Summer Recap. Part Three: When a Door Closes

(Posted on Wordpress September 29th, 2014)

When I returned from Cape Cod, my employer informed me that our persistence had paid off and that my position would finally become what it should have been from the start: A permanent one with benefits that offered job security. We had to follow official protocol, of course, and open the position up to externals, but it was just going to be a formality. I told my boss that if someone walked in and managed to wow her enough, during their half hour together, that she thought they should have the job that I had been occupying for the last twenty months, then they surely deserved it.

I took a week off from sewing as returning to the city, after a week of waves, wine, lobster, hiking and sunshine, was already hard enough and I knew the process at work would become stressful. Not even a week after that, I had my first major SVT episode in years. Normally, when this happens, and my heart is fluttering at an alarming 195 beats per minute, I lie down on the floor, take a deep breath, bear down and it slows down. This time, as I lay down and then paced frantically, in one of our conference rooms, I just couldn't get my heart rate down. The ambulance came and I was hauled off to the ER, where it took another three hours to slow my heart down, with the help of a beta blocker.

Many things can cause this for me and this time it was a little bit due to my new dosage of thyroid meds, for sure, but it was mostly due to stress. I wondered about this, while I dozed off on a gurney, in the corridor of Hôpital Hotel-Dieu. The ad campaign for the ss15 collection had already been shot, I'd just come back from nine days of vacation and had taken it relatively easy after this, I was on time with regards to everything else that had to be done for my clothing line and the kids were doing well. Sure, I was a little behind on launching the second business and writing gigs had completely dried up over the summer and I was stressed about securing my job, but that was in the bag. Everyone at work was sure of it and I just had to patiently wait because, before I knew it, I would have dental insurance for the kids and I, would be off to Tennessee for a five-day trip, in October, I would have six days off, paid, during the holidays, chair massages, $500 a year toward a gym membership and I would finally feel like I belonged where I was, 100%, and not with one foot aimed at the door, as a contractor.

Sadly, this episode occurred right before Fashion Week, which I had been looking forward to covering for this blog, and before my 60km Walk to End Women's Cancers. I lay on the couch or in my bed, winded at the mere thought of getting up to do anything. I was told it was normal, given what my heart had just gone through. I missed every fashion show and walked only 7 km over two days, basically meeting my mom a little bit before the finish line and crossing it with her, Saturday and Sunday.

I'm wondering now, based on the reaction I had when I was told the job would actually be going to someone else, if all of that was more about having to stay where I was than having to start over. I had made so many friends and the environment was such a pleasant one but, really, I was there so I could pay the bills and nothing more. Yes, the company could have been my ticket to relocating to Germany or Sweden in a couple of years but it wasn't guaranteed and that would have meant having to spend time studying in a field that isn't my preferred one. When it came down to it, I worked in a windowless space, performing uninspiring duties for a corporation that saw me a contractor and a number. When I found out I had to go, my shoulders dropped an inch and, try as I might (and I really did try!), I have not been able to cry about it. Two nights ago, I cried at the end of the Doctor Who episode, "Planet of the Ood" and then joked with daughter about how that could make me cry but the loss of my job still couldn't.

I took this from someone else's window, at work.

Yes, I always land on my feet, and this will be a distant memory soon enough, and I will miss the people I worked with but, in all honesty, this was the kick in the ass that I needed to move forward. The job market is better than I've ever seen it and, out of the fifty jobs I've applied for, I only feel apprehensive about a fifth of them. The most amazing thing is that, the one place I would have left my job for, had it been offered to me, called me, on Thursday. Whether or not I end up getting the amazing job in question, knowing that they dug my resumé and portfolio enough to call me and interview me over the phone, sent a gust of wind right into my sails. I will do my utmost to find work in fashion and/or media right now but, whatever happens, that's always where I'm headed and my portfolio will only get better.

My last day was Friday and I'm looking forward to a week of job hunting, sewing, re-organizing, weight-lifting and, of course, fashion shows. It's time to bump this blog to the next level and start covering all the events I had been writing about for others but doing so in the way that I choose to. I look forward to the next chapter in my professional life and to all of the writing that this whole situation will yield.

I took this after work on one of my last days. I bid the downtown rush hour madness farewell, for now.

Next up: Amazing thrift store finds, a handful of style guides, fashion and art show coverage and a sneak look at Madelaine Jakob's SS15 ad campaign.

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Summer Recap. Part Two: The Last Few Days in Cape Cod.

