My Illustrative Life

This is the second summer workshirt, salmon chambray, but more importantly - it is a shirt that I can wear and think “Yes, I could be digging something up in the desert in 1922″.

That’s really all I want out of my clothes.

The fold along the center of my panama gives my silhouette a pleasingly pithy air, too. Just imagine that I am standing in from of sand, not bricks, okay?

I stayed in school after dinners were done to help take the five year olds on a walk. A really awesome walk; they all got to take their shoes off and play in a stream. On a school walk! That never happened to me! So cool! The teachers had their feet bare too and were leaping across the banks.. but I thought that, since I’m still pretty new (and ambiguously young), I don’t yet have the authoritah to stand muddy adventures and come out on a different, non-peer level. Major. Bummer.

I like the practical-practical 20s-30s archaeological-style adventure clothes but I also like the “..and here is a version for a lady“. Because, I am a lady, and I like to see if and how ‘lady’ stuff can work for me. So, la! Pretty pretty princess, undead spirit falls for her, she says “no thank you”, kicks sand in his face when he is not dissuaded.

I actually found it trickier than I expected to find example pictures of the kinds of stories my head is digging when I wear this way. I wanted to embed a section of the Appointment With Death Suchet-Poirot with Tim Curry, but youtube has it disabled! So. Here’s Diana Palmer from the 1996 The Phantom (a movie I own and will watch over and over; Billy Zane is a fun actor, and the lady friendship sub-plot is neat), Evie from the 1999 The Mummy (again, a multiple-watch film for me), and an older Diana Palmer, from this article from dailypop.

Peace out, comrades - I got history books to read.

Yup! I’m wearing the same as yesterday. Sue me!

I didn’t really feel like dressing in something new just to sit and puzzle over tailoring my CV for the job I have my eye firmly on (please cross your fingers for me!). But that worked out for the best, because after finishing that up I needed a change of scene so I went and picked flowers. Which I’ve been looking forward to since I first spied this skirt - the pocket are so perfect for meadow-wandering! Don’t you think?

Please, enjoy these flowers as well!

After that wholesome interlude, I want to share some music with you. Which I don’t do that often, because it usually seems a bit pointless - who doesn’t know about the Misfits being awesome, or Faith No More or Cheap Trick of the Runaways or Elvis Costello or Suzi Quatro or Michael Jackson or the Pixies or Tom Waits or Kana? And when I am listening to things I don’t hear people talking about I kind of.. have nothing to say other than “this is really good, I like it” most of the time. I don’t know how to talk about music! If you read here regularly, you should know that.

But suddenly I have found a reason to talk bands with you guys!

Let’s talk Danish pop, shall we?

Of course, by that I mean “The Cartoons and Aqua were brilliant and I love them”.

I was ten when Barbie Girl came out, and eleven when Witch Doctor came out and they hit me right in the joy buttons. Even then, there was a little bit of ‘must pretend to like ironically in public’, but I asked for their albums for my birthday and christmas and I got them. At this point, my music collection was like so: Eternal; Boyzone; Spice Girls; [repeat].

They both found their way into my farm in the same way that they managed to fool most of the people most of the time (I’ll get back to that) - they wore bright colours! And had super-gimmicky prop-instrument-costumes! And they moved really fast and were exaggerated! Their videos gave me something to look at, instead of fourminutes of a bunch of guys standing on a dark stage kicking up dust and strumming soulfully. I hate boring music videos, I really do. And yeah, I genuinely like the sounds that they make - they’re unserious, and joyful, and sort of shiny-heartfelt. I like the volume and mania they have in their noise.

You may laugh, but the most important thing about these bands (once you get past the image, because I did need that to notice them) were their lyrics. I know, it sounds ridiculous, right? Ooh ee ooh ah ah ting tang walla walla bing bang.

But really. They’re both kind of filthy, if you listen. Filthier than ten-eleven year olds are used to, and filthier than you’d assume from the perky-perky toon-music and the perky-silly costumes and videos.

I’ll say right now that I have no idea if they wrote their songs or not - I know that the Cartoons mostly did/do covers. That doesn’t matter, actually.

That is enough to make me a life-long convert, to be honest. I remember listening to this song, being eleven, and thinking, “I know I am hearing a song about oral. Nobody is noticing. I know that nobody would want me to listen to a song about oral. This CD didn’t have ‘explicit content’ on it. Nobody knows. They have tricked people by looking silly.”

Again - rape? The word “rape” in a song for me, an eleven year old? It’s allowed because they are a novelty band? Mind: blown.

‘They’re talking about fucking, aren’t they”, I thought.

