miso and mayhem

There are so many things I love about not having a day job right now, but topping the list at the moment is the fact that I have a fully equipped kitchen at my fingertips for my "lunch hour". A pot of loose-leaf tea and hearty miso soup... mmmm.

I've loved miso soup ever since a little family-run sushi place opened up across the street from my high school; a bunch of us would go and only a couple of kids would order meals, but the lady would kindly bring tea, salad and soup for all of us. Unfortunately - and unsurprisingly - the restaurant didn't stay open long.

I never bothered learning to make it for myself, though, until recently, when my friend Marissa clocked my terrible diet and took it upon herself to start making me dinners. What she produces is a meal unto itself - more like a chunky stew - and contains a little bit of just about everything she has on hand at the time. It's worlds away from the tiny bowls that accompany your california rolls, but still has that wonderful, salty, cloudy broth that I love. Here's my interpretation; or at least, today's version:

Molotov's Kitchen Sink Miso Soup

• a fistful of chopped broccoli florets
• a 1/4 in slice of red onion, diced
• handful each, cubed green and red bell peppers
• handful spinach leaves (I keep a bag of frozen organic spinach in my freezer for stuff like this)
• 1 1/2 TBL white miso paste
• approx. 1/2 c cubed tofu
• dried seaweed of some description (I couldn't find wakame, which is what I think you're supposed to use, so I bought nori - the sheets of roasted seaweed used to roll sushi - and tore a sheet into 1 in. squares)

Cover the broccoli, onion and peppers with fresh cold water (about 2 cups; adjust according to how much broth you like), add a dash of salt and set to boil. Once boiling, stir in miso paste until completely dissolved; add tofu cubes and continue to boil until vegetables are tender. Add spinach, stir for a few seconds until soft but not slimy; then remove from heat, stir in dried seaweed, and serve. If you like, you can add a dash of of salty ume-boshi vinegar.

Makes one main course serving.

----

When the soup has settled and the blogging is complete, today is loose ends day. I cut out a bunch of cute handbags aeons ago and never got around to sewing them - that's getting done today. A few items need alterations, some supplies need sorting, etc. Tomorrow: skirts. And I plan to have the website launched by January 1st!

five surprises

I finally did it, guys. I took the plunge. I decided I couldn't take the corporate life anymore, and I quit. I had no other job lined up, so I thought I would give myself a minimum two-week working vacation to finally start doing what I love - designing and performing. I've now managed to stretch that two weeks into two months, and - after taking a nervous peek at the contents of my wallet - I'm happily/hopefully contemplating a third.

I LOVE working for myself. And, let me tell you: I am working. That part about "vacation"? Not so much. I pretty much even work while I'm sleeping. But I get to watch (well, listen to) movies while I work; I make cool stuff every day; I work when I'm feeling at my most productive, not when someone else tells me I have to; I don't get bored because there's a huge variety of tasks at hand; I am constantly learning and being challenged. I feel motivated to accomplish things. It is amazing.

Now, it's not all sunshine and puppies and rainbows, of course. I find deadlines very helpful in keeping up my motivation, so I've been setting myself timelines dictated by external factors like craft fairs and sales promotions, but I've melted down a couple of times when it came down to the wire. It's all educational, though, and I'm honing my time-management skills. And, well... There is definitely some stress involved in being financially, um, unstable. I've sold a number of my creations, but I have really been supporting myself through an eclectic mix of holiday performance gigs, which will probably dry up shortly, and the kindness of friends and relatives. And - sigh - the inevitable credit card. Somehow, though, I feel less anxious about money now than I did when I had a regular paycheque, and I have more trust in the idea that there will be opportunities when I allow myself to be open to them. It's forcing me to think creatively... and to have gratitude.

I am so lucky to be surrounded by supportive people who are willing to share their time and knowledge and connections with me. I am inspired every day by my friends and community.

So far Etsy has been an amazing resource; not only has it given me a venue for selling my designs, it's also a fabulous way to network with other independent crafters from all over the world, and a seemingly bottomless well of advice on everything from photography to branding to vlogging. You can find my store here, and - very soon - lots more at fivesurprises.com.

Will the real spidergirl please stand up?

