For many of you who have yet to know, I recently entered a contest sponsored by Virgin Radio 95.3 and Oakridge Centre Mall to become a Style Agent. So, without sleeping my way to the top or ordering a hit on anyone, I was fortunate enough to be
signed crowned ONE of FOUR agents who will lead the Vancouver fashion following for Oakridge Centre’s 50th Anniversary year, A.K.A. I’m getting paid to look good.
So in the case of terribly misrepresenting Oakridge Centre or looking like a bigger big bitch than I already am, I was thrown into some intense media and press training and I must say, that watching yourself on camera is sooooooooooooo slit my wrists painful! With all the sass I thought I had in my blog writing, you would only think it would be natural for me to be somewhat or even remotely that witty on camera during interviews, but really, it’s like catching your boyfriend try to fierce out in a pair of 6inch red patent stilettos . . . completely awkward and horribly discomforting!
I’m terrible when I’m put under pressure but to add a camera and an audience, just makes the pressure weigh a ton more! My mind goes completely blank and all I can remember is what I wore the day before. It’s like I’m a brainless valley-girl with a minuscule-vocabulary of “andddd like” or “ummmmmmmm”. . . Can you say, “Ummmm like totally useless and incoherent?”
So with more nerves than shoes in my closet, all I can do now is practice practice practice my interviewing skills on camera and if all else fails, I’m going to bat my lashes and smile like my life depended on it. And, to quote my dear loving crazy aunt, “At least you’re pretty”.
With my fingers crossed, I’m filing my taxes today in hopes that I will gain some of my hard earn money back because heck, I’m still that unemployed fashioninsto that would rather spend every last cent on a new shirt from H&M than satisfying my growling stomach. . . Starving Stylist much?
So, with the thought of receiving tax money back, I went out into town and did what I knew how to do best . . . SHOP. Cruising down the chic boutiques along West 4th, I came across these adoring 3.1 Phillip Lim cotton crochet carnation pins and couldn’t help but stare in awe. But after much attention, the thought of pinning a carnation to my jacket blazer made me roll my eyes so far back I nearly went blind as I remembered how much I hated these pathetic filler flowers in real life.
I’m a complete sap when it comes to receiving flowers of any sort but the sight of a carnation makes me want to throw a psychotic Carrie Bradshaw ditched at the wedding alter moment in the Sex and the City movie! I absolutely LOATHE carnations as they are an exact equivalent to weeds; cheap, unattractive and dull. You can dye them multi-coloured, bejewel them with a Bedazzler or even dip them in gold, I’d still rather get bitch slapped across the face than receive such filth! So sorry Phillip Lim, the next time when you decided to design a weed-like accessory, how about making it out of cannabis? So if I decide that I no longer like it, I can always roll it up and smoke it.
Call me twisted, sickk or completely high on the smell of gasoline, but I think Australia’s Miss Universe contestant, Stephanie Naumoska is absolutely stunning! Sure, bitch may look like she lacked a cheeseburger (or maybe two with extra mayo of course), but hell, some of us there would KILL for a
naturally rail thin body, outlined ribcage and protruding hip bones! Fuck, at least I know I would!
So to hear all this gossip about the ‘Miss Universe Body Scandal’ or the ‘Skinny Controversy’ on countless websites such as THIS, THAT and EVEN THIS makes me extremely frustrated because people immediately conclude that this skinny bitch has some kind of eating disorder or is malnourished or blah blah blah because she has a bone or two sticking out of her body! I have extreme collar bones and my hip bones protrude out too but I’m healthy. . . well sorta (???). Maybe sometimes people are just born naturally pin-needle thin because it’s in their genes or maybe their will power to not binge on junk is a force to be reckon with unlike our fatty selves? And if none of these were the case. . . then I want the damn number of the dealer they’re getting their fix from because that shit must be good!
So malnourished beauty queen or not, TEAM
HIP BONES AUSTRALIA FOR THE WIN!
Lord Bless you Uncle Karl, for your amazing tailoring on these slim-cut, peak-lapelled, eight-buttoned suit jackets and sport coats! *swoon* Among all the Starving Stylists out there, I would be most proud to sport that blazer above with a picture of you on my chest, better yet . . .even on my crotch if you decided to design yourself on intimate wear!
