foxification project

Of course I was always going to post them! Don't you worry, I am vain enough for that.

Charles sent me his top five, and while I think he made me look good in all of them, there were two that were my particular favourites. So those are the ones you get to see.

Oh what the fuck, I'll throw in the one that wasn't my particular favourite, so you can see both my other new glasses, my new lipstick, a new thrifted shirt and, most importantly, my zine wall.

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Reminder! Dinner tomorrow, the Manx: at 6:30 pm sharp the world romancing will begin.

I am terrible at getting my picture taken. There's no relaxing, there's no looking natural. There were about 5 or 6 years in my twenties when I didn't let people take my photo. "I don't like having my photo taken," I'd say. And they'd say "Oh heck, nobody likes having their photo taken." And I would say "Don't take my picture."

But it's 10 years later and there's digital cameras and the internet. And nice people with a good eye and fancy equipment who are willing to come to your house and take very many After Foxification pictures for the low low fee of one chocolate chip banana loaf. They will do it and be kind even if you can't relax while the camera is on because although you no longer hate having your picture taken, you are still trying to like it.

Before Charles and Amanda came over to snap and entertain me respectively, I went over to Jennifer's to do my hair.

Let me back up here. I am a putz when it comes to this kind of girly stuff. The 80s were not a kind decade to girls with bone straight hair. They were a decade of curling iron burns and hair sizzled from cheap, crappy crimpers. And then the 90s were a decade of grunge and coming out. I can't remember the last time I owned a hair dryer, but I do remember that I got it for Christmas when I was still living at my parent's house, which was, suffice it to say, a long long time ago. I hadn't worn make up more than once a year for nigh on a decade. Until 4 months ago, my black eyeliner was the same vintage as the lost hair dryer.

This year, that's changed. I seem to have turned back into the kind of person who needs Product. Which leads me to standing in Jennifer's bathroom while she patiently instructed me.

"It heats up fast, so it's probably ready now."
"Okay."

I stood there, watching the flat iron getting stealthily hotter. I hadn't realized how nervous I would be about putting something that hot near my face for the first time since 1989. But the heat pads were well protected, and I was not curling my bangs into a thick roll.

"Here, I'll show you on me. You spray the stuff on like this, and then with the iron, start here, like this."

She handed it over. I bucked up, sprayed on the stuff, ironed my hair. And it really was pretty amazing. I mean, I always thought of my hair as straight. I've got a cowlick over my right eye, and a bit of a curl on the back left side. Turns out I didn't know from straight.

"Look at that! It's straight! Really straight! It took 3 mintues! It's like a miracle!"
"It's a strange little hair machine, alright."

It was lovely to have a visit with Charles and Amanda. Charles posed me and tried to get me to relax, Amanda told me interesting stories about writers. We drank tea and ate loaf. A fine night of helpful friends.

*Should this not be the title of a Pixies song?

I didn't get these glasses. Don't worry.

But it is my favourite picture out of those Steve took while I dragged him around the city to watch me try to foxify.

One of the places I went to was very very fancy. The staff was almost alarmingly attentive, and they had very very fancy frames and very very fancy prices. I said "I'm looking for something kind of quirky, but not too out there. I like your frames." And the very nice woman went a little bananas. Until she realized that her definition of quirky was way more out there than my definition of quirky. This is where most of the pictures were taken, but I didn't end up loving any of the glasses.

Though I am tempted to post a series of the photos side by side so you can see how freakishly long and thin my neck is. I mean, I knew that my neck is on the longer and thinner side of neck, but by jesus. Good thing my head is on the smaller side of head, otherwise I would have some sort of drooping disaster on my hands. Possibly in my hands.

After the fancy place, we went to the place that had my favourites. But when I pulled out the camera, the woman looked concerned.

"I'm sorry, you cannot take photos."
"Oh. Well, he can take them so that it's just me in the shot."
"No. We don't do that here."
"You don't let people take photos."
"No."
"That's a little strange."
"No, it is not. It is just the way it is here."

Steve interjected at this point.

"Well, it can still be strange, nevertheless."

That just confused her.

In the end, there was no glasses love. I did, however, keep putting this pair back on. There's something about them that I do kind of love. But they are heavily ironic, and as Steve pointed out, irony is very heavy.

Yesterday, Shelley took pity on me and a coffee break. We went over to Jack Winter on Elgin Street. I love it in there. It smells like the first place I got glasses. He has a small selection, but it's quality. In 15 minutes, I had two pairs picked out. I couldn't decide which, so I ended up taking both. For less than the cost of the heavy irony above, no less.

Charles Earl has offered to take photographic evidence of the progress of the foxification project. My glasses should be in tomorrow, and then a trip to the Village de Valeur on Saturday to see if I can thrift something hot. Sometime after that, I will put it all together, Charles will snap the shutter and you can judge for yourself if the Project was successful.

First, the haircut. It fucking rocks. It's super asymmetrical, and my tiny head, which tends to look cartoonishly round, now looks much closer to elegantly oval.

Next, the face. I've had my current glasses for 5 or so years now, and I like them still, but I don't think there's any harm in updating my look. Steve is going to accompany me on a glasses shopping expedition tomorrow. I'll get him to take photos, and if we can't decide between the two of us, I'll post the photos. I find glasses shopping as overwhelming as shopping for sheets. I mean, it's an important decision. It's the first thing people will see about me, whether they notice them or not. I will wear them more than anything else I own for the next half-decade. God. I am filled with dread. I am convinced I will make the wrong decision.

Also, weirdly, I bought make up. I can't even explain that. I went to MAC, where I ended up standing in front of the foundation like a deer in the headlights hoping simultaneously that someone would finally rescue me and hoping that no one would notice me. Someone did rescue me, someone with very purple eyelids, and when I said "UmIdon'treallywearmakeupexceptforsometimesandthenuh." she took a deep breath and peppered me with flummoxing questions like "What do you want your mascara to do?" and "Would you prefer the regular powder or the mineralized powder?" I stood awkwardly around while she swept and painted me, and then I said yes and pulled out my credit card.

Fuck you, heartbreak. Yeah.