I got to be someone else for an afternoon.

Actually, I kind of got to be 4 completely different people: a b-girl, a member of a tribe, a snakey gothic-fusion princess, and little ol' me. That's the beauty of performing. But what I'm talking about goes a bit further--I actually changed my name for a day.

It all started when I first contacted the lovely Karen, chief putter-together of this weekend's excellent Solstice Hafla, about performing at said event; her reply to my query requested, among other things, my name "stage and/or real"... which got me thinking. I had daydreamed taking a new name many times in the past--I think everyone has, at some point--but I had never really considered or had use for a stage name before. A lot of bellydancers have them, though, and so I pondered.

Because bellydance has its roots in the East, many dancers choose exotic-sounding Arabic names, often words whose meanings have personal significance. I don't feel any special connection to that language, though, and I thought I would feel a little bit silly choosing a name that looks and sounds pretty but doesn't resonate. Besides, first I needed to decide what I wanted my name to mean.

I like spiders; I've always been fascinated by them, I've been given many spider-shaped pieces of jewelry over the years, I've even thought of making a spider the subject of my first tattoo. As a textile-hound and a knitter, I appreciate the spider's mythological presence; and, like Charlotte, I also enjoy weaving a web of words.

Now throw in the fact that my first public bellydance performance was set to "Spider-man" by Moxy Fruvous, and that, as a result of that, my youtube handle is spidergirldancer, and I think we have a winner. But I could hardly just call myself "Spider" and leave it at that, now could I?

Arachna: now there is a name I'd come to regret; waaaaaaaaay too goth for someone who wears as much colour as I do.

Something derived from the French maybe?

Araigna: sounds pretty, looks... not so much. People would probably read it somewhere in the neighbourhood of "oregano".

Let's check out the other romance languages. Italian:

Ragno: just... no.

Spanish:

Araña: hmmm, getting warmer. The "ñ" can be a bit of a pain, though, so maybe "Arania"? We'll keep that one in reserve for now.

Japanese, just for kicks.

Kumo: not bad, kind of cute, kind of anime. I almost went with that, but I wanted to make one last stop before committing.

My heritage on my mother's side is Welsh, and I have made intermittent efforts to learn the language over the last few years, with the help of BBC Wales. Now, Welsh can be very, very beautiful... but also sometimes very, very odd-looking and -sounding, so I wasn't really expecting to find a winner here, but I had to look. To my oh-so-pleasant surprise, the Welsh word for "spider" is quite lovely: Corryn.

The only problem with it is that it's easy to mistake for "Corinne", when in fact the stress falls on the first syllable: KOR-in, with that slight trilling "R" that's found in Welsh. No matter. When I perform, I am now Corryn, the weaver, who will delight and amaze you with her nimble acrobatics (ha!) and narrative spun out of dance.

DIY Bling: a Primer

I will be performing a bellydance fusion piece on Saturday at the Solstice Hafla here in Halifax, and I’ve been busybusybusy putting together a kick-ass costume. One of the highlights has been making some ridiculous fake bling. For those of you who would like to follow along at home, I present here a step-by-step, illustrated guide to pimpin’ yo’ dancewear.

Step 1:

Google “bling”. Be sure to check the image results for inspiration.

Step 2:

Gather your supplies. You’ll want some cardboard, tinfoil (or Caramilk foil wrappers if you’re into gold), scissors, a utility knife, fine-tip markers, pencils, glue sticks, glue gun, PVC (white) glue, artist’s paintbrushes (crappy ones are fine--you’ll probably end up destroying them), glitter, rhinestones (if you can find them for cheap, which I couldn’t), and anything else that strikes your fancy. Oh, and protect your work surface with a plastic tablecloth or something that won’t stick to your pieces when you’re gluing them.

Step 3:

Rough out a design in pencil, and when you’re satisfied outline in ink. Keep in mind that when you cut this out, it shouldn’t fall into pieces (unless that’s what you’re going for), and design accordingly.

Step 4:

Cut it all out using whatever combination of scissors/knives/jedi mind-tricks works for you. Be careful not to impale yourself on sharp objects.