The Devil Wears
So for the past few days, I’ve been assisting with a local fashion stylist that’s working on multi-thousand dollar campaign for BC Place. I had to go shopping for sportswear uniforms & protection gear for the photo shoot, which was completely out of my expertise, kind of like throwing me a wrench and telling me to fix a car. I wouldn’t have a clue what the hell to do and I obviously would be too afraid to get my Prada dirty! Anyways, the photo shoot went amazingly well except for one misstep . . . I had somehow mistakenly forgotten to pick up a pair of goalie gloves for the shoot. SHITTTTTTT! Because time is money and when a huge production is brought to a sudden halt due to a
tiny little huge mishap, there is going to be some angryyyy diva’s on set! Shitttttttt better brace myself for a Blackberry across the face!
After some MAJOR damage control and running out and purchasing the gloves, I had to face the Queen B of the talent agency. Walking into her quaint home office with my tail between my legs, I sat down opposite from her at her desk with my Louis clutched so tightly I could see oxidization start to happen on the bag strap due to my sweaty palms. Completely casual looking in her Lululemon yoga attire, but still fiercely intimidating with her head-set on, she said “Mr. Peter T Hoang. . . . .” Oh fuck me, she just said my entire full name, she’s going to rip me a new one!
And she did.
I sat there biting my tongue and digging my nails into the leather seat in complete silence while she ranted and barked at me. After ten minutes of slaughtering and butchering me for my faults, she gave me a smile. OMFG. SHE’S GOING TO EAT ME!
But she didn’t.
After beating me down to the ground and stomping on my hopeless dreams, she propped me back up and praised me for being so diligent and spot on with the tasks I was given. She told me that I was great and the only reason why she was being so hard on me is because she didn’t want wasted potential to go down the drain. And to quote her exact words, “I like you, but just don’t fuck up ever again”.
Note taken. Thank you Ma’am.
Suspenders worn with a belt:
Suspenders worn with a belt always bothered me, but I always bit my tongue and told myself to play nice while thinking of cute little bunnies. But, my tongue is completely gnawed, the bunnies have been roasted and now I’m just damn fuckin’ annoyed.
Seriously, WTF. Are your pants and trousers that large that you have the needs to clip on some suspenders for extra support even though you already have a thick waist belt strapped on so tightly that you have a muffin top? NO.
Wearing a belt and suspenders together is not cute. Either wear one or the other, NOT BOTH. It’s completely unnecessary and excessive like wearing your eyeglasses when your contact lenses are already in place. So save yourself and what’s left of your dignity and don’t do it.
This had all the perfect ingredients of what would be an amazing ménage-à-trois, unfortunately this “[Un]Inspiring Beauty” editorial photo for the May 09’ American Vogue is so lacklustre, I would rather stare at peeling wallpaper.
I don’t celebrate the Easter holiday but when it’s over, I do celebrate and praise the fact that all the Easter chocolate candy goes on sale for half-price!
As I swaggered around Wal-Mart with my oversized sunglasses on and my trench coat tied so tightly that I could barely breathe nor bend, I couldn’t help myself but dive into the Easter clearance and rummage for Cadbury’s gloriously delicious Mini Eggs! After 15 minutes, my coat was off, merchandise was thrown everywhere and I’ve secretly sampled just about everything that was there. Luckily, I was able to walk away with the last two small bags of Mini Eggs. One of the bags I actually found in the abundance of other cocoa imitations while the second bag, I stole from someone’s shopping cart. Hey, it’s fair game and besides you shouldn’t have left your shopping cart unattended in the first place, that’s just like wearing open toe shoes to a busy night club and hoping no one will step on your pedicured toes! You’re just asking for it to happen!
I came across these diabetic inducing and bank account draining, diamond confections online the other day while I was searching for recipes for Easter cupcakes for my niece. F.Y.I. I can’t bake to save my life. I’ll probably mistake powdered icing sugar for something else that’s also in a white powdered form. . . *ahem*
Anyways, these cupcakes are the kind you'll probably find sold at a rich bitch’s bake sale, which I would totally attend and then leave with only one tiny treat but with a house and car completely mortgaged! These puny but high calorie diet murderers come completely pimped out with 8 ideal round cut brilliant diamonds around its circumference and then it’s topped off with a 2 karat Asscher cut diamond in the center, which undeniably beats having a cherry on top ANY DAY!
