How I love our readers. Last week I slapped this bizarre image on your screens:
And you responded with six hilarious captions.
I’m still giggling at all of them, but there can be only one winner. This week it’s the very direct Despina for this to the point gem:
C’mon, Enid! This one’s for IMMUNITYYYYYYYYY!
Congratulations, Despina! And thanks to everyone who played.
Okay, I am on the No Buy To End All No Buys but seriously? With custom boots available for under a hundred dollars INCLUDING SHIPPING? That thing’s breaking like a purity ring on prom night.
Come to mama.
“There’s a credit crunch, not a creative crunch. Of course, everyone is being more careful with their discretionary purchases. I am. But it’s our job to make people dream, and to provide the value in quality, cut, and imagination.” -John Galliano
Spring 2009 Couture launched in Paris this week. Dior and Chanel showed early and of course they were both major moments in their way. Galliano’s inspirations were Flemish painters and his collection was –after an admittedly unexciting Fall 2008 Couture– breathtakingly beautiful.
What struck me is how wearable so many of these looks are for big girls. Mr Galliano designs with women in mind. He plays with shapes and volume and movement, and you get the feeling after reviewing his collection that every shape fascinates him when it comes to women and clothes.
A lot of what makes Galliano a great fit for the house is that Dior always treated women’s bodies as women’s bodies. There were always hips and breasts and waists and legs, and one gets the feeling that looking at the designs of Mssrs Dior and Galliano that they are more concerned about the aesthetic beauty of the shape, not the social value.
The movement of these dresses just kill me. You know it’s structured and cantilevered within an inch of its life, but it looks weightless. I could cry.
This jacket. Good gravy.
Perfect. I bet Dolce & Gabbana –they of the Big! Poufy! Gown!– wet themselves when they saw this. I would get married in this gown.
Can’t decide whether I love this or if it’s Too Soon for a resurgance of pale salmon after the evil done on its behalf in the 1980’s. It reads painterly, but it also read Laura Ashley goes Couture, but is that necessarily a bad thing? Hmm.
Oh Grrr, I’m just so mad. I had this WHOLE fantastic post typed up and the internet ate it. Stupid internet. Do you know who I blame?
Al Gore.
And also my grandma. See, our pal Al –who’s kinda a big girl himself these days… zomg!!1! wait, do you think he reads the blog? Hi Al! Hi! How are you? I’m sorry my grandmother keeps calling you “That Commie” but she really doesn’t like that you’ve put up all those solar panels at your place in Belle Meade. She doesn’t mean it.
Well actually she does, and don’t jog by her house if you see her outside. I’m not saying anything, but I’ve got a cigarette-shaped scar on my forearm from the time I asked her if I could join the Young Democrats Society, so you know, I’m just putting that out there. Whatever.
OH! and speaking of putting things out there. You’re uh. Kinda shiny.
And bloaty.
And you’re sort of one bad moustache away from looking like you should be expending an inordinate amount of energy just to prove that Ferris Bueller isn’t REALLY sick after all.
I’m just saying.
I don’t want you to feel down about yourself. I’m kinda shiny too and bloaty too. It’s the stress and I don’t even have like HALF the awards and things you do, although were YOU Very Nearly Almost Miss Louisa County 1997? No??? Then I guess YOU’RE NOT SO GREAT AFTER ALL, ARE YOU AL???
But seriously, maybe do you have too much salt in your diet? Are you not hydrated enough? Because that can do it to me. Like now I know I can’t eat chocolate covered pretzels when I have cramps even though OH MY GOD THEY’RE THE BEST THINGS EVER, because they my otherwise porcelain visage all puffy and gross and I wake up looking like a hung-over rhinoceros.
So for you Al Gore, Plumcake recommends:
Midol. It’s not just for cramps, it’s got magical debloating properties thanks to pyrilamine maleate.
You’ll also need to drink a lot of water. Like a LOT of water. I like Ty Nant because it’s Welsh and it’s gorgeous –not unlike myself really– but also because it’s remarkably refreshing. Again, not unlike myself. I tried to find it on Amazon, but all I got was this:
so your guess in Nashville is as good as mine. Lord knows I searched all over Nashville trying to find the stuff last fall, but you might be a little better connected than I am.
You’ll also probably want to look into the shine issue. Being shiny is fine if you’re, I don’t know, trying to entice a skittish raccoon or get laid at a gay disco or something–but for the rest of us, matte really is for the best.
Check out this traditional Papier Poudré, made in…England (didn’t see that coming.) They’re cheap and I always carry a booklet in my handbag. I find this particular brand to be more natural feeling than the rice powder ones from Japan. The Caswell Massey also makes a fine version and it smells like rose. Just press on your face, dust it off a little and you’re set.
Finally –and seriously Al, this will rock your rapidly warming world– for the eye bags and circles:
Dude. Get you some. I’ve been using it for two weeks and my bags and undereye circles –which admittedly not as bad as yours– are GONESVILLE. I put it on after my SPF moisturizer, and I look bright eyed and bushy tailed all the live long day.
Yes, folks, it’s time once again to play Twistie’s Sunday Caption madness! You all know the rules: I post a silly or bizarre or otherwise caption-worthy photo, you all send me your best captions via the comments section, and next saturday I declare a winner.
And so for your captioning pleasure, here’s a fine aqatic scene:
Ready…set…snark!
It’s been a long, phlegmy week here at Casa Twistie. We’ve all been down with the creeping cruds (all except the cat, damn him for being healthy and wanting to play when I would cheerfully give all I own for one night of sleep sans congestion). And so it is that I’ve been remembering my father’s sage advice for colds: take six water glasses of gin, and you’ll feel better in the morning.
I’ve suspected all along (no, I have not actually tried this advice) that it doesn’t quite work that way. It seems to me that alcohol poisoning probably doesn’t feel better than the average cold. Besides, I never saw him try it, which was a dead giveaway to me.
Still, it’s been six days and I’m still blowing in the Kleenex to a fearful extent. I’ve downed more licorice tea than I can shake a stick at, I’ve drunk obscene amounts of orange juice, and I’ve had so much chicken soup that the local poultry farms are beginning to speak of me in hushed tones to bad little eggs to make them behave.
If anyone out there has a good idea that doesn’t include scary amounts of booze, I’d be forever in their debt.
Red, chapped noses are not superfantastic.
Whimper.
It’s a slow Friday.
I’ve already listened to all my interesting podcasts, I can’t be buggered to pick a fight with anyone fun, I’ve got cramps (which, despite my historically anti-candy status, would explain why I woke out of a dead sleep last night willing to barter my kingdom for a stale York Peppermint Pattie) and my feet hurt even though I’m wearing my Perfect! New! Miu Miu! Flats! (they only have the grey left, but mine are the most awesome raven’s wing blueblack with black patent cap and banding. FYI: they run nice and wide.) that I bought SPECIFICALLY so my feet won’t hurt.
Grrr.
Anyway, I’ve just been sitting around being Disgruntled At Things for the past few hours, but this one is stuck in my craw. I don’t even know what a craw is or where mine be located. I DO know that I don’t pay to have it waxed and that means I don’t want anything in stuck there.
ANYWAY. Shoe trees. Why are they shoe TREES? This is not a TREE:
THIS is a shoe TREE:
See? Subtle but distinct difference.
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