Step 5:

My favourite! Gluing! The method I found works best is to get one side of your cardboard nice and gluey-gooey, stick it down on the back side of a piece of foil, flip the whole thing over and rub until it’s fairly smooth and you can see the whole outline of the cardboard through the front of the foil. Kind of like making those crayon rubbings, you know? Then lightly trace the point of the utility knife around the outline to cut away the “negative” foil areas. Be gentle--you don’t want to tear any foil from the areas that are glued.

Step 6:

When the first side is all foiled up and the glue is dry, repeat step five on the other side.

Step 7:

Decorate! You’re going for as much flash as possible, people, don’t hold back! Like I said, I wanted rhinestones, but I couldn’t find any good ones for a decent price, so I’m going with loose glitter set in a bed of hot glue. This bling is going to tell people how utterly dope you are, so really get in there and make it your own.

Step 8:

Wear with pride/irony, and sh-sh-sh-shake like a Polaroid picture.

they may take our lives... but they'll never take...

On Tuesday, my dreads turned 8 months old.

The topic of dreadlocks, mine in particular, and hair in general, is something I’ve wanted to write about for a while, but it’s been a bit hard to focus--there are so many things to say. Do I talk about the process? About the personal effects? About the somewhat political nature of this and any other “radical” hairstyle? I didn’t really feel like I could get a cohesive post with so much going on, so this is sort of a three-parter.

The Process

I get asked surprisingly often who did my dreads. That awesome person is my sister, who spent many, many hours backcombing the crap out of my head and rolling... and rolling... and rolling... It actually took three sessions to get my whole head done, I think, and I finished up the front section on my own. My hair is a bit thin these days, so I chose to go with lots of skinny dreads instead of a few fat ones. They got considerably skinnier as they tightened up, so they are really teeny now, and the ends actually still curl!

I’ve been using mostly Knotty Boy products to care for them; they all smell really nice, they’re Canadian-made, and I can actually get my hands on them where I live. I change up my maintenance ritual fairly often, partly in accordance with what the dreads seem to want, and partly because I have a hard time sticking to a routine. I give my scalp a good sudsy scrub every few days, and I try to keep the fuzzies down and keep them in nice shape by palm-rolling with either tightening gel or dread wax. Most days they require wonderfully low-intensity styling.

Most days.

There are some times when they drive me crazy by:

• trying to grow together
• forming huge, ugly loops and mats in the ends that refuse to lock up
• itching like the devil
• getting tender and pulling so that I can’t wear them up
• retaining a cloud of frizz, despite my best efforts

But you know what? I forgive them. Because I love them. Which brings us to...

The Personal

I’ve heard a few people refer to the locking process as a sort of “journey”, and I definitely feel that, while having dreadlocks hasn’t been quite a journey unto itself, the experience has been a major part of my overall personal renovations.

It was amazing to take a leap and do something I’d been longing to do for ages, something a bit risky. It was about asking myself, Who are you? and, What does that person look like? It was about not compromising in my decisions for the sake of a job (more on that later) or what other people might think.

It’s helping me practice patience and self-love, on those days when things are not going so smoothly. It demands that I take a certain amount of time out to take care of myself.

And--I admit it--I think I look really, really cool.

The Political

Hair is a pretty charged social issue--you know: “Long-haired freaky people need not apply”. A woman cuts off her hair and people start asking if she’s a dyke. Forcibly cutting off or removing an individual’s hair is a time-tested form of punishment and degradation in many eras and cultures, from the witch trials to WWII to modern India, where it is traditional for widows to be ostracized and must shave their heads as part of the process. Gender identity issues, sexual politics, religious afflilations, national security--all are tangled up in hair, to some extent.

Forgive me, but I’m lifting the following section whole from my post to the facebook group Freedom is in the Hair:

So far I haven't had any trouble at my job, but that's because I kick ass and they can't afford to lose me... but I can foresee it becoming an issue if I want to move up. The dress code has a vague blanket prohibition against "extreme" hairstyles. It actually singles out "spiked" hair--I'm not even sure what they're referring to there, as there are a lot of spiky styles that fall well within the mainstream these days, but whatever.

