TWO

Dress, Banana Republic. Jacket, RW & Co. Scarf (worn as a headband), Brooks Brothers. Shoes, Geox.

Anticipating a large late-night dinner at a steakhouse, I planned for bloating and threw on my black sweater dress. She is 100% merino wool, high waisted (higher than my natural one but not quite empire), a reliable friend for the past 3 years. After much deliberation, the dress and I were persuaded to try Coast, a primarily seafood restaurant. Since I avoid dairy like the plague, I had to forgo most seafood dishes in creamy guises and have a steak after all. My inevitable food baby consisted of an 8oz. filet mignon alongside a monstrous plate of steamed seasonal vegetables and a glass of Shiraz. Also performing that night was a dessert sampler - a cornucopia of lactose evil and a feast for my eyes. 

ONE

Dress, BCBG Girls. Cardigan, J.Crew. Belt, H&M. Sandals, Nine West. Earrings, Ange Adair.

Friday night in Gastown, at Pourhouse. I paired my L.B.D. with an entree of local halibut, red grain quinoa, and shaved fennel and orange salad, all the while sipping an Old Cuban. Although highly impractical (bubblewise), the Mad Men era sparkling wine glass made my cocktail that much more enjoyable. I paid dearly the next day (hello, hangover!), but for 30 tipsy minutes, I felt like Betty Draper.

Ode to the L.B.D.

I've been meaning to pay homage to the little black dress for a while, although my once-impressive collection boasts only four such items these days (not counting a stashed prom dress with a plunging neckline a la J. Lo - what was I thinking?). So, for the next few posts, I shall introduce you to the four pillars of my wardrobe, in a variety of cuts and fabrics. Excitement doesn't even begin to cover it.

What: Prancing in the rain
Where: Museum of Vancouver

A friend invited me to go see Fox, Fluevog and Friends, an exhibit on several of Vancouver's most prominent shoe designers at MOV today. If you are a shoe aficionado with dramatic taste, this will be right up your alley. I, however, was most impressed by some of his personal letters - no surprise there. All in all, it was a beautiful rainy day (Hello, Reading Season!), complete with a veggie burger from Vera's. 

Dress (with sash), H&M. Sweater, Club Monaco. Scarf, H&M. Shoes, Geox. Bag, Ann Taylor.
Photos courtesy of Vanessa A.

Tofino Part Two

No blurb this time. Visual creatures, rejoice.

Sweet plumage!

A-good-idea-at-the-time type of thing.

Campy shot - a must.

Cardigan, J.Crew. Skirt, J.Crew and shorts, Banana Republic. Tights, Hue.

Blue skies (and purely ornamental clouds) guide us back to Vancouver.

The inevitably nautical end.
Sweater+shorts, Banana Republic. Sunglasses, Winners. Bag, Ann Taylor. Flats, Browns. Legs? My mom, of course.

Tofino Part One

First off: apologies to my third reader, I didn't see you there. Thanks, Pablo! And now, the Tofino dream unfolds with an 8 am ferry ride to Vancouver Island, followed by a three-hour drive to a surfer's paradise. What? Surf? Moi? You bet I didn't. But I did prance around Cox Bay Beach in my ruffled trench coat and nautical silk scarf, while other resort patrons schlepped around like greasy seals (can you tell I was jealous?). We got a measly 4 hours of sun the first day we were there, too tired and lazy to use them up, and spent the rest of our time engulfed by fog and mist. Weather, schmeather: by no fault of my own, we were upgraded to a three-storey private villa right ON the beach. And so, when our bicycle rental plans were shattered, or when I got carsick from being driven on those winding roads, or when I almost got hypothermia trying to show off my bikini bod on a 15 degree day - the Villa made it all better.
Of course, the trip wouldn't have been complete without a short but scenic "hike" and several planned-but-spontaneous-looking photo-shoots. Yes, that was a smidgen of honesty. No, you cannot see any photos where I don't look like a better version of myself.

 On the road.

Cox Bay Beach.

I wasn't lying about the prancing.

Or the posing.
Trench, J.Crew. Jeans, The Gap. Sweater, Banana Republic. Scarf, Brooks Brothers. Belt, H&M.

The view from the villa!

The Pacific Sands Resort = LOVE, as in RAINCOATS.

The day was gray, but I was feeling sassy.
Cardigan, J.Crew. Skirt, Banana Republic. Tights, Hue. Flats, Browns. Scarf, Brooks Brothers.

The aforementioned "hike".

Where gray met green.

A view of the villas.

Untamed wilderness and all that.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Reverie

I've been postponing my Tofino post since my arrival home last night. A friend asked me how it was and all I could muster (or type, rather) was "Tofino was a dream." Yes, I am a great procrastinator and I CAN rationalize pretty much anything, but this is true. Tofino was a dream. I feel like I need time to go through the motions of remembering it so that I can do it justice with mere prose. Until then, I hope this photo will hold you over, my two readers.

Cox Bay Beach.

I Am Love

http://www.magpictures.com/resources/presskits/iamlove/6.jpg

What: I Am Love (Io Sono L'Amore)
Where: 5th Ave. Cinemas, Kitsilano.  http://www.festivalcinemas.ca/


The latest Tilda Swinton vehicle had me enraptured, though to be perfectly honest, I usually feel that way when I catch a movie alone in a real theater these days. It's because there are no distractions! For this movie in particular, only true cinephiles need apply. Like most European films, it has very little dialogue, a (seemingly) slow pace and... subtitles throughout. The lady sitting next to me had to find out the hard way: she fell asleep ten minutes into it. But I digress. The cinematography was both odd and beautiful, with a nostalgic nod to 1980s Italian TV and cinema (The Octopus TV miniseries comes to mind). The story centers around Emma Recchi, a Russian woman who married into a prominent Italian family, the owners of a textile factory now on the verge of being sold. Predictably, she is unhappy. As an emigre whose name was made up by her husband (she only remembers her Russian nickname), she has no identity, so it's no wonder she doesn't belong in their world. She begins an affair with her eldest son's best friend, a brooding young chef of no consequence to the snobbish Recchis.
Saying anything more might spoil this film for those of you who have not seen it yet. Suffice it to say that a great deal is swept under the rug in the family and, as you may expect from the steady build-up, tragedy strikes. The frames are consistently sensuous, with food as a big contender (fine-dining, locavore fare), Swinton's finely tailored dresses, as well as frequent close-ups of her chignon. I can only assume the latter was supposed to inspire lust, but I kept craving a croissant! Lust and gluttony go hand in hand, though, so maybe my cravings were not so far-fetched.

In conclusion, I give I Am Love two thumbs up. Check out the trailer here: http://www.iamlovemovie.com/