Nautical Nonsense

It's more than a little amusing how my fashion tastes have changed recently. I remember a couple of years ago, blatantly refusing to wear shorts because of my ugly knees, and so I gadded about in those really baggy shorts that often were seen on skaters.
Incidentally, I was one at that stage, but that's neither here nor there, I try to forget about that.
I also went through the stage of 'Eugh Dresses, Why?' most probably inspired by:

• hanging out with guys in my non-school time. Thank you, Chris, Tim and David.
• my primary school girls uniform. You know the ones. Green and gold plaid into a just-above-the-knee length dress with a matching yellow tie secured by a green button. Phrased that way, it doesn't sound too bad - for primary school kids - but oh, gosh, it was. It took patriotism to all new heights. The coup de grace? Yellow socks. Not even a so-faded-you-could-mistake-it-for-white yellow. This sort of yellow. Of course, being a public school no one cared come year three and we all wore netball skirts, yellow shirts and culottes, with odd socks and 10 necklaces at a time. Fashion does change.
• my high school uniform. Red and blue plaid, to a bit higher above the knee, white socks, tied tightly, black shoes with a heel all spelling slight rebellion. Or something. But when you're trying to get into your locker at the top of C block, standing on tiptoes with both arms full of textbooks and exercise books, there comes a problem. Although going to a school opposite the beach is nice, sudden sea breezes are frequent. Cue flashing, whereby hips are slammed into lower-down lockers and there is a scream to friends to help tame the skirt which now has a life of its own.

And nautical? Well, I thought that was lame, purely because I had the body of Tuscany and stripes don't flatter when they're nautically fashioned and horizontal.

So walking along Queen Street, you'd figure I would be staring, aghast, at the shop windows, as I did for the lace saga which I documented for an assignment that semester, for all the nautical-inspired seafarin' shindigs they channelled. But strangely... they tickled me. I could see myself standing at Eagle Street pier, looking fabulously windswept (but really looking like this, and eventually resembling this), and looking sort of awesome, if I were to be modest.

And ModCloth, my dearest love, came a yodellin'.

Firstly: Jacket. Brisbane weather is generally hot in summer. By that, I mean you die if you contemplate wearing jeans. This is perfect if a breeze comes through, and I am besotted.

Next: Dress. ModCloth also have this in the 'see also' section. I'd like to say I found it first, because I am a good huntress.

Finally: Shoes. I am a fan of ballet flats, as bad as they are for feet; I am also a fan of heels so my poor clodhoppers must hate me a great ton. Rubi shoes do some lovely ones, and I quite like the Bronte flat. Scroll, dear lovelies, scroll! 

Anyway, so my nautical nonsense is that outfit. Summer is going to be awesome, because if I keep working, and if I get in cheap rent next year, I have writing money for clothes, and... well, new wardrobe. Yup.

In other news, my brother is awesome, because he has grasped the latitude of acceptance and rejection very easily and we bid each other adieu as follows:

Me: G'night.

Him: Good night, young one. If you wake me up tomorrow, I will cut you...

Me: To ribbons.

Him: Fool.

Me: Such mediocrity. Let your sword do the talking!

Him: I will! It will be loquacious to a fault!

And then he fled, slamming my door.

Before I finally sleep - Chile's national motto is "By reason or force". It's good to know that these are my cultural roots. And my sarcasm hand actually isn't raised, because I like that they're up front. "We'll try talking. But if you don't listen, we release the hounds."

The fancy-white-dresses in Tash's lovesphere.

As I lie in bed, about to Google various things for assigments and keep writing the hugely hyperbolic scene which is my Intro to Short Story assignment, I'm sort of distressed at how odd I am. I mean, there's a point where I'm okay with it. I completely appreciate that I spent the other night feeling resplendent in green, Wicked-esque glasses which Kathryn left here, while listening to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack and the Beatles. I completely appreciate that I have a penchant to listen to 'lame' musicians such as Ricky Martin, Shakira and Enrique Iglesias, because they sing in Spanish and this makes me happy. 

