Lacanian larks

Another blisteringly hot day in Sydney! I spent most of the day napping, because the heat makes me terribly sleepy. I think it was blisteringly hot, anyway; I suspect that quite a few others think it was simply a lovely day.

You’re mad if you do think that. Egad.

(Kidding. I tend to think it’s hot when it reaches 22°C.)

Scorching, ghastly heat notwithstanding, the bright sun seems to demand more colourful outfit palettes. I’ve been tempted to turn to my black and white pieces because I haven’t worn them in eons (winter makes me want colour, actually; I love colour in winter) but they don’t feel half as suitable. Proof, I think, that I should do away with my attempt to create a ‘neutral’ palette. Ha!

I’m very bad at doing conventional colours.

Really very bad. These are a couple of pages that Valerie and I did in our colouring book, post-Honours thesis:

 

I couldn’t bear to make the giraffe yellow and brown, because while yellow and brown is indeed a rather striking combination, yellow and blue and red is far more appealing. Particularly when it’s an animal. Valerie did the cow. It is blue because milk cartons are blue (or, rather, should be blue — some milk cartons are not blue and this is apparently quite the travesty) and cows, being milk-givers, must also logically be blue. According to Valerie, blue packaging makes dairy products taste better. Not being much of  a dairy consumer (save for copious amounts of cheese and ice cream), I really couldn’t say. Who knows.

We combined our colourin’ skillz to do the crab. I don’t recall much pre-colouring planning, save for agreeing that the crab couldn’t be red because red is the colour of cooked crabs, and cooked crabs are not underwater. (Crabs holding paintbrushes are likely to be cooked and dead , too.)

Colouring. It is good for the soul. I did not do any today, because my soul has been consumed by post-Honours academia. Damn them all. I want to go to sleep.

But I can’t go to sleep yet, because I have to show you The Things I’m Wearing. Here they be:

Arr.

One day, I will write you a post free of pirate slang (unless related to the post), geekery, internetz spellin’ and general syntactical splendour. It will be marvellous, and it will never happen. Sorry. I like pirates and I like mispelling things ‘ccording to teh intarwebz. The rhythm is fun. And it stops me from getting too serious. I can be so. amazingly. dull. when I’m serious.

Anyway. I am wearing a teal/pale blue (depending on how you see colours) Flames to Dust cardigan, from Alannah Hill’s Autumn/Winter 2008 collection. Underneath it is a pale pink camisole from the Spring/Summer 2009 collection, and its called ‘Adorable Wafer Girl’. I have a sprig of who-knows-what tucked into my cardigan because Valerie put it there for giggles, and one must humour one’s photographer sometimes, especially if one suspects that the photographer is Not Quite Sane.

The headband is called ‘Parking Lot Love’ from the Spring/Summer 2010 collection. It differs slightly from the ‘I Don’t Care for Pearls’ pearl headband from a previous season in that the pearls are gradated in size, so that the bigger ones are in the middle of the band. The bow itself is untouched (I know, huh?) because I haven’t really had a reason to replace it. The colours work well and I think that the emphasis on bigger pearls balances out the overly flamboyant bow. All in all, it’s quite a good piece as it is.

 

Have another picture to break up the brick wall of words:

My skirt is the ‘Look Up My…’ skirt from the Spring/Summer 2010 collection. It is my only tulle ballerina skirt and I think I need more. (I’m pretty sure it’s my only tulle one. Oh help.) It’s belted in with a pink leather belt, sprinkled with flowers in a row.

The belt is called ‘Daisy Chain’ and comes from the Spring/Summer 2009 collection. It was far too big for me and I took to making new holes in it with a knife. The kids next door saw me doing it through my bedroom window, except they only saw the flash of a knife every now and then and probably had no idea what I was doing. I suspect they had no idea, because they looked very scared indeed. I am rather fond of that memory.

My shoes are from Siren and dear me they are high. I’m quite used to walking in heels — I have quite the flexible foot and a rather high instep and arch, and I’m used to taking the weight of my body onto the balls of my foot (or the tips of the toes when I was dancing).

I usually wear heels around 4″ high, which is terrible for my feet, I know, but I am under 5′ and the boost in height means I don’t have to tiptoe too much talking to someone over a counter/reception desk/etc. These shoes, however, are 5″ without a platform. They’re still quite wearable but definitely higher than what I am used to. Not the sort of shoe I’d wear for a long city ramble. Just for uni and quick errands. (I hope none of you are podiatrists. Forgive me for I have sinned. Bad shoes are my vice — I don’t drink,;I don’t smoke; I don’t gamble; I don’t even go clubbing. Let me have my silly shoes!) Tip: if you cannot raise your heels off the floor by about an inch (by going onto the balls of your feet/your toes, without bending your knees), your shoes are way too high for you and there is no way you will be able to walk without imitating a newly born giraffe. Not a good look.

And here’s a collection of ‘goofy and dorky things I did today’ snaps. They actually occurred right after the shot that opens this blog post, so pop it into the storyboard in your head:

They inspired the title of this post — I saw my reflection in Valerie’s kitchen window and, with a nod to Lacanian mirror theories (in which, briefly, a child sees its reflection and identifies with it and lo, a notion of subjectivity is borne… or something. Not a fan of Lacan; too eager to fall into ‘child as a blank slate’ constructs) piped, ‘I’M A FAIRY PRINCESS’ and started wafting around. And ended with a suitably twee and fairy-like pose, for which I have no excuses. It was a twee outfit. The moment overcame the age, etc. (That line is from John Fowles’ French Lieutenant’s Woman and is one of the funniest books I have read, evar, and you should read it too. It is a brilliantly witty take on narrative, on genre, on writing conventions and it’s really just very good.)

I think I will have to avoid overly twee outfits  in overly twee settings for a bit, if this is the consequence. Bah humbug!

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4 Responses to “Lacanian larks”

  1. oh how I want to steal all of your clothes!

  2. Great outfit – I love the way you combine pastels. I always seem to cop out and just use black as a way to tie pastels together.

    I’ve had a copy of ‘The French Lieutenant’s Woman’ sitting on my shelf for around two years now, but haven’t had a chance to read it. I think you’ve just inspired me to take it with me to read on my plane trip tomorrow.

    • I hope you enjoy The French Lieutenant’s Woman — nothing worse than taking a dud book with you on the plane! 😛 I’ve heard that some people have read it as a Very Serious Book on Life, Romance and the Pull of Societal Constraints, etc., but I like it best when I imagine John Fowles sitting at his desk, gleefully writing something he finds incredibly amusing. Some of it is just too over the top to take seriously. 🙂

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