Manolo for the Big Girl

Texans, it might surprise you to find out, are not what one might call an understated people.

We don’t really do subtlety or nuance or cynicism, all things necessary for good fashion. Austin, for all its coolness, is not a fashion city. And you know? That’s okay by me.

However, during South by Southwest, the music and film festival that brings a bazillion people streaming into my town this week from all over the world, a sort of Underground railroad of fashion springs up.

Last night I went to an event at one of the stops and it necessitated Serious Fashion Makeup.

Now, I don’t get to do a full on editorial makeup often, so I decided to do a look inspired by the MAC Style Warrior visuals from S/S of last year:

I was particularly inspired by Sam Chapman’s tutorial on her version of the look which had a little bit more of a 1920’s feel that suits me better than the 80’s redux of the MAC visuals.

Since it was a bit misty last night and I knew I had a few stops to make before returning to Château Gâteau for the evening, I wanted to make sure the makeup stayed in place BUT I didn’t want to use a hardcore fixative.

Enter Make Up For Ever HD Microperfecting Primer.

I don’t own a full bottle of this, I just got it as a free sample of the neutral (white in the bottle, goes on clear) from Sephora.   This look lasted all night through three venues and a brief episode where I got caught in a light rain.  I pressed the pigment powders onto the skin while the primer hadn’t completely absorbed and let me tell you, although it blended beautifully, that makeup wasn’t going ANYWHERE.

This stuff is great and I highly, HIGHLY recommend it, especially if you have problems with make-up “traveling”  or if you choose not to use oil-based products on the eye (I can’t because it’s bad for my eyelash extensions). I couldn’t feel it on my face, the look stayed flawlessly loud and it washed right off with a cleansing pad.

Verdict: Two Enthusiastic Bottoms Up

I’m not Irish and I’m not drinking green beer for you or for anyone, but here on Manolo for the Big Girl we are all about inclusion, so in honor of Saint Patrick’s Day, I give you the Irish Rugby National Team.

“Omg this is so unfair.  Is he really not wearing the hat? The email said we HAD to wear the hat. It’s like he doesn’t even CARE it’s Esther Williams’ birthday. He is SO not getting my evite for the Million Dollar Mermaid watch party.”

“Dear God, it’s been uh, a really long time since my last, uh, confession. I’ve probably done a lot of bad stuff I can’t remember now. I forgot to wear the hat and now I’m not going to get invited to Colin’s Million Dollar Mermaid thing. But before  I die,  I really want to see James Heaslip finish his choreography for that Beyonce song. Amen.”

“Yeah kinda like this, but you know, imagine we’re in leotards and I’ve got a sort of reticulated metal glove. No trust me, It looks fierce.”

“…And then get this, HE says ‘If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it!’  I’m like DAMN, you’ve already got that scary-ass  robot glove. What more do you want?”

“NO! I don’t even UNDERSTAND that glove.  Then what happened?”

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Recently I have been obsessed, OBSESSED I tell you, with buying a pair of green tennis shoes.

The number of pairs of athletic shoes I have purchases in my life number exactly two.

One pair of Vans skate shoes purchased back in 1999 for some yet unknown reason, which I wore twice before giving them to my friend Craig who probably still wears them, and one pair of no-name gym shoes in 2004 that I bought because they were black and matched the rest of my workout gear. I still have the right shoe, but clearly the same person who stole my right Pour la Victoire patent leather pump with the red scoop heel has made off with my left sneaker (honestly, isn’t that much more likely than me accidentally leaving them some place?)

But I’ve not been able to shake my yearning for a pair of green tennies for weeks and, being a classicist even in my casualwear, I have narrowed it down to the following:

Onitsuka Tigers by ASICS “Lawnship”

Pros:

• I love the leather construction, and the padding looks dead comfortable.
• The laces and lime-green lining are great and very fashiony-in-a-good-way.
• Red soles! As a fashion person I think I’d get a little self-mocking giggle out of having a pair of red-soled shoes that so OBVIOUSLY aren’t Louboutins.
• My pal Joey –who is a sneaker savant– says Onitsuka Tigers are the best made shoes he’s ever worn, and since he’s spent most of his working life covering sports, I’ve got to think he’s had access to a lot of high-performance footwear.

