20080926.SizeMatters

So here's the thing. The Monk is small. Very small.

It's hard to find clothes that fit her well. She's somewhere between a Size 0 and 00. Most stores don't carry this kind of stuff. We went shopping for clothes the other day and found, well, nothing. Express, The Limited, New york & Co., et cetera. Heck we even stopped by V Generation and found what I can only imagine are whore's clothes. Probably a dead one. That they stripped. And those clothes stripped from a dead woman of easy virtue were cleaned moderately, pressed, and hung on hangers in the mall. I suppose it beats having to make it yourself. I suppose.

In any case, I'm kind of at a loss of where to look next. Any tips?

And no, children's clothing doesn't work. The Monk is tiny, but she has a woman's hips and torso. As well, we're trying to find professional-type clothing (not Hollister-type gear); she's a school teacher and so stuff like black slacks and fitted shirts would be the awesome. You know, something like this.

20070803

I started putting junk in my hair when I was about twenty-five. Prior to that, I actually brushed my hair—if you can believe it. Ah, those were the days. So it's been about a decade since I actually brushed or combed my hair. Since that time, I've pretty much gone with different expressions of what should be known as The Frozen Tussle.

The upside is that it takes me no longer than a minute to get my hair perfect (i.e. suitably tussled). The downside is the product.

Finding the right goop to put in my hair has been, well, a trial. In ten years I've gone through so many different bottles and jars that I can't even remember all the names. I can, however, tell you what I use now and what I won't use any more.

I began my journey with gels. This was a mistake but I'm glad I tried it out. Learning experience and all that. Gels could possibly be the nastiest thing to put on your head. Right next to poop. Still, everyone was doing it so why not me too?

The problems with gel are manifold.

1. Your hair may look perfect, but the moment something touches your head, you are doomed. A hand, a hug, a mean friend who knows your hair's weakness. And then Garunch! Your hair is still tussled, though not perfectly. Instead, it looks rather stupid now. And because the molecular bond has been broken, you will not be able to return your hair to it's prior glorious state. Also. the crispy spikiness of gelled hair actually invites insurrection by friends and lovers alike. It's like when you see one of those playing card houses. Whammo! Also, I wear a helmet to work so I'd have to installed the gel not in the bathroom before leaving the house but at the office—which would just be obnoxious.
2. At the end of the day, some chemical reaction has occurred that has caused some run-off from the gelled hair to seep down to your scalp and onto your forehead, creating an oily band that creeps up to an inch below your hairline. Sexy!
3. Gel clogs pores awesomely (probably due to the aforementioned run-off) and causes, Duhn-duhn-DUHN! Scalp zits. Joy.

Next, I thought I'd try waxes. These come in little tins or jars and have a variety of smells. Some are pleasant and some are nice. I got one from Herbal Essences that smelled like pineapple. Well, not like real pineapple but like the chemical approximation of what a pineapple should smell like. I always dug this fake pineapple smell because it smells like surf wax to me—and honestly, for me, there is little that smells quite as nice and refreshing as surf wax.

Waxes worked fine for me but the problem was that the good waxes were hard to find on any consistent basis. Just when I'd find the right one, the one that worked with my particular hair needs, the store at which I found it would stop carrying it. Also there were a lot of lame ones. Especially those put out by large companies. These, for some reason, always sucked pretty bad. My favourite of the waxes was something called Short Sexy Hair. Again, my local supermarkets discontinued stocking it.

Then I started looking at pomades. Honestly, I can't tell the difference between a pomade and a wax. They're both better than gel. They're both pretty waxy. And they both leave your hands entirely waterproof after application. Oh yeah, and neither wax nor pomade are consistently stocked by supermarkets.

Anyway, the pomade I'm using right now is called Murray's Superior Hair Dressing Pomade. It works pretty much exactly as I'd want a hair product to work, so that's cool. Plus, the tin it comes in is so very worth your while (and mine too apparently).

