Busy times in Rusty Town.

Well it's been a busy few weeks here at Château Rusty.   I've had a birthday, shopped till I dropped, a new haircut, danced the light fantastic, and started back at out-patient physio.  The old brain has been a bit overwhelmed, as has my body, hence the lack of posting.  Hibernation has been order of the day.

I did manage to pump out one post over at Studio 30 Plus where I was honoured to be a featured blogger.  I'm sure I have done my mamma proud by using the words "sucked donkey balls" repeatedly in a post.  I can see her sending copies to all her friends at the gardening club.

The lovely Phoebe aka Lady Melbourne has put up her post about our shopping day for the competition I won.  I will have to say it was one of the best days I've had, and both Phoebe and Jo, my stylist, were truly lovely.  I went in as a shopping tragic and left holding firmly onto my newly rediscovered mojo.  A huge thanks goes out to my gorgeous friend Kerri who came along for the ride and pushed me around in a wheelchair at the Westfield Shopping Centre for 3 hrs.   And Mr Grumpy, who took the day off work to drive me around town.  I will post about the day and pop up a few extra photos in a little while.

Well it's time for me to head back to the cave for some further hibernation.

Cheers
Michelle :)

Lady Melbourne, Westfield, and Shopping Extravaganzas.

Once upon a time I was fashion girl.  I loved shopping.  I loved looking for the perfect shirt, skirt or, my greatest love, shoes.  Unfortunately my Carrie Bradshaw taste was accompanied by the salary of an allied health worker in the public health system,with a husband, two kids and a mortgage. 

Still, I was undeterred by my meager finances.  I was bargain queen.  I could smell a 70% off sale a mile away and spot a red 'sale' sign at 100 paces.  I could mix and match with ease.  I would drive across 10 suburbs to get to a great op shop that was renowned for it's treasure of vintage pieces.  I always carried my wardrobe contents in my mental filofax.  I knew exactly where a particular piece of clothing or accessory would fit.  I could shop for hours and come home with only one piece, but it would be the perfect piece, that slotted in seamlessly with the rest of my wardrobe.  My own fashion version of Tetris.

I would frock up for work each day in a killer pair of heels, carefully selected vintage or classic inspired outfit with the perfect accessories. 

Then Bob came on the scene.

Slowly, bit by bit, my fashion sense went the way of my health.  Part of it was the exhaustion.  I simply didn't have the energy to do it.  It was a case of practicalities.  Ensuring adequate coverage for everything that needs to be covered in public became the number one priority, anything more was simply in the realm of fantasy.  Mind you that didn't stop me from going to work with my top on backwards, or forgetting to iron half my shirt.  If my hair was brushed I was pretty happy, as using a hair dryer was just too much effort.  Makeup went out the window except for a quickly applied bit of lippy.  I ended up with a wardrobe filled with slacks and shirts made from that hideous no-iron material. One less step to worry about in a world where energy was in short supply.

When I stopped working I gave up on fashion all together.  I slipped into a funk that if I'm honest, was quite comfortable.  There were small flashes where I would find a moment of care and put in some effort but they wee few and far between.  When your permanently exhausted it's hard to care.  With Bob my body shape also changed.  I really have no idea what size I am now, all I know is that most of my pre-sick clothes nolonger fit.  I don't really want to know more than that. 

Now I wear the uniform of the sick, PJs and old trackie dacks (see below).  Bugger brushing may hair, whip it up in a hair band and I'm set to face the world.  When you're stuck at home for the most part, why put in the effort?  I'm pretty sure my dogs are ambivalent to my permanent fashion faux pas.  My only concession to personal grooming these days is my bottle of Chanel No. 5 that sits by my bed.  A squirt every day to remind myself that once life was different.  

 (Abandon all hope ye who enter here.  

2yrs post leaving work.  Looking chic in pasty sick, 

with hideous dressing gown, unbrushed hair, dog chewed couch,

and large Thor sized accessory).

 

 (Mixing it up with old trackie dacks, which I still wear, 

and hair pulled back in a hair band, with small Freyja puppy accessory)

 

  (Ooh look, more pj's and another dog accessory, I have it going on.  

Note carefully crafted bed hair and pasty chic look)

 

 (And yet another pj, dressing gown and dog shot.  I am serious need on the fashion front.  

Good lord, even I can't believe my lack of style.)

