So You’re Telling Me She Has A Time Machine

Because obviously.

No, But Seriously

I am so in love with every one of you.

Honestly.

To feel such fucking love + support from strangers is overwhelming in the absolute best way possible.

Like, ohmygod you are rubbing my shoulders exactly where it hurts-type overwhelming.

And after that I still blew you off.

It’s been two months now and I sweartogod I am trying to blog and get back in the swing of things. But for the record, this is nothing like riding a bike. Nothing.

And I’ve also been super distracted by Pinterest. And I know I’m not alone so we will just leave it that, won’t we.

Anyway.

I wanted to apologize for not blogging, but then I would have ended up apologizing for apologizing. So, somehow I am not doing either of things.

Here are some things that happened that also happened to get photographed:

We did the dim sum thing. It’s a thing we like to do.

Duncan got a Gumby.

Gumby is now just a body. Just a body with one leg.

We learned that Duncan is terrified of Polar Bears.

I got a sweet set of rocks glasses.

Someone gave me extra butter for my hot toddy.

And I used it.

Siri tried to push her Christian agenda on me.

My dad gave me a mug that I forgot I made.

I wore suede boots in the snow.

Duncan put on his handsome face.

And my hair gets longer every day.

See.

That wasn’t so hard was it?

Seven Months and Seven Days

I want to blog again.

And I do not have a huge explanation full of excuses about what the fuck exactly has happened here.

Because, ew.

Who wants to read about a bunch of shit I probably made up to justify myself and make us all feel better, less awkward, more guilt-free, and prettier?

Come on. You know me better than that.

That being said, I do want to start blogging again.

You can count on not really seeing me because holyshit is that stressful.

[I've now deleted dozens of paragraphs/sentences/strings of symbols here to express myself fuller, make the excuses I promised I wouldn't. So that's why there is no real segue here.]

But the time has come, my little friends.

To talk of other things.

***

Anyone with me??

(fingers crossed)

You Always Hurt The Ones You Love

Twice in one week.

Yow.

I can totally get back into the swing of this….

And an experimental hair-do for you this fine Friday.

Nice.

So, recently I have been spending most of free (internet) time looking at DIY blogs vs the normal roll of fashion/street style blogs.

So I took myself out for lunch yesterday…

… to Hobby Lobby.

$30 later and I have a plethora of trinkets.

I’m gonna craft all over the place.

Take some crafts outside.

Craft in bed.

Make a huge craft and some really small ones, too.

Am I the only one enjoying the puns here?

Craft?

…Crap…?

Get it?

Whatever.

Look at the Infinity Chain.

Remember when I said I would probably wear it everyday?

I was not joking.

Sunshine Loafers: Jeffrey Campbell :: Shorts: Forever 21 :: Cardigan: Free People :: Sweater:: UO :: Bag: Thrifted :: Infinity Chain: Clyde’s Rebirth

Also, for you cinephiles in the audience– perhaps you caught the reference in today and Wednesday’s title(s) to the film Blue Valentine…?

If you did, then holy shit WTF right???!!!!

If not, then:

1. Please do not watch it with a loved one.

2. Please do not call me in hysterics because this is the story of your life.

3. Because it probably is. And OHMYGOD I know.

That’s all, folks.

Oh and please, let’s all have the most fresh, green grass in our toesingest, bumping some jams on our BOSEingest, making new things from old clothesingest, plenty of X’s and O’singest, and maybe a bagel from Moe’singest weekends of our lives!

The Ones You Shouldn’t Hurt At All

Hello and holler.

It’s been a while since we spoke.

But don’t think I haven’t been missing this place like crazy.

I fucking miss hanging out with you guys.

Seriously…

But since then:

-Summer happened.

- I stayed a redhead.

- Lots of other stuff, too.

You would thank that I/we would have our shit together by now, but you would be sadly mistaken.

We moved, yes.

Unpacked, no.

It’s really quite distracting to be living downtown.

Why would you unpack when you could get:

- An Orange Julius

- Pho

- Tibetan and/or Western trinkets

- A free concert of the Music of Styx

- Harassed by street performers/magicians/homeless/drunk college people

- Rattlesnake Hot Dogs

- A horse and carriage ride

- Stuck people watching for hours

- Drunk at a new adult arcade

- A movie just like two blocks from your new apartment

- Slurpees and Taquitos from the 7-11 that is on the ground level of your building

- A Creme Puff as big as your ass

And really I could just go on for ages here.

