hiatus for one more day

The final draft of my thesis, as I may have mentioned a million times, is due soon (as in July 1st), so I will be going into isolation mode to take care of that business. When I return, I have a whole new crop of pictures to share. Portraits, proms, and pride are among the photo themes. In the meantime, a preview:

beach vs. thesis

I'm up in the country for a few more hours, alternating between doing work, and giving in to my brothers' insistence that I head to the beach with them. I can live with these tough decisions.

simple pleasures

Soaking in all the great sensations of last night was easy: the feeling of a warm summer breeze, the smell of cotton candy being spun, and the sounds of great up-and-coming music.

I looked around at my surroundings, clapping in appreciation for the songs, and thought of a day about 6 (!) years ago where I felt very similar. It was my first week at Western, during orientation week. Standing in a huge crowd of people, feeling overwhelmed by stimuli, and beginning a new life in a very different place. All of the rituals and traditions that come along with joining a new community.

Now that my academic career is coming to an end (at least for now), I am starting to think about the shape my life will take in this city. One of my main goals in getting more involved in the arts community here — and the past few days have certainly felt like an initiation of sorts.

The Fringe Festival, as I mentioned in my last post, coincides with several other happenings, so the whole Plateau Mont Royal is busting at the seams with people. However, in spite of all the mad sales going on, and the dozens of bars offering bottle service on makeshift