On being fat and attempting to wear black

Hello, my minions.  Today we're talking about fashion.  Because I want to, and it's my blog.  Mwa ha ha ha ha!

And now we make...da magikz!

Worth clarifying - we're talking about a very specific genre of fashion.  This one is for my friends who wear black, as the saying goes.  Specifically, it is for my heavier, less conventionally shaped friends who wear black.  And - oh, who am I kidding, I'm just going to pontificate about my gripes with trying to express myself fashionably.

During a recent conversation with family, I admitted that I dislike about 75% of my wardrobe.  And by that I mean my daily wardrobe - special occasion clothing shopping is a longer, more selective process.  I own a few adorable dresses and one damn versatile LBD that has been my go-to for a few years now.  But my every day, roll-out-of -bed-and-go ensembles typically leave me feeling pretty damn frumpy.  They also are a poor representation of my preferred aesthetic and personality.

"Then why do you wear them," the confused reader will no doubt be asking at this time.  Because I can afford them, and they fit.  Seriously, these are my options.  I don't sew (not well, anyway), and I don't often have the funding to have my clothing tailored outside of special occasions.  Now, those of you with a more "normal" body type will be very confused by all this.  Why do I need clothes tailored?  Sure, it's nice to have a better fit, but aren't I being picky?  I'll try to break this down for you.

I am somewhere between an hour glass and pear shaped, if you want a visual of my figure.  I'm busty, with wide hips, and a significant backside.  However, my waist still tapers in.  As such, pants/skirts/etc that fit my hips don't tend to fit me in the waist.  Additionally, I'm about a size 14/16 up top and a 18/20 down below, so anything that fits my chest and shoulders doesn't sit well over my hips.  Likewise, dresses that fit me in the hips tend to be baggy in the chest and shoulders, and ultimately unflattering.  There are, of course, exceptions to this.

I can find pants that fit, but they're expensive.  Finding them in black is even pricier.  NYDJ is the ONLY place I have found that offers black (not dark rinse, dark wash, deep denim, bullshit-color-that-isn't-black) jeans that aren't skinny jeans.  You have no idea how much I hate skinny jeans.  The last thing I need is something that accentuates my butt.  My backside draws attention to itself without any assistance from cheaply made, overly tight, glorified leggings.  Additionally, NYDJ tend to have a higher waist, which I appreciate.  However, at $100+ a pair, they don't really fit into my budget.  If I'm very lucky, Macy's will have them on sale for around $80.  I have one pair of black NYDJ right now, that I saved up for, and I wear them as sparingly as possible.  Which means the rest of the time, I'm in blue jeans.  Oh, joy.It's not that I hate blue jeans, per se.  I just dislike them being my only comfortable everyday option.

Acceptable skirts include skater, full, circle, and a tailored A-line.  With the exception of the A-line, I can purchase the previously mentioned styles based on my waist and 90% of the time they'll lay well over my hips.  However, I don't wear skirts.  I would need, like, cargo or utility skirts.  Which I haven't found.  I've found a number of skirts that say they're cargo skirts, but the pockets are largely cosmetic.  Which leaves me wondering what the point is, exactly.  I could try utility kilts, but then I risk the wrath of men for impinging on the one skirt they can wear publicly without risking social acceptance.  And those bitches are expensive.  Seriously.  I could get two pairs of pricey jeans for one utility kilt.  Which I would prefer to wear anyway.

So the quest for clothing that doesn't make me twitch continues.  Lane Bryant and Torrid have occasional good finds, but I find myself largely dissatisfied with their selection.  I did recently discover that stores such as Love Culture, Wet Seal, and their ilk have a number of plus sized items on their websites.  If you're willing to sift through the pastel, 70's inspired horrors, you can find some real gems.  Granted, you can't try them on, so get ready to ship back and forth until it fits, but it's a start.  Some of the shirts I love and wear most are actually from Victoria's Secret, of all places.  Their XL is supposedly a 16/18, and if the material has a little stretch, it tends to fit really well.  Also, they have a number of shirts with elbow length sleeves.  You know, for days when the arms feel flabby.  I like that.  It works for me.  Although they recently started making their shirts out of a cheaper, thinner cotton.  That doesn't work for me.