Even as a ten year old, you could hear the satire in “Barbie Girl”. I thought it was aces, I mean come on, it was funny! So daft, so obviously venomous, so true to life. This satire about gender roles was at number one for three weeks, here. Mattel sued, and it was dismissed. That’s fucking landmark stuff! A pop band skewers the shallow, unquestioned ‘perfect life’ dream sold mercilessly by a toy company, gets sued, and wins. Feminist victory, gone unnoticed!

I like these bands because they make me laugh with what they say, and when they aren’t making me laugh they’re making me go “awww, that’s nice!” The way that Aqua crafted most of their songs into stories (and had the videos to back them up) mattered to me, particularly as pre-bedtime listening. Fairytale castles in songs with horse-feet sound effects in. Flippin’, rigging’d airships.

And I like the technobilly echoing depth of shallow that the Cartoons give. “Who put the bomp” is one of my favourite songs. I can’t help it! It just sounds nice, and the lyrics are sweet, and, I like it! They have a double bass disguised as A CARROT, you know? Give them a chance.

First: on theme!

Harsichord-sound. Pirates. Badass princess. Narrative progression. Someone playing their own dad. HURRAY!

They went there. “Giant lizard”!

I am always pro-band who use animation in their videos. Or rather, I am always pro-using animation. That’s a wiser statement.

Click here for the Witch Doctor video. CURSE YOUR DISABLED EMBEDDING!

I’m including this one because it has the official video included; it’s one of the weaker ones, I rekkin.

Maybe all bands, really, are dirty mouthed horrors. Eh. I still love these ones. I don’t know what it is about you, Denmark! But I like it.

I don’t credit bloggers and street style photo culture with my current level of inner confidence and self-pleasure. I do credit them, large-partly, with my confidence about where I stand in the public, every-day world. Bloggers, online alt-fashion communities and street style photo culture are why I could not keep up my teenage idea of the whole world is against me and nobody wants me to look how I want.

Seeing people dressed outside of the highstreet (and even outside of the known sub-culture) norm(s), happily, at various ages, all over the world, being themselves, made it impossible for me not to know that no matter where I am, there is someone who understands a bit, who doesn’t resent my self-expression and personal visual comfort, who is pleased by my constructed image and who, if we met directly, would give the metaphorical fist-bump of solidarity.

This is all I wish to provide here.

My main memory of highschool peer wardrobe approval was when my friend said to me “Why did you buy that?” about a skirt.. that I was wearing. Whilst we were out. Gee that made me feel comfortable!

I’m sure that I was as much of an ass as anyone.

I feel it like a duty, frankly (pompously?), to honestly present my thoughts and some e-semblance of my philosophy/personality so that people who are similar to me and who haven’t yet found any or many allies don’t have to feel alone in the world.

I’m not asking anyone to make a connection, or cruising for buddies - I just want to be visible as a subject of comparison. Just in case.

It’s not that I don’t do it for the plain satisfaction of self-expression, “activism”, to show off, for mental exercise, to keep me busy, etc etc as well. I like writing this blog! But I probably wouldn’t, because I am lazy, if I didn’t have the blog-related life experience that I do.

I am not sure if this counts as a manifesto, because I find the concept of “a manifesto” hard to grasp. Do you have to use particular language conventions? But it’s a “why I do this”, which I think is basically the same? Right?

Oh and I am not asking for gratitude, obviously!

Geddit?

I’m not ashamed. I’ll say it. HOLY CRIKEY DARN, I am so psyched for The Runaways (band movie, not comic, or comic movie). Eeeeeeee.

Anyway when I was in bed this morning, watching the (puny) DVD extras on the Dark Angel season one boxset I was thinking to myself, as I do, “what shall I wear today?” I put the question to one side, as I did a little internet catch-up, feeling that the answer would come in time. And naturally - it did!

I forget where I was, but I saw mention of Runaways preview trailers. WHAT, I thought? I can WATCH SOME OF IT? Already?? And then I sent an email to my beloved saying that I wasn’t going to, because it would probably make me feel too full of fireworks and vim - and I have no villain to punch to calm myself down.

But (I thought) there’s no reason why I can’t look at related stills and get a bit of contact-awesome! And that: is what I did!

The answer was pretty clear. I needed to wear some seventies jeans.

I don’t really have much of a bond with jeans; I didn’t own any until I was old enough to make a big “I’m so cool cos I’m different” mental deal of the fact that I didn’t have any jeans (seven?) and throughout my life finding any kind of trousers to fit has been an angry ordeal. I haaaate trying jeans on in shops (it takes ages! and energy! and they’re never gonna fit perfectly ANYWAY, and they’re expensive even if they fit just “okay”!). So when I see lists of wardrobe must-haves that include jeans, my reaction is pretty much a big ole “whatever”. I frown at jeans because they frown at me.

