Suit Shopping

Fair warning to all readers: I am currently downing a beer on an empty stomach.  If midway through this things get wonky, well, I am blaming Lead Dog Ale and it's tastiness.

With that out of the way let's get onto today's topic: suit shopping!  Friend, Fiance and I went suit shopping (for Fiance.  For our wedding.  That may be obvious but meh.)  Friend is fairly knowledgeable about suits and I like seeping knowledge from people so I tagged along and skulked amongst the suits admiring.

We started off at the Bay.  They are fun.  We wandered in and began inspecting various suits.  At one point we had a drive-by-salesing.  This is where the salesperson asks us if we need help, Friend starts to explain what's up and salesperson says "Ok, I can help" and flees.  It was actually pretty funny.  We did not see hide nor hair of him for our rest of the time in that store.

Not finding anything there that did not fit Fiance weirdly we headed off to Holt Renfrew.  Holt Renfrew also amuses me but for different reasons.  Ever seen the prices on their jeans?  Or their hand bags locked down to the counter?  Any time I am in there I start laughing.  I am a Value Village, occasionally other places when there is a sale, girl.  Anyways, Holt Renfrew.  Here had an actual saleperson.  Which was nice.  He introduced us to a couple of suit jackets but once again nothing really worked.  They did have a number of things that were garishly orange.  Or checkered.  There seemed to be an interesting cross of hick and hipster.  Mmmm.  Yeah, no.

We next ended up at Henry Singer.  First off, it is fancy.  Dark wood, suits, couches.  Fancy. I liked it..  I felt like I should have a smoking jacket and a glass of Scotch.  Here we met Robbie.  He was fun.  Eager.  Flamboyant.  A drama minor.  And really good at his job.  He chatted with us about what we were looking for, the occasion, eyed up Fiance and boom!  Began producing suits that fit.  And  that looked AMAZING. 

Friend made the mistake of telling me that he thought Robbie was cute and so I began making sure to step aside and allow the two of them to flirt.  It was super cute as Friend got all red and I got to tease him afterwards.  But back to the suits!

One was found that was a lovely charcoal, somehow made Fiance looked taller and quite frankly, I was wondering if I could jump him in the dressing room.  I figured that would be on the inappropriate so I just took to staring at him creepily and making "num num" sounds. 

 

I am very excited to see what Fiance will look like on our wedding day.  Also, I want a suit that is that fabulous.  Clearly I need the ability to swap between genders physically so that I fit a men's suit and go get fitted.  And look equally handsome.  Suit shopping was so much better than dress shopping.

Why I Hate The Wedding Dress Industry

As some of you may know, I am getting married in May.  I am quite excited.  As you may also know, I am female and my partner is male.  This makes me the bride.

Being the bride is an interesting experience, specifically when it comes to what you are going to wear to your wedding.  The current tradition in western culture is the White Dress. You know the dress? The spectacular dress that makes you a princess, that you wear once, that you spend money on, that you outshine everyone in?  Yeah, that dress.

I started out trying to be optimistic, and after a few false starts, I figured I would be able to find something.  You know, something simple and elegant.  Something pretty.  Something that made me feel good and that I'd enjoy.  I swear, I did try.

Dress One

I went into a couple of wedding dress shops, thinking I'd just look.  See what's out there.  Get a feel for the industry.  The problem is that the wedding dress has always terrified me.  My idea of lovely dress looks more like this.  Or this.

Dress Two

 

















Or even this (this one wouldn't copy over.  Check it out.  Seriously).

The first one I went into I went with Fiance.  It did not start well.  Upon entering we were visually assaulted with a sea of white fluff and plastic.  I wasn't sure where the dresses stopped and the walls began.  We tried to just surreptitiously poke around.  No such luck was to be had.  The saleslady spotted us and pounced.  With more vigor than a thirteen year old virgin promised sex, she began to tell us about our "options", "different models", and "price range".  I said wedding dress, not car.  As I stood there trying to get the words "simple" and "poor student" out she rattled on about getting a package deal on bridesmaids dresses (my brother is standing up for me), flower girl dresses (we don't have one) and mother-of-the-bride dress (my mother wouldn't be caught dead in anything in there.  I wouldn't dress a corpse in the dresses she waved at).  Did I mention that while she eagerly expunged this information onto the two of us she was well past the socially appropriate personal space limit?  Due to the sheer volume of fabric around us we could not back up any further and she just kept coming.

I think Fiance saw the wide-eyed terror look that was now living on my face and he kindly muscled us out of there and we fled.  The couple of other places that I went into were like that.  In one place the dress on display was something like this only the skirt from puke pink on the bottom to white at the top.  It was this tattered.  I fantasized about setting it on fire and steered clear of the shop.


Most places required an appointment just to get in.  There was no way I was going to make one as my main desire on this hunt was to be left alone.  I hated the eager, bouncing, Mary Kay-esque ladies who asked me questions about my flowers, china patterns and told me how this day only came once I had to look my best and like a princess, didn't I?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

I thought about going to one of the bridal expo's here in Edmonton; I really did want to try.  The one I looked at wouldn't admit men though.  It's the bride's day so no men because they can't help with the shopping.  Because somehow that makes sense. 

 

It got very frustrating.  I did finally reach a point where I told Fiance, fuck it, I'm wearing a nice white suit.  I can't take this crap.  The intensity of the white dresses, the white, the blandness of the not intense dresses and the prices.  It was not something I was willing to do.

Sidenote, but did you know that the white dress did not come into fashion until the early 20th century?  That was when the rich began to be able to afford fancy, ridiculous dresses that you wear once.  And what colour is most impractical therefore shows you have the money to throw at this dress?  White.  Hence, the white dress fashion was born.  Before that girls wore their best dress to their wedding.  I like that idea.  Much more simple and opens up a whole new set of possibilities.

