Practice makes fucking perfect.

Hello Anger, it’s me again.

The five stages of grief:

1. Denial (I can’t believe this.)
2. Anger (I really can’t fucking believe this.)
3. Bargaining (fucking kill me.)
4. Depression (I really really can’t fucking believe this.)
5. Acceptance (fuck it.)

In the past 3 years, I have become good friends with each stage. The more times you do it, the better you get.

I am so. fucking. over. it.

Might as well get a one way to acceptance, but not before a small layover to visit my friends in depression. We’ll make it quick this time.

Perfect mood for some dark and gothic Anne Hathaway.

Anne Hathaway 3 Anne Hathaway 5 Anne Hathaway 6 Anne Hathaway 7 Anne Hathaway 8 Anne Hathaway Anne Hathaway2 Anne Hathway 4

Neither here nor there

Sometimes the best paradigm shift comes from the most unlikely of sources – my typically spoiled and undeniably sheltered little brother. Underaged advice of the day: if you know what you want, nothing else matters. Everything else is neither here nor there (of course there was no way he phrased it that eloquently, but that was his point).

Anyways, given that I have work early and I can already feel the effects of old age burrowing deep into my bones, I will keep this post quick and simple. I didn’t want to lose the momentum of consistent posting so I figured I’d at least post some random end of the weekend musings.

Weekend highlights:

1. Spent quality time with the broskis: we watched Elysium, which by the way was so garbage that he didn’t mind using the washroom midway through. And everyone knows, movie washroom breaks are SO taboo.
2. Watched some old, rotund greek man dancing to greek music and throwing paper towels in the sky (wasteful, yet endearing).
3. Went to Chapters and bought a sketch book (I’ve finally decided to hone in on my non-existent artistic abilities). I’m also a stationary slut, and so went ape shit over all the pretty stationary they have on sale.

My weekends are so exciting, I know.

Last post I put up photography by Jean-Baptiste Mondino, picking ones that seemed to integrate best into the musical theme of the post. I’ve decided for this post I would continue with his photos because he definitely has better ones, and overlooking them would be a shame. It was somewhat hard narrowing down which images I wanted to share because I actually like a majority of his pictures, which isn’t always common. He is a french fashion photographer and a videographer (mostly making music videos for many well known artists), with his spectrum of pictures encompassing both the conventional fashion editorials and something a little different. Thank god for massive uploading, because despite my attempts I still could only wither it down to 20+ photos (which is the most I think I’ve ever uploaded yet).

Style: "COLOR"

At first I tried really hard to limit the number of pictures I was going to post because I was afraid I’d run the risk of making this post a little too long and boring… but then I realized it was 1:30 am and that I did not give an ‘eff’.

Art is art, and exposure is awesome. Not that this tiny little blog would make much of a difference, but whatever.

Check out his page for more of his photos and videos: http://www.jeanbaptistemondino.com

Fancy meeting you here…

Why hello world, nice to see you again.

I know it’s been a while, but life just caught up with me. It’s been a busy few weeks (months really), but I’m taking this lazy evening to compose a long overdue post. I’ll officially be finished my clinical year soon, in four weeks to be exact. What’s more scary then being released into the real world, with no guaranteed job prospects, is the idea of actually having a job that requires taking on life altering responsibilities without the safety blanket of someone way smarter then me.

But the idea of being a REAL adult… one who has a career, a house, a home, a family, or a “forever” relationship (maybe even a car, or at least a bus pass) – is straight up effing daunting . Allegedly there’s no time stamp on these things, but when the world around you is walking in the same direction (supposedly I am of “that” age), you can’t help but want to follow along. Plus, secretly behind this computer screen I really am just another human subject to implausible romantic comedies. But luckily, the pull of societal expectations does not supersede my drive to ultimately do “whateva tha hell  I wan'”.

I had wanted to say Happy Chinese New Year, when it actually was the advent of the New Year. Unfortunately at the time I was actually studying (seriously, I am not joking). But hey it paid off cause eventually I ended up with 100% and 94% on my two presentations, and yes I am totally bragging. After all, you are your own biggest fan (besides your mom of course). Anyways, better late then never: Happy Belated Chinese New Year!

So in late celebration, I’m highlighting fashion photog Chen Man. I read an interview/article about her last year, and have liked her ever since. Beijing born and raised, this 28 year old fashion photographer aims to combine traditional chinese culture with modernism in her photos. Using 3D-photo-fixer-upper techniques (i have no idea what this would actually be called), she has created her own style and has been featured in many different fashion mags. And here I am, JUST getting started.

Sigh.

Self portrait

Chen Man self portrait on the Great Wall


Breathing Class

The other day during my pulmonary rehab rotation, I attended breathing class.

To better understand the relevance, I shall explain.

Pulmonary rehabilitation is usually attended by people who have breathing problems. Most of the time there are issues with the lung, and disease within the airway itself. Basically, the people here can barely walk a few steps without feeling short of breathe and starved for some air. If they’re not already on oxygen (it’s a drug, you know), they’re pretty much heading down that path.