There is quite a lot to eat and see and hear.

So, I thrifted this entire outfit in one sesh.

Well, the bag was on a separate occasion, but literally, everything that I will have on from morning till evening… one shot.

How weird would it be if I actually did wear my purse all day long at my desk..?

Ew.

That’s nonsense.

Hello oversaturation!

AND HELLO NEW INFINITY CHAIN FROM MY FAVORITE CRAFTY CAT LADY EVER!

Folks, let us take a moment and revel in her glory (both the lady and the necklace).

Merl, the amazing mastermind behind Clyde’s Rebirth seriously creates some of the best jewelry I done ever seen.

And she’s gorgeous.

And she’s hilarious.

I luff her and I hope she moves to Denver (hello, testing, Merl, do you hear me?).

And folks, please expect to see the Infinity Chain in nearly every post from this point forward.

Sam Edelman flats + Trousers + Blouse + Tribal Bangles + Tribal bag + Shades: Thrifted :: Hot pink bangles: Common Era

Ok, I realized that I definitely lied again.

The two pink bangles I bought at a regular store.

But those other guys, the tribal ones: thrifted.

Boom.

303 Magazine PRIDEFEST Issue Release & Fashion Show

You know that feeling you get when you hold a bunch of newborn kittens in your arms and someone feeds you ice cream while you get your feet rubbed?

That’s how I feel looking back on last night’s release party for 303Magazine’s Pridefest Special Edition.

To me, this event isn’t really about the fashion.

Granted, it is fucking amazing to see 8-10 male models in their skivvies covered in glitter– but that’s not why we all came out.

Well, that is certainly why some of came out (pun… intended…?).

But this event was just so full of love and happiness that it is truly impossible to leave it with a frown on your face.

The worst and most unfortunate bit of the evening was that Ryan and I didn’t bring the camera.

WE DIDN’T BRING THE CAMERA?!

OH

MY

GOD.

Update: I FOUND Pictures!!!

But folks, fret not for I am a painter of words and will show you, with combinations of letters and symbols, what I saw.

- A two- or three-foot diameter astroturf derby hat, complete with astroturf cape (daisy appliqués) and white patent go-go boots.

(S)he and I had an extended hand hold, like two lovers refusing to part. It was terribly sweet.

(told you so)

- A man at least seven feet tall.

(Nothing else special about him but boy was it crazy!)

- Smiles.

Everywhere.

- My new friend Mabel and her amazing 1/2 denim, 1/2 fabric mini skirt ca. 1992 and fabulous snakeskin pumps.

- MONDO!

Oh, how I swoon.

And he sat but two seats away.

- Some of the best damn drag queens you’ve ever seen.

(told you so)

Our emcee, Chris Parente:

(told you so)

- Smiles.

Everywhere.

(told you so)

It’s like… the last two fashion shows we went to– everyone acts like weirdos.

They are all super nervous, very concerned that they are under/over/wrongly/poorly dressed.

They are probably looking for dates.

They are just plain awkward, and sometimes too drunk.

But last night??!

Dancing! Touching! Hugging! Laughing! Giggling! Making eye contact (with strangers!)! MINGLING!

Nothing beats that.

Literally nothing.

So who gives a shit if you can (and probably did) get the same CK whitie tighties at TJMAXX.

I don’t.

I just want to have a blast and rub shoulders with the best of Denver.

And.

I did.

I may not be gay, but I couldn’t be more proud.

Bravo, Charlie.

Bravo.

{photo credit: Andrea Rael via Huffington Post}

Somewhere Over The Rainbow

FOLKS!

I have an announcement!

I have to say that of all of the 303 Magazine Events that I have attended, this one excites me the most.

And I haven’t even attended it yet…

Local lovers, please join me tomorrow evening for probably one of the funnest nights of your lives so far this year.

Seriously.

How could “sailors, women in suits, and men modeling shorts” (the themes of the evening) let you down?

They couldn’t.

They just simply could not.

So seriously, guys.

