drag

I somewhat recently had an opportunity to dress in drag for the first time in, like, forever. An interesting opportunity it was. Having been graciously loaned a rather smart, grey, pin-striped suit, jaunty hat and slick shoes by a male friend my size, I tried to do it justice by doing proper drag. None of this still hot but boxier version of femme stuff for me. Boobs were bound, hair was tucked. I could have done more with make-up and faux facial hair, but it was like-hell degrees out and I couldn’t be arsed to go that far.

I was surprised to find that I as weirded out by the new, me in a suit with a weird shape. Like, really weirded out. Last time I’d done drag was shortly after my eldest was born when I didn’t feel very shapely anyway. I was still carrying a lot of post-partum pounds, so the effect was much less drastic. This time? I felt self-conscious. Seriously self-conscious for about 20 minutes as I padded around my friend’s home, trying to get ready, but going back to the mirror every few minutes to look again. I even thought about taking it all off, undoing the binding and making a sexier, curve-wrapping thing to wear out of the binding fabric I’d brought instead. Then I thought “WWFKD?” (what would Frida Kahlo do?), sucked it up, got over myself, did it anyway and had a blast.

Needless to say, the experience has had me thinking a lot. I think about our relationships with our bodies, what kind of power we assign them, what kind of power others assign them, and so on. In the last year and a bit of Big Life Changes ™, I’ve had to rethink and renegotiate my relationship with my body and how I project that. Singlehood does that because it drastically changes everyone else’s relationship with it. The single body gets uniquely different attention (and sometimes a lot more of it) than the taken body. Just as I’d got comfy, the sudden removal of that comfort of knowing how to dress every knook and cranny of the self in the face of what the tribe expects had me feeling very vulnerable.

My mind immediately juxtaposed this with the exposure I have to the raging hormones and the challenges of the ever-changing self-perceptions of the gaggle of teenagers that are in and out of my home on a regular basis. All of the donned bravado, the trying on for size of clothing, makeup, behaviours and language in the face of that vulnerability becomes very real and very explicable when you’re forced to feel it again. They do an awful lot of sucking it up, getting over themselves, doing it anyway and having a blast (or not, as the case may be), no? Probably a metric fuck ton of that on a daily basis.

It was a great exercise in the shaking up of self-perception.

It was a fantastic parenting lesson.

I look forward to doing it again in September.

Peace,

m

recipe for the wicked

Last evening we entertained a motley crew of rogues and misfits in order to celebrate the birthday of the lovely Noelle. The main course was a creamy, mushroomy, wine-y, chicken-y concoction served over focaccia and sautéed, multi-coloured bell peppers.

As requested, kittens, here is the recipe for the chicken portion of the dinner from last night, condensed to serve 4 rogues and/or misfits, rather than 9:

What you need:

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts

1 lb of mushrooms (I used a combination of oyster, shiitake, and cremini) cut/broken down to bite-sized pieces

2 shallots, thinly sliced

1 red onion, thinly sliced

2 cloves of garlic, crushed

2 cups of dry, white wine

1 cup of half and half

1/4 cup of butter

1/4 cup of grated parmesan or romano cheese

1 cup of chopped, italian parsley

black pepper to taste

Method:

1. Preheat your oven to 350 °F.
2. In a large skillet (if you have an oven-safe skillet, you can use it to cook the entire dish), brown the chicken breasts in 1 tablespoon of the butter.
3. Remove the breasts and deglaze the skillet with a quater to half of the wine.
4. Return the chicken breasts to the skillet.
5. Top the breast with the mushrooms, onion, shallots, and garlic.
6. Add the remainder of the wine and the butter.
7. Cook the lot of it in your oven-safe skillet at 350 °F for about 30-35 minutes, or until your meat thermometer registers an internal temperature of 170 °F.
8. Remove the chicken from the skillet and move to a dish that will catch any drippings while they rest, leaving the mushrooms, garlic, onion, shallots, and remaining sauce in the skillet.
9. Reduce the sauce in the skillet by about half, over medium heat.
10. Slowly stir in the cream and cheese until completely combined.
11. Stir in the parsley.
12. Return the breasts to the skillet and heat briefly until warm.
13. Serve the breasts and sauce over focaccia slices, halved lengthwise with grilled or sautéed vegetables of your choice.

for the mens (or the womens who love their shoes)

Last weekend saw us frantically trying to find a decent pair of winter boots for the extra-large footed, amazonian who is my daughter. She gets this from me. As a 5’11” brick house (I swear that song was written for me) with size 12 feet, I learned very quickly to embrace all that the menswear stores have to offer: pants with higher rises and longer inseams, great printed button up shirts that don’t gap over the girls, with sleeves long enough for my gorrilla arms, and that can be given darts for a more fitted, flattering look (seriously, if you have the gapping issue, this is where it’s at, sistah-friends), shoes and boots that not only fit, but are also stylish. If you can get past the idea that it’s menswear (this seems to be much less a big deal for women than it is for men) and have some level of sewing talent, then pretty much any woman, no matter the size, can find menswear departments/stores a veritable fashion goldmine.

