Chevron City

Blazer and pumps, Banana Republic. Skirt, vintage.

As I may have previously boasted, I snagged this chevron rainbow skirt for only five dollars. If you think that's impressive, check this out: a dandy from Bill Cunningham New York made a jacket out of his sofa, and pants out of his ottoman. I can't compete with that! But I reserve the right to laugh uncontrollably during that scene on a flight to Toronto (Air Canada has some sweet selections under Avant-garde). If you haven't seen it yet, you're missing out on some classic ottoman humor.  

We Can Do It!

Shirt, J.Crew. Shorts, Banana Republic. Scarf, H&M. Belt, Joe Fresh. Sandals, Nine West.

For the past few days, I have been busy planning and packing for a trip, which means my posts may become scarcer in July. One of the cities I'll be visiting is London and would love some recommendations of non-touristy sights. Anyone? Bueller... Seriously, though, I know quite a few bloggers are British, so don't hold out on me, mkay?   

Easy Peasy

Jacket, Talbots. Skirt, Banana Republic. Flats, Geox.

I should probably feel like a bad blogger for posting an outfit consisting of three simple pieces and merely two colors, but that's all my brain could manage last night. It is also why I'm not on Twitter yet - I can't handle little thoughts here and there, because I can't guarantee a steady supply. Sometimes, there's just nothing going on upstairs or as my mother used to joke (after knocking on my noggin): "It's hollow."

Without A Net

Dress, Club Monaco. Cardigan, J.Crew. Belt, Eddie Bauer. Wellies, Hunter.

Last night, Miss Arnold and I played badminton without a net, in a squash court at night. And since it is such a well-mannered sport, we came up with a laundry list of polite curse words to use when the birdie is not cooperating. Highlights included: Arnold Palmer, Montauk, and Tête de Moine. Although I got a bad case of "badminton shoulder," I'm looking forward to our next match - the perfect excuse to exercise my creative cursing.

How Much?

Blouse, Banana Republic. Skirt, J.Crew. Belt, Joe Fresh. Flats, Ralph Lauren.

The temperatures are rising and so are my hemlines. As much as I'd love to be a modest lady year-round (are you proud of me, Ma?), my legs become little hussies come June (not my fault, Ma). I guess it's all fun and games until someone drives by and asks you "How much?".

Justice in Miniature

"Art" on Kitsilano Beach.

The sun I was complaining about last Wednesday has been nowhere in sight this weekend, so I've been catching up on my reading. Have you seen these tiny crime stories? They are delightful, hilarious, and addictive (luckily, there's a new one every weekday).  

Death By Catnap

 

Dress, J.Crew. Sunglasses, Winners. Belt, Banana Republic. Sandals, Nine West. 

I've been unknowingly tanning at home. Although I gingerly apply SPF 65 on the beach, I seem to forget that my windows face west and that cat naps in the sun aren't as healthy as they are delightful. Years from now, when my dermatologist recommends that I get some moles removed, I will take the news surprisingly well - never underestimate the power of being well-rested. And if worse comes to worst, at least my epitaph will read "Death by catnap." How many people can say that?

Reception of Perception

Tee, RW&CO. Skirt & blazer, Banana Republic. Belt, H&M. Sandals, Geox.

Remember my short and stout problem? It's still happening. The good news is, I've grown accustomed to it, at least in photos. The beauty of catching my reflection in mirrors and windows is, well, a beauty. It's all: "Looking gooood" and "Hi, there, slim Jim!" I highly recommend setting your display to extra wide to experience this kind of "spontaneous sultriness" (No? What about.... "instant incandescence?").

GRAMMAR 101: The Ayes Don't (Always) Have It

 Umbrella, Hudson's Bay Co. Blouse & pumps, Banana Republic. Skirt, J.Crew.

I miss those days when people said things like "Me and Snooki are like, best friends." Doesn't this blatant grammatical error beat the horror that is hypercorrection? People avoid using "me" like the plague, thinking that the I-s always have it, but let me show you where they certainly do not.

1) My mother loves my sister and I.
First of all, the objects of my mother's affection should be just that: objects. The first person singular direct object pronoun is me, whereas I is the subject. If all you read was blah, blah, blah, think about it this way. I have no sister, so yank her out of that sentence and you're left with: My mother loves I. I rest my case.

2) for you and I, to him and I, a book about Snooki and I, etc.
These prepositions indicate indirect objects: me, me, me. And since we're being self-centered, let's explore those examples without you, him, and Snooki: for I, to I, about I. Yikes!

3) Snooki and I's friendship goes way back.
This malfeasance is the worst one of all because it is a matter of possessive forms and I's should always strike you as a red flag. The friendship belongs to both Snooki and... me, so the easiest way would be to replace the whole thing with Our friendship goes way back since I probably mentioned us in a previous sentence. If this is your opening statement, however, make sure you show correct ownership of said friendship: Snooki's and my friendship goes way back.  

 Now you know I watch The Jersey Shore. Please don't tell anyone.

The Frenzy

Hat, Talula. Button-up, Talbots. Shorts, Banana Republic. Flip-flops, Hollister.

I found this straw boater in a sea of fedoras and I am now one step closer to fulfilling a lifelong dream of joining/starting a barbershop quartet (as long as I can be the bass). But enough about my silly dreams! You're probably wondering how I managed to get these beach shots without any tenors or baritones lurking in the background. One word: hockey. Fanatical fans and fake fans alike were eating wings and chugging lager in pubs across the city, leaving me to enjoy this nearly private beach for a few hours. Go, Canucks? 

Perfect Day

Dress, Milly. Trench, J.Crew. Belt, Joe Fresh. Tote, Chapters. Sandals, Nine West.
Photos by LOVE-AN-ARNOLD

Kiki, Ms. Arnold, and I recently paid a visit to a wonderful little dog beach, mere steps from our apartments. I was a tad overdressed (just a tad) but as comfortable as can be. Our perfect day continued with cocktails at the Cascades Lounge in the Pan Pacific Hotel (complete with a klassy piano man) and tacos at La Taqueria (a true delight). In other food news, I'm looking for a partner in oyster crime. Only serious applicants will be considered.

 

Check out that perky tail peeking out of the water.

Whose Hose Is This?

Dress, Talbots. Scarf, H&M. Flats, Geox.

In the past few months, Winners outlets in the Vancouver area have been treasure troves of Talbots apparel. This is quite unusual, since the only Talbots store in Canada (that I know of) is in Toronto. The selection is limited in terms of styles and sizes, which is why I snagged this LBD in a Petite 8. I am neither petite, nor an 8, but lo and behold, this knit fits! Dressing has never been easier. What wasn't so easy? Posing with the blue hose in a ladylike manner (the term Slutty Audrey comes to mind).

On The Fritz

Dress, J.Crew. Tank, Tommy. Belt, Eddie Bauer. Sandals, Nine West. Tote, Chapters.

Good news: after a nine-day absence, my photographer has returned to lend his eyes and thumbs to this blog. Bad news: after an epic crash and a costly repair, my computer is still on the fritz. Bizarro Windows was reinstalled and one of its features is an extra wide display, which unfortunately makes all you ladies (myself included) look short and stout. Please help before I develop a complex.