The thing is, customers LOVE my hair. I hear positive comments nearly every day. I polish up to a nice bank-professional level of shiny for each shift, and I'm always careful to groom my dreads and pull them back into a conservative style; within that context, I think folks enjoy the subtle but insistent reminder that the person serving them has an actual personality.

I've thought a lot about what I would say if someone from head office came down and pitched a fit about my appearance, and I think--despite the fact that I am completely irreligious--that I would have to claim spiritual reasons, because (right now, at least) I feel a strong sense of connection between the ability to present myself freely, as I see fit, and my spirit's well-being.

Thrift Shopping

I have been meaning to write for a while about the good finds I've been making lately on new-old clothes. Here goes.

While there are some fancier, more discerning second-hand fashion boutiques in downtown Halifax, most of the volume stores are located outside the city centre, which means that bargain hunting can be a bit of a marathon event. The first place I hit up when I got here, and the only location I knew about for a long time, was the Value Village in Bayers Lake Shopping Park. Getting there requires a forty-minute bus ride and some careful timing (the bus stop for that route is about a ten-minute walk from my apartment--when I leave myself extra time, the bus is always late; when I think I've got it timed just right, the bus speeds by while I am waiting to cross the street and I have to wait a half-hour for the next one), but Bayers Lake is a sprawling complex of big-box stores, so it can be worth the effort if one has other errands to accomplish. I went to this one several times while I was still living with my mom, and made a few good finds, but nothing really exciting.

I learned through the grapevine (ie. my sister), though, that the Value Village in Dartmouth is a better bet, by virtue of being less popular and thus less picked-over. The downside, of course, is that it's in Dartmouth, and there is nothing else around it, so you pretty much have to make the trip just for that. I did trek out there a few weeks ago, and I found it worth the trip, at least in that case. I picked up a few really pretty pieces, including a summery silk skirt with the tags still on for $9, a sexy beaded top for $6, a cute little sundress, and a bunch more. I'd harbour-hop again.

Even better than the Dartmouth VV--far, far better--was the Coldbrook Guy's Frenchy's. I told a new friend that people keep talking about The (Annapolis) Valley, but I'd never been there, so she offered to take me on a mini-road trip out there to visit what she considers the best Frenchy's in the universe.

Wow.

I had been to a couple of Frenchy's locations--there's a little one not too far from my apartment, and there is one in my parents' town--and really wasn't impressed, but I learned that Guy's Frenchy's are way, way superior to the non-Guy's variety. This particular place was huge! Frenchy's seems to be a uniquely Atlantic Canadian thing, so let me explain... no, you know what? This article describes it nicely.

For $40, I picked up:

• two (2) collared shirts/blouses
• three (3) skirts, one Banana Republic, possibly even with tags still on
• two (2) cardigans
• one (1) beaded top
• one (1) wrap-front sweater/top
• two (2) fashion tees

I also found and thought I purchased (but, sadly, it appears I was mistaken) a 100% cashmere sweater for under $4. I'd been planning to refashion it into a cozy, wear-with-everything little cardigan. I nearly cried when I got home and discovered it wasn't in my bag.

So, as if I weren't already hooked, now I have to keep going back out there, to keep looking for the one that got away.

Ouch...

...March 21st! It's been a looooooong time. I have some great, stylish-y stuff coming up, though, so watch this space.

Style Statements

"The way in which something is expressed."

This, according to Danielle Laporte of Style Statement, is the definition of "style". If you can express yourself through x, then you have a style of x; finding the truest way of expressing oneself in all aspects of life is the foundation of the business she runs with Carrie McCarthy.

There is a world of difference, of course, between having a style--which everyone does, whether they want to or not--and having Style. I think having the second depends on honesty in the first. When your circumstances, your methods, your appearance, your things light you up instead of dragging you down: that's Style. When everything about you communicates exactly what you want to express, without even trying: Style. When what you have perfectly satisfies you, and you feel comfortable with yourself... You can have style without being in style as long as that style does not lie about you, or to you.

Have you ever scoured a bookstore or stationery store for the perfect journal? Lined or unlined? Leather- or cloth-bound? It has to feel just right in your hand. It must compel your eye, but gently. You are looking for your journal.

