The trouble with Lulu

This post is going to be about LuluLemon clothing. My first experience with the now-ubiquitous brand was at university. I kept seeing these tight black pants with a strange logo all over campus, and one day I found myself in the changeroom at the gym doing my hair next to a girl who was wearing some. A little nervously, I asked her who made them. She must have said "LuluLemon," but somehow among the hair dryers and slamming locker doors, all I caught was that the brand name consisted of two words, both starting with L. I didn't ask her to repeat herself, and so the mystery continued for a few more months.

The next person to mention LuluLemon was my mother. Then a few friends started raving about the pants and how comfortable they are. (I work out exclusively in pants, so I was intrigued). So I went down to my neighbourhood LL store and navigated my way around the perky yoga-crazed salesgirls to try on a few pairs. I ended up buying black pants (not sure of the model, and unfortunately LuluLemon's annoyingly difficult to navigate website has not helped me find a picture), but here are my observations:

- I had to buy them a size larger than I actually am
- They are too high-waisted
- They are too tight at the top
- They make my pelvis look oddly boxy
- They cost $90

In short, I don't like LuluLemon, and I don't understand what the big deal is.

Goodbye, split ends

Who would have thought that the world doesn't end when you cut off eight inches of hair? On Thursday night, I had most of my hair chopped off at the salon. Yes, I almost cried, but the end result is that I have healthy hair and an actual STYLE for the first time since I got a "pageboy" in grade four. Why didn't I do this sooner? The short answer is...because I was a wiener. But now I feel brave and proud!

Stop Staring!

Well, I'm in love again. Last night I discovered Daddy-O's Clothing. There's just something about retro-style dresses that really gets me, and these are so adorable that it's hard to believe purchasing one is but a mouse-click away! Some of my favourites:

- the Stop Staring Leopard Martini Dress, which is borderline tacky, but fantastic nonetheless if you ask me.
- the Stop Staring Poundcake Dress, because I love poundcake and because it's the most beautiful buttercup yellow.
- the Stop Staring Black & Pink Pencil Dress, which would be perfect to wear out if you have a small dog and large sunglasses.

Love.

I almost wish I hadn't found this dress, because now I'm not going to be able to stop thinking about it for a week.




You can pick one up at Le Train Bleu.

Commuting a la Rudsak

I was on the bus on the way to work this morning and I noticed a girl wearing a gorgeous winter white peacoat with an even more beautiful beautiful cream-coloured leather purse. When she got up to disembark, I was able to crane my neck enough to read the logo on the bag, which said "Rudsak". They appear to be a Montreal-based company, which means that I should be able to get my hands on one, if all goes according to plan!

March of the Knits

Lately I've been reading about the re-emergence of "knits" in the world of fashion. First of all, I don't really even know what a "knit" is. It makes me think of knitting, which makes me think of wool, which makes me think of a certain hideous heavy zip-up sweater that I wore in lieu of a fall coat from ages 13 to 15. I get even more confused when a line like Anthropologie tells me that these little numbers, which look very lightweight and don't appear as though they would sink if they fell in a lake, are "knits". But I digress. Apparently knits are in, and they're pretty cute. The Parfait Tank is definitely something I would wear, horizontal stripes across the midriff and all. And although this is more of a T-shirt than anything else, I would probably buy it given that I'm really into peacocks these days.

Bacon, eggs, and sweaters so bad they're good

This morning I went out for breakfast wearing a rather questionable sweatshirt. I originally purchased it at at Winners, promising myself that I would only wear it in the house. I was even embarrassed to open it on Christmas morning in front of middle aged and elderly relatives (yes, I buy myself gifts and then my parents wrap and present them to me). So why was I sitting there eating my scrambled eggs and home fries with the words "come out and play" emblazoned along the neckline of my red sweatshirt? I'm not really sure, but I'm beginning to suspect that I shouldn't have done it. I mean, that's pretty embarassing. For my entire life, I've staunchly opposed the existence of those stupid Tshirts that say things like "hottie" or "my boyfriend is out of town." They make my blood boil. So is my sweatshirt (which is by Jessie May, if you're interested) any better? How to gauge whether words on a top are acceptable or not? I'm not sure, but I think I secretly love my red off-the-shoulder number. And now that I've worn it out and about, I can't guarantee that it won't happen again.