Actually on the whole I also just don’t think they look that interesting. “Jeans” as a concept are ubiquitous, and since I don’t live in a high fashion or very hip area means I get to see a lot of really boring cuts. I’m sorry!

Seventies jeans, though? Those I can dig. Flares flatter, High waists, large pockets.. seventies jeans are chilled and lounging with hidden power. They have metaphorical narrowed eyes. Their lines flow - bootcut and a lot of modern “lady trousers” have lines that I find really uncomfortable. They short of go vase-like up the legs, and then flick in over the top of the hips? I hate them, they make me feel like a sack of potatoes. Particularly trousers from Fat Face. They just are not for ladies built like me.

I’m reading that this kind of jeans are coming back into shops, which is nice, though I suspect the shape will be smaller in the hips now than then. But like I mentioned - trying on jeans is my idea of shopping labour. Unless they’re already in my house. Handily folded away on a shelf for etsy sale, fresh out of my Gran’s attic - my mum’s teenage jeans! From the actual seventies. I got out of bed and I tried them on, and would you believe? Somehow all of a sudden, they magically fit me, Kind of. Well enough. That’s the other thing about seventies jeans, as seen on the Runaways (real or filmic) - they’re just there to express how awesome and bodacious you are, rather than being king of the picture. Seventies jeans are like the stem of a flower. The wearer is the blossom. On second thoughts that analogy is irritatingly close to my childhood belief of “the 70s = flower children”, but.. jeans make me say whatever. So: whatever!

Mumjeans. Seventies jeans

Did you ever put on three different things that you know are “you”, and end up feeling unsure if you feel “like you” when you have them all on at once? I haven’t worn trousers casually with a non-oversized top for too long! It took a while to get used to.

Then I got too hot and changed to my Bowie shirt out of the washing bin. WOW let’s PUSH THAT ENVELOPE on the ‘what to wear with seventies jeans’ front!

Right there is the only bad thing about authentic seventies jeans: the zips are often not the healthiest. But that’s cool - Kristen-as-Joan rocks the open waistbutton, and so can I. If I feel like it.

I am “an illustrator” and my beloved is “a writer”. We do a lot of creating, but have nothing ready for public show. Which sucks quite a lot, because it makes us look like big lazy sub-par arses. But for tiny, everyday practice, we decided to start a story game. And now, we share! I drew a picture I had no story for (and honestly, no like for; the anatomy is terrible. I have been so lazy with my lifedrawing studies recently AND IT SHOWS), he made a scenario out of it. I drew a picture inspired by that, he wrote a little bit. And so on, and so on. I was baking, he was hoovering, during..

Him: It seems like the Coalition for Nuclear Disarmament are training an airstrike unit for their next protest… But inkeeping with their liberal leanings, they aren’t against letting under-18s apply for the job!

Him: “You see the figure on the chimeny?”
“Yeah…”
“She’s demonstrating the correct launching-off point for our airstrike. Now–”
“Isn’t that a nuclear chimney?”
“…What was that about the chimeny?”
“Chimney. Isn’t a nuclear power station?”
“Well… There’s ‘nuclear’, and NUCLEAR nuclear. This plant is just nuclear.”
“Isn’t there a fundamental ideological flaw in launching an anti-nuclear airstrike from a–”
“SO THE NEXT SLIDE IS………”

Me:

Him: “WAIT WAIT! That chimney’s–”
“Chimeny.”
“–DEFINITELY nucular, ‘cos I used the shower at that facility this morning… What? My dad works there. So I used the shower, and now I have to wear this coat ALL the time or my blood falls out and I have to drink other peope’s!!”
“…Huh. Alright, MAYBE we should choose a different chimeny. Does anyone know of any?”
“You don’t need a take-off point if you outfit the wings with a VTOL system.”
“…Genius! But how can we fuel such a thing without sacrificing our anti-nuclear morals?!”
“Nucular….”

Me:

Him: Ok, mental block. But they’re in disguise to find a new source of power or… SOMETHING.
Me: What I was imagining was, they were pretending to have been RUINED AND MUTANTISED by nucular power, so that they had an excuse for using it for their advantage. Did you notice chubby frankie muniz?

Hope it gave you a pleasant enough pause!

I don’t always illustrate my face subject to the thoughts I had when I dressed for the day. Sometimes I do, but sometimes I just add what I think would look fitting based on the taken photograph, or to add a balancing agent to the mix (for example, if I look bodaciously Disney-buxom, I’ll probably add a manface). Sometimes I add a completely new element, to see how it changes the story of the clothing and my body language.

