen closet.
Plus I love how the dude only does one of his eyes in his tutorials. It reminds me of that character from Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil who wears make up on half his face, and scuttles around hiding it from his boss.
I find Craigslist to be vastly entertaining. I tend to not be very specific in my search terms, but just browse endlessly and have a million open tabs in my browser. I like the absurdities and the beauties, the highs and the lows. And while usually I just look at CL for fun, I do love the sense of destiny and kismet when you see a thing that just belongs to you, before it’s even really yours.
I have wanted another lamp for the living room for a while now, and have looked at all sorts of things from brassy hanging lamps to Art Deco nudes. Nothing quite hit the sweet spot of functionality plus price plus accessibility, however. I don’t have a car, so a CL purchase has to do what I need it to, at the right price point, and be either within a reasonable distance by bus or be reasonable to pay for delivery. Obviously in the case of my glorious conversation settee, it was worth taking the SkyTrain down to Richmond and paying for delivery!
In the case of this lamp, it was located an easy 2.1 km from my apartment. That’s walking distance! So, I emailed the seller with a $20 offer, and then checked my email obsessively for the next nine hours until she emailed back. Then, (after being so excited I could hardly sleep) it was walkin’ time.
A photo posted by nottheactress (@nottheactress) on
How to Take Your Lamp for a Walk:
Slap on some sunscreen. I recommend something sweat-proof–it’s hot out there!
Put on your headphones, dark sunglasses, and a slightly bored facial expression–you’re not doing anything special or weird; you take your lamp for a walk all the time!
Don’t make eye contact with any of the people who stare at you and your fabulous lamp.
Take breaks if you need ’em–your lamp may be heavier than expected. Just pick a shady spot and pretend you’re getting a text message–bloop!
Bring your lamp inside to its new home, where it belongs.
I am not 100% sold on the lampshade; in addition to being full of dust and a bit worn, it also doesn’t fit the lamp properly, and isn’t quite the right colour against the avocado walls. But it’s good enough for now. Also good enough for now is the little table: it is covered in waterspots and scratches. But I’m not in the mood for a furniture-stripping project (still recovering from the ottoman legs), so the plan is to find a nice large pot and stick a plant there.
Oh my, this house. While the thought of sleeping under a 40 year old bedspread grosses me right out, this house is rather glorious in its own over-the-top, WTF, my-eyeballs-are-bleeding-but-I-love-it kind of way.