I Refuse To Add Ette To That

              I have no idea what was going through my mind when I drew these at one point at 3 am. Actually, I do. It was something along the linse of, "Oh My God!, I need some fruffles fer ruffles to cover my ass. Whatchamacallits... Bloomers! Yes, those precious little bundles of abundant lace will suffice. Bunnies. You Know What's Cute? Bunnies. Hahaha fluffie hoppity hop hops. Bunnies in capes. Is that a plane? Is that a bird? No, it's a freaking bunny in it's pastel cape!" Kids, do humanity a favor and go to sleep early enough so you won't be unfortunate enough to get a munching case of the Midnight Ravies.
            All usual creepines aside (I truly am sorry.), I have lusted, yes, lusted, for some bloomers for centuries now. What's a better way to pair some robin's egg blue, high-waisted bloomers than with a sunray bathed yellow Peter Pan cape? Perhaps with a Bunny SweatShirt/Cap-eish number...

                 Collars, no matter how puny or grand they are in size, they have the granted ability to bring the ideal into the clothing of choice, casual or formal. Choose the Elizabeth era, high vampire collar and you'll find yourself chasing after full-blooded children on the eve of some haunting night. Salute the Sailor look and prepare to explore the seven seas with the twist of your naval collar. Maybe the bow fits your youthful side better as you twirl in the glaze of chocolate and sprinkles donuts, fits of confetti, and the occasionaly sight of a lavander Unicorn's horn. Or the Tule Thing provides enough color and over-flowing amounts of pomp to transform you into an upside-down, confused ballerina. Either way, collars have a way of replacing all silly thoughts out of my head with their  folds of tempting fabrics.
                 I really need to make some collars... Hope I don't prod my fingers with too many pins!


If Only There Was Ear Muffs For Our Freezing Noses

Bow down to me, mighy pug beast.

Is the dog pimpin' or what?
Lace Shirt & Belt: Thrifted Sale. Woot! Woot!
Millitaryish Vest: Stolen From Mum's Closet Eons Ago
"Bowler Hat" and Rain Sweeping Skirt: F21
Glasses: Prescipion ones and the ones I borrowed from the movies
I don't usually do away with wearing long skirts but since the constant rain demolished my dreams of wearing dresses and anything remotely sunny..... I always thought I would be mistaken for a stumpy midget if I worn one. Sadly enough, my doubts came to assertion as the ticket-taking mister at the cinema kept giving me the stink eye. On the other hand, I was being unusually loud, maybe that has something to do with it.
           Narnia, oh, Narnia, where can a weakling such as I bequest the embrace of your powers? We originally intended  to watch How Do You Know, but in the time waiting for it to appear, we (how do you put in a miscreant-less, innocent manner?) snuck a peek at the new Narnia movie and decided that we had goten too deep into the movie to leave Edmund's sexy pants for some romanticism.  Not that I wanted to miss Owen Wilson's passioate lette writing, but, there was alo Mr.  Caspians eyes to gaze at. Scratch that, I did not gaze,but merely observed. Hunter, my dear red-headded companion, was the one to oggle and drool at the sight of those alluring honeypots. Am I an utter weirdo to have their pants mesmerize me? Well, Lucy's anyway, the others just make me giggle. Hammer time!  Hunter kpt teasing and laughing about the fact that I would tear their pants away if given the chance. But their pants wouldn't be the only thing being tainted by me. That didn't come out right. My eyes are one step away from snatching their belts away too...


Huffed And Puffed After The Current Love Of My Life: The Hat

Bowler Hat Guy+ A Dash Of Charlie Chaplin+ The Minty Breath of a Pink-Bowed Cow can only equal to one thing... this and some odd combination where there's a skinny legged, pink cow with a fuzzy mustache, thick eyebrow makeup and an ambitious bowler hat. Not the case today, but it'll serve its purpose in the far future.

                   So for a while now, I was trudgering through a deep quest in the desolate hopes of finding a bowler hat, since I am the evil kind of girl with plans to take on the world and overpower the Richardson inventions. Wait, let's back this train up. That's not even how the movie actually went: Loner adorable school friend, who turns into creepy Unicorn folder-bearing dude, is tricked into world-domination by his manic bowler hat. Not me at all. Although I do have some adorable parts in me, like my ear or, um, that one freckle in my leg that my mom once mistook as filth. Anywho, naive me thought, "Psh, there must be like a gazillion bowler hats in the world. We'll stumble upon one soon enough, won't we brain?". Whether there is in fact a bajillion (gazillion?) bowler hats, I will never know. I did find some but at the exuberant prixe of of $58, they weren't in the economical area I had planned to splurge over for.  The one resting in my head does not reign the right to be deemed one since it's actually one like the one below but with the ends turned up.
(Does anybody rememeber that Power Puff episode, too? I used to just about piss myself whenever the zombie/magician popped in the scream. I am not gonna lie that mister still gives me the creeps.)