(Posted on Wordpress, September 23rd, 2014)

The kids, by far, enjoyed Coast Guard Beach the most. I must say that their mom did, too, despite having had her ass handed to her by the Atlantic Ocean. Sometimes getting smacked in back of the head by a large wave, causing your ears to ring and your vision to blur for a few moments is just what you need to start feeling alive again.

August 7th:

On the way to Coast Guard Beach

Beach evacuation due to incoming storm.

On our last full day in Cape Cod, we boarded a ferry at Hyannis and headed for Martha's Vineyard. Moments after disembarking, I was in love and vowed to return soon. We visited Historic Edgartown; I drank a most potent Bloody Mary so heavily garnished, it served as both aperitif and appetizer, I bought my now-favourite pair of sunglasses and some Black Dog tavern shirts for my daughter and I, we savoured homemade ice cream, thrifted a few fun pieces and we visited the Edgartwon Lighthouse.

August 8th:

Hyannis Port

Leaving Hyannis

Leaving Hyannis

One of the Black Dog shops

The infamous bridge featured in Jaws.

The Drink. The Seafood Shanty does not fuck around when pouring alcohol.

At the Seafood Shanty

Edgartown

Hisotric Edgartown.

Hisotric Edgartown.

Edgartown Lighthouse.

Edgartown Lighthouse.

It was with mixed emotion that I packed up my belongings and readied myself for the journey home. I had managed to sit still and breathe deep and, in doing so, had been flooded with inspiration for my aw15 collection. One morning, I sat out on the deck, the variety of birds lighting upon the feeders around me my only companions, and sketched out the last pieces for the collection. So, I felt accomplished and ready to move forward but I also felt like I really could have used another week to really center myself and continue connecting with my children and sister. Either way, it was time to go home and face my desk job, my messy apartment and my unfinished ss15 samples.

August 9th:

Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Memorial Bridge.

Le Pont Champlain

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Summer Recap. Part One: The First Few Days in Cape Cod.

(Posted on Wordpress on September 23rd, 2014)

All of the days in July that lead up to its final days, when I dashed about, prepping for our ad campaign shoot, feel like the One Long Day of July 2014, when I think about them: Get up. Quickly shower. Put on summer attire that I all but loathe. Moisturize but pass on make-up, to avoid looking like I came out of the loins of a raccoon that mated with Alice Cooper before I even reach the office. Board the crowded bus and stand next to the woman I know will soon get off. Take her warm spot and proceed to mouth-breath all the way to work because people already stink. Get off the bus, walk passed the same everything I've been walking by for almost two years, looking up at and inside of buildings, hoping to glimpse something, anything, new. Enter the frigid glass tower. Shiver. Go up to the ninth floor. Look at walls or my computer screen because there are no windows where my desk is. Get up to deliver things, put groceries away, collect paper at the printer or put something in the storage room. Eat lunch at my desk because getting an hour off for lunch is not worth losing that hour in sleep. More of the same. Down nine floors, outside and walking through the warm soup that is Montreal's July air. Back on the bus but people smell evenmore and now they're pissed off. Home. Dinner with the kids. Sew, sew, sew. Maybe some TV with the kids. Everyone goes to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat. A snowless fucking Groundhog Day with only a slight variation in outfits.

Then we shot the ad campaign. Then I realized I was about to burn out. Luckily for me, we left for Cape Cod two days after the shoot and, for the first time since I went to Jamaica, in 2012, I got to spend an entire nine days not thinking about my day job or about the apartment I had been neglecting to thoroughly clean, let alone decorate.

In my life, I am blessed to have someone who is part mentor, part parent, part friend, part supporter and sometimes I feel like I have a fairy godmother. She's been there for me more than my own parents have and I love her dearly. She is my daughter's grandmother and she, along with her best friend, who has also been in my corner and a great source of wisdom, is the one who invited me to stay at her friend's house in East Sandwich, Massachusetts.

On the way down:

Near the border.

Pit stop.

Driving through Boston.

One rainy day, in East Sandwich:

 

Sandy Neck Beach:

Provincetown, August 5th:

Race Point Beach, August 5th:

It was around this time that I finally began to relax. I took cat naps, ate whatever I wanted to, read more than a few pages ata time, partook in excellent conversations, played Scrabble and swam. Luckily, I still had half the trip to go.

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On Manners (Or: One More Thing That Is Finally Necessary To Me)

(Posted July 1st, 2014, on Wordpress)

A friend and I had a fantastically real conversation that lasted for several hours, took place in a pool and was fueled by our mutual need to stop working for a just a bit, our desire to catch up and share and by several bottles of wine and cider. I could probably write a few novels based on everything we discussed but, today, one thing comes to mind: I admitted that I can sometimes be a jerk about and to friends who don’t give themselves the time breathe in between relationships.