And to the men’s department we promptly hopped, skipped, and cartwheeled when looking for boots for the also-size-12-footed-at-least-5’8″ daughter last weekend. It was the first time we had to do that for her and, in the interest of full disclosure, I was kind of worried about the response. She’s hit the age (12) when she wants cute and has really taken a vested interest in developping an aesthetic all her own. Me = mortified. Not out of embarassment or anything, simply because I remember being there for the first time and was worried we wouldn’t find cute or that she would be completely closed to the idea. But, you know what? She was cool. She knew what wanted and what she wanted was what we found. For 40% off, no less. Me = happy mama.

The experience lead me to the desire to inspire. I know that my daughter and I are not the only women who struggle to find cute, fashionable, comfortable shoes. I rejoiced when the local business K&C Costumes opened their storefront because they cater to the drag community and that meant sexy shoes that fit, but when it’s not necessarily sexy, over the top, clear stillettos (FUN!) or stompy gearhead boots (LOVE) I’m looking for, I still turn to men’s shoes. In that spirit, I’ve put together some outfits, all of which I would wear in a heartbeat, that fully embrace the place of men’s shoes in women’s wardrobes.

Et voila:

good girls do by piratelibrarian featuring Donna Karan accessories

I adore that Rodarte rib cage top. One day I’ll have one. The cute little bottines are Stacy Adams.

spatslike by piratelibrarian featuring Miss Selfridge

Another pair of Stacy Adams in the forefront here. Love ’em and would put them with just about everything, but I like the way this look is all about contrast (and my favourite red + teal combo). Stacy Adams shoes again.

you’re a wrangler of what now? by piratelibrarian featuring Marc Jacobs

I think this is my favourite of the bunch, being the total texture junky that I am. Riddle me this: how does Marc Jacobs make leather look like wearable candy? I want to lick that coat. Boots are Double-H. Oh. And imagine that Tarina Tarantino bit as a bracelet, attached to more gros-grain ribbon, or a bit of brown velvet ribbon, or something. That’s how I see it in my head.

feel the love

I was questioned about my propensity for flattery yesterday. Kind of one of those ‘do you try to butter everyone up?’ digs from someone who hasn’t spent enough time with me to know all my inner workings, but enough time to notice the habit. I took it with a grain of salt at the time, but it had me thinking about the rammifications of my liberal sprinklings of compliments and whether maybe, just maybe, I overdo it.

I decided that I don’t.

While I thoroughly enjoy receiving compliments, and after many years of agonizing, have finally developped gracious ways of accepting them, I also thoroughly enjoy giving them. I think it’s in my nature as a creative and a card-carrying people-watcher. I like to let people know that their unique traits have not only been noticed, but appreciated. If I had a religion (I don’t), this would be it, as every bon mot I deliver is like a little prayer, an affirmation that, even though humanity makes me feel misanthropic and leaves me with a general sense of malaise, people, individuals like you, and you, and you, rock my tiny universe.

I think I need to add a ‘warm fuzzies’ category to this blogue.

quiche x infinity x 1000 cubed

I’m poorly today and thinking about quiche. I’m sure there’s some psychological sound explanation for why I’m thinking of egg-based foodstuffs when I can barely keep anything down, but if not, you’ll at least get some good recipes out of my neurosis.

Quiche is definitely a main contributor to me managing to maintain a well-fed family on an OSAP budget. It’s basically all you need in a meal in a convenient pie format (and well all know that pie format is THE BEST format). Below is a basic quiche recipe and a multitude of ways to switch it up and make it different.

What you need

While I used to make the crusts myself, back when I was a poor, not-so-starving student, they were pretty terrible, so I won’t pretend like I know how to make one and offer you someone else’s recipe from the internet. Instead I’ll tell you to do what I do know to do, which is to toddle off to the grocer’s and buy some. So much easier. No tears involved. If you have a great pie crust recipe, please feel free to share, but know that I’m not likely to try it myself because I’m lazy/have given up/understand that this is a weakness I feel no desire to overcome.

Ahem.