And on that note, my minions, I'm off to clear out my closet again, and attempt to throw out anything I haven't worn in six months.  Well, you know, except for the stuff I'm saving.  For that day when fairies come in the night and give me back the figure I had in high school.  Or something.

Adventures of the Gray Goth: The Explanation

Good morning, my minions.  Today is the first installment of a segment I have decided to call Adventures of the Gray Goth.  What is a Gray Goth?  Well, that's kind of how I've taken to describing myself.  But what does it mean, you ask?  I will explain.

Disclaimer:  If this term is in use elsewhere on the internet, in social circles, etc and possessing of a different meaning, I don't care.  I didn't look it up.  This is my little corner of the universe, and I will reappropriate as I see fit.

I started using the term "Gray Goth" because gray is a point between black and white.  Like most people, I don't fit securely into just one subculture, but Goth is probably the one I have the most ties to outside of Geek.  I wear an awful lot of black.  I have a deep love for Depeche Mode, The Smiths, Sisters of Mercy, Covenant, Wolfsheim, and so on.  I like old cemeteries, ivy shrouded mansions, and abandoned castles.  I have a fascination with vampires.  Halloween is my favorite holiday.  Walking out into sunlight has made me hiss on more than one occasion.  And I'm pale.

I know there are a number of stereotypical items being thrown around in the above paragraph, but that's kind of the point.  How do we identify a subculture?  Well, generally, by its stereotype.  The above paragraph is also just a lot of things that describe me.

Now for the tidbits that make people want to revoke my Goth card.  I have an obsession with pink these days that terrifies some of my friends.  That obsession lends itself to Candy Shoppe pastels in general (so can include mint, lavender, cotton candy blue, and so on).  Pink is just my favorite.  I pretty much live in blue jeans.  Not that I wouldn't love them to be black jeans, but I challenge you to find a good pair of boot cut black jeans in my size for less than $100 (boot cut is the bit you'll have a problem with).  Much as I would love to pretend I dress like this all the time:

The Anne Jane dress from http://www.gothikas.com.

you're far more likely to find me in blue jeans and a black t-shirt with some graphic relating to a video game or comic.  Which is what I'm wearing right now, actually.  I only dig out my eyeliner for special occasions.  I used to go to raves with Beasty back when we were younger.  I have an equally deep love for Sting, U2, Madonna (90's to early 2000's), BT, David Guetta, Florence + The Machine, Cindy Lauper, and so on.  My second favorite holiday is Christmas/Solstice/whatever and I adore The Nutcracker.  My favorite work of fiction is probably Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, and I'm more than a little fixated on how people have interpreted the work and all the different stories, games, movies, and so on inspired by it.  I love spotted toadstools, and whimsy, and pastel rainbow unicorns.

In short, I'm not hardcore.  I'm not even softcore.  I'm just kind of hanging out on the fringes.  And I'm okay with that.  Most of my friends seem okay with that as well.  It does, however, leave me lacking a short description of my preferred aesthetic.  I bandied around the phrase Gray Goth in a conversation with a friend some days back, and they laughed saying it was perfect.  So what the heck.  We'll run with it.

The thrill of shadows

I very much love my Beasty.  We compliment each other in so many ways (not all of then good, but what can you do).  When he and I said our vows last year, I have never felt more sure about my profession of love and devotion to another.  Half meant I-love-you's and broken promises of past relationships were swept away and forgotten in the burning truth of the words spoken as we held hands before our gathered friends and family.

That said - there will always be a tiny part of me waiting for my dark, vampiric prince to come.  It's not that I want to be taken away from Beasty.  It's just that it was supposed to have happened by now, and every once in a while after listening to certain songs or watching certain movies, I wonder why his undead ass hasn't shown up yet.  Granted, I'm not the pale, waning ingenue from most of these songs and movies, but I'm still pretty sexy in my own right.  And I'm pale.  Unless I've been visiting my father in Florida.  But even then, that's usually just my shoulders and arms, the rest of me is still pretty damn pale.