I can't say I follow the directions though:

FOR MEN: First, see that hair is clean. If hair is thick, mix MURRAY'S HAIR-GLO with portion of pomade to be used on hair. Rub into palms of hands until it softens, then rub thoroughly into hair. Dampen the hair with hot water, or place hot, damp towel on head for a few minutes. Remove, comb all traces of pomade out of the hair, then comb and brush into style wanted. Place a MURRAY'S SPECIAL HAIR PRESSING CAP on head until hair dries.

Sigh. I wish I could be that guy. But I can't. Not yet anyway. For me, I abuse the product by simply taking a finger of the junk and lightly brushing it over my hair after I dry my hair from a shower. What are you gonna do, huh.

The Empire Strikes Back (mostly against good fashion sense)

The is a fashion tragedy afoot. One that has perpetrated itself for far too long. It's long past time to end this fell machination's long centuries of influence. For far too long has this source of evil made fools of pretty, average, and ugly women alike.

And no, I'm not talking about capris pants. They are evil to be sure. And completely unflattering on all women who aren't six years old. But no, capris pants are to be considered a lesser evil.

Our target today is absolutely hideous and shows no sign of ceasing its diabolical hold on the fashionistas of our culture. Yes, you've guessed it. I am talking about none other than...Dun-Dun-Duhnnnn!!!

The Empire Waistline

I was talking to Wendy about this problem a few weeks ago and she was honestly surprised that I (being a straight man, despite self-perpetuated rumours to the contrary) would have even heard of the cut let alone be able to rant about it. But really, any guy who knows women and has even the slightest chance of being caught up in that wily vortex we call "Clothes Shopping" ought to be well aware of the empire waistline—if only to rescue his female acquaintances from wholly unflattering purchases.

For those who remain in the unawares, the empire waistline is a cut of dress in which the waistline of the dress or blouse gathers several inches above the natural waist of the woman (the natural waist is the narrowest part of the body that lies between the top of the hips and the lowermost ribs). Essentially, this puts the waistline of the dress just below the bustline. Generally, from there, the dress or blouse will flow freely down the woman's body.*

I first remember really taking notice of the fashion atrocity in the early-to-mid '90s while watching the numerous Jane Austin adaptations of the era (Emma, Persuasion, and Pride & Prejudice). I was astonished at how otherwise attractive young women were made to look the exact opposite. These were movie stars. Traditionally good looking people. And yet, they were kind of yucky-looking (in comparison to their usual selves). Then I started noticing the style in real life. What I had originally presumed were frumpy, unattractive women were really just nice-looking people blighted by a fashion travesty. And sitting in Strabucks as often as I do, I see it all the time now—especially on those girls who do the empire-waisted blouse/ peasant-top thing over jeans. *chills*

So here's the thing, kids. The empire waistline does one thing really well. It makes you look like you've got a massive beer gut. Well, that or that you're pregnant. Or maybe both. The really curious thing is that while I was looking for a suitable image for this post's masthead, I kept running across descriptions of the empire waistline as being flattering. This was entirely baffling to me. "Hello, Superman. Hello."

One description said the cut was flattering for small-busted women, as it draws more emphasis to the bustline. But you know what? You know where attention is drawn? Da gut. The belly. The tub. That mysterious something that's filling the ballooning space beneath the bust.

And the thing is: nobody wins. Skinny girls look knocked up. Average women women go from looking average to looking fat. And fat women just look like they're attempting to hide who they are, hoping that the rest of us will just presume that they are really average women who made the unfortunate choice to leave the house in a fat-sack dress (a.k.a. a dress cut to fit an empire waistline). I mean, maybe that's a sort of win. People won't think you're fat, just that you have poor taste. Personally, I'd rather be fat.

So come on everybody. Let's work through this together.

p.s. pregnant women, I know you've kind of drawn the short end of the fashion stick by nature of, well, Nature, so I'll understand if you need to wear peasant tops and stuff. You've got an excuse. The rest of you however...

*note: there are alternate empire hybrids created ostensibly by designers who recognize how ridiculous the empire is but feel bound by arcane pressures to design something for those who feel the dread call of the offending waistline. These are typically blends of empire waistlines with some sort of princess seam, with everything below the empire line down to the hips is fitted through the use of vertical seams or some other form-fitting trickery. You'll see this fairly often with empire prom dresses.