What's causing me some concern is a post on Facebook:

My penchant for wedding dresses.

Not for the ceremony, not for the pomp and circumstance. But for the dresses. At some stage, I want to get into bridal writing. My reasoning:

1. These are the only dresses in the world which every single woman gets to wear - hopefully - at least once. I mean, sure, couture. But pretty. I find the two can sometimes be synonymous, but heck. Those dresses are awesome.
2. As useful as it is to know about what skinny jeans are best for my figure (read: none) and what hideously overpriced number is gracing every model's wardrobe and thus must grace mine, the dresses are classics. The dresses are a capsule to a day of either awesome or... well... not so awesome. I love it. 
3. They are heckofallfuns to draw. (Don't ask me what heckofallfuns means. Just accept it.) I also love doing fashion illustration, and although there is little colour, that's how I like it. The silhouettes are amazing. The detailing is intricately perfect. 
4. In continuation with number 3, this is like costume design. And before I decided I wanted to be a writer, I wanted to get into costuming. Senior textiles project, I was going for a gothic-lolita style combining old and new into awesome. (It was a bit more detailed in my design brief and analysis.) Senior textiles was eventually dropped at the urging of my mother, because she hated my mess of pins, but I still sit and draw the figures for fun. Now I have a tome of wedding dresses which cost $9.95, I am suitably impressed and sit there drawing them and variations. Also, even though I get expressions of disgust when I try telling my friends what sort of wedding dress would suit them (mainly because they were hoping for something opposite, but I cannot help what body type they have. There's also fear at "Why are you considering this?!" which, yes, is a reasonable reaction), I still like doing it. It's fun.

But I am sort of concerned. I mean, I'm all for having quirks, but this is odd. Weddings themselves, they're nifty - I'm not considering them too fully until they directly impact me in some way - but bridal gowns.
Maybe I'm drawn towards white dresses in general. For instance, this Kate Beckinsale number I saw earlier tonight - I was instantly wanting it. Never mind that I couldn't pull it off unless I got a pair of killer heels, but I was in love with that dress. The elegance and glamour, a definite nod to the now-gone era of Hollywood's sirens? You can see it in all of the big-name actresses:

Jean Harlow. Thank you, Bride Chic.
Although, not a bridal gown.

Of course, Audrey Hepburn.
Thank you Vintage Culture.

Not complete without it.
Cliched, but necessary.
Thanks to Cool Marketing Thoughts.

The silhouettes themselves just scream class. (Screaming class is kind of oxymoronic, but I like it.) And it's becoming echoed in the dresses of today. Kate Winslet here - perfect example. It's almost reminiscent of the all-white scene in Pride and Prejudice. If you don't have a clue what I refer to - here, and here. And back then, the silhouettes were kept fairly simple but elegant. Empire lines, anyone? I myself prefer lower waistlines, but it doesn't change the fact that this look is classic beauty - read, awesome.

So maybe it's just white dresses, or maybe I'm odd and, at 18, find myself fascinated with wedding dresses. I was on Suzanne Neville's site today, and was enthralled. Pretties. Pretties living everywhere. The cuts. The colours, different in such subtle ways. The details. The way they all fuse together to create the one and only Wedding Dress. That wedding dresses are a long-standing thread through history (nods to the past in non-facepalming ways)... for instance, that their primary colour has been white ever since 1840, when Queen Victoria married Prince Albert. 1840. 170 years later, and white gowns are still being sashayed down aisles and bridal shows.

I'm not yet at that stage where I'll creep on into a bridal store, defying all social conventions. I much prefer to satisfy these infatuations online, and also - online, there are no price tags, so I can imagine that I can have a pretty white dress, no strings attached, no debts incurred.
I also do the same for the little black dress... but that's for another time.