There and back

After a couple of whirlwind days, I’m back. Vancouver was gorgeous, though somewhat on the cool side (and I’m not talking about the hipsters). Flowers everywhere, of course. I think all of Edmonton’s showers must be having their effect over there. From the multitude of photos I took, I’m sure that one or two will pop up here in due time.

For now, I can report that the trip had divided success. We found our wedding rings (and they are lovely), we ate to our hearts’ content, but sadly we were disappointed with the shopping across the border. More on that later.

Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Westward bound

This long weekend, I’m bound for Vancouver with my beloved. We are both so ridiculously excited that it might as well be Christmas. Until recently, we both spent quite a bit of time out west, and we’ve been missing our old haunts. The purpose of our trip is threefold:

1) picking out wedding rings;
2) eating; and

3) shopping


Each of our goals is exciting in itself. Who doesn’t like shopping for jewelry? Not me. My fiancé and I also enjoy eating – really enjoy it – and we’re looking forward to going back to some of our favourite restaurants in Van. Sushi, of course, will be very prominent on our menu, and we’re excited to revisit Kadoya, our fave place on Davie Street. And let’s not forget the cupcakes. Especially not the cupcakes! We also like shopping – I don’t need to tell you how much – and we’ve been making plans for an assault on the American outlets near Seattle for months now. All in all, it should be a perfect getaway.

As it is, I won’t be posting over the weekend, but I will be back on Monday, hopefully happy as a clam … stuffed with sushi and cupcakes. Have a great weekend!

Cannes don’t

For the last week or so, the world’s fashionable people have been descending in (stylish) hordes upon the south of France for the Cannes Film Festival. For mere peons like me that means a plethora of red carpet photos to peruse, and critique, at my leisure. [Best site for that is Red Carpet Fashion Awards. It gives a side-by-side comparison with the runway version of each dress. Handy!] I love the ballgown-heavy drama of red carpets; every now and then a real stinker will turn up and I will chuckle to myself, smug in the knowledge that, even if I don’t have that person’s money, I at least possess more sense. I’m catty like that.

I love the Cannes red carpet in particular because it affords one the rare opportunity to see a lot of French actresses in fashionable action. I love French women; they have a unique sort of inexplicable, effortless chic that no one else can reproduce. Take Charlotte Gainsborough – she always looks like she hasn’t brushed her hair in weeks and has only a casual acquaintance with make-up, yet manages to exude an almost aristocratic elegance. If I tried to pull off that kind of look, I would exude the elegance of a smelly vagrant. I could write sonnets about French women’s style, but I will spare you the pain.

Anyway, the other day I saw a picture of one of my current girl crushes, Marion Cotillard, on a Cannes red carpet and I have to admit that I was disappointed. She was wearing some sort of sparkly black jumpsuit thing. Why, MarCo, why? You are a lovely woman. More importantly, you are a lovely woman who is regularly bombarded with beautiful gowns from the top couture houses in the world. Ok, so you want to be edgy. I get that. But, surely, there are better options out there than a JUMPSUIT. For the love of Lanvin!!

Alright, so I guess you now know my prejudice against jumpsuits. I tried to like them, I really did. When they first started to trickle down to the Edmonton retail scene, I tried on a pair at H&M (the first stop of the trendy fashion express around here). After all, I am willing to experiment. Proof of that is the fact that somewhere in my basement there is a pair of dhoti-style pants (better known as “Hammer pants”) that I bought last year – and even wore in public (once). But jumpsuits … no. This is where I draw the line. Even for the 1% of the population who is able to wear them without looking utterly ridiculous, they do no favours. My own brief experience with them is better left forgotten. In fact, let us never speak of jumpsuits again, and pretend they do not exist.

Hear that, MarCo?




So, what’s your fashion bugbear?