Lately, I've been thinking that I need to put in some effort.  My eldest monkey boy is doing his deb with his best girlfriend and I really want to not look like the bride of Frankenstein's frumpier, pasty sister, when we do the mum and son dance.  PJs are simply not going to cut it.  Bob's not going anywhere and I really need to find my mojo again.  With his recent escalation I really need to put some serious effort into locating my elusive fashion sense once more.  (Though despite my stupor even I know that jeggings aren't pants, and that orange spray tan is only acceptable if you are an Oompa Loompa.  Maybe there is a remnant of my fashion sense left after all). 

Whether it's kismet or fate or whatever, but one of my favourite fashion bloggers, Lady Melbourne, (Phoebe was the inspiration for my Dorothy Shoes post last year) ran a competition for a $1,000 Westfield shopping spree with a stylist.  And,

I WON!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know.  I can't believe it either.  I ran around (well stumbled around) the house yelling "I won", and doing a happy dance that may or may not have resembled the famous Elaine dance from Seinfeld.  I then took my laptop out to Mr Grumpy to ensure I wasn't delusional from lack of O2 or in the midst of a super brain fog.  But it's true I won.  My name was right there on the computer screen.  I have had emails from Lady Melbourne herself, and now have a pair of Westfield shopping centre gift cards in my hands.  No need to pinch me, it's not a dream.

Phoebe has been lovely, managing to squish me in on short notice before Monkey Boy's deb on the 14th so I will be all gussied up for the big night.

So this Wednesday, May 11th, which just so happens to be my birthday, I get to meet Phoebe, shop with a stylist and have the best birthday ever.  My gorgeous friend Kerri is coming along to help me out, carry bags or piggy back me at need.  I don't care how badly behaved Bob is on the day I am going to shop till I drop,  I don't care if I end the day being felt up by a pair of burly ambos or staggering like a drunken sailor and scaring small children and grey-haired grannies.  There will be fitting rooms, coat hangers, seams, hems, buttons, zippers and most importantly, fun.

And just think, with a stylist I will actually have a chance at avoiding the dreaded Mutton Dressed as Lamb Syndrome (at nearly 38 I am classed as high risk) or a bad case of What Was She Thinking Disorder.  Because lets face it $1000 on clothes can be spent wisely or very badly.  I think Princess Beatrice has taught us all a lesson in that money cannot be trusted to purchase style.

 (This must be avoided at all costs)

I will post photos of my new fashionable self after the big day and there will be no pjs or trackie dacks in sight!

Cheers
The soon to be re-mojoed Michelle ;)

Fabulous Friday: Glitter Dreams & Dorothy Shoes

What would a Fabulous Friday be without some glitz and glam?  I refuse to believe that just because I'm over 30, that I am somehow beyond my sparkly years.  If I want to break out the glitter and make myself some killer, sparkly, red heels I'm going to do it.

You better brace yourself because today I am going to get all crafty on your arse.

A few weeks back the lovely, and all-around Australian fashion goddess, Phoebe Montague from Lady Melbourne made her very own pair of Dorothy heels, following some muse-like inspiration courtesy of an Alison Goldfrapp album.  I developed a very unhealthy need to possess those shoes at the first glance.  I mean they are red and they are glittery, what more could any girl want.

I have taken Lady M's basic idea and added a few steps to ensure maximum adhesion and minimal dispersal of glitter.  Whilst it's cute to leave a trail of your own pixie dust in the form of glitter, I imagine there are many shop and restaurant owners who would be less than impressed with a trail of red glitter throughout their establishments.  Besides, no one wants a pair of heels that look like they have developed the mange.  And really a pair of heels missing large chunks of glitter is just sad.

Now there is no huge trick to these shoes of fabulosity.  Even I could manage it, and considering Eunice has been on long service leave, that means they are uber easy to make. They are a 3-day project, thanks to drying times.

Preparation is everything.  So here are the basic preparation steps.

• Buy or recycle a pair of battered, and or super cheap heels (though I can't see why you couldn't do some ballet flats or go all outside the box, and bedazzle your ugg boots).  I got my heels of tackiness, from the sale rack at Target.  Mr Grumpy always says that a sale sign is really a "come in Michelle sign" and frankly, he's right (but don't tell him I said that.  Can't go around letting your man know he is right about such things).  I did a little dance of joy at my $10 price tag.  I would have used an old pair of my own heels, but I love them all too much, and it would have been like bedazzling one of my children.