Oh, dear minions, what can you do?  The little gothy core of my heart will always be waiting for young Gary Oldman to show up on my back porch in Victorian finery on a particularly stormy night.  Or something like that.  My fascination with vampires has waxed and waned over the years, and even though it's been heartily threatened by the drivel that is teenage supernatural romance, it never completely goes away.  I even (dare I admit it) began to write my own vampire novel, though I need more practice at building suspense and a sense of horror.  Because vampires should be scary, dammit.

And on that note, I'm going to return to building my vampiric playlist.  It's not very long at the moment, and I'm having trouble tracking down an mp3 of Dark Lover by Tempest.

I leave you with the following eye-candy.

Gary Oldman in Bram Stoker's Dracula, 1992.

You kids and your music!

What is with DJs these days?

No, really, that wasn't rhetorical, what is up?  I seem to be having an issue when I go to the club anymore.  It is very possible that I just don't "get it", but as far as I can tell, if you are a club DJ that means that your job (like it or not) is to play music that gets people dancing and drinking.  So, ideally, you want the dance floor to look like this:

Noc Noc.  Photo: Scott Eklund/Seattle Post-Intelligencer / SL

My confusion arises, my minions, because during the several club nights I have attended over the summer (where the point of the evening was drinking and dancing), the dance floor has looked far more like this:

Noc Noc.  Photo: Noc Noc's PR Department

This is not just a one-club phenomenon either.  Mercury at Machinewerks in Seattle, Noc Noc in Seattle, Club Sanctuary at Benders in Denver, The Fez in Portland, wherever that one place in Orlando was whose name I have forgotten because it was just that bad, you have all had these moments this year!  And it is not because people don't want to dance!  I don't club solo, it is always with a group, and our expectation when we go is that there will be dancing, with music that encourages the dancing.  Yet sadly, again and again, there has been disappointment.

Now, I am not saying that DJs should have no creative licence and that they should just take requests all night.  I definitely don't think that's a good idea.  I understand that time has been spent preparing playlists and considering the mood of the event.  I do not want to throw off your groove (no pun intended).  However, at what point does the evening stop being about throwing a good party and focuses on just letting the DJ play his or her favorite songs.  Shouldn't there be a point where the DJ looks up and says to his/herself "Wow, the dance floor has been pretty dead for the past twenty minutes, maybe I need to change it up a little.  Maybe the crowd just isn't into this right now."?  Or am I completely wrong?

Furthermore, shouldn't the DJ be playing what the night is advertised as being?  If it's goth night, why am I hearing dubstep?  If it's supposed to be "Old School" goth night, why are we listening to your friend's band that no one's ever heard of?  The dubstep or your friend's band may be very good, but they're not why I came.  Their style of music was not on the flyer that you used to attract people to your venue on this night.  A promise was made, and we appear to be short on delivery.

The one place (ONE!) that I have been this year, where I danced all that I had hoped to dance (and drank correspondingly, because I only pay for alcohol at club prices if I'm enjoying myself), was The Church in Denver.  I love this club very muchly, and had I the money I would open one like it in Seattle and do my damnedest to get their Friday night DJ from the Catacombs (the downstairs area) to come spin.  Seriously, I danced so much that night I think I lost weight despite the alcohol consumption.

So, there it is.  Step up your game, people.  I shouldn't have to fly 1400 miles to get my groove on.

Spooky night at The Lovecraft

It should not surprise you, dear minions, that I enjoy travel and will take the opportunity to do so whenever it is presented.  So when Beasty and I had some free time a little while back, enough for a quick getaway but not for an extended adventure, we decided to drive to Portland (like you do).  This was not our first trip to Portland, but the last one was somewhat rushed and not terribly well researched.  On this most recent venture, we had a little more time to plan.