Each delicately made cupcake comes with a price-tag value of $30,000 + $3 (like, for the cupcake itself of course!) Ergo, these true confections will definitely please every material soul’s desire and at the same time, satisfy that aching sweet tooth! Purchase one for me at Mervis Diamonds and I’ll love you long time.
“Sorry everyone, Britney has run out of BLOW and is unable to resume her show until she gets more of her FIX.”
That should have been the valid excuse issued at the Vancouver concert last night that left us audience members in the dark for 40 minutes booing and hollering, after Ms. “Wheres-my-blow-Bitch Britney Spears” walked off stage after performing only three songs! Don’t blame it on the smoking and the poor ventilation because BITCH PUHHHLEASE BRITNEY, we all know your pictured advocate smoker, and hellooooooooooooo you’re lip-syncing! That’s what you’re talented for, DUH!
little major stunt pulled last night totally killed the enjoyment of the concert for me and since I wasn’t on any narcotics or didn’t have any alcohol left in my system, I left the concert even more bitchier than my usual self. . .and trust me, I’m already a normal bitchy person on an average day! And the fact that I was pact under a roof full of distasteful, scantily clad dressed polyester/rayon wearing teenagers and overweight mothers, I wanted to hang myself from the neck in disgust with my Britney lanyard! AGURH.
But on a serious note, I will give the concert credit for the amazing production set-up. The theme, lighting, props, dancing and of course the lip-syncing was superbly amazing!
What I enjoyed the most was the wardrobe and costuming which was created/designed by the human chipmunk duo, Dsquared. From the eye-catching and beautifully embellished Indian sari’s to the A.D.D. causing sequined bustiers and fleshtone body suits, everything was created tastefully scandalous! Loved it! So kuuudos to you Dsquared and as for you, Britney, you still secretly hold a tiny spectacle in my heart right next to the toxic smell of gasoline and my gimped kindergarten teacher. xoxo
Keep your panties clean and polish up your fuck me pumps because the “CIRCUS” is in town and it’s not any kind of freakshow! Ms. Former-shave-my-head-bald and flash-my-vajayjay American Dream girl, BRITNEY SPEARS has finally got her shit together and I’m dying with pure EXCITEMENT to see what she has in-store for tonight’s concert! And seriously what better skanky opening act wouldn’t be better than
Uncle Karl may you bless me, if I come out alive tonight with my hair still perfectly intact, my Chanel clutch still on hand and without any scuff marks on my Ferragamo boots. Amen!
This entry is dedicated to you Niki B.- To the one of the few who would choose style over comfort anyday. xoxo
When it comes to shopping, I am perfectly comfortable browsing around in the ladies section. . .Heck, I’m even more comfortable trying on the stuff myself! Sure, it’s tailored for a woman’s body, but clothes now-a-days are so androgynous looking, no one will ever know the difference! Besides, I’m a recent SKINNY BITCH, I fit a women’s size 6 PERFECTLY ; ) But on my recent shopping venture in the Starbucks littered streets of Downtown Vancouver, I had the hardest time shopping in one particular store and it WAS NOT because of my gender!
I am not going to state the name of this “Independent hip hop/street fashion/sneaker boutique based out of the city” or give the exact Hornby Street just off Robson next to the Starbucks location, but I will state the fact that I completely did not feel welcomed in the shop at all. But no No NO . . . by no means was I discriminated nor hated upon at this store. It was the obvious fact that how I presented my personal style in the way I dressed that one day, threw off the sales associates causing them to quickly categorize me as a non-potential client because of the way I dressed did not fit the store’s image.
I’m sorry my knee-high western boots worn that day were not a pair of Air Force Ones and I’m SORRY for parading around a large leather Prada shoppers’ tote instead of a . . . .basketball? It was really unfortunate because I really liked a lot of the colourful and unique merchandise in the boutique and I was actually about to purchase a fitted ball cap, but my comfort level was at its breaking point and I didn’t feel like trying it on for size. . . also, I didn't want to get my hair all messed up.
Ohhhh well. Saved me from swiping my Visa and spending money I don’t have on something impulsive!