We Look Awesome

Of all the years that make up the history of history, I’d have to put 1789 near the top of my faves list. Well I wouldn’t be forced to or anything…I would do it of my own free will. Why? What happened in 1789? Ummm, only the best French revolution ever. I’ll never be entirely sure why I am so obsessed by this particular historical event. Maybe it’s the really, really rich people being guillotined. Maybe it’s the equal-opportunity guillotining that followed (equality rocks!). Maybe it’s the lovely lady who welcomes the tired, poor, huddled masses as a constant reminder that there was a single moment in history when France was like “hey US, thanks for being awesome and inspiring us to have a revolution.” Or maybe it’s just that handsome devil,

Maximilien Robespierre. I mean, you’ve got to admit, for a bat-shit crazy fucker, the guy was sort of a fox. You know, before he got shot in the face over that little festival-of-the-supreme-being-walking-down-a-man-made-mountain- dressed-in-all-white-like-he’s-the-second-coming-of-freakin-MOSES incident. Seriously, the French can be so UPPITY sometimes.

Although I do also find his Jacobian successor Georges Jacques Danton sort of sexy too, in a Daniel Craig sort of way…

Anyway, last time I checked this site was supposed to be about style, not the possible do-ability of 18th-century French revolutionaries. But let me know what you think, some people might actually like this approach better.

I digress. I realized recently (and yes, it always takes me an unusually long time to make connections like this) that because of my affinity for this event, I’ve always been especially attracted to garments with a toile de jouy print. You know those cute little French country scenes? Well they originated around the same time as my favorite revolution…probably just before, because whoever designed the pattern was most likely guillotined during the reign of terror for being complicit in Marie-Antoinette’s blind dedication to fashion (seriously bitch, you should have sent some of that brioche out to those starving peasants. Sweet wig though).

Like I said, it’s always a joy to find something in this pattern, especially since it’s usually only used on curtains and teacups…both of which are generally unwearable. Here is what I’ve been able to get my hands on over the years:

#1 The Shirt:

#2 The Dress:

#3 The Jumper:

(recognize that jacket? Yeah, you do. It’s the best!)

Also awesome? These Tom of Finland sheets from the 2006 Dirty Linens Collection:

Gaylorious revolution.

The best thing about being an ex-pat on the 4th of July? Even though Canadians generally forgo spending massive sums on firework/parade celebrations – opting instead for a more consistent, less bi-polar day-to-day quality of life – since it’s not a national holiday up here, I get to wear over-the-top, Americana-inspired outfits without looking like a total patriotic weirdo. I do this at home too, but here it’s a little less ridiculous. And those rare occasions when I get to be a little less ridiculous are always refreshing.

#1 – The American Airlines stewardess (inspired by KG…who’s not a stewardess. Still, it’s a sweet title, and I stand by it):

#2 – The French American (stripes sans stars):

aaaaand #3 – Daisy Duke goes to the office (featuring Mexican Lucy on the left, and sad Liza Liza on the right, freshly abortioned):

So while y’all enjoyed fireworks, BBQs, and strawberry-blueberry shortcake, I had my own fun with the red, white, and blue. Land that I love…one day we’ll be stressfully and spectacularly together again.

Two weeks! Did you miss me? I hope so. Upon the recommendation of an especially Foxy lady, I’ve got some outfits inspired by Jennifer Grey’s top two characters from the 80s. BUT FIRST, some things about Jennifer Grey, and her most iconic roles, that should be noted:

1)For some reason, in both Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986) and Dirty Dancing (1987), Grey’s characters have two names, Jeanie/Shauna and Baby/Frances, respectively. Noteworthy? I’d say so.

2)At the height of her career, Jennifer Grey got an ill-advised nose job, which left her (arguably) more conventionally pretty, but nearly unrecognizable as her beloved, already famous bird-faced self. Just imagine, if this all went down today, this unnecessary procedure might have made her MORE popular, a la every 20-something bitch getting cheek implants, breast augmentation, collagen injections, botox, etc. Social commentary? Check.