I spent the weeks leading up to the turn of the year hunting in this way for a dayplanner. It had to be exactly right, because: a) otherwise I wouldn't be inclined to use it; and, b) it's my life going in there. I go through this with writing implements, handbags... clothes, of course. I am very particular about drinking vessels, especially those for hot beverages. I must spiritually connect with my groceries (not as challenging as it sounds, actually).

Am I psychologically unstable? Well, yes, a little bit. But am I wrong? I don't think so. The key is to be able to make these choices without agonizing over them, and to prioritize the big things that (for you) must be in the "Goldilocks zone" (to borrow a phrase from cosmologists) versus the relatively small things. For many people, having just the right mechanical pencil is a vanishingly minute thing... but when I was spending hours every day with that pencil, drafting garment patterns, it mattered. I happen to think that personal appearance is a very Goldilocks thing, even if many people don't want to face it. Sure, what's inside counts, and you can scoff at fashion, but if you are just throwing on anything for the sake of comfort or modesty or regulations--well, the chances of hitting the thing that's not too hot and not too cold are not in your favour, and anything else is a form of lying to yourself and everyone around you.

I am not talking about labels, or price, or conspicuous consumption. Yes, wearing your wealth on your sleeve says something; but it is not the only thing there is to be said, and certainly not the most sophisticated. The messages we send through our choices are subtle, and perhaps not even translatable. Slowly but surely, though, we can cultivate peace and happiness in our lives by making choices that feel just right.

Real-time Red Carpet Commentary

Note: The following running commentary was written last night during the broadcast, "as it happened" (which is why much of it probably makes little to no sense). I went back to add the links this morning. For another, more complete, "live" blog of the events, check this out.

Congratulations, Oscar, you're eighty.

Regis is annoying. George Clooney is handsome. Some French actress [ETA: turns out that's Best Actress winner Marion Cotillard] is wearing a really cool Jean Paul Gaultier dress. John Travolta looks like a Dracula action figure. [ETA: I think Noel Murray snarked about Kelly Preston's dress, but I actually really liked it. Mainly because it's orange. But it also flattered her more than most dress/starlet pairings that night.]

Laura Linney is awesome.

Javier Bardem looks like Wolverine. What is the deal with Miley Cyrus? (As I type, sister exclaims, So what's her deal? I mean, I know she's famous, um...) I do like her red dress, though. Ack! Jessica Alba... oh... dear. (Sister says, Did you just see [her]? How is she even staying in that?) Dude, everyone's wearing red tonight. Jennifer Garner is pretty, in black and diamonds. (Sister: She looks old.) Helen Mirren thinks the roles "are often not good enough for the women". Daniel Day Lewis' wife looks very, very odd. Seriously, she's got Christmas bows on her shoulders and huge glittery... things... down her front.

No, man, Cameron Diaz looks old. Her dress would be acceptable if it didn't bag in the ass like that. Oooh, Amy Adams, nice dress. Ok, now that I see the close-up, I hate the seaming at the bust, but the colour is gorgeous. An old woman (Sarah Golden?) is wearing a yellow Oscars tee. And now Regis is interviewing some fans, who are also wearing t-shirts. (Sister says, You'd think they'd dress a little nicer...)

Hey Jon Stewart, how's it going?

Banana bread break. Ok, I'm back. (Sister would like to know when they will stop using this song [Mambo #5])

Keri Russell is skinny. Penelope Cruz freaks me out. I hate her dress.

I was told today that I look like Ellen Page. And, hey, I kind of do! I'll take it. Her dress is not great, but I like her long necklace. You know, I'm sure Hilary Swank is a fantastic actress, and her Versace is pretty nice, but she's quite strange-looking.

5:08 to go. Samantha, back to you. Thank goodness. Shut up, Regis.

Jon looks "cool as a cucumber," apparently. Who is this girl in the fuschia in the front row, and why is Regis standing in front of her and her awesome dress? Oh, Jack Nicholson, you're such a scary, scary man. Nice shades.

Aaaaaaand... I think that's it for red carpet. Oh, here we go: 80th Annual Academy Awards. Some kind of CG opening mash-up of the year in film, or something. I'm not really sure what's going on. An army of Oscar statuettes. Why, thank you for the invitation Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, but my Lost DVDs are getting cold.

