Posts Tagged ‘fashion’

Ruing the Day

Friday, October 23rd, 2009

Do you have any regrets? You’re probably saying ‘no, because there’s a lesson in everything,’ right?

Bitch please!

Oh sure, there’s lessons we learn along the way, but you’re kidding yourself if you honestly think you don’t regret some of the dumb choices you’ve made in life. I have a whole village of regrets and a river runs through it! Here’s a little sample of things which will thankfully stay in the Bangs Vault of Shameful Things Past:

My Tie Dye/Doc Martin Phase


Whew Lord. I mean, I was young, but not too young to be bitch slapped. This ‘phase’ of mine lasted about 2 years. I had tie dye dungarees for God’s sake! Dungarees! Oh, for shame! In my mind, I was Angela Chase from My So Called Life (quick side bar: I’m still pissed that show got canceled after only one season), but the kids at school saw it differently. I went to school in Chav central, so my hippie chic was kind of lost on them. And unlike Angela Chase, I didn’t have a sexy ass Jordan Catalano following me around. None of the guys were turned on by the tie dye laces in my Doc Martins, I guess.

My Eye Liner Worn as Lip Liner Phase


This came right after the tie dye phase. I decided to go all the way to the other end of the spectrum. I cut all my hair off, wore jeans for the first time and decided that dark brown eye liner lining my lips would be a good look. Ahh, the sweet smell of rebellion. This time, my mother did try to tell me on multiple occasions that I looked like a wanker, but I was convinced that looking as scary as possible was the way forward. Ironically, there are many women with bad perms still rocking this look in Alabama.

My Tattoo


When I was 17, no one was gonna stand in the way of me getting a tattoo. After lengthy discussions with my parents, I decided to get…oh yes…the Japanese kanji for ‘love’ tattooed on my belly. Does it get any more cliche than that? (Well, actually it does, I could have gone with the ‘rose on the shoulder’ or the ‘heart with an arrow through it on the upper arm’) The only saving grace here is that no one ever sees it (I tend to not roam the streets in just my bra, however tempted I may be to do so). If my life takes an unexpected turn and doesn’t go the way I think it will (ie, a lonely, barren existence that ends when I die) and I actually ever have kids – when I’m pregnant, this tattoo will just be a bunch of random lines on my belly. Or, Japanese people will think I’m an extremely loving person.

My Dating a Crackhead Phase


I’m referring to the actual, literal crackhead I dated when I was 19, but really pretty much any man I’ve dated falls into the crackhead category. But, for the sake of this ‘ruing the day’ exercise, let’s stay with the actual crackhead. Surely yes, we can say there were some lessons learned, but if I had my time again, would I date him? Hell to the motherbitchin’ NO!

There are countless more examples I can give from my 20s (mainly involving men I should have never even have given my phone number to, let alone dated), but I don’t want to bore you with all that.

So, what are some of your regrets?

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Posted in life | 15 Comments »

Seasonal Wardrobe Affective Disorder

Monday, February 9th, 2009

 

Friends, this blog has sucked giant donkey balls of late and for this, I am sorry. I put it down to one thing and one thing only: the winter is not fun times in the TDot. 

Around mid-December, I tend to just shut it down and say ‘see you in April!’ There is really nothing so important that I should have to leave my house in sub zero temperatures. You expect me to socialize? Oh, guess again, tubby. Ain’t gonna happen. I get up, I go to work, I come home, I write, I go to bed. And that’s it. For four months. I may try to sneak in a dinner here or catch a movie there, but that’s about as far as it goes. 
And the real reason behind it is my own vanity. See, with the shed load of snow that lands here daily, I cannot wear pretty shoes. And you know what, all I have going for me in life right now is pretty shoes. Without that, I’m nothing! Having to wear ugly ass snow boots and an even uglier coat, that basically looks like a duvet with sleeves, is seriously affecting the diva in me. I honestly cannot bear to go out socializing knowing I have to show up looking like the Michelin Man. 
I see girls who are obviously, just as vain as I and go out in a little jacket and wear their nice shoes and while I applaud them, they just look stupid. I tried to wear a normal jacket once last month and my tits literally froze off. I had to send a search party out to find them. And I’ve tried to wear one of my nicer pairs of boots, but they put so much salt on the ground it feels like I’m walking on a pebbled beach. Unless the city of Toronto plans to reimburse me for damaging my footwear, I just can’t justify trying to look cute right now. 
So day in, day out, I’m basically rocking the same outerwear outfit and it kills my soul. I’m thinking about adding a balaclava to the mix to hide my shame altogether. To compensate, I wear really nice underwear. Not that anyone would ever know. It’s too frikkin’ cold to take my clothes off and show anyone. But you know, should I be hit by a bus, or a snow plough, or a giant icicle falling from the heavens and have to be rushed to the hospital, those ambulance guys will get the show of their lives. 
Given my lack of social life, I’m running low on quirky observations, funny stories and people to talk shit about. But I’m trying folks! Hang in here with me, ’cause I’m gonna keep on truckin’. Come the spring, I’ll be on fire again. Oh and there’s a little trip to New York City at the end of March in the works, which is bound to bring some tales of tomfoolery your way! 