                 I am a beginner sewer. No, not that type where human waste, rats,polluted rain water, and the like collects in, but the one where there is needles, thread, and the occasional sewing-machine induced injuries. (What do you call it??? Sewist? Specialized Developer of the Fabric? Mesher of the Fabrics? Or do you just say you sew, no title needed to be dragged in?) You can debate that an entire year of failed projects and constant battle fighting with the machine is settled in the "Below Basic Nincompoop Who Should Really Stop Punching The Machine" territory, but things are finally starting to thread into line for me. I still find myself completing asymmetrical shorts or the entirely off-proportioned dress top, but at least now I know what it is that I am doing wrong, whereas in the begining I would just go on and on until my pant leg miraculously transformed into a dead-end tube better fitted to store my I-pod in. If I keep sewing, in 20-30 I'll be able to make a pair of sleeves that don't end up 5 fingers away from my wrist. I hope.

Boots: Walmart
Pink Skirt: Self-made ☻
Faux Bowler Hat: F21
 Inadequately Short-Sleeved Shirt: Unknown
LoveLoveLoveLoveLove: Necklace (Found In Garage. Possibly Sister's? Crosses fingers and hopes it isn't.)
Insect Brooch: Self-Made (Um, well, to put it in the honest way, I just glued it to a brooch.)
Bow In Hat: The Randomnest of Fabircs
Fish-Net Modest Hooker Tights: Swap-Meet
Black Net Skirt Under: Gift From Mum 
 Rad Cow Print Belt: Thrifted
Backpack: Thrifted


Banjo? Check.

Madonna (Vogue)

 Oh, how I long for those days spent watching Winnie The Pooh instead of my usual Gossip Girl marathons..



Heidi Hiding With Her Lamb

        Trees. Pomegranates. Overalls. Chickens. Childhood memories of Heidi and Christopher Robin.. I have a serious infatuation with anything with trees, flowers, the enitre farmer's daughter stage, and bears with an undying love for honey. Can you not love a Marc Jacobs ad? So simple, yet powered with the unique extravangace eminating from the clothes and occasionally earthy scenery. I have a hate/love relationship with magazine ads  since they conquer around two quarters of the magazine's length leaving you with less content to enjoy. But when my eyes meet a Marc Jacobs ad, they stare, gawk, gaze, ogle, and go as far as doing a Carlton dance of joy (bit of an exaggeration, but only a bit)... The hat! The perfectly matching pomegranate color to the clothing... The love it has coaxed out of my shining eyes.. (How can I manage to sound so ridiculously poetic when in class I compose shitty essays?)
          Getting over the slight Marc Jacobs obsessions (Have you caught a whiff of the delicious odors of the perfumes? I could just swim in a sea of Lola endlessly.), OVERALLS.. Yeah, I've talked about them before, but, I mean, helloo, OVERALLS! The love for those enamoring one-pieces increases when turned insanely , but not in a bad way, modern and casual by Alexander Wang. They are not the t-shirts and jeans type of casual, but the casually chic I-can-rock-the-overall-look-without-looking-too-stable-boy-with-my-enivable-pair-of-heels mode. Man, does that coat shout "Touch me, with your desirng fingers, Krystel" or has the  sugary cereal I ate for breaakfast taken its effect.. Methinks so.


And Once She Felt She Could Fly...

... her foot caught in the chair she lunged her speeding body out of, landing with a deafening crush into the cement nearing her. Ladies and Gentlemen of all ages, please take this as a hones piece of advice. No matter how cool the idea of jumping of a chair and taking a self-timed picture of it seems at the time, don't. If you are gifted with oh-my-god-is-that-a-bird-or-a-plane type of super powers, share it with the gravitational-lacking fools (me) that are sure they'll land like a cat, but find themselves belly flopping into concrete. Ouch, now I know why overalls truly come in handy.
Smize, anyone? :) Am I the only who tried to do that but couldn't cause I kept shaking from euphoric fits of laughter?
"Ei! It's an ant! Aren't you a cute little thing... Aww, your anntenae wave hello! Do black ants still bite? Crud."
I never realized how you can excercise more by running in a hurry to your bike several times to try and satisfy the 10 second shoot than it is actual cycling.
Overalls: Thrift Store (Tailored by me)
Hen or Rooster Shirt: Urban Outfitters
The Boots: Ross
Bow: Self-made

           When you have grown accustomed to the liberties of skirts, wearing full-length overalls can come as quite as a shock to those who dare experience it. The ones who get to watch you toddle (see what I did there?) around campus also receive the shock... I normally wear some "cutesy" skirtsy outfits to school and as the cold came to proximity with my shivering legs, I thought "Screw it, I'm wearing my overalls today, ma". Yeah, that didn't look so well... One day in the near future,  I will master the art of styling the overalls and will graduate with a badgeful of honors. Or at least I hoped I do, because, wow, did I look ridiculous.
                   Overalls, the day in which I wear you with thundering glory is inching upon us...


