In which I am the last person on earth to notice the after-market trend

Back after a holiday breakdown,  I ventured out on Grand Ave. sans snowsuit and, bing bang,  ran into this smilesperson for the American Dental Association.  As perfect as her teeth are here in the land of regular checkups,  just imagine the VIP treatment she'd get in Alabama.  A full set of teeth should never be taken for granted.

I digress.

It's come to my attention, finally, that clothing manufacturers are getting into the after-market pimping biz.  What used to be a DIY expression of individuality and rad creativity is now co-opted by professionals with access to more than  a hot glue gun, as illustrated by the Free People MASHup of military styles above.  Yes, I like, and it adds an extra layer of interest to under-appreciated elbows, but I'm a little nostalgic for prototypes made with glue, safety pins, puff paint and other shit from Michael's.  Speaking of, let's take a trip through DIY after-market add-ons I may or may not have worn...

 

Ok, I've already got the scissors out, poised to make this last one.  I feel like puff paint might make this my very own.

it's no surprise, the key to success is...

Work hard and don't wear pants.

blog cancelled due to death

Hideously telling that there is only one photo in this ten-best series.

where was I? what just happened?

The answer to these all-too-common questions is easily intuited from the photo documentation -- duh, Detroit! 

It was lovely I tell you.  The skin of my upper arms vaguely recalls feeling balmy breezes and the kiss of natural sunlight, and my kneecaps,  my goodness, they're still giddy from cavorting like a couple of sassy pink grapefruits.  That reminds me -- I saw grapefruits. On trees!  Under sweaters!  And another happy accident of the Home of Medical Enhancements, everyone just assumed my eyebags were simply cheeks that had drifted.  Man, I enjoyed myself, a sensory rush.  The rods and cones were absolutely frenzied registering colors like country club and bougainvillea and shiny Bentley.  All those nose hairs (neatly trimmed for the trip) filtered out the smog so that the eucalyptus and wild fennel came through full strength with every huff.  Was that my quads screaming or the pterodactyl circling overhead waiting for signs of weakening on my back-to-back sick runs in the Santa Monica Mountains?  Otherwise it was just me,  Charly Manson's disciples and the big blue veins ocean.

going places

Fake animals about the neck are strictly OK because it was thirty below habitable in Mpls, thus a strong survival instinct is at play here.  In sharp contrast to some flip flopped  dudes disembarking from Tampa/St. Pete who are almost certainly dead by now.  Our cozily swaddled traveler, above,  is on her way to a career in fashion merchandising, by way of Milwaukee, NYC, road trip with the fam that ended in Mpls and back to that fashion capitol.  NYC.  Not Milwaukee.  Phew.  I am so so glad she was paying attention during the AirWear class which spent a full week on the rise and attempts to banish pink velour sweatpants and Uggs from the travel milieu.  Possibly because of the economy,  this unfortunate look is stubbornly entrenched.

would you like a leather boost with that?

Leather sleeves, leather pockets, leather lapels -- I love leather upgrades. See, that's an airline reference because, if you couldn't tell by the always-four-a.m.-with-a-migraine lighting, we're at the airport.  I'm not sure what happens when you go to throw that garment in the wash. I think a bag drops down from the ceiling and you have to breathe into it because there's going to be turbulence on the wardrobe front.  I have never felt even the slightest risk of being comfortable on an airplane.