Oh, wait... Achievement in Costume Design. Aw, damn. Elizabeth: The Golden Age. I was gunning for Sweeney Todd, which I still need to see (that and Juno. And, really, everything else that's nominated this year.) But it's worth it for the designer's dress, which is all flowy, and her speech, which is short.

And now Jennifer "she looks old" Garner is shilling for Neutrogena anti-oxidant age reverse. 'Kay.

George Clooney is up there, being handsome again. "But the one thing [about the Oscars] that's always been consistent: it's long." Yep, and that's why I'm leaving now, during this boring montage. Eight years, we get it. Jeez. Uck. Why, Anne Hathaway, why? Congratulations, Ratatouille. Okay, I'm really going now. Cue the pushy music.

This and That

Hey dudes and dudettes,

I have little swatches of things to write about, but nothing to blow up into a whole post, so howsabout I just ramble directionlessly for a while, mmkay?

Ramble 1: The Oscars are coming! (I think... have they decided to go ahead with the glitz thing now that the strike is over?) I suggested to my sister/housemate that we host an Oscar party, and her shootdown was twofold: a) had we seen ANY of the movies nominated in major categories?; and, b) exactly who would be on the guest-list? My responses were, respectively, "uhh..." and, everybody I know in town (ie. the three people I work with). But I don't think I'm one to let trifling issues like lack of guests or lack of interest in the proceedings get in the way of a good party. [Red carpet preshow + Jon Stewart] x 2 fruity drinks + Internet connection = vaguely relevant blog post. That's entertainment, folks.

The Ramble Strikes Back: Giant Tiger is coming! I've been excited about this for some time, actually, but nobody in Nova Scotia seems to get why this is so great. And, you know, it probably isn't that great in the long run, and I'll probably be really disappointed (or my excitement will be short-lived, at least) once the Halifax location opens, but... it's like the retail equivalent of that bad movie that's become a personal favourite by virtue of all the dumb catchphrases and inside jokes it's spawned. I've been going around telling people, "Giant Tiger's coming to Halifax" and doing my little celebration dance, and those people look politely interested and ask what Giant Tiger is, and then I feel a little silly saying, "Well, it's this, um, discount store... but dude, it's awesome..." So, yes, Giant Tiger is a discount store. For several months before we moved out here, my family was inundated (in some cases quite literally) with disasters large and small. A trip to the local Giant Tiger, to wander meditatively amongst the cheap, imperfect clothing, became a key part of the recovery ritual. I usually didn't even buy anything--though I did, occasionally, make a good find--but they were constantly getting new stock, and it was fun just to look, like being a kid with a box of dress-up clothes. Expect to be updated when the new location opens.

Return of the Ramble: Spring is coming...? I have had my fill of boots, and I'm ready for winter to end. Please, please, can I get out my open-toed shoes soon?

psst...

My inbox is lonely.

Trinity

So. I've covered red lips; I've discussed fishnets. The third point of this triangle is, as I've mentioned, earrings.

When it comes to accessories, I tend towards the "out of sight, out of mind" MO, so I like to keep a couple of shiny things out in the open so that I'll remember them while getting ready in the morning. Necklaces only work with certain necklines, bracelets get swamped by winter sleeve-lengths (and are not all that practical for typing, anyway), most rings make my hands look chunky... but the right pair of earrings will snazz up just about anything.

The trick is to find something that's simple enough to complement rather that interfere, while still being fun. Cascading chandeliers and rhinestones can be great for evenings, but for everyday I like to keep two basic styles on my nightstand: something hoopy, and something dangly.

My (to date) best-ever pair of hoops actually came from a discount (ok, fine: dollar) store, and I haven't seen the like of them since--which is sad, because they went MIA during the cross-country move. I liked them because they were an elliptical shape rather than the typical gypsy hoop, and the extra vertical stretch helped keep me from looking round all over. For the dangly ones, I like one or two long, fairly simple "bits". I don't like them to look too crowded or bulky.

I got home the other day to find that one half of my current go-to pair had worked its way out of my lobe at some point during the day, so I decided to rediscover my stash of beading gear. For ease of both making and wearing, I favour hooks rather than posts, but it seems my right ear is not so partial to them. I went one day before losing one (the partner to that pictured on the far right). On today's shopping list? A baggie-ful of those little plastic nubbies to stick on the backs.