That said, let’s get to the awesomeness.

First, Jeanie:

which I interpreted as:

While we’re on this, you might as well check out the police station scene with Charlie Sheen:

Classic. Now, while you’re watching clips, check out this one from Dirty Dancing, which details Baby’s transformation from an awkward teenager into a graceful woman through the power of dance and tenor sax solos. Something fairly akin to this happened to me over the course of ten years:

And here is me lamely reenacting the bridge scene from the “Wipeout” montage:

Aaah Baby, who could not be put in a corner, how your knee length cutoffs inspire me. So much that I made a second pair:

They make me feel like Beyonce

because I have thick thighs, which according to this picture from Coachella, can be damn sexy. And because my man packs heat like he’s the oven door. OBVS.

Picture it: New York, 2010. I’m home on my annual oh-my-god-WHY-would-I-leave-the-greatest-city-on-earth-for-montre-fucking-al trip, strolling down 14th street, wearing something vaguely inappropriate when I see it. A retro mirage.

That’s right ladies and gayntlemen. My little trip serendipitously coincided with fleet week. Oh joy, and rapture! They’re here! With their cute little butts in their cute little pants! And their southern accents! What can I say, I love me a man in uniform.

Now, I personally have strict a “look don’t touch” policy regarding fleet week. Why? Well, while I’ll always appreciate a good service man, invariably you’re gonna get these guys out of their uniforms and they’re either gonna be a) pimply 17-year-old virgins/unwed fathers or 2) pot-bellied middle-aged sleaze-hogs. Oh, and I have a general aversion to all things known to cause STDs. It’s just this little peculiarity I’ve always had. Not like any of this stops me from dressing like this during this joyous festival

(yes, those are anchors), or hamming it up even further by carrying a bag like

It takes me back to a better time in the history of style…before casual Fridays lead the masses to believe it was ok to leave the house before changing out of their pajamas, when the standard of beauty was a strategically clad Vargas girl, whose skirt would blow up revealing something exciting, instead of something we’ve all seen a thousand times before.

When I was a little girl, I spent a significant portion of my school breaks and summers in Fort Lauderdale, FL at the home of my gorgeous and fasionable Grandma Jeanne

(The devastatingly handsome man with her is my Grandpa Bob; and yes, she maintained the highest level of style until the day she passed).

It was during these visits that I was first exposed to the Golden Girls. Grandma Jeanne, like most women of retirement age during its 1985-1992 run, was a loyal viewer, and I joined her whenever I could. Given my age however, I was unable to grasp most of the issues the four women dealt with, the more serious of which ranged from homelessness to artificial insemination to the emerging AIDS crisis, nor was I aware that the characters were clad in some of the highest couture of the time. I just knew that these were four funny, graceful, and stylish women who reminded me of my grandmother. And as anyone who has ever had a grandmother knows, there is hardly anything in life that is more comforting.

Because of these memories, I have returned to the show many times in my life. Each time, I find a masterpiece of comidic timing perfectly balanced with continuously relevent social commentary. Not to mention a sweet wardrobe and a constant craving for cheesecake. Basically, Golden Girls was the Sex and the City that stayed clever, classy, and chic, and never sold out to designer name dropping, facile plots, and superficial character relationships. 

Having always been primarily interested in dance and style, extensive knowledge of the series has also helped me connect with most of the men I’ve encountered. Actually, I’ve never met a gay or straight man or woman who, despite any initial, superficial misgivings about subject matter, hasn’t become hooked on the show upon watching. Which is why it’s especially sad that in the past two years, we’ve lost three of these lovely ladies. First, the utterly hilarious Estelle Getty, on July 22, 2008, 

pictured here looking awesome after accepting her Emmy for playing the much older Sophia Petrillo.