Truthfully, I was slightly nervous because I actually have no idea what goes on in breathing class, and I’m always afraid someone will ask me a question to which I will respond with a wide eyed blank stare. So at 9 am, I walk into breathing class and quickly notice that everyone around me is a legal senior citizen, with the exception of one girl who must have been in her forties. Everyone has oxygen, a cane or some sort of assisted walking device.

Now before I continue, I want to point out that I have a highly competitive nature. Keep this in mind as you judge me. Please.

As class progresses, we learn different breathing techniques, how to cope with attacks of breathlessness, the best way to breathe etcetera etcetera. To be honest, they work us kind of hard: we walk around a bit, stretch, make ourselves short of breath while applying and perfecting our breathing excerises. We even do some tai chi; which, might I add was deliciously free. I mean all and all, as a twenty something, somewhat healthy female whose only real (yet significant) ailment is laziness, even I was tired.

So what do I do? I try to compete against the old people for who can be a better breather. At everything. I try to make my tai chi flowier, I try to walk faster, stretch further.

“Teacher: Breathe in and out, and if you can handle it stand up”

And this, my friends, is where I realize what a competitive loser I am. Why? Because I am obviously the only person standing since clearly I have no lung problems, require no oxygen and can walk freely on my own. In my mind, I think I’m really pushing the limits, when really here I am, trying to outdo these nice old people who just want to breathe. I am such a monster.

But seriously, there are so many things in life taken for granted, and I can definitely say breathing is one of them. It comes so naturally, that the idea of it taken away is so unfathomable, that it’s not even possible. Imagine how dreadful it must be to not be able to walk more then three steps without stopping, or suffocating just to brush your teeth or change your clothes.

Lesson here? Love your lungs. (also, nobody likes a competitive boar)

So, in conclusion of a slightly depressing subject. I will continue the pattern of “insert-here-somewhat-relevant-yet-completely-irrelevant” photos that I like. As we need air to breathe, and the whole jumping in the air photo pose thing is so popular now a days (notice how I cleverly bridged that with an enormous stretch), I’ve decided to post photos from the Fly Series by Melvin Sokolsky who very creatively did the jumping in the air thing way before of his current day counterparts – in 1965.

Harpers Bazaar Spring Collection, 1965.

Harpers Bazaar Spring Collection, 1965.

Harpers Bazaar, Spring Collection, 1965. I particularly like this one because of the models expression, the background and the candid cuddling couple in the corner.

I particularly like this one because of the models expression, the background and the candid cuddling couple in the corner.

Harpers Bazaar Spring Collection, 1965. I just think the model here looks like she's having a blast.

I just think the model here looks like she’s having a blast.

Basically, he made his models jump, took mid air shots and made it look awesome. Since I believe all artists deserve some recognition, I’m going to post a link to his blog for some free time perusing – http://sokolsky.posterous.com.

The Bird Crap.


I wrote this whole post, with this whole story and all this other crap… but truthfully it sucked.

So, I deleted it.

My absolute crazy favourite fashion photog obsession. I love her. Love her photos. She is a creative genius. Drum roll.

Lillian Bassman.

A little bit of a brief bio (and I mean brief because 1. I need to be up in like five hours and 2. I’m very important you know):

  • Started off as a textile designer, after a bunch of other career flipping landed a job at Harper’s Bazaar and went into creative photography
  • A majority of her photos are from the late 40’s to 50’s, and she would alter her photos in a dark room, bleaching them, blurring them, hand adding stuff here and there.
  • They’re stunning, elegant, and simply classic.
  • Photos regained popularity in the 90’s and she went at it again.

Unfortunately there’s way too many too upload, so I just picked some of the ones that I like to look at over and over. And even that was hard. I hope you enjoy these babies as much as I do.

The HB Look, Harpers Bazaar c. 1955

The HB Look, Harpers Bazaar c. 1955

It’s a Cinch, New York, Harpers Bazaar, 1958

lingerie series, 1951

lingerie series, 1951

Lillian Bassman, 1947

Lillian Bassman, 1947

The dressing room

The dressing room

The Little Furs, Model: Mary Jane Russell in a cape jacket by Ritter Brothers, New York, Harper's Bazaar c. 1950

The Little Furs, Model: Mary Jane Russell in a cape jacket by Ritter Brothers, New York, Harper’s Bazaar c. 1950

The Spotted Furs, Barbara Mullen, NY, Harper's Bazaar, 1954.

The Spotted Furs, Barbara Mullen, NY, Harper’s Bazaar, 1954.

Carmen having tea, c. 1950

Carmen having tea, c. 1950

Evelyn Tripp, 1958

Evelyn Tripp, 1958

The personal touch, Evelyn Tripp, c.1948

The personal touch, Evelyn Tripp, c.1948

Paris Gala Night, Barbara Mullen in a dress by Patou, Harper's Bazaar, 1949

Paris Gala Night, Barbara Mullen in a dress by Patou, Harper’s Bazaar, 1949

Dior Hat on Barbara Mullen, Ritz, Paris, Harper's Bazaar, 1949.

