How Very Grand!

As a highly fashionable, in-demand, stylish, social butterfly, my diary is rammed with appointments, invitations and A-list events where I score tons of free shit.
I often forget to tend to things boring people do like wash my hair, trim my pubes, pluck my brows and turn on the dishwasher.
So yesterday when The Stylist and I decided we needed to make a show of being super-ordinary and do something other than homework, colouring-in and ignoring the dirty washing pile, we dropped everything and went to see The Grand Budapest Hotel.
We couldn't make it to the premiere opening because I was soaking my bras that night so better late than never eh?

I had about two inches of regrowth to blitz on Friday night so thought I'd may as well put a few drops of pink hair dye in the conditioner.
I have a very short attention span and a bit of old-lady-memory-loss, which is an interesting combination - I often get quite a fright in the morning as I stumble to the loo after a night spent with the dye bottle.
Beats a hangover.

Ain't she cute?  And looking grown up? Eeeeek!

Wool beret - Etsy

1920s men's tailcoat - eBay

Red Nose Day tshirt and "Perfect" badge - gifts from fabulous Tralala!

"FREEK" necklace - custom made by Bones Couture

1980s earrings and 1950s ostrich-skin bag - second hand

Green necklace - market

Leggings - Black Milk

Boots - retail

Oh and the hair?  I mixed about a teaspoon of Manic Panic's Hot Hot Pink with a cup of conditioner and left it in for about 40 minutes.

I made the biggest roast pork in history with impressive crackling like leather straps and burnt my hand on the oven.  Worth it.

I wanted to look like a lobby boy and I think I could have pulled it off if it wasn't for the handbag.  

In other news, I finished off a dress for The Stylist.
Now we can be matching. 
The fabric is a cotton sheet and the pattern (dated 1974) - both from op shops.
It's a bit wide in the bodice and shoulders, but it's my first go in making something for the wee lassie in a while.
I wanted the dress to be big enough to wear in a couple of years if she wants, even if she ends up spray painting, studding or shredding it in ironic teen defiance.
I think the puffy sleeves are damn impressive.
I do love a puffy sleeve don't you?

Oh and this is the pattern (also dated 1974) I used to make these two frocks.
Clearly it was a very stylish year.

Schools for the Deaf in 1950s ... and Ballet

Skimming Blogger search stats is a rather amusing way to waste a few seconds.
Yet I'm still scratching my head over how someone landed on my blog while looking for 1950s deaf schools.
Nevertheless, real life has been a little more interesting than some people's strange internet habits these past couple of days.
For a start, it's been deliciously "wintery" here in Brisbane.
Snort away, I realise how utterly ridiculous autumn temperature ranges from 7-19 degrees celsius must seem to people living in climates that enjoy four proper seasons.
But it's all relative to what one is used to isn't it?  After all, I can stomp around in Docs and long sleeved shirts to avoid sun damage when it's 30+ degrees if necessary.

Early yesterday, this was the morning view from the back deck where I enjoyed my coffee.

Later in the day, my attempt to distract about 200 school girls from their soccer matches was a partial success.
It was The Stylist's special request that I "dress crazy" to come and watch her game ... I told her I would just wear my normal clothes, yet I must have looked like a neon orange field line marker judging by the sweet gasping faces.

Yesterday The Phoenix bought last minute tickets for The Stylist and I to see the ballet Coppelia last night.
So she and I got to wear fur and tights and sleeves.
And go out.
At night.
Woohoo!

I found her owl patchwork bag in an op shop this week for $4.  It's brand new and she loves it.  Win.

The wee lassie is rocking one of my 1940s fur capes and my comic tights.
I love that she can wear some of my gear now, no doubt the next thing will be shoes at the rate she's growing.

Killing time at the train station and on the empty train to South Bank.

Once we got to the Queensland Performing Arts Centre (with bright pink blusher intact) we were very pleasantly surprised that the ballet patrons had bothered to dress up for the occasion.
This good news follows sharp on the heels of the rant in my last post, complaining about the casual culture that seems to be poisoning our DNA.
Bravo to heels, sparkle, hair-dos, bling-bling and eyebrows, it was a feast for the eyes!

There was a children's story time telling the story of Coppelia and colouring-in between acts, which was lovely as there were people of all ages attending.  A little girl told her mother at the next colouring table: "I want all of that lady's outfit!"
Clearly a child of discerning taste.

Not a very exciting shot, but as you can see we were seated in "the gods" because it was a last minute ticket race, yet it didn't hinder the performance in the slightest, the theatre is so beautifully well-designed.
The theatre filled up quickly while the wonderful orchestra warmed up.

And these are some of the images I nicked off the intawebz of the Queensland Ballet's performance coz obviously no pics allowed during the performance and rightfully so.

I hope you have a fab weekend, tomorrow's Mother's Day here and we've got a full house tonight. 
Baci, D xox

It's a Franken-Frock

What to do when you're itching to make a frock yet don't have enough fabric?
You make a Franken-Frock that's what.

You might recall the lampshade I made here, which left me short of orange fabric.
I could have made a skirt but I chose to create a Franken-Frock for the following reason.
It's my protest against mass consumption.  
The frock may not be everyone's cuppa, but I love it because there's no chance there could be another one around.
I wanted to make something that's obviously handmade, obviously scratched together.  
Patchwork on a large scale.
I made do with fabrics in my stash and I've made quite a dent so it's time to start raiding the op shops for more.
The reason for my protest?  
I'm absolutely sick to the back teeth of seeing people wearing shitty 3/4 cargo pants, fugly sandals, polo shirts and wind cheaters.
There I said it.  I step out the door and I feel like I'm being hit over the back of the head by khaki and griege.
Dear People, Please get your shit together and stop following the fucking herd.  It's giving me a headache.
End of tirade.

 1970s frock and granny bag - handmade by me

1950s coat and green necklace - flea market
Pink star necklace - handmade gift from dear Krista

Leggings - Black Milk

Boots - retail

Wearing my pink necklace for Krista.
 

I'm still using the bag I made, it hasn't fallen apart yet, god knows I've given it a right thrashing and it's still looking new. 

Bet you weren't expecting the back to look like this huh?
All of these fabrics are lightweight cottons from op shops, so is the zip.
I used the same pattern as the one I used for the frock in my last post, the pattern is dated 1974.

In other news, #1 Son turned 25 today.
Gave you a fright with this pic didn't I?
I went into labour two days before he was born and this pic of me looking like an egg cup was taken just as things were starting.

It was a long, difficult home birth, which left his father and I so exhausted, we didn't even get to take a pic until he was two days old.

The cat got such a fright, she had five kittens!  
Our tiny West Hampstead flat was full of babies.

Happy birthday son!
So there you go, Franken-Frocks, homebirth, having kittens and growing sons, all in one post.
I hope you're kicking off the week in fine style!
Baci,
Desiree x