One Step At A Time Won't Get Me Anywhere Near These Footies

 No matter how strong a bond I have with my current shoes is....
 ..... they're nowhere near my heart's desire.
               I'll be able to sleep again if I at least get to touch the yellowy daisy patterned one's outerior... They're rare. They're are from the 90s. The design looks as if it was painted on by a 7 year old me, what more can a girl ask for? The pastel blue ones on the back. Oooh, the blue metallic ladies. The foxy Jeffrey Campbell platforms in floral tapestry. Or the 80s vintage floral tapestry boots, which unfortunately enough have already been sold. Millionaire Santa, I won't ask for anything this pricey next year... I'll be happy with the plaid ones! Given that the Doc Martens here cost at least $110, I'll save enough money to buy these babies sometime in 2011... Until then, my Wal-Mart lovely ones will get me through the doomed world just fine. (The things is, I wear them so much that they're on the verge of collapsing.)


M'am, another one of these fizzy drinks, please?

            I'm a hat lady as much as the next person. That person's wearing this. I've been in the makes of recruiting more head-covering beauties, and so far I've got 5. Great, 897, 765 more to go. Hats, headpieces, bonnets, toppers,lid, fedora,beanie, whatever you call it, all have two purposes that make the world a little less crazy. Protect your head from the glaring sun or acid rains and bring a smile to our wardrobes. Gah, that sounded too "poetic" (read: overly emotional) for one diminutive paragraph. Anyhow.... I got this little number at Magpie, an awesome vintage store in Portland, Oregon with the raddiest hats/anything. In addition to the overall coolness of the store, the employees have got that oh-I-just-always-look-this-glamorous-and-badass style that I look up to the heavens for. I just roamed through the store with an awestruck expression conquering my face as my fingers came in touch with delicate fabrics from eras I can only wish I experienced. I'll be happy if I got to live in the dressing rooms, which are a level of magestic and divine so off the chart that not even the dictionary itself can find the appropiate word to describe them. Maybe I am in love.

My "Flight Attendant From A Parallel Tim Burton Universe" (I didn't make the Tim Burton Part, I swear Ü)
Shirt: $10 F21
How I Wish They Were Actual Doc Marten Boots: $15 Wal-Mart
Fleur-De-Lis Hat: $24 Magpie ♥
Undersized Blazer & Belt: Own
Also Undersized Scarf: Random Fabric
Velvet Pants: $1 Swap Meet (Tailored By Yours Truly)
Joyful Expression: Priceless

 Nagi Noda's Masterpiece

Anna Piaggi, every hat she wears... too fantasticly eccentric! I love..
Who hasn't ever loved a good ol' floral swim cap?


Nothing But A Shamed Face

After a prolonged month-ish time of down in the dump-ishness....


Dress (Shortened As To Not Sweep The Floors With It): Thrift Store
Undescribable Head Thing: Crafted By My Very Own Hands
Lovely White Low Heels: Thrift Store
Necklace: Birthday Gift
Floral Skirt: TJMAXX
Shirt: Downtown L.A.
Belt: Own
          Not to be a complete self-absorbed baboon, but I've fallen in love with this little yellow sea creature... Nobody could agree on what it actually look liked, so this  shal be referred to as thee octopus/cute thing/ crab/ snail/ forked thingy... This might as well be the only self-made product that doesn't look as if it was put together by the twisted hands of a trodden preschool minotaur. I've pruodly accomplished this octopus/cute.. um..., Whatever you want to call it, by the cultured and secluded art of Melting Of The Forks, (also commonly known as Burning Of My Hands,). If You want to go ahead and try it , I fully recommend it, just make sure you use those brain cells and acquire some fire-resistant gloves first. Or you can opt for the Neanderthal way, like I intelligently chose to, and get close to the stove with feeble hands ready to incinerate.
           Okay, I am so blowing it out of proportion. Making it sound as if I know have deterated candle sticks for fingers might not be the best way to encourage somebody to try the Melting.. I only got a teensy weensy, barely-there, minor, microscopic burn, and that's cause I thought I was made of iron and got a bit to close to the flame.