Anyways. You’ll need a pie crust. If you’re going my route you will like end up with two, in which case you can double the basic recipe plus the frills, or you can save one for a rainy day. You could also opt for phyllo or puff pastry. Both excellent choices as well, and you’ll probably end up with enough doughy goodness to make two pies in that case as well.

6 eggs

1/4 cup of buttermilk

pinch of nutmeg

salt & pepper to taste

Method

Preheat your oven to 35o. Whisk everything above (except) the crusts together. Toss all of your Frills (see below for some ideas)together and add to a crust. Pour in your egg mixture. Cook for about 45 minutes or until the eggs no longer jiggle when wiggled.

The Frills

This is where quiches get fun. If you think about it, you can use pretty much all of the same options in a quiche as you can in a pizza. I like to keep them simple, so I generally stick to a 1 meat (please remember that ‘meat’ is used in the loosest sense of the term in my world as my favourite meat is mushrooms), 1 cheese, 1 veg, 1 aromatic formula. Here are some favourites:

fruit de mer

1 can of crabmeat

2 cups of baby spinach, shredded

2 shallots, thinly sliced

3/4 cup of swiss cheese, grated

details: dill is great with this, but oregano is wonderful as well. please don’t mix dill & oregano. good bedfellows they do not make.

best breakfast

1/2 pound of bacon, fried and roughly broken

2 cups of spinach, shredded

1 bunch of green (spring) onions, finely chopped

3/4 cup of old cheddar cheese, grated

details: oregano + chili spice in this is delicious. don’t be afraid to be liberal with them.

for fungis

1.5 cups of mushrooms, quartered or roughly chopped

3/4 cup of leaks, thickly sliced

3/4 cup of asiago cheese

1 tomato, sliced

details: mushrooms + rosemary = bliss. float the tomatoes on top of the quiche.

al fresco

2 cups of parsley, roughly chopped

3/4 cup of mozarella cheese, grated

2 cloves of garlic, crushed

1/4 cup of red onion, finely chopped

details: this one calls for basil. fresh if possible. loads of it

not-quite florentine

1.5 cups of uncooked salmon, cubed

3/4 cup of zucchini, finely sliced

3/4 cup of smoked gruyère

2 cloves of garlic, crushed

details: add some chervil if you’ve got it. also, a sprinkling of paprika on the top makes it super pretty/tasty.

lambada

2 cups of roma tomatoes, diced

1/2 cup of cilantro, roughly chopped

3/4 cup of manchengo cheese, diced

3/4 spanish onion, finely chopped

nola

1/5 cups of shrimp, peeled and deveined

2 andouille sausages, diced

1 cup of okra, thickly sliced

1 pkg of cream cheese, cubed

details: bend this a little by adding some finely chopped chipotles and about a tablespoon of their adobo.

pico di gallo

1 cup of roma tomatoes, diced

1 red onion, finely chopped

1 bunch of cilantro, roughly chopped

1 jalepeno, finely chopped

juice of one fresh lime

splash of olive oil

3/4 cup of sharp, old cheddar cheese

details: this is seriously just taking the salad/salsa, adding a little cheese and making it into a quiche. don’t over-complicate it by adding anything else. it’s a great way to use up leftovers.

aphrodite

1 can of littleneck clams, drained & rinsed

2 cups of asparagus spears, broken/chopped into 1 inch bits

2 shallots, finely chopped

3/4 cup of provolone, grated

details: dill again. and chili flakes. yum.

italia

3/4 cup of proscuitto, shredded

1/4 cup of sundried tomatoes, reconstituted if actually dried

1 bunch of flat-leaf (italian) parsley, roughly chopped

2 cloves of garlic, crushed

1/2 cup of fresh parmesan or romano cheese, grated

details: oregano! that’s all.

I think you get the drift that the possibilities (I had to type that word three times as I kept typing ‘pissabilities’) are almost endless when it comes to quiche.

Make some!

Enjoy!

collette patterns make me swoon

They really do. I’ve not worked with them (yet), but there are many features that entice me:

• anachronistic styling – yum
• thoughtful constructions – seem to be made with the bustier among us in mind – this gives me hope
• frocks & skirts with pockets!

I don’t think I need to say more. I’ll let these lovelies speak for themselves.

Some day I will make a macaron:

via Collette Patterns.

