Concerning chokers and really aggressive limbs

This is a service announcement. A.K.A. an announcement in which I provide to you the service of knowing that, after more than a decade of widely-inflicted neglect and even downright rejection, the choker is back with a vengeance. But this time around, it should not be mistrusted for its strangling capabilities or for its legacy as an immediate identifier of angst-ridden adolescent goths circa 1995. This time, there are no dagger-like studs. This time, the choker just wants to party along with the rest of your neck paraphernalia (i.e. thinner chains like the one pictured above in my version of the comeback). Yes my friends, the choker is all grown-up and it's looking to settle down for the long-run (or at least S/S 2012) on a neck such as yours.

Rihanna boldly proclaimed the return of the until-recently exiled accessory at a Stella McCartney presentation and with a leg-outside-dress-slit pose serious enough to rival the overnight sensation of @AngiesRightLeg post-Oscars, there can be no arguing with a neck and a leg so prominently trendy and trending, respectively.

While Rhi Rhi's left leg battles it out with Angelina's right leg for title of America's most popular appendage, here are some more sightings of the newer, friendlier and significantly more social choker of the 21st century via two of my favourite bloggers, the Man Repeller and Oracle Fox.

 Now go, try, do, be. Indubitably.

Oscar's Alternative

For those of you looking for a little more visual inspiration than what can be offered during a certain internationally broadcasted awards show where the same select celebrities receive all of the praise and credit for the work of a stylist and the creative vision of a designer. Watch this instead.

Fashion Week in French

The first of 4 Montreal Fashion Week posts is up. 

CLICK CLICK. 

Bye, bye.

In case you haven't seen Marie Saint Pierre's F/W 12 campaign film

I saw this and just about rolled over and died. Watch and marvel.

I Guess They Don't Like my Face

But they sure like my lace (in pant-suit/pyjama/sexy negligée/fancy knickers form). And although Montreal's Dress to Kill Magazine cropped out my face, I bear no hard feelings. On the contrary, I'd like to thank them for featuring my middle half on their blog, for though I was not dressed with the intention of killing someone and dressed more so with the intention of hopefully ending up at a stylish slumber party, I would like to assure them that they made the right decision in choosing me, since as you may recall, I am a true appreciator of apparel that can compensate for a lack of pepper spray or personal grenade launchers when promenading down dark alleyways at midnight.

Give this a gander for the full blog post and then check in tomorrow for my first full reminiscent memoir on Montreal Fashion Week over at Miss-Sly.com. 

Proenza's Feet

Proenza Schouler F/W 2012. 

Thank God for gay men with vision and fashion degrees.

Un Drole d'Histoire Before Bedtime

So I went to an event tonight, the A is for Aldo Fragrance Collection launch party, and it was all swell and swanky and such; the wine and bubbly was pouring, the h'ordeuvres were tasting mighty fine and the regulars were all there including photographers, bloggers and big time designers.

Now all of this sounds just fine and dandy so far, and I'm sure you have only been mildly interested throughout the reading of this seemingly bland story-telling session, but rest assured that the apex moment of the night had only just begun.

After choosing to retire permanently from said schmooze fest, who should walk gracefully and triumphantly out the door only to conveniently miss the ledge and its subsequent drop in elevation to trip very obviously and unbecomingly and to almost twist her ankle? To have a waiter cede his ...errr...waiting duties to ask her if she was okay and to thereupon smile bashfully and then proceed to limp down the staircase in a sobering walk-of-shame fashion?

Me. Obviously. The things I do...the personal mortification I endure...and the body parts I damage.

Let it be known...Fashion fucking hurts.

A Post-V Day Rant

I don't even like the colour red. It's offensive. It shows up on people's walls, on their nails, even in their hair and it just flails its arms erratically screaming, "Look, I'm over here, look at me! Me! Me! ME!"