Part of the reason I do this is because, for so long, I was a serial monogamist and it’s so easy to hold hated aspects of our own pasts against others. The main idea behind it, though, is that I now know how wonderful it is to take the time to get to know yourself, to love yourself and to truly be happy on your own. Taking time off from dating was the best gift I could have given myself and it’s been, in so many ways, a life-changing experience. The process was first born out of emotional necessity, as my last relationship had worn me down until there was nothing left but a co-dependent, bitter, confused and hurt shell of a woman. I needed time to lick my wounds and process the pain. Then I had to learn to be alone, something I had never done before. And, finally, I started to do everything I had ever wanted to do but had had my head rammed too far up my relationships’ asses to even seriously think about attempting. I’m sure there are tons of people out there who have always managed to retain a good sense of self and to stick to their own paths, despite being partnered up but, for a variety of reasons I won’t delve into here, I was not, nor had I ever been, one of these people.

(I'm also sticking to one topic here because I can't stand the recent influx of terrible top 10 lists disguised as real essays but I may revisit this theme from another angle in the near future.)

Sometimes, along the way, I’ve wondered how I would know I was meeting the right types of people, when I was finally ready to do so again and, in the last week or two, it’s dawned on me that I have the proof I was looking for. My friendships are solid and the people I’m meeting, whether on or offline, now tend to be accomplished people who are comfortable in their own skin and open-minded about others and the shoes they’ve walked in.

Let’s, for the sake of not turning this into a saga, break it down to manners and basic consideration for others. I’m relatively old-fashioned when it comes to these and, for a long time, I compromised on this.

While hopping from one long-term relationship to the next, I spent a lot of time cringing, making excuses and asking myself what the actual fuck.

There was the dude who always came off as arrogant and all-knowing. “Welcome to my humble abode!” he would exclaim, as friends filed in through the front door of his parents, beautiful, three-storey home with expensive, Persian rugs and antique furniture. “This is dullest knife I have ever used in my life!” he said, as he tore into a baguette with my aunt’s expensive bread knife. Someone would purchase a bag of chips and he’d be the guy saying, “Yo! Can I have some?!” before they could even open the bag. Everything was always “inferior” and he would go on and on about how beautiful the strippers he had just seen were and he always had to be right but we were kids and I was impressed that he knew which forks to use and when, that he wore expensive pants that his mom bought him in France and that bathed more than the other guys I knew so we dated for almost two years.

There was the guy I dated for a few months who surprised me by moving into my apartment, where he proceeded to mope about day in and day out, while I struggled with my newfound motherhood. It was the little things that made me nuts. He would reach out and point at something and snap his fingers if he wanted you to pass whatever it was to him, he never thanked anyone for anything and he complained about everything, all the time. I made excuses for him until I couldn’t anymore and I left him for someone else.

There was the boy I dated for a few years who took the cake. While driving, he would drop his car seat so that it would smack whoever was sitting behind him in the face, if he thought they should be quieter. If he had nothing to contribute to a conversation, he would flat-out inform its participants that they were discussing useless crap and that he didn’t need to waste his time with it. When we went to visit my former stepmom and her massive dog took a bite out of the front of my dress, I asked him to get my bag out of the car and he chucked the car keys at me so I could get it myself and, that night, as I lay crying in our hotel room, he told me to keep it down and to let him sleep. He did say please and thank you on a regular basis, though.

When I met my ex-fiancé, I was so dazzled by our ridiculous chemistry that I let the craziest stuff slide but I did take note. This one night, as were heading to my place, he bought a bunch of breakfast food, which I thought was sweet. When we got to my place, he just went over to my fridge and ate the leftovers my broke ass had been saving for the next day’s lunch. The next morning, I woke up and he had made himself breakfast and cleaned up after himself but never offered me any. He actually asked me where some of his bread had gone, when he noticed that the loaf was a few slices short, the next time he came over. Sadly, it was only then, finally, at the age of 27, that I started to wonder why I kept ending up with this type of guy. I would sometimes wake up to the sounds of him hocking and spitting in my kitchen sink, he left his gum on my bedside table, he finished my drinks without asking, he always sat down first and left me standing when we rode the bus, he would open an umbrella and keep it over himself only, he was stingy with money, was curt with wait staff and once called a barman in Ottawa a “fucking Kike” because he thought he his beer was expensive.