And two beignets (one in denim or canvas and one in red linen, just like this):

via Collette Patterns.

new vice

Not that I have room for another, but polyvore has sucked me in. I chose to play with fairy tales…

Imagining what Snow White might wear:

Blanche Neige Redux by piratelibrarian

Or Cinderella, were she an upscale, fetishistic stripper (how else does one find one’s self in ‘glass’ slippers?):

Cendrillon Fetichiste by piratelibrarian featuring Diane von Furstenberg dresses

hallowe’ened

Another lovely October has gone, ending with the usual fun and frivolity. Was a productive, busy weekend, even though I didn’t actually do any dressing up or going out myself. Fangs were created, faces were painted, costumes were donned, pumpkins were carved, far too many shellout treats were purchased, music was heard, pumpkin seeds were roasted, & even zucchini loaf was made, courtesy of the mister.

Some highlights:

The daughter's vampy makeup because she, like every other Twilight-obsessed tween on the planet, went out as a vampire.

Like, all of her friends went as vampires. The dog would have gone as a vampire if they had their druthers.

Yes, the numbers do go all the way around to display 3.14159.

The uber-nerd punkin (ah! somebody stop me!) my co-writer and I created for the carving contest at our workplace. A disappointing number of trick or treaters got it.

Lovely ladies all ready to hit the town.

My friends the vampire daugher, the dead pixie, and Sheila Dundee.

And there you go. Hallowe’en was had.

what’s with today, today?

This is not the Saturday I envisioned.  I was going to get ambitious & grab some groceries, put together some casseroley things for the freezer, meet my self-imposed deadline of getting my website up & running & then indulge in some hardcore chilling out with the newly aquired Springsteen tunes for Guitar Hero.  So far none of that seems to be on the cards.  I received a call earlier from the baby daddy letting me know that he’s made a doctor’s  appointment for the eldest sprog for first thing tomorrow morning as the chest thing he’s been battling has escalated.

On one hand I’m cheering on the inside as this is the first time in the 8 years the ex & I have been separated that he’s taken the initiative & made the appointment without my hand forcing it.  It’s not a judgement call as such; his intentions have always been logical & empathetic & I do appreciate the spirit in which his actions (or lack thereof) are intended, but the hand-holding became tired quickly.  On the other hand I really resent not being the parent doing the care giving & being in the position of fretting at arm’s length.  I worry that his fever will spike as it’s wont to do.  I worry that he’s not getting enough liquids.  I worry that tomorrow morning isn’t soon enough.  I worry about stupid shit even though I know that papa is well equipped with the skills to deal with this & my inability to let it go has thrown my day off completely.

I’ve been sort of good, though.  I’ve only made one phone call to assess the whole fever thing & insist he be given something to keep it from spiking.  The kid’s notorious for going from normal to 187 degrees in 2.2 seconds flat so I’m ok with nagging on that score.  I still somehow feel like a horrid mum for not being there for him.  I’m a bundle of nerves & distraction…so much so that I almost went across the street to purchase some paper towels after walking by the package of 678 rolls stood in the middle of the kitchen floor 4938 times.  Parenthood is not fair.

In an (futile) effort to keep my mind off all of this I’ve been oggling Alexander McQueen’s fall line.  Though I admit the emotional rawness I’m feeling at the moment may have something to do with me weeping at it’s brilliance, I think I’d still do it under different circumstances.  Check this out:

Love those organic lines & tailored details.

She’s like some haute nomad ready to take her leave of the steppes.

And then there’s my favourite because it’s like McQueen took Fantômas…

…or Arsène Lupin…

…& reversed their gender then breathed Erté’s dying breath into the lot of it to produce this:

Fabulous & brilliant, non?

bagel melts

mmmMMMmmm…bagel melts.  Pretty sure no better breakfast exists in the world.  Someone once asked me what my favourite sandwich is and I couldn’t answer but come to think of it the bagel melt must be it.  So it’s not really a really real sandwich.  All good by me.  It’s close enough in my books and consists of three loves of mine; breads, fresh vegies and, of course, cheese.  This one’s made with an everything bagel, roma tomatoes, dill, black pepper and mild but wonderfully melty marble cheese but they can be made with just about every flavour combination.  Try cinnamon raisin bagels with apple slices and mozzarella or provolone.  Or sesame bagels with roasted eggplant, red pepper slices and goat cheese.  One would have to try very hard to do any wrong with these…you can even nuke ’em!  That said, I strongly suggest the oven method – just slip them onto a broiling pan (I slipped mine onto the pizza stone currently occupying the oven) then into a 450 degree oven.  Once in turn on the broiler and leave the oven door open a smidge, not to keep the broiler for turning off (the bagels aren’t likely to be in there for that long) but because the cheese will go golden brown (which is when you want to take it out) very quickly and having the door open tends to make one acutely aware of the fact that there’s stuff going on in there they need to not forget.