Cons:

• Iconic, but are they iconic enough? If I’m going to wear sneakers, I want them to be within a defined fashion vocabulary.
• Socks. I hate them.  Esp. when visible. Do they make sock that are low rise enough to not make their presence know and still stay on, or do I have to find one with deely boppers on the back?
• A little more butch than my ideal personal aesthetic?

Converse Chuck Taylor All-Stars Hi Tops

Pros:

• Classic classic classic. They are THE iconic athletic shoe.
• Hi tops potentially easier to wear vis a vis the sock issue.
• Would be cute with a variation on the jules et jim boyfriend jeans look, which is what I’m wanting.

Cons:

• I hate buying fabric shoes as I don’t trust them not to fall apart at the seams
• Not as well-constructed or padded as the Tigers. Would I want to work out in them? (Am I even planning on working out in them anyway?)
• Laces are boring and white, and while I could replace them, I know myself well enough to say I probably wouldn’t.

What say you, loyal readers?  Put it in the comments!

Half sad, half awesome, all funny.

Be sure to read the commentary from E. McBloggerton on The Daily Ridiculous.

Mister Bumble, pictured here in portlier times.

Also, can we all agree that if one were to take on a career as a corpulent pet skunk, Mister Bumble is just about the most perfect name you could possibly have?

Don’t forget to read about the overweight albino pygmy hedgehog featuring perhaps the greatest sentence ever committed to virtual paper:

“At St Tiggywinkles Wildlife Hospital in Buckinghamshire, UK, Snowball the albino hedgehog needs to shed some pounds.”

I don’t like Drudge Report. It’s muckraking yellow journalism at its most slithery. However, I’ve gotten several emails today asking me to address the Daily Mail story that appeared on Drudge about the woman who –with the help of her partner– is trying to reach 1000 pounds and become the world’s heaviest woman.

I’m of three minds about this.

Mind One: I’ve done a little research on the Feeder relationship (if you can, get a copy of Fall 2009’s Bitch Magazine, there is an excellent article on the sexual politics of Feeding by Jessica Hester. Also there’s an interesting-in-a-dry-academic-way scientific study in the Journal of Sex Research by Swamee and Tovée 46(1), 89–96, 2009) and I don’t like it one bit. I have a really hard time understanding why someone who purportedly loves you would abuse you and help you abuse yourself by doing something that’s drastically bad for you to the point where, they would take away your freedom of mobility, ultimately making you completely dependent on them just to satisfy their own desires. AND YOU LET THEM??? That’s some messed up stuff.

Mind Two: That being said, they’re grown adults and it’s not really any of our business what they do as long as her child is being taken care of. We can get all shocked and judgy, which is what we’re supposed to do. But psst, wanna know a secret? People Like Weird Things. Trust me. I dated a guy who went to Catholic school before Vatican II. You can only be hit by nuns for so many years before it takes its toll on your psyche.

Mind Three: Hey, thanks for reinforcing the stereotype that fat people are freaks who live on doughnuts and sweets! Because you know, it’s been SO easy to fight for fat acceptance and just be treated like normal human beings. Now, I don’t think the reading public is dumb enough to necessarily think all fat people are like her, but it does subtly lend credibility to fatbashers. I can work my vegetable-eating, workout-getting, healthy lifestyle-leading, size 22 ass off day in and day out FOR YEARS and it can all be negated, or almost negated, by one sensationalist interview from a lady with a very specific and unusual fetish.

PLUS, what better way to help the anti-fat brigade than by becoming unhealthy ON PURPOSE so everyone can get up in arms about how much money fat people are costing the government in health care? Because I’m not sure if you’ve noticed it yet, but we’re having a BIT OF A ROUGH TIME OF IT RIGHT NOW and it’s not quite expensive or difficult ENOUGH to be fat in this country, you’re willingly becoming the poster child of the folks who want to make it even harder. Thanks, Donna, you’re a real pal.

Humphrey Bogart is my kinda guy.

First of all, he was a fellow Episcopalian which I didn’t know until about 20 seconds ago but it doesn’t surprise me. No one can have THAT much style and THAT damaged a liver and NOT be a member of the Anglican Communion.

Secondly, he liked strong, straight-talking women which isn’t really a surprise either, since his illustrator mother was a committed suffragist and the main breadwinner in his family.

