Food Water Fashion - The Obituary

 As some of you may have noticed (amend: may NOT have noticed), I have been a blogosphere absentee for the past few weeks as a symptomatic reaction to the surplus in seasonal academic examination scheduling and its associated personal increase in "alcohol-as-a-coping-mechanism" activity as well as my accumulating distaste for this entire blog in general. To be brief, this blog is coming to an end. Yes, my lovely followers and friends, Food Water Fashion shall be no more.

This decision came after a bout of swelling personal frustration coupled with more than one trip to the school bathroom featuring the Dawson Leery Ugly Cry and finally, a conscious awareness of my dissatisfaction with the amateur nature of this blog. Since beginning FWF approximately two years ago as a fun outlet for me to regurgitate my inner innapropriateness and for visually cataloguing my love for fashion and art, my motivation for blogging has evolved from casual frivolity to necessity. I cannot imagine no longer blogging. If the measure of one's passion can be determined by what the mind turns to when it wanders, then blogging (as well as men with enough tattoos to offend my father) is mine.Which is another reason why the acceptance of this blog's impending death has been dragged out like a depressing relationship.

But like a vacuously lonely recent dump-ee, breakups necessitate rebounds and this next one is going to be GODDAMN SEXY. It will also stick around longer than the duration of an awkward morning-after breakfast.

COMING SOON...ish to a computer screen near you, my next blog:

NOT A NUDIST

Trust me guys, this one's gonna be good.

If you do not value your free time, continue to follow my Facebook and Twitter for insolent banter and for announcements regarding the upcoming blog's launch in the coming weeks.

Until our next viral interaction, stay classy…………….. individually applicable urban centres….

Ok, BYE.

-Lisa

F+W+F = The Mathematics of Style

Edition #1: Irritable Bowel Synd-wich+Coffee All Day Er' Day+La Fourrure 

Introducing a weekly roster of the FOOD, the WATER and the FASHION whose presence did grace my life in the past 7 days. User-friendly and broken down into simple math to humour the left side of your brain into thinking that it still has value post grade 12 calculus failure.

This week's equation features free Tim Horton's sandwiches, coffee stains and lipstick memoirs, and between 40 to 50 muskrats reincarnated for collar-poppin' purposes.

Fur Coat - Vintage | T-Shirt - TRAVIS TADDEO | Shorts - Value Village | Boots  - Deena & Ozzy 

Sexxxual Confessions Featuring Denim on Denim

And from then on their TREND-scending love was proclaimed. Show your support this fall for free love in fashion and get your denim on denim...on. Don't hate, copulate.

Who knew that sexual metaphors could be so wearable?

Jean Jacket - Vintage | Mesh Sweat Shirt - Vintage | White Top - Complex Geometries | Jeans - Guess? | Boots - Topshop

And in the spirit of taking risks in the closet,  I wouldn't be surprised if this were the beginning of a regular feature. Look forward to such conversation anecdotes as: "I want you in my pants," said my loins to the cotton/bamboo thermal underwear.

And in vaguely relevant updates, I give you "Platonic Love" c/o my mom and I.

Happy Weekend. And for more time-wasters, click it.

HYPE em' up style

I grant you permission.

We're all Winners Here

All of us, except for those of you who lost, meaning most of you. On the other hand (or shall I say, collarbone) shall be found this necklace. And the especially lucky collarbone of which I speak belongs to @Julinthesky. 

Congrats girl.
Thanks to all who sabotaged their personal twitter feeds as well as their hickey-free neck integrity all in the name of the democratic distribution of style.

Just dollin' it out like Sandy Claus

As if you haven't been ambushed from behind and then ratatap-tapped on the head repeatedly about the significance of the forthcoming Hurricane Sandy in our collective "things that are pop-culturally significant" cognition, I come bringing yet another piteous play on words with my "Sandy Claus" self-proclamation in lieu of the fact that I would like to take this opportunity to GIVE YOU FREE SHIT. Which is likely the only reason you are reading this at all, isn't it, you greedy, materialistic bastards? Well fine then, I will shut up with my lame attempt at ironic charm and get to the climactic point.

Miss Cocotte just launched her campaign for her newest line, VERSUS, in which I pout and purr and do hopefully sexy things with my hips which were, in fact, mostly just awkward in practice.

POINT BEING: If you care to look up yonder, you shall see a fancy lil' necklace that I will give to you if you succeed at proving yourself worthy.

Critical factors of Worthiness:
1) Comment below with your name & Twitter handle.
2) Follow me and Miss Cocotte on Twitter goddamit.
2) Extra entry if you tweet this: @FoodH20Fashion x @MissCocotte Versus necklace contest offers post-hickey-hiding insurance. Enter http://www.foodwaterfashion.com/2012/10/just-dollin-it-out-like-sandy-claus.html

Get on it peoples. You have until FRIDAY NOVEMBER 2nd at MIDNIGHT, at which point Sandy Claus will swoop down your chimney with gale-force winds and generosity to boot. The fat man in red meets the hormonal elemental phenomenon and somehow, your neck gets better looking in the process. Life is rough, eh?

For the rest of the campaign photos, click heeere.

I Only Read Picture Books

Especially this one. FWF comin' at ya from all sides of the intranet now. Ain't that just PPPPPeachy?

HYPE THAT SHIT

The Teen-AGE: Editorial

Photos by Jason Mousseau
Styling by me

Negotiating Neon

Excuse me while I stand on my imaginary pedestal of L.E.D. lit self-righteousness, but I hated each and every one of you who wore neon anything this past summer, you obnoxious attention-seekers, you. 

The bright orange nails, those goddamn trendy satchel bags available in any visually offending fluorescent hue available to Pantone-kind, and every blonde who dyed her hair pink because apparently, your genetically-predisposed VIP pass for fun just isn't enough and you had to go rub it in every wanting brunette's face by making your head look like the aftermath of a Hello Kitty-themed Sweet-Sixteen slumber party.

Anyways, my metaphorical period ended, I stopped taking extra-strength Advil (one is NEVER enough) and as the weather starts sucking on a continuous basis, I have rectified my aforementioned hostility with the neon colour palette and welcomed it into my wardrobe to counteract the death-sentence that is a looming Montreal winter.

Black Top: Vintage | White Mesh Pullover: Vintage | Lime Mesh Sweater: Genevieve Savard | Leather Jacket: Only NYC | Blue Shorts: New Balance | Bag: Topshop Vintage | Creeper Boots: Alexander Wang

And now I am content in the self-proclaimed irony of my electric blue hot pants. This winter, your retinas are in for it. Just. You. Wait.

What to Wear During a Montreal Earthquake

Whether it was caused by Pauline Marois, or the unsettling number of hipsters forming indie bands in this city, the ground literally did move last night in a 4.5 magnitude earthquake, inciting delirious men and women to evacuate their homes and demand to be taken seriously by emergency officials while wearing nothing but terry-cloth bath robes.

Now really, is this any way to dress when approaching your life's greatest battle for survival and/or your imminent death? I think not. And with approximately 151, 600 people dying on average every single day, you had better make sure that you step up your game because St. Peter's a busy dead dude and first impressions count.

SO the next time mother nature gets pissy, this is what you should be protecting and wearing:

PROTECT YOUR TORSO from flying debris, including concrete and Fairmount bagels with a puffer vest vis à vis Pyrenex and Penfield.

PROTECT YOUR BUILT-IN SHOCK ABSORBERS BOOBS when the lights go off and groping takes the place of seeing with easily discernible brights and graphics in Kenzo sweatshirt formation.

PROTECT YOUR GAMS with sweat shorts, or pants, or short-pants from Rick Owens and Adidas when electricity cops out and the cold sets in.

PROTECT YOUR FEET when jumping through fires and over potholes caused by City of Montreal neglect the earthquake. Cheap Monday flatforms will get ya to the other side.

PROTECT YOUR EARS from auditory defamation because when French people swear at high frequencies, glass shatters and eardrums burst. This ear-flap-equipped shearling hat from Kenzo will ensure you won't be needing a hearing aid once the last after-shocks subside.

Safety + Style = Salvation, and Lord knows your track record is at least 56 drunken Instagrams short of a free pass into Heaven, so I would burn those UGG boots RIGHT-ABOUT-NOW. 

How to Fake it in America: Dressing for the Interview

There are times in life when one must pretend to be not oneself, but someone quite different in the name of the forward movement or metaphorical ladder climbing of one's person. For example, my face tends to communicate to all those within a 15-20 metre physical  radius of me that I am not fit to be a member of the tax-paying community, a  graduate of any level of post-elementary education, or a human being in general. SEEEEEE. 

So how do we render "psychopath" synonymous with "prospective future employee of the month?" 

1) Leather on leather on leather (bitches)

2) All your hair...on top of your head...in a knot...right now

3) A bright top that says "Look, I'm fun and enthusiastic" after which the leather interjects with "But not too fun, because ya know, she's wearing no less than 2 dead cows."

4) Jewellery, preferably that which swings a little to the conservative right, back to the risky left and then settles contentedly in the middle; the sartorial equivalent of a Mitt x Obama make-out sesh.

And alas, you are guaranteed to either get the job or at the very least, a sincerely sympathetic letter of dismissal to add to your pity pile which is probably just roundabout way of corporate America saying to you, "Girl, where were your shoulder pads?"

Well, now you know.

Jacket: Only NY | Top: Vintage | Leather Pants: H&M | Shoes: Timo Weiland for Tsubo | Earrings: Rachel Rachel Roy

Wedding and Weep

An editorial based on Baz Luhrmann's Romeo & Juliet. I think that a series of rainbows, malevolent jellyfish (but mostly just Nicki Minaj) puked on the Montagues. Teenage angst in technicolour. 

Via BULLET mag.