Once I broke through the haze heartbreak tends to envelop you in, I started thinking about all of these and grew discouraged as I could count the polite, considerate men I’d dated on three fingers. I put the matter on the shelf, as I had other fish to fry but now, a few years later, I find myself thinking about this again, but not for the same reasons. I’ve recently gone for dinner and drinks with two gentleman and, both times, was very impressed. I guess I started mulling all of this over because it occurred to me that I shouldn’t be as stunned as I am by their good behavior.

One of these guys is basically a male me and, as much as that might sound like something I’d be into, it really just made me feel like he could easily become one of my BFFs. There was zero chemistry but it was a lot of fun and I hope we hang out again because it was really refreshing to spend time with such a stylish man who just “got” shit. The other mister and I also got along fantastically and, as much as I’d be happy to be his friend, I’d also be open to more, if that’s the road we’re meant to travel.

That said, check this out: Both gentlemen were excessively polite, paid attention and showed consideration almost the entire time we hung out. Both shared umbrellas with me and the taller of the two slowed his pace down, as I was in heels, while the other insisted that I leave with his umbrella when we parted ways (I thanked him profusely but declined). Both treated wait staff with respect and kindness and one of them is an over-tipper, like me. Both were very pleasant when strangers talked to us and their table manners were on point (with the second guy, I caught myself slacking, as I had one elbow on the table and I saw his eye wander to it and I thought, “Oh shit!”). I was able to talk about death and porn and love and whatever the hell else with both of them and I walked away from both encounters feeling rather pleased.

It’s not like I’ve forgotten that assholes exist and that everyone always starts off by putting their best foot forward but I commend both of them on their manners and I now have something to compare passed experiences to. Is it because one of these men is 37 and the other is 39 and that they’ve learnt with time? Is it because I’ve finally done a good job at weeding out the inconsiderate men? Whatever it is, it makes me feel optimistic and like I’m finally getting my shit together. I also know that, from where I stand now, with my two feet firmly planted on the ground, I will never let shit like aforementioned fly again. Sometimes the only way to truly be able to step back and look at where you’ve been is to do so alone and I know that, whenever I do decide it’s time to be with someone, it’s going to be because he will enhance my current situation and because I can do the same for him. And I don’t know if, as a work colleague of mine pointed out, a lot of men start of this way and then let themselves go, but I do know that if he starts off as a jerk, the chances of him stepping up his game later on are next to nil and so, the way I see it, these are all steps in the right direction.

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A Geek Girl's Guide to Swimwear: Part Three. Superheroes.

(Posted on Wordpress June 26th, 2014. Half done moving key pieces over!)

For the final installment of this series, I give you a shopping guide for superhero swimsuits. I have mixed feelings about all things geek having gone terribly mainstream in the last decade but, I must admit that I love how accessible the clothing that is inspired by this culture is and, as long as I'm publicly divulging, I have as many pieces of clothing featuring superhero logos as I do ones with punk band logos. I'm also trying not to hit backspace.

I promise that I will try really hard not to have to rename this post "Part Three: Wonder Woman-inspired Swimsuits" but... Check. These. Out.

Wonder Woman:

Plunge halter one piece by Pinup Girl Clothing is my favourite (I'm on the wait list, as it's currently out of stock). $40.00 USD.

 

Also by Pin Up Girl Clothing is this one-shouldered piece. $40.00 USD.

 

Also sold out for now and also at $40.oo USD is the bikini set, from Pinup Girl Clothing.

Lastly from Pinup Girl Clothing, as far as Wonder Woman goes, is this graphic print swimsuit. $48.00 USD.

 

Sci Feye Candy, on Etsy, has this wonder-kini for $95.00 CAD.

 

Fit 2 Be Tied Clothing, also on Etsy, has a Wonder Woman monokini for $66.16 CAD.

 

Batman/Batgirl:

Bodydecorator.com. $24.99 USD.

 

 

Pin Up Girl Clothing has this bikini for $40.00 USD.

 

The lace-up back one-piece suit by Pin Up Girl Clothing. $48.00 USD.

 

Hot Topic has a reversible Batman bikini. Now on sale for $17.15 USD.

 

Other:

Fit 2 Be Tied Clothing, on Etsy, also has this Green Lantern-inspired bikini. $53.00 CAD.

 

Hot Topic. Captain America monokini. Currently on sale for $10.49 USD.

Sci Feye Candy also has this BAM-POW-kini for $95.00 CAD.

 

 

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