Dior Hat on Barbara Mullen, Ritz, Paris, Harper’s Bazaar, 1949.

The V-Back Evenings, NY, Harper's Bazaar, 1955.

The V-Back Evenings, NY, Harper’s Bazaar, 1955.

Untitled (Model in gloves and pearl earrings), 1950

Untitled (Model in gloves and pearl earrings), 1950

Across the restaurant, 1949

Across the restaurant, 1949

Fantasy on the dance floor

Fantasy on the dance floor

The line lengthens, 1955

The line lengthens, 1955

Barbara Mullen, Paris, Harper's Bazaar, 1949.

Barbara Mullen, Paris, Harper’s Bazaar, 1949.

Model Unknown, Paris, Chanel Advertising Campaign, 1963

Model Unknown, Paris, Chanel Advertising Campaign, 1963

Anneliese Seubert, NY Times Magazine, 1997

Anneliese Seubert, NY Times Magazine, 1997

The Well Dressed Leg, Dorian Leigh, NY HB 1948

 

 

 

 

wedding Lillian Basman(Disclaimer: I think it’s pretty self explanatory (and painstakingly obvious) that I do not own any of these photos. So obvious that even putting this disclaimer is embarrassingly redundant. Rather, I have collected them from various sites when I went on a, and rightfully so, Lillian Bassman rampage.)

Quarter century

True to my word, I am back for my monthly post.

Turns out, today is my birthday. I’m officially 25 (I don’t know why I was surprised, I knew this day was coming, but still… it was a shocker).

Birthdays are so weird to me, because I don’t usually feel any different. But today, I actually do feel older. Maybe it’s because everybody keeps referring to it as my quarter century. Thinking of this way almost makes me feel like I’m quarter of the way to dying or something, since who really lives a full century now a days.

Having a sister 10 years older then me, I’ve always seen 25 (or dare I say it… late 20’s) as something of the far off future. But now I’m here at what seems like lightning speed, and man I really feel like I’m running out of time. Or like I haven’t accomplished or done anything at all except perfect my finely tuned academic facade.

So you know what this means right?

1. Tonight is gonna be quite the party

2. It’s time to see the world

3. Starting tomorrow, I’m going to eat healthy (this is more a goal, but thought I’d throw it out there since I’m on the theme of aging. And let’s face it: with one hip surgery under my belt I’m no spring chicken!)

4. It’s time. To see. The world. So important of a point it gets another mention. Which means it’s time to start planning my next trip.

Me thinks I’m going to asia!

Anyways, happy birthday to all you other late birthday bloomers out there. Trailing behind the age pack sucked when it defined your legal status, but you only turn legal once and everyone else will always be getting older first. So I guess it’s not so bad after all.

Birthday or not, hope everyone has the best day ever… because this is, without a doubt, a special day for someone somewhere. And that in itself warrants a few smiles 🙂

These photos by Luis Monteiro puts me in a colourful birthday mood :)

These photos by Luis Monteiro for Tatler puts me in a colourful birthday mood

If it was warm outside, and I had these balloons.. this is what I'd be doing.

If it was warm outside, and I had these balloons.. this is what I’d be doing.

be oh ex. And all it’s mundane glory.

Happy pre-Halloween weekend (I foresee no time during the week to post, so now is as good time as any to procrastinate and blog a bit). I simultaneously hate Halloween because I’m pretty much scared of everything and love it because it’s so creative (but if we’re being honest, I’m more scared of it if anything).

But I believe in releasing the inner child and at least attempting to be festive. Irving Penn (a noted fashion photographer) always seems to put me in the Halloween mood with his cool and sometimes kind of creepy photographs. Especially the ones in the Vogue Extreme Beauty edition that came out a few years ago (a really fun set of photos to thumb through).

“Canvas head with hardware”

“Cult Creams”

Not part of Extreme Beauty, but really liked it anyways

Classic.

I guess it’s time I started unpacking.

I realized that it’s not really the “living-out-of-boxes” aspect that gets me, it’s the constant “transferring-to-a-new-box” motion I’m always going through. Besides walking around with wrinkly clothes, I mean seriously, what’s wrong with living out of boxes anyways? In reality, my room is so tiny that I had to spend 30 dollars on new boxes that would fit into my room. Essentially all I am doing is transferring from one ugly four cornered enclosure to another slightly prettier one (if I have to live out of a box, it might as well be sexy). Financially counter productive if you ask me.

Too bad they don’t have like star shaped boxes or something (that’s right, I unnecessarily used “like” in a sentence, life is dangerous). Boxes are just so… square. And boring.

Sigh, might as well get started on leaving my life perpetually in boxes. Forever.

I’d much rather be drinking bubble tea instead.