Tuesday, 29 May 2012

Girly with an edge...

...is kind of my thing.
Here I am not only modelling for you the cheerful golden yellow we've painted our lounge (which makes me smile whenever I look at it), but more importantly my lil' cocktail-hat-cum-fascinator I made at the marvellous Button Tin with Gemma Nemer almost a month ago (see my post on the button! for when I went last time). And my, how time flies...

Gemma provided us with a treasure trove of vintage fabrics to choose from, and showed us how to make the ruffly rosettes which I adorned my headgear with. She kindly gave me a pair of vintage clip on earrings which were so me, and perfect for the centres of my rosettes. I brought along the chains, because for me, there is nothing in life that can't be improved by a few studs or chains!

I bought the dress on the same day, from Yella Brick Road -an emporium of weirdness and wonders that is basically what it would be like if my brain became a shop -spitting distance from the Button Tin in the Imperial Buildings in Rotherham (ladies spitting -now that's girly with an edge. Actually, I can't spit properly, I'm rubbish). It's by Iron Fist, and I simply had to buy it. It reminded me so much of imagery I use such as my butterfly/bones collaged combos -my obsession with sweet vs. sinister.

Like teaming scuffed up converse with a lace-trimmed slip when I was 17 (and dying to be Courtney Love), or getting my scribbled, drawn-with-a-biro effect love and kisses/let's cross out love and hate everybody tattoo -depending on which way you wanna look at it...

(now I just like how it reminds me of a bad time in my life I never ever want to go back to...)

And just to clear things up before you get over-excited, that square of flesh is the top centre of my back, and nothing else.

And I am so rock 'n' roll that I went all faint when the tattooist finished, and I had to get put in the recovery position!

It's like the fairy tales we were read to send us to sleep with sweet dreams of rabid wolves and murderous witches, the converging of opposites. Defiling the innocent, diluting the insane.

I suppose I like to reach the happy medium (funny, for someone who is never happy!)

The good little Christian girl who strives to be the perfect house wife and has imagined her wedding every day since she was five, whilst swearing like a trooper and stomping around to angry girl music.

I guess if I wasn't so conflicted I'd find it harder to stay strange...

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