Today my creative process went like this:

“Haha, this outfit looks way sixties! A thinking socialite, like the ones from the movies, who took the Sound of Music straight to heart. Such things were nowhere near my mind when I put this stuff on! How interesting! I think I shall add a snooty model head, to complete the ensemble.”

“Hmmm. A lot of my thighs are visible here. How can I make a thigh look interesting? Well, much as I dislike him, Batman has made forearms look interesting.. how can I improve on that.. fins.. fins.. mermaids?.. fishpeople.. Gillman!”

“I can’t be doing with drawing ANOTHER set of thigh scales. The Creature’s only my second favourite type of classic movie-monster, anyway; I’ll show that Kate Beckinsdale what for. What a twit.”

I don’t want to change my hair. I like it a lot how it is. And I don’t really tend to envy people - just approve of them, because I am a Queen and thus imperious. But, here is an exercise: If I had to change it. If a villain was holding the world to ransom, and their only demand were that I MUST get a hair transplant.. Here is what I would choose. Three choices, in case they don’t have many scalps for me to pick from.

I like hair with texture and rhythm and impact. The hair I have now allows it its optimum.. boosh, if you like, and it holds my face like pincers. It’s short in the back, which lets me feel punchy, and it’s swishy in the front which makes me feel serene (but not too swishy, so I remain controlled). These three also have that mix of KA-POW and gliiiiide, I think. Don’t you? Or maybe you read them differently, that is the interesting thing about opinions! Do share.

My fourth choice - which doesn’t really count, because It’s more of a “style” than a “do”, if you see - is the hair I saw on a lady in the Jimi Hendrix documentary my sister and I watched on the train on the way back from her last uni visit. I didn’t see the start so I didn’t know her name! But I had to show her cool, cool hair to my beloved, and so: I found her. Fayne Pridgon. Here are a very bad picture and a link, because for some reason the clip has embedding turned off! Bah!

This documantary!

What about you? Got back-ups?

When I was in bed last night, it occurred to me that “Dinkley” is a rather better euphemism for a penis than for an actual sex act. So please adjust that title, in your head. Thank you!

,p>Recently I’ve been working on some possibly secret drawings for the Big Finish over at BSB’s current positivity-focused season. Related to those, though, is this: something a little more personal but nevertheless an important sentiment to share I think.

So, please enjoy! Be your skin dodgy or as smooth and consistent as the quality of.. humm.. Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex.

Inks on Tate Britain sketchbook card-paper. I really should learn more about what I draw on.

A thing that has yet to be publically “proven” yet remains a fact is that I am a lady. On account of this having always been the biological case and my having on the whole pretty average genes sans interesting mutations, I cannot grow a beard or any kickass sideburns. This makes me a little sad, but I have found ways to compensate. Also of course, it means I never have to shave, so I feel that the scales remain balanced.

Half the reason I love this Anthony Peto hat is that it flattens the earpuffs of my hair into sideburny face-clingers. As seen here, this allows me to spiritually bump fists with some of my favourite stylish fictional characters. Let’s give it up for Wolverine, The Cap’n and old Wooden Sword*! And Anthony Peto. ‘Preciate it, fella!

*Characters belong to Marvel, World Leaders Entertainment (I think? Publick and Hammer, anyway) and Hiroyuki Takei, NOT ME!

A whole great BUNCH from the snowdays of Midlands, England..

(Underneath the above).. God save the Queen! I mean it, yeah. No really!

“‘Painter’ with cigarette holder”

“Business lady decided to put feet up and get sweaty instead”

“1930s slattern with money”

“And Face-of-Sticks said, if you do that again then Barth will EAT you.”

“Gone a bit He-Man, gone a bit Sorceress”

“I am lazy but I like my jacket”

Jacket close-up.. my mum thinks I’ve “ruined” the jacket, but I think it just looks excellent. Pulled a bit out of shape here.. Ignore that!

And that’s that, for this year so far.. I think!

Phew.

Hah. GET THE BEHIND ME, 2009!

Being narrative and visuals-driven, I plot my clothing by fictional archetype. For work I’ve mentioned “60s professional lady” but for winter, and probably forever, it is Fairytale Murderess. It’s a little bit folksy and a little bit princessy, but grumpy and dark-toned and maybe slightly more practical.

Of course, today is also the 350 wardrobe challenge, and if there is one thing that a fairytale murderess wants to be, other than “not in jail”, it is warm. Don’t argue with me, I am in charge here.

