how civil IS this society?

Toronto has elected a new mayor. As voters exercised their democratic rights in record numbers, the mudslinging down and dirty campaign that Rob Ford launched upon this fair city obviously resonated with many. ‘Gravy train’ ending, budget slashing, bicycle hating, racist and homophobic comments seemed to garner admiration from his supporters, who enjoy this sort of new political representation. Does he seem utterly ‘average’, like the person beside me on the subway, drinking a Timmy’s, and reading The Sun? He promises to save us all money. Lots of it.

Apparently this is what my neighbours value. Following a couple of lean, recessionary years, it might have been his message of fiscal austerity, more than his vision for the future of the city, that served to usher him into office. This is what has me confused. Toronto is a great city; it differs from American cities in its cosmopolitan nature. Not a melting pot, Toronto privileges the myriad cultures calling it home- and in turn, the people of the city tend to the welfare of its inhabitants. Social programs, healthcare, recycling, bike lanes, marathons, a vibrant arts community, and one of the world’s largest Gay Pride events are just a few examples of this. We pay taxes, oh yes, we pay taxes, but they make this city greater. Like many people with social democratic views, I would rather live in a community wherein everyone achieves a certain level of health, education, happiness and respect, while others would rather draw the line between themselves and others, financially speaking; better yet if there’s a gate in between. I guess they voted for Ford. The equation looks like this:

more $$ > community

The Dalai Lama was just here last week, how I wish he was our mayor. We need to privilege humans, and contact, and community, over things like cars and convenience. Mayor Ford’s vision privileges the individual in his own convenient and private automobile, (without that pesky car tax),regardless of environmental impact, and surely not inconvenienced by narrowed space due to bike lanes, or detours due to marathons.   Next equation:

convenience > environment

I’m not saying I love paying taxes, I’m not saying that I do everything i should, or could, to benefit the community in which I live, and I definitely agree that budgetary indiscretions such as Kyle Rae’s taxpayer-funded retirement fete should be nixed, but I feel strongly that this age of individualism removes aspects of community that are priceless.

style vs. fashion

Apparently, harem jeans are fashionable, moving into fall. Current/Elliot, makers of last year’s coveted ‘boyfriend jeans’ have collaborated with Marni, whose statement necklaces and unusual silhouettes have informed many trends over the past few years.  Their denim lovechild can be found here, in Nylon mag

Now, I realize that there’s a pretty big difference between style and fashion.  Fashion is a business, a multi-billion dollar industry, based upon trends and markets, shifting focus every season.  Style is something altogether different, and if you’re doubtful, just check out StreetPeeper or the Sartorialist to see stylish people around the world doing their own stylish thing, which will end up on runways next year.  Style is more unique and individual- writing the guidelines, if you will, as opposed to obeying them.  Fashion trends notwithstanding, he harem jeans seemed interesting, and I was intrigued.  I have a pretty big soft spot for unusual silhouettes.  I think it all started with a teenaged trip to Europe and my very first French Vogue mag, which had a series of jackets by Comme des Garçons and Yohji Yamamoto. The complexity of the shapes, and the deconstructed nature of the clothing was fascinating.  Quite a departure from the bland Polo-infested trends of high school!  These pieces said so much and seemed to request that you think about them.  Really lovely stuff.  You just don’t see this kind of thing every day.

How to recreate this look without the Parisian aristocrat’s budget?  I enlisted the help of my perennially crafty mother, who welcomed the challenge.  A few yards of grey and pink pinstripe fabric later, she had reproduced this fabulous Issey Miyake Vogue pattern.   Eeeeeee! High school joy, shoulder pads and all.

Today I wear far fewer shoulder pads, but still love these avant garde designers just as much.  Pending the arrival of those winning 6/49 numbers, I’ll be well clothed, but until then, other options must suffice.

H&M, mass market translators of the runway, have their own version of the aforementioned harem jeans.  Intrigued, I tried them on.  Horrific.  Horrifying.  Horrendous.  Hands shaking, staring at my misshapen reflection in the changingroom,  I texted my most fashionable girlfriend to ask her, ‘seriously, what is up with harem jeans?’  I was wide at all the wrong parts, saggy at the very worst places, and,  I realized, suddenly quiet bum-less.  Unless one is attempting to conceal one’s ‘Depends undergarments’, which I hope not to do before age 99, these jeans just seemed all kinds of wrong.  Fashion be damned, and sorry, Marni, i usually love you.

We want to come out!

They want to come outside, so very badly. Billy the Kid, on the left, was a street kid one year ago. A rough and skinny hooligan, who fears absolutely nothing. On the right is Aslan. His own shadow startles him, and he’s known for retreating under the bed upon hearing any sort of noise or disturbance. Whenever I chillax on the balcony, they meow continuously, protesting their captivity. I’d let them out if it weren’t for Aslan’s attempt at flight. About 5 years ago, he bravely leapt up onto the railing of the balcony, much to my dismay. When I screeched at him to get down post-haste, he leaped out into the wild blue yonder… and down 4 floors. While he was entirely unhurt, minus one of nine lives and still no braver, I have never fully recovered.

Fiddleheads.

Now, it’s good to be green, or rather, blue, as I’m told that IS the new green. It’s organic and local and so forth. Fiddleheads, however, look like the plot of a particularly heinous sci-fi/horror flick. They’re just not right. Wet and curled up, like each one is harbouring alien spawn… I wish I could enjoy these lil guys, but they rather horrify me.
Especially en masse.

I certainly dont want any monkey butt.

Sometimes a product appeals to one’s sense of fear. It plays upon our insecurities, leading us to purchase it, in order to avoid potentially adverse situations. Almost a sort of insurance, if you will.

I’m not certain that I know exactly what a monkey butt is, but am quite certain I should not like to have one. Thankfully, this anti- monkey butt powder can be found @ Shopper’s. Whew.

An age old dilemma

The dilemma is this: a wildly impractical and stunningly strappy pair of L.A.M.B. heels jumped out at me today. They promised to make me much, much taller. They are slightly less than my rent, and could result in serious ankle mishaps. I immediately texted my most fashionable girlfriend, looking for support/advice and she informed me that the magazine where she works had just shot them in black for this month’s issue. Hmmm. This means that The shoes are also famous. Rent or shoes? Can anyone explain how Carrie Bradshaw possibly afforded an uptown walkup AND great footwear? So the dilemma is this: practicality vs. fabulosity.
Discuss.