We stayed at The Jupiter Hotel, which is an older building that has been renovated into a charming enough boutique hotel in a gentrified neighborhood.  I recommend the place to the younger set for a weekend trip with friends.  It was cute, and fun, and the Doug Fir Lounge was quite the popular spot two of the three nights we were there.  Do not expect it to be quiet enough to go to bed early - the hotel provides earplugs as standard in your room.  And a neon yellow condom, in a clear wrapper stamped with the hotel's logo (I kept mine as a souvenir).  The door to the room was a chalkboard (on both sides), and we kept our "to-do" list on it, crossing places off as we visited them.

Incidentally, overall impression of Portland - dirty.  If the city can scrape together enough for regular street cleaners, it can only improve things.

This is not the point of the entry, however!  Amongst our list of things to do (which included Powell's, Ground Kontrol, Spartacus, and others), at the very tippy top of my list was The Lovecraft.  The Lovecraft is a bar and tea room with a decorating theme inspired by (wait for it) H.P. Lovecraft's works.  It is the most deliciously gothy little spot I have ever stepped into.  For the love of Nyarlathotep, it is a bar and tea room!

The ceiling at The Lovecraft.  Photo by Chloe Alix,  © 2011.

I was fair giddy.  It's not the most polished spot I've ever been in, and their outside signage leaves a lot to be desired.  Additionally, while the abundance of red lighting certainly assists in setting the mood it makes reading the tea list a touch difficult.  That said, I enjoyed a lovely Earl Grey while listening to Murphy, Morrissey, and Gahan, taking in the fantastically macabre decor.  Deep in my darkly glittering soul I felt a happy, contented joy such as I have not experienced in a very long time.

Regrettably, we were there on a bit of a dead night.  Our Portland adventure was a midweek trip, and they didn't have anything special scheduled for that evening.  We ended up heading out early to catch the Goth night at The Fez, which turned out to be a significant disappointment.  That much dubstep does not belong at Goth night.

In conclusion, my minions, should you find yourself in the ever raining City of Roses, do go take yourself to The Lovecraft.  Even if you're not one to regularly don the black, dress up for a night and go dangle your toe in the deep end.  The experience will be worth the effort.

Rain-drenched me, with my tea, at The Lovecraft.
(Courtesy of Beasty's smart phone)

Have you met the Lady of the Manners?

Good morning, my minions!  Today we have just a quick little thing, because I'm behind on homework and it's only the first week of school.  So, as you can imagine, a tad bit of focusing needs to be done.  However, I didn't want to leave you lost and alone, so I will tell you about one of my favorite websites to while away time on.

Is there a goth in your life that you would like to understand better?  Are you a goth that would like a little advice in how to navigate society and build your own little dark corner of this waking dream we call reality? Then, my darlings, let me direct you to the Gothic Charm School.  The Lady of the Manners will offer you her charming and helpful advice in all things spooky, in a gracious and sympathetic tone that (let's face it) I am far too catty to ever manage.

So go, read, be enlightened and entertained, and I'll see if I can't do better on Monday after turning in all of my assignments by their due date of 9pm Sunday evening.

"Prince of Darkness" used to mean something

Anyone who knows me will probably be able to tell you that I have, for as long as I can remember, been a fan of most things vampiric.  Hence why this catastrophic phenomenon of sparkling vampires is so crushing to me.  However, we're not here to speak of the mournful assassination of both the novel and the vampire at once by a certain Mormon author.  Today we're here to talk about something that I only recently became aware of.  The vampire bite necklace.

Now, for clarification, I don't mean this:

Clever, perhaps even elegant, with effort involved in its design.

I mean this:

I've got extra materials and five minutes, let's slap together something I can sell to Twilight fans.

There is something about these necklaces that drive me crazy.  In their very limited defense, they're subtle.  I'm generally a fan of subtlty.  That said, they're about the laziest creation on the planet.  Seriously.  Let's take a chain, stick two spaced out red gems on it, and call it a tribute to vampirism.  They can be found all over Etsy.  Observe:

Exhibit A
Exhibit B
Exhibit C
Exhibit D
Exhibit E

You get the idea.  I have ten more in different windows of my browser right now, and they all look the same save for small, largely insignificant differences.  And they all make me twitch a little inside.  Popular culture needs to stop trying to rob me of everything I once found dark and beautiful.