So to stay temperate, over the normal underwear and under the outerwear goes this:

l-r: knitted shorts (Swimmer), slip (ebay), sweaterdress (NoaNoa)

Sweaterdresses make really good mid-layers when it’s on the freezing side of cold; layer them with each other or with more rigid dresses like this one. Or just underneath a jumper and a skirt, who’ll know?

I was extra prepared, today, as one must be sometimes - three hats, for the small fluctuations that breezes or electric lights can effect:

Fur vs no-fur, for the different moralities in one’s life:

And for when it got REALLY nippy, my Dad’s boarding school dressing gown. It’s fully wool, so it itches like a bassard if there aren’t enough layers below. THANKFULLY, in this case there were!

And for inner warmth, ginger wine. Non-alcoholic, because when something is delicious I like to be able to have as much of it as I like, but I do not like to fall down and be sick.

Overdress: Jane Marple

Stockings: Pretty Polly

Boots: Dr Martens

Gloves: gift, Accesorize

Fur: jumblesale leftovers

Wendy House: made by my Dad when I was knee high to a grasshopper.

One more for luck? Why not. I’ve had a king, some wolves, a witch, a plotter, some waifs and a shifter, why not have an off with her head?

I talked about house clothes, before. The ones I showed were mostly of the pyjama-y ilk; they were designed to be worn indoors, or under other clothes. This sweater was made to be “real” clothing, it was made to see the light of day. I think it was bought when so-called Geek Chic was big a few years back.

My sister gave me this jumper because it is 80% wool and it made her itch. I’ve had it in a draw for at least six months. I never wanted to wear it because, again: it isn’t me.

But I am wearing it now! Yes. So I must amend my judgement, I can tell you that it is me but it is only a small part of me. Most of my clothes are always-clothes, really, because I have a pretty good handle on what I “am like” and how I feel that translates visually.

This jumper is, specifically, a bra-less weekend jumper.

I’m not this kind of pale melange grey. I am not these synthetic coarse colours in knitted patterns, I’m not so-uncool-it’s-cool-again nerd-sweaters. I don’t like the way it sits on my torso or how it pulls up off my hips if I move a smidgen.

Except for, on bra-less weekends in winter.

When I have nowhere I need to go, and the weather is cold and damp, and I have typing to do and cooking to plan and it gets dark at four o’clock. When I have/had a confrontation to get past, when we have records playing in the room next door, when I showered at lunch time, when I want to feel like I am dressed but not like I need to represent myself or quite come out of gentle hibernation. At these times, this jumper is perfect because I don’t need to waste something that is “really me” on a day when I just feel like private rest. If I put on a bra, I would hate wearing this jumper. It would be all wrong - once the effort begins being made, choices start to matter. It would change the shape and change the image, and I would hate it.

This jumper is one that says to me “if I am forced, if I really need to, of course I can still be me and project myself through anything. If I have to (what if whatever happened to make Mad Max happen happened? What if: Zombie apocalypse whilst I’m away from my wardrobe? What if I’m kidnapped? & so on)”. It’s a statement of self-assurance to myself (and now, to you).

The trousers don’t go at all, but I love these trousers and I wanted the comfort of them. All those times I have read ladymagazines state “fashion isn’t about attracting men” / “women dress for other women” I hae thought “well yes, but that’s a bit of a simplification, isn’t it? “Fashion” is about dressing for yourself: telling you the story you want to hear. Other things too, but that. Everything just depends on how much you’ve thought about it, and what you’ve decided.

Context is Queen.

Today I have nothing to say! I am watching vintage Buffy (no Willow! No Xander! STOP KISSING!) and feeling very full. I think all I need now.. is some hot chocolate. I even have tiny marsh mallows to put upon it.

I hope your evening is similarly satisfying!

Catching sight of this article whilst researching an upcoming post (no, really; just because I haven’t done what I’ve said I will yet doesn’t mean I won’t), “Boris rescued by feminists” I thought how absurd that sounds, as if we were some sort of species. Well, we aren’t, obviously.

I always thought those This is what a feminist looks like shirts were a bit ridiculous, but.. then again, I used to think that “feminism” was a bit ridiculous. How we grow!

Naturally, in the headline vein, my title is misleading. It is really only one door, repeated. And actually I only mimed knocking on it. But then AGAIN, I do fairly often knock on doors. So the title stands*.

*Not literally! In this case..

ETA: I just noticed that one might misunderstand my facial illustrations as a statement re: mentioned feminism. They aren’t, I just like to draw on my face for a) privacy and b) practice. I drew these two before I started thinking about what I would write today.