• Grab a bottle of PVA glue.  PVA is cheap as chips, and you can get it anywhere.  Luckily I have about 8 bottles at home in various cupboards.  It's one of those items that I see on a shelf in a store and think "that'll come in handy", so buy yet another bottle.  It's a sickness really.
• Grab some red glitter.  You could go any colour glitter really.  Hell, you could go all unicorn farty and get rainbow coloured glitter (What you didn't know unicorns farted rainbows? Sheesh keep up people). Though why you would want a pair of shoes that looked like a unicorn had farted on them I don't know.  But I won't judge.  Now, where was I.  Oh yes glitter?  You don't need much, so don't be like me and buy the biggest jar of red glitter they had, and end up using about a bees dick worth.  One of those little tubes could just about do it.
• Grab a piece of sandpaper.  Any old sandpaper will do.  I only used a small piece that I had lying around.  A mid-level grade of sandpaper does the trick.
• A spray can of high gloss enamel.  Again you can purchase a can for minimal dollars, but I shelled out a few more dollars and brought some of the better stuff to avoid yellowing.  Because let's face it, no one wants a pair of heels that look like someone has peed on them.
• Old paint brush.  Luckily I delude myself into thinking I'm an artist so I have a few old brushes hanging around.  One that's about 1cm across works well.
• Old Newspaper.  This is one messy project.  Glitter is worse than sand and ends up everywhere, and I do mean everywhere.
• 2 old plastic shopping bags. 
• Wine.  Now I'm a sauvignon blanc or pinot gris girl, but you can pick whatever you like.  I think this is almost compulsory given that you are making sparkly party shoes, but if you have to abstain you can always just bust out the non-alcoholic cider or a nice juice and add a cocktail umbrella.
• Music.  Again these are party shoes.  To impart the magic into them you need to play music.  For me, I did disco tunes, Donna Summer, Bee Gees and the like.  I did also put my Goldfrapp album on the playlist in homage to Lady M.

Now to get crafting.

Day 1:

• Take a sip of wine and press play on your stereo.
• Give the heels a light sand.  Rubbing all over the surface creates a better surface for the glue/glitter to adhere to.  Wipe them down with a damp cloth to remove all traces of dust.
• Take another gulp sip of wine.
• Paint on a decent layer of glue.  Using the paintbrush you can get into little joins and be more precise in your glittering areas.
• Shake glitter all over the glued surface.  Shake off the excess. Luckily PVC is bright white when wet so you can see anywhere you missed.
• Leave shoes to dry for a day.
• Note glitter in your eye HURTS.  Make sure you wash your hands, thoroughly.
• Finish off the glass of wine and bust out some disco moves.

Day 2:

• Start as in day 1, wine and music.
• Give shoes a tap to remove loose glitter.
• Sip wine.
• Take shoes into a well-lit room or into the sunshine to find spots you missed.
• Re-do glue layer and re-glitter.
• This gives good glitter coverage and requires further celebration because they are now so pretty.
• Finish off the glass of wine and bust out disco moves.

Day 3:

• Start as in Days 1 and 2, wine and music.
• Stuff shoes with crunched up shopping bags to stop spray going inside shoes.
• Give can of spray varnish a good shake.
• Make sure nozzle is pointing at shoes and not at your face.  I add this step for you dear reader, as I did not do this check, and varnished my face.  Extra tip have turpentine close by to remove varnish from face and glasses. 
• Have an extra glass of wine to wash away the taste of spray varnish.  It tastes very, very, bad (shudder).
• Give shoes a good coating of varnish.  Leave to dry overnight.
• Have another glass of wine to celebrate finishing shoes.  Dance with wild abandon.

Day 4:

• Beautiful Dorothy shoes! So exciting. Time to party on down.  Break out the bubbly to celebrate.

(Warning: 

Wearing Dorothy Shoes may cause you to break into random moments of Blue Steele)

(Watch out Heidi, Vogue here I come)

 (Note clever use of bright red heels to distract the eye from my colourful cankles).

(Even better black & white hides a multitude of sins)

*Big thanks to my eldest and his ability to not laugh when taking photos of his mother, and for his judicious use of photoshop.

So there you go, dear readers.  Now you can make your own magical Dorothy shoes.  In reality, it doesn't matter if you wear them or not (although I fully intend to) they are art.  Simply having them on display to look at, is bound to bring a little magic into your day.

Cheers
The New Dorothy :)

Happiness, Goldfrapp (2008)