Buy some fucking tickets and support an amazing cause that we all care about.

And have some fun, get dressed in your fanciest pantsiest, and dance your damn ass off with some L’s, B’s, G’s, and T’s.

But I Won’t Be Worried Long

Well.

It’s been a while.

Quite a while.

Quite a long while.

I apologize.

We moved.

100% officially moved.

New digs.

Boxes everywhere.

Achy bones.

Optimistic excitement.

It is so nice to not have to think about it anymore.

True, there is still painting, redecorating, and unpacking to do.

But for the most part, these are generally fun activities.

Much funner than say, carrying four huge rugs down three-plus flights of stairs that the movers left on our roof to quadruple in weight on account of being saturated with rain water.

Definitely. Much funner than that.

And we have had some time to traipse around the new neighborhood.

I think we’re gonna be happy here.

While it certainly wasn’t our idea- we are starting to realize how much we really disliked about the old digs.

New digs feel much more like home.

There is a definite coldness to living in a place this it just so blatantly industrial.

To be honest:

we just want to sit and lay and roll around on the carpet.

Cement floors fucking suck.

Truly.

And now we have a guest bedroom so all of you guys can come and visit me!

Sunshine Loafers: Jeffrey Campbell :: Jeans + Blazer: Urban :: Floral crop top: Common Era

And.

While I was away.

I turned into…

A redhead.

What Kind of a Hamburger Stand is This?

OK.

#1:

I lied.

#2:

It wasn’t my fault that I lied.

#3:

My hairstylist had strep throat and that is why I lied and that is why my hair looks the same as it did Friday even though I promised you otherwise.

#4:

I’m sorry.

But-

there ain’t nothin’ any of us can do about it.

Except for deal with it.

But-

You can rest assured that on Monday, May 23rd my hair will be different.

Or, maybe if you’re lucky I will post on |gasp| Sunday, May 22nd.

But that is really not the least bit likely.

Anyway.

It’s finally starting to feel like spring around these parts.

In fact, it’s actually starting to feel like summer.

I hate that.

Each season should take its sweet ass time, you know?

I’m not ready to go from winter to summer in one snap, folks.

I need a rainy season that teases of summer and reminds me of winter.

This is pretty much bullshit right here.

All hot and sticky already, geez!

So then you may say-

well gee, Zoë if its so hot and sticky then why are you wearing jeans???

Good question, I would say.

That’s because my fella and I have been working so dang hard on this packing business that we decided to treat ourselves to some Chelada’s in the hammock on Saturday morning.

Barely an hour in the sun and

ohmygod.

Blue Pumps: Jessica Simpson :: Jeans: Urban :: Mint Top: AA :: Bag: Thrifted

That does my sunburn no justice whatsoever.

I can’t wear shorts (but can barely stand the jeans on my legs!) as my legs are almost purple and my chest feels like it will split open and bleed any second now.

I tried not to be too risqué here, but if you look closely in the other pictures you can actually see the burn through my shirt.

I’m a complete idiot.

Granted I didn’t think the short amount of morning time out there would leave me looking like this, but….

C’est la vie.

And also- please bear with me this week.

I have a handful items that aren’t packed yet that I get to play dress up with.

It’s like 30 for 30 but it’s 5 for 5.

Which means things will be pretty boring around here.

Well, I ordered a blazer and some loafers, too.

They’re coming.

But it wasn’t a contest so it’s not like I cheated.

Shut up.

Amongst The Broken Cabbages

Geez, Louise.

I’m a busy little bee, folks.

This is officially our last packing weekend.

Next week is our last week at home.

Old home, that is.

New home as of Friday the 13th.

Creepy.

AND GUESS WHAT ELSE?

Today is the last day.

The very last day.

That my hair will look like this.

Tomorrow:

salon

I’m about 75% sure that I am cutting all of the blonde off and dyin’ her dark.

BUT.

We shall see . . .   .   .    .

Pumps: Payless :: Tights: Target :: Shorts + Leopard print Tank: Forever21 :: Necklace: JCPenny :: Earrings: Gift from a Modcloth event

And as always friends, with that I bid you all the most raging good timeingest, busting sick rhymesingest, stuck in a box like a mimeingest, filling coconuts with limeingest weekends of your lives!