Ultimately, I did find a dress.  It is gorgeous and not white and I will it wear again after the wedding.  It's blue actually.  And did I mention it's gorgeous?  It also wasn't marked as a wedding dress, it was just something I stumbled upon and fell completely in love with.  I'm very excited about it.

Being Beautiful

I, like nearly every women in North America, am not 100% confident or comfortable with my appearance.  SURPRISE (I think not)!!!!!  But despite my concerns about the sleight weight I carry on my hips, the size of  my breasts, do-I-have-cellulite on the back of my thighs and the weird mutant hairs that grow in random places on my body, I appear to have stumbled upon a way to feel beautiful.  For the record, not beautiful in the way of a princess in a long flowing gown, so sorry to disappoint if that is what you are after.  But rather, beautiful in the way of confident in my appearance, confident that the image I present is one I am happy with, one I want people to see.  The amazing part is that this was a change that came over me in the space of half an hour.  It was not the result of working out for months or dieting or courses or readings on feeling good or activism or a new lover or anything like that.  No instead, my grand transformation is the result of a hair cut.

A hair cut you say?  How is that possible?  Sure we all feel good after we get prettied up at the salon but that doesn't negate the weight on the hips or the mutant hairs.  Surely you must be kidding yourself.

Hold on.  I will explain.  I have been fighting with my hair on and off for the last year and some.  Cutting it, restyling it, letting it grow, hacking at it, cutting it, letting it grow, restyling...and so on and so forth.  This summer has been hot.  I have heavy hair.  I have been threatening to shave my head simply to relieve myself of the sweat that builds up on my scalp.  I have held off.  And then, I was watching the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and enjoying Noomi Rapace, that sexy goddess.  I looked at the hairstyle she wore in the movie.  Partially shaven, hair longer on one side.  I grinned.  Next morning, I handed Fiance my hair cutting scissors, pinned part of my hair aside and said "Go!"

In case you are curious, it is exactly as much fun as you think to hack at your own hair.  I may have been giggling.  Once it was short enough, Fiance took his razor and began to shave.  The result: I am now proudly sporting a buzz cut with one long piece in the front.

But that's not a pretty haircut!!!  Why would that make you feel beautiful?

Well, first off the sweat levels and maintenance have gone poof so that is a good start.  Secondly, there is something very wonderful about giving up on trying to appear "traditionally" feminine.  I love it.  Now when I'm wearing a skirt I can enjoy it.  The hair offsets the need for my appearance to match proper feminine.  For me, this is incredibly freeing.  I've always felt like I manage to miss out on being feminine.  Like I somehow cannot quite succeed.  This way, I don't have to try.  It's wonderful.

Also, it's loads of fun to pet (I get more head massages!) and when I get out of the shower and rub my head that water sprays off and makes it rain.  :D  It's more fun than I ever imagined I would get out of a hair cut!!!

Bare Breasts Broach On Brains

Yesterday Fiance and I spent the day at Canada's Wonderland.  For those unaware, it is an awesome amusement park with fabulous roller coaster's in Vaughan, Ontario.  We had a great time, zooming around on various rides and terrifying ourselves silly with a couple others.  Their new ride, the Leviathan, stand 306 feet tall and the first drop, the money drop, is at about an eighty degree angle.  It's wicked.  I recommend it.  At the end of the day we were sitting in the parking lot waiting for my Dad to pick us up (we've been visiting my parents for the last week.  Huzzah for vacation!).  In Ontario, it is legal for a woman to go topfree anywhere a man can.  Thanks to Gwen Jacobs and her pointing out to the courts that men and women's breasts are made of the same material, just one tends, on average, to be bigger than the other, sweltering in your bra and shirt is no longer necessary.  Yay!

How does this relate to anything involving Canada's Wonderland?  As I mentioned, we were sitting, waiting, I decided that I was tired of the sweat stuck between my breasts and the clammy shirt sticking to my back.  So I turned to Fiance and asked if he would take off his shirt as well (moral support is helpful).  He said, sure and so off they came.  Initially this wasn't a big deal, as we were sitting down and my breasts were mostly tucked behind my arms (I was fiddling on my phone).  It wasn't until we stood up to walk to the van that things became an issue.  A few stares, people shuffling away, pointing and giggling and then from behind us,
"Put a shirt on!"  We kept walking, looking for the van.
"PUT A SHIRT ON!"  Fiance turned around.
"I'm too hot!" (this is why I love him)
"Fuck you!!!"
As we approached the exit and headed over to the van, we could see a security guard hurriedly speaking into this walkie-talkie.  We climbed into the van, buckled up and drove off.

Now, I wish I could find the reactions of the people around us funny.  It is somewhat amusing, but honestly, it's mostly sad.  As Fiance and I walked side by side, both of us lacking in shirts, people freaked.  The site of my breasts, anatomically very similar to his, was causing major conniptions.  Throughout the day we had seen many men walking around without shirts on.  We had seen many women walking around in tiny shorts (butt hanging out bottom tiny) and tiny tops.   Some were even walking around with their flies undone, bathing suit bottoms popping out.  Some were in just bathing suit bottoms and tiny tops.  And I mean tiny.  You could see their nipples puckering up underneath the clothe.  I myself spent the day in a yellow ribbed tank top and men's shorts (I've given up on women's shorts).  But the site of me, with my nipples exposed to the sun, a pair of men's shorts slung around my hips, Fiance wearing the same thing beside me (different style of shorts yes) was enough to cause people to start yelling.

Maybe they were just concerned about my nipples burning in the sun.  It was hot.  I'd like to think so.