Then, on April 25, 2009, the monumental Bea Arthur,

the mega-star who played Sophia’s daughter Dorothy Zbornak, the character that prompted my favorite and most bizarre childhood mannerism, fist-biting 

And now, just yesterday, the endlessly sultry Rue McClanahan

who played Atlanta vixen Blanche Devereaux. Blanche proved that growing older didn’t mean growing out of your sexuality, that with a little swagger and an increased know-how that only comes with age, a woman could be sexy into her AARP years. Before Samantha Jones’ never-ending collection of cremes, hormones, and botox sessions (I’m sorry, is my distaste for SATC 2 showing? How embarrassing), Blanche showed women how to stay young with pure attitude, and gave us all hope for our golden years.

The only consolation for the loss of these tremendous comediennes is the surge in popularity of surviving funny lady Betty White

who played charming and ditzy St. Olaf native Rose Nylund. The past few years have seen her in several television and movie roles. Nearly half a million fans joined a facebook group urging her to host SNL, and in May she became the oldest person to do so at 88. To top off the Betty craze, she stars in the upcoming sitcom Hot in Cleveland. As a friend of mine said this week “Betty White is so hot right now.”

I like to think all of the Golden Girls are forever hot. Here’s a little gem that demonstrates the ease with which the sitcom and its actresses fit into pop culture today

Pretty sweet, huh?

So to Estelle, Bea, Rue, and Betty and their Golden Girl counterparts, right back atcha, in so many ways

Soooooo, I wanted to wait and do a feature on this sweeet NYC Glitter pop band, Tayisha Busay, but since their video for “WTF you doin in my mouth” just came out I simply MUST post it RIGHT NOW. Watch it. Then watch it again. Then drink some glitter because, as Ariel of TB informs me, it makes your poop glittery. There you go. Follow their advice, and even your poop will look awesome.

Do you ever look in the mirror, having just gotten dressed to go out for a few drinks with friends after a long and arduous day of watching Twin Peaks and realize, “wow, you can really tell I’ve been watching Twin Peaks all day”? You know, you’ve got that whole retro 1950s from the 1980s a la understated B-52s thing going on? David Lynch, you creep into our dreams, you disturb our psyches, and you also have the ability to corrupt closets? Way to go man. I guess the laugh-track bunny will always laugh last.

We had some trouble with the flash on this one, and the pose is definitely not too-cool-for-schooly enough for Twin Peaks High (my photographer directed me to do broken down doll), but you get the idea. Pretty sweet. I’ll take this outfit as payment for sitting through Inland Empire.

I’m especially fond of the shoes, an amalgam of the two pairs Audrey sports in the pilot,

Booyah! All right, I’m off to finish the second half of Season 2.

After neglecting to get a photo of myself in my Friday night outfit, depicted here inanimately, I’ve decided I really can’t put it off any longer. It’s time to let there be light on We Look Awesome.

It’s really too bad because this whole get-up,

was somehow simultaneously, and I would say rather miraculously, inspired by Baby from Dirty Dancing

(Knee-length cuffed cut-offs, white leotard…sort of a mix between this scene and the one where she’s dancing on the bridge. You know the one. During the montage? Well, if you don’t I strongly suggest you re-watch…right now),

Joan Crawford

(big shoulders, art deco pumps seen with the outfit below, general attitude),

and the Little Mermaid,

(I had a plastic seafoam green hair clip, not pictured, in my newly red hair. Disney, if you’re reading this, please don’t sue me. I don’t make any money).

I know, I know, how could these seemingly incongruous elements blend together to make me look awesome? I’m not sure, but they did, and many strange Quebecois men double-took and bon-nuited me.

But enough with missed opportunities, let’s take a look at some adequately documented awesomeness,

That’s me on the right, doing my best impression of a raptor arm, with the lovely Laura Louise on the left, getting ready to celebrate Laura’s 6th annual 21st birthday. Usually my noteworthy outfits are inspired by style icons, but this duet was serendipitously situational, with Laura playing the role of birthday girl – pink dress with large bow, curled blond bob – and me as the attention seeking cougar mom who can hardly believe how fast her little girl is growing up. We played our roles well that night; I bossed Laura’s friends around while she happily consumed pink champagne and cake. Then I made out with her boyfriend and she locked herself in her bedroom and cried herself to sleep. Or something like that.