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Posted in fashion | 2 Comments »

Mary Poppins Strikes Again

Monday, February 2nd, 2009


I keep a ridiculous amount of shit in my handbag. It’s reaching crisis point. I’m either gonna end up with lopsided shoulders or I’ll have to start wearing a back pack. God forbid. 

 

I have to find a way to scale down my load, but I like to always be prepared. 
See, I always have my iPod because my life is one long catwalk and deserves a good soundtrack. Then there’s my phone, date book, make up bag, wallet (which still has my bank cards from England and Japan in it – apparently, I’m in denial that I live in Canada now), hand sanitizer, hand lotion and nail file (must keep my hands pretty).
I always have a purse hook because I don’t want to end up at a bar or restaurant and have no place to put my bag. I have tissues and/or wet wipes. Feminine products, because no one wants to be caught out like that. 
I’ll have a book and sometimes New York Magazine (because I like the crossword in the back). Dependent on the season, I may have to carry other little tidbits. In summer, I’ll have sunscreen, my hair straighteners and usually some arnica cream to put on all the bruises I get from my bike. In the winter, I’ll have shoe polish for all those ugly snow and salt stains. 
I’ll usually have a few spare accessories too, in case I need to switch up my outfit a little. A spare pair of earrings and bangle or two can go a long way. I’ll keep my camera in there in case I come across anything picture-worthy and another bag in case I need to do grocery shopping.
I also keep a fold-away scooter, a four piece dinner set, a switch blade, a life jacket, exercise ball, new born baby, TV remote and some vitamin C in there. 
As you can see, I have quite the heavy load. And you can bet the day I decide to not put one of those things in my bag will be the one day I need it.  
But I’m working on it. I’m trying to find a smaller handbag in order to force myself to leave some stuff at home. I don’t know what I’m going to do without that four piece dinner set dangling from my shoulder though. Tough times. 
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Tip of the day – Walk tall.

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Posted in fashion | 6 Comments »

The Elephant in the Room

Sunday, February 1st, 2009

Much was made last week of Jessica Simpson’s astronomical weight gain. Look at her. She’s huge. I’m surprised she doesn’t need a fork lift truck to help her get out of bed in the morning. 

 

Alright, so clearly, she has put on a little chunk, but she’s hardly obese. Needless to say, the celebrity media has lost it’s mind and reported extensively on her ‘shocking weight gain’, sparking the age old debate about the unrealistic pressures placed on women, blah, blah, yada, yada. I think we are avoiding the elephant in the room here (and I’m not talking about Jessica). The problem is not the couple of extra pounds she has acquired. The real issue here is that God awful outfit. 

 

Oh Jessica, the high waisted jean trend died a death a while ago, much like your career. Drop kick your stylist for making such a faux pas (if you can even afford a stylist anymore). 
And where the hell are you going with that belt? You look like Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler. Did you win some kind of title we should know about? Are you the new Heavyweight Champion of Stupidity? You should be, after donning that outfit. 
Important fact to remember: when you have gained a couple of pounds, accept it. Buy the right size clothing. Don’t try to squeeze yourself into your clothes of yesteryear. You look ridiculous. And you draw undue attention to every little lump and bump. Denial is good for no one. You may be that size again one day, but for now, maybe stay away from lycra and skin tight jeans. 
And just on a side note, if you could stop trying to desperately resuscitate your career and just move to Ohio and breed dogs or something, I think everyone would really appreciate that. Mkay. Thanks. 
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Tip of the day – Wear clothes that fit you.

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Posted in fashion | 5 Comments »

Bad Style Choices 101

Sunday, January 25th, 2009


Ahhh, Jigga, Hovi, Hova, Jigga Man. I’ve got 99 problems and those glasses are one. I’m not sure if anyone has told you yet, so allow me; this look is not your friend. 