So we all know he and the much-younger (and dead fabulous) Lauren Bacall after they fell in love on the set of “To Have and Have Not” in 1944, BUT did you know Our Lady of the Scotch Soaked Voice was nineteen, NINETEEN, when she taught Bogie how to blow in To Have and Have Not in 1944?

(btw, do we know who “discovered” Lauren Bacall? Louise Dahl-Wolfe and my very own heroine, Diana Vreeland)

Which isn’t to say Bogie wasn’t occasionally swayed by body parts other than a sharp tongue:

(busted)

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Hey folks, it’s been a while since we’ve done a post talking about all the other great posts you might have missed concerning fat, EDs, etc. And so I thought I would share with the class.

First up isn’t really a blog since it’s the Boston Globe, but Miss Conduct has a fat-related question and a typically spot on answer to it today.

Over at Shapely Prose, snarkysmachine has a fabulous five-step guide to getting in touch with your inner Samuel L. Jackson to deal with general douchebaggery. Plummy doesn’t need this one, but I definitely needed a refresher course, and it’s great to see it out there.

This one isn’t so much this week as about a month ago, but any of you who missed The Fat Nutritionist’s column Eat food. Stuff you like. As much as you want really ought to go check it out.

Rachel at The F-Word promotes a Canadian campaign to combat unrealistic body images/ideals. Go. Read about it. Support it.

Oh, and this is just for Plummy in honor of the day:

Darlings, it’s been a long week of non-stop baking here at Casa Twistie. Alas! That isn’t really helping for Recipe of the Week, since the only one that was a new recipe to me was more a case of me slightly altering an old standby…well, something I’d baked before. Mostly I adapted a cocoanut cake into a Pina Colada cake by replacing every instance of cocoanut extract with pineapple extract in a cake that uses cocoanut milk for some of the liquid and fat to begin with. That’s the key. If you start off with a cake that will still taste of cocoanut when you extract the cocoanut extract, replacing the extracted extract with pineapple will do the trick nicely. Oh, and I added a nice smattering of finely chopped candied pineapple for a fun surprise inside. I think I have several new friends based entirely on the hope that they can have more of that cake.

Anyway.

Since I was baking all these cakes (well, two layer cakes and a triple batch of cupcakes) for a milestone birthday party for a friend, I did a lot of old standbys for dinner this week, too. Roast chicken is a fave of mine, since I can then concentrate entirely on side dishes for a day or two after and then make chicken stock.

It’s fun sometimes, though, to spruce up a simple roast chicken with a fun sauce. I decided to give that a go this week, and to go Medieval in honor of our dear, departed Francesca, who loves a good Renaissance Faire as much as I do.

One of my favorite websites is Gode Cookery. It’s a great source for historical recipes from Ancient Rome up to the 17th century. There’s also a smattering of modern recipes that would work well with those more ancient concoctions, but those are clearly marked for those who wish to stay as authentic as possible.

Sauce Gingyuer, the one I chose, dates back to the 15th century, and is pitifully easy:

Take white brede, stepe it with vynegre, and draw it .ij. or .iij. tymes thurgh a straynour; and thanne put ther-to poudre gingere, and serue forthe.

Got that? No? Perhaps the modern translation complete with proportions will be helpful.

Ingredients

1 Cup wine vinegar (I used white, but red would work just fine, too)

1/2 Cup white breadcrumbs, very finely ground (I left them a little coarse because I like the texture, but don’t make them too big or they’ll just soak up the vinegar and leave you with bread lumps rather than sauce)

2 tsp powdered ginger, or to taste (Mr. Twistie and I are both huge ginger fans, so I was a tiny bit generous, keeping in mind that I didn’t want to completely overwhelm the subtle flavors of chicken with too aggressive a sauce)

In a bowl, combine vinegar, crumbs, and ginger. Stir well together and allow to sit for about an hour. Whisk sauce well before serving.

Yields one cup sauce. (I will double this next time, because Mr. Twistie pounced on it like a starving man and I had to fight to get some.)

Note (from website): Some sauces are easier to adapt than others. This is a great sauce and goes well with meat, fish or fowl. In Harlien MS 4016 this sauce is recommended for boiled gunard.

I don’t think they carry gunard at my local market. Hmmm….