Everyone hail to the pumpkin song!

There's something darkly promising about this time of year.  The wind has a bite to it, the leaves are falling, and anticipation trembles in the air.  Here in the Subculture Empire, there is one day that reigns as the most celebrated and joyous of all.  Yes, my delightful minions, Halloween approaches.

There is nothing that calls out the little eyeliner-and-velvet clad imp deep inside me like All Hallow's Eve.  Ever since I was a little girl the day has filled me with titillation, and not just for the candy.  No, it was never about the candy.  Well, all right, fine - it was a little about the candy.  However, the real focus was the costumes.  The decadence, the ghost stories, the graveyards robed in moonlight.  As I grew older, the idea of creatures dark and mysterious whom I would know better than to dally with, but would be irresistibly drawn to anyway.  I do have a bit of a romantic streak in me, and a painfully vivid imagination, so this enchantment with the season grew exponentially with time.

As I write this I'm fighting the urge to pull out my long coat, bundle up, and go take a stroll through Holy Rood Cemetery down the way while dreaming of vampires and haunted crypts.  I know, I know, so terribly cliched, but I can't help myself.  Of course, at this point they'll be closed up and the gate locked, so I suppose it really doesn't matter.  Anyway!

I will confess that it has been some time since I've attended a Halloween celebration that lived up to my dreamings.  I would throw my own, but I lack a sufficiently sized venue and the budget to do so.  I strongly feel, however, that this will not always be the case.  Someday I will have the venue and the means with which to host an event of such spine chilling promise and demonic decadence that people will flock to my doors.  From that point I shall surely take over the earth.  Or something like that.

I have decided this year to extend my celebration to the week before the big day by planning out a series of costumes and themed ensembles to lead up towards the final hour.  I think this will be a delightful project that involves absurd amounts of black, crimson, and purple clothing and accessories.  It is my intention to document this little adventure - perhaps I shall share it here and hope to inspire my minions.

Goth or Not?

I think, if no one has come up with this concept, Goth or Not should be the new absurd meat-market website to grace the internet.  It would be just like Hot or Not only with one fairly obvious difference.  I almost got an account on Hot or Not back when I heard about it eons ago and I was hoping the internet could bolster my opinion of myself.  I have since learned two things.  First, that the internet never makes you feel better in the long run.  Second, that only I can improve my opinion of myself.

It makes me a little sad to admit that if forced to examine myself and vote Goth or Not, I would be forced to say "Not".  Out of all the subcultures I have felt an affinity with over the years, goth has certainly called to me the strongest and most consistently.  Which really says something, since I freely admit to being a genre dilettante at times.  However, though I still have my gothy little core deep inside, I just haven't been able to stick with it.

The biggest reason is fashion related.  I still listen to the music, I still love old cemeteries, and Halloween in all its grandeur and glory with forever be my favorite holiday.  The clothes and the look, however, have tripped me up again and again.  And it's mostly because of my size.  I am not a delicate woman.  I would say I am Rubenesque.  Less polite people would say I was fat.  Now, do you have any idea how hard it is to find black pants that are not dress slacks in a size 18 which are boot or flare cut?  Being the naughty minions that I know you are, you're probably laughing right now, but I'm very serious.  Now, I can find black skinny jeans in my size, but let me make something very clear to everyone reading - if you are heavy, and more so if you happen to be more hourglass or pear shaped, you should never under any circumstances wear skinny jeans.

There are other aspects of the look that don't work for me as well.  The staple of black hair is completely out.  I do not have the coloring for it, being naturally a dark blonde (or at least I was years ago before I started dyeing my hair regularly).  Also, how time intensive it can be - sure, I could probably pull off a more elegant look in my size as black skirts and blouses are easier to come by, but I'm a roll out of bed and pull on jeans and a flattering shirt type of girl.  Seventy-five percent of the time, at least.

Ah well.  It seems there is nothing to do but go catch up on Gothic Charm School and fight down my sense of despair as I fold my pile of blue jeans.