Teach a girl to fish...

After (more or less) bumming around for the better part of 8 months, I have returned to a world of employment that does not involve scrubbing dishes. Rejoice! for it is written: "business casual"! And, lo, her hands be not chapped, and her clothes smell not of coffee...

Though I do, in fact, have a great deal to say about the concept and execution of business casual, that is not what brings me here today. No--a long chain of word-association, daydreaming and procrastination has led me to this: fishnets.

I love fishnets. They provide a corporate-mandated buffer between leg and world, rescuing one from the sag-n-snag properties of pantyhose and the (often seasonally inappropriate) opaque tight. They are just about the only patterned legwear that won't make most woman look dumpy and/or clownish. Fishnets are distilled Old Hollywood glamour.

But! But: there are rules. Of course there are. Unless your outfit is sleek, impeccable, and all-black--steer clear of black stockings. Black fishnets worn improperly are less "Hollywood"and more "Hallowe'en". Go for colour. My personal favourite is a "nude" tone, but burgundy, navy, olive and brown can all work well, as long as they tone in with the rest of your ensemble. In the summertime, you might be able to pull off baby colours like pink, blue and yellow with a light, breezy dress, but proceed with caution. Bright candy colours are not for the faint of heart, and probably won't be welcome at most workplaces, unless you are in a creative field; save these for evenings and weekends, and wear them with simpler, subtler garments. If you're not going for a punklet look, keep your fishnets lint- and rip-free. You probably shouldn't pair them with Docs, either.

Oh, and a more open mesh often looks more fashion-forward than teeny-tiny little holes... within reason.

Unfortunately, a great pair of fishnets can take some hunting down, but--in my opinion--they are absolutely worth it. Like a fantastic pair of earrings or the perfect red lipstick, fishnets can tie a get-up-and-go outfit together in a way that belies its pre-coffee assembly.

OK, more than a couple of days...

So: want style advice? Send your fashion dilemmas to stylisms.blog@gmail.com. Feel free to send pictures of outfits you want evaluated, pleas for guidance, comments about fads and faux-pas spotted... Just, please, if you are sending images, be respectful of others' privacy and copyright, and do not share anything without appropriate permissions. If you would prefer to keep your name and/or face out of the limelight, please say so in your email and we'll crop/blur/assign a pseudonym/whatever. I'll post replies weekly or as often as I get mail--whichever makes more sense based on the level of response.

Oh, and I welcome suggestions for a catchy little title. Anyone?

Resolutions

Welcome to 2008! Got any resolutions?

I have a few, though I hesitate to tack the "New Year's" to them, since I had already decided to make these changes/efforts, New Year or no... well, OK, obviously it's not like I thought there was any uncertainty about the year turning over, like we were going to roll straight through December into, I dunno, Elftember or whatever. I just mean that the contracts I've made with myself have more to do with big changes in circumstances than with somewhat arbitrary dates, which--fingers crossed--might mean I'm more likely to actually follow through.

Here's the rundown:

1. Update the blog at least once a week. To facilitate this, I'm going to put into effect a weekly feature suggested by my brilliant friend Erin, wherein readers will send me photos of outfits to deconstruct, WNTW-style. I promise to be gentle, though. I don't have all the details of this worked out (catchy title, place to send photos, etc.) but I aim to do so within the next day or two. Check back; I'll post.
   
2. Get off my couch and out of my pyjamas. Get to know my new city. Get to know people in my new city--if you know anyone in Halifax between the ages of, say, 20 and 30, who would like to be friends with a hip, stylish CFA, direct them to this blog.
3. Treat my body better. Keep off the heavily processed foods, get back into dance and yoga, always wash off my makeup before bed.
4. Become a rock goddess. Learn to play wicked mandolin and bass solos. Sing.
5. Take pride in my self-presentation. Look awesome every day.
6. Start the business.
   

Since I have so much to do this year, I must get going. But I'll be back. Soon. With photos. (And speaking of, I added some visual interest to my previous post, so take another look-see.)