 

It pains me to have to tell you this Jigga, because you know I love you, right? You pretty much rule my iPod. Other artists on there get jealous of the amount of air time I give you. But hey, you’re one of the best that ever did it, so they just have to understand. But the glasses? This is a movement I just can’t get behind. 
Who told you they were a good idea? Was it Beyonce? Because, this is a woman who let her mother dress her well into her 20s. You shouldn’t be taking any kind of fashion advice from her. And as much as I love your crazy rap stylings, I’ll try and put this as delicately as possible, um, you ain’t the best looking dude. You shouldn’t be attracting any more attention to your face than absolutely necessary. Don’t be throwing accessories on there all willy nilly, like they make sense. 
Do you even actually have to wear glasses? Do you have prescription lenses, because it looks like just clear glass in there. But you are getting on a bit, so it’s likely that your eyesight may be failing. Let me tell you, contacts are your friend. Shoot, blinkers would be better than those circa 1984 bottles you’ve got on your face. 
I respect that you have recognised you’re not 25 anymore and are growing old gracefully, unlike some other rappers (Flava Flav, I’m looking at you). And in a rap career of pretty reliable style choices, everyone is allowed one slip up. Let’s consider these glasses yours. Now go out and get those contacts. 
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Tip of the day – If you need to feel inspired, watch Man on Wire

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If you’re on Facebook, join the hottest group in town, the Bangs and a Bun group. 

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'Faux Pas' Doesn't Cut It

Monday, December 1st, 2008


At a movie theatre in downtown Toronto on Sunday, as I was waiting for friends, I saw a girl in line for tickets. I did a double take. I think she forgot to get dressed. She was wearing a beat up hoodie, pajama pants and crocs. I’m gonna say that again so you can get the full visual (I tried to take a picture, but my camera exploded – it, rightfully, thought that this particular fashion faux pas should not be recorded for the rest of time): beat up hoodie, pajama pants, crocs. Did you just throw up in your mouth a little bit too? Yeah, try seeing it first hand, homeslice. 

 

 I looked again. I don’t think she was homeless. The friend she was with was dressed reasonably well and the girl herself was paying for her own ticket. 

I took a moment to pick my jaw up off the floor. I was beyond disgusted that someone would think that is an acceptable outfit to wear, anywhere, but especially when you are in downtown Toronto and you know you will be meeting friends and around people who will judge you, like me. See, you’d never see someone dressed like that in Times Square and if you did, I guarantee you they’re from Oklahoma or some shit.
I had to hold myself back. I wanted to have words with her, figure out why she was content to be seen in public looking like that. I also wanted to talk to the friend. Friends don’t let friends dress like wankers. 
As I watched her go about her business, laughing and joking, I got to thinking about some scenarios in which her outfit would be acceptable: 
- She’s pregnant and has outgrown everything else in her wardrobe. 
- She lives on a farm and only encounters livestock, who probably don’t care about her appearance. 
- Her house burned down and a hoodie, pajama pants and crocs were the only things she could salvage from the wreckage. 
- She was accosted by crackheads who stole all her clothes and replaced them with crack wear. 
- It’s laundry day and she has nothing else to wear (though public nudity is advised over wearing crocs).
- She was playing truth or dare, she fucked up somewhere and that outfit was the forfeit. 
- She’s a method actor, preparing for a role as a Jerry Springer guest.
- She was sick, got up off the couch to get some juice, got disoriented and ended up downtown.
So, Miss HoodiePajamaCroc Girl, it’s almost Christmas, so I think you should make yourself a list. You should just ask Santa for some taste. One word lists are the best. Oh and ask for an incinerator to burn your current wardrobe. Joy to the World! 

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Posted in fashion | 7 Comments »

A Shopper's Guide to Abercrombie & Fitch

Tuesday, November 11th, 2008


The Yuletide season is fast approaching, bitches. I’m almost done with my Christmas shopping. But, if you’re not a wonder of organization like my good self, fear not, I’m here to help. As a seasoned shopper, I will guide you through the most difficult shops, so that you can take on those bad boys with no fear. Follow these step-by-step guides and you’ll be shopping like it’s a military operation in no time.

 

This week, we tackle Abercrombie & Fitch. Now granted, you have better taste than to step into this minefield of hormones and overpriced tank tops, but, doubtless that niece/little sister/first year college student in your life will throw a grade A bitch fit if you don’t get them something from here. If you’re over the age of 22, Abercrombie makes pretty much no sense. It’s like a secret society. So don’t worry if you feel out of place in there, you’ll see a bunch of other people over the legal drinking age, wandering around aimlessly, close to tears, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. But not you. Oh no. Thanks to this trusty Bangs and a Bun guide, you have got this thing on lock.

 

When approaching an Abercrombie store, you’ll notice there are no window displays. It’s just giant black venetian blinds. Don’t let this throw you off. They’re trying to mess with your head. There actually is a store behind those windows and it has stuff in it.

 

Upon entering, the first thing you’ll notice is a full on assault on your nostrils. That is some special brand of Abercrombie stench that they employ someone especially to spray every minute of the day. You may find that it triggers your gag reflex. I find it helps to throw on a surgical mask before going in. That way, you can bypass the smell and get right down to business without feeling lightheaded.

 

Once inside, you’ll see a couple of topless male models. They have tousled hair, they’re barefoot and their jeans are being held up by nothing more than hope. They are positioned there to remind people like you of your lost youth. I like to just flick their nipples a couple of times. Seriously, try it. It’s a little light hearted fun before you get down to the serious business of the power-browse. But don’t think about doing anything more than a flick of the nipple. If there is tongue-to-nipple contact, you may find yourself being escorted out by security. Just saying.

 

When you’ve finished manhandling the male models, take a deep breath, put your head down and charge in. There are only three things anyone ever wants from Abercrombie; a hoodie, a tank top and some sort of sweat pant with something random written across the ass. Find these things, pick the right colours, pay and get out. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Do not even attempt to try anything on. You’ll be waiting in line till next Christmas.

 

Additional tactics that may be employed under extreme duress; shin kicking, elbow to the ribs, swift poke of the eyeball, a punch to the windpipe. It’s Christmas, bitches. And you’ve got shopping to do. Don’t let them forget that.

 

*Next week we take on the giant drug store.

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Posted in fashion | 8 Comments »

Things That Annoyed Me This Week

Thursday, August 14th, 2008


- That I saw men wearing white shoes. Why? Seriously, just…why?

 

- That people email me and spell my name wrong, even though I just sent them an email, where my email address and the tag line at the end of my message, both had my name spelt correctly. How stupid do you have to be to still make that spelling error?

 

- When people start an email with just my name, no ‘hi’ or ‘dear’ in front of it. I find it confrontational and quite disrespectful.

 

- Having a mouse in my bedroom. Yes, it happened this week. Yes, I screamed like a girl. No, I don’t want to talk about it.

 

- The way Ann Curry of NBC’s Today show dresses. They’re broadcasting live from Beijing for the Olympics and homegirl’s rocking frikkin’ flip flops.

 

- The toilet roll situation. I don’t understand why the girls I live with have a complete inability to change the loo roll when they finish one. It literally takes two seconds.

 

- That there’s a show on MTV called ‘Living on the Edge’, a reality show about a bunch of stuck up British teenagers and it has subtitles. Bitch, please! (And yes, I’m even more annoyed that I actually tuned in to MTV and sat through a whole episode without stabbing myself in the neck with a pencil.)

 

- That despite my pleas, I still see way too many people wearing Crocs and leggings.

- That my fabulousness remains undiscovered. I mean, all I’m asking for is my own weekly column in a national newspaper, being the anchor of some sort of Canadian version of What Not To Wear and to have my own radio show – too much? I think not. Anyone who can make this happen – I await your emails, phone calls, send a fucking carrier pigeon if you have to- just do something before what little is left of my brain, leaks out of my ears and is gone forever.

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I Spy

Thursday, February 14th, 2008


So, guess which country invades the privacy of its citizens the most. North Korea? Nope. China? No. The United States? Don’t be silly.

 

It’s good ol’ Blighty, the United Kingdom.

 

Since 9/11, but more so since the London bombings in ’05, the government has kicked up its public surveillance to a frightening degree.

 

They invade your personal privacy more than any country on earth. I mean, all governments keep records on their citizens, but Gordon Brown & Co are recording every minute detail of Brits lives. And all this from a government that loses information easier than car keys, as was demonstrated last year when the personal information of 25 million Britons was literally, lost in the mail. Banking information, National Insurance numbers, addresses, dates of birth – basically all the ingredients needed for a nice bit of identity theft were left out there flapping in the breeze.

 

Meanwhile, the government thrashed it out in the House of Commons about introducing the most elaborate biometric ID cards in the world, which would infringe on your civil liberties even more. What the hell is this? Nazi Germany?

 

How ironic that the show Big Brother is so popular in the UK. If you live there, your daily life makes you a permanent Big Brother contestant and you don’t even win shit!

 

England, yes, little old England, has over 4 million CCTV cameras. That’s one for every 14 citizens. Each person in England is caught on camera over 300 times a day. Re-read that and try to absorb how ridiculous it is.

 

The London bombers were caught on camera on pretty much every leg of their journey (not to mention all that information The Man has been gathering on every detail of everyone’s lives) and yet nobody stopped them before they blew themselves up, killed 52 people and injured 700 more.

 

My parents live in Leeds (the north of England) and told me recently that new, talking CCTV cameras have been introduced. So, if the camera spots you littering, it’ll tell you to pick it up, when you get out of your car, it’ll remind you to lock your door.

 

And guess who the voice of these talking lampposts is? Motherf**king Jimmy Saville! My loathing of Jimmy Saville is well documented. This is supposed to be the latest tool in crime prevention? Nothing is more likely to drive me to a life of crime than a Jimmy Saville CCTV camera barking orders and stalking me.

 

Oh – the country that protects the privacy of its citizens the most? Canada. Giving those southern states even more reason to hate us.

 

I Miss London

Despite all of that above, I miss London.

This is why.

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Posted in life | 8 Comments »