And then some stupid cherub with a bow and arrow or a saintly monk by the name of Valentine (who must have seriously been reassessing his eternal condemnation to celibacy) decided to glorify the god damn attention-seeker and assign it the role of official visual identifier for an entire human emotion.

And last night, red went and puked all over my dining room and used its evil accomplice,Valentine's Day, as its scapegoat. So what else were we to do but deal with it and throw a party? There were hearts, bows, Hawaiian shirts and Justin Bieber stickers (who understands the heart's mysteries better than the Biebs?), in other words, it was a true celebration of love.

Mad(ge) about Givenchy

While all week we heard about M.I.A.'s famed middle finger and a particularly controversial upward motion that she made with that same digit, tonight I would like to turn your attention the the handiwork of a Monsieur Ricardo Tisci (of whom I have purred some pretty big praises before) in his drop-your-jaw-to-da-floor Cleopatra/High School Musical Marching Band costume aesthetic and the sketches behind his masterful work.

Givenchy is killing it this year. But not really, because although his recurring themes have centred widely around domesticated animals (shall I recall the cat-eared headgear and the ferociously-fanged pit bull prints?),  I will repeat that no animals were harmed in the making of any of his collections and that he was in fact wholly  responsible for the long-awaited achievement of world peace that was declared at the end of Madonna's marathon performance. FACT. Can you say "multi-tasker?"

So if, like me, you are drinking a bottle of wine alone on a Saturday night (and are totally stoked about it), browse below for some inspiration.

And don't think I have forgotten to post about Montreal Fashion Week. Follow me RIGHT HERE for fashion week follow-ups exclusively at Miss-Sly.com comin' up oh so soon. Promise.

(Images via Style.com)

Montreal Fashion Week: The Prelude

My debut as a fashion blogging correspondent is set for tonight on this, day two, of Montreal Fashion Week, where I will be putting on my most professional blogger's face (see Figure 1 for reference) in hopes of convincing people that I know exactly what I'm doing as I photograph the fashion and interview the fashionistas and then proceed to clog up your Facebook feed with incessant tweets about it all.

Now, keep in mind that I use the term "professional" very loosely. Do I own a personal computer for blogging purposes? Nope (R.I.P. Hewlett Packard). Will I be wearing a dress from a coveted Québecois designer? Again, no. But can I pretend? Well according to this business card, oh yes.

In fact, I am completely without a computer (but thankfully, my moral-deficiency allows for the stealing of my roommate's laptop) and I will be wearing a lovely piece from Village des Valeurs Couture which I can only define as belonging to the pyjama category of dress. Here again, I use the word "trend" and "couture"quite loosely, while using the term "pyjama" very seriously. (I'm not kidding, it's a one-piece pyjama. Get excited.)

But, no matter! You can stalk me freely throughout the week here and here with no worries of negative social sanctions or even embarassing restraining orders. And check in with Miss Sly in the coming weeks for more opportunities to follow me around the runways shamelessly.

And rest assured that there will be fun and there will be fashion.

TREND to TRY before you DIE: We Demand Transparency

Guess what's coming (other than your biologically pre-determined and absolutely certain death)? Summer. Which, after ample experience, I can tell you is substantially less morbid than my opening sentence and way more enjoyable, what with its sunshine, uncomfortable heat rashes, and less-than fully clothed revelers. In comes the summer and out pops comes the cleavage, it seems. Well, not only do I have no substantial cleavage to speak of, but I really think that, given that the 2012 clock is ticking on the end of humankind and all, I strongly support the dispelling of any and all distasteful trends such as that one so that we as a species will carry with our preserved (hopefully) bodily remains, a lasting legacy of style and taste.

So ditch the push-up bra and show us some skin through a sheer and/or crocheted summer dress. Bras and cycling shorts mandatory here. Remember that butt cheeks and nipples need not apply to this trend. My picks come from Montreal's Maude Nibelungen, Stolen Girlfriends Club, Sisters of the Black Moon, and Style Stalker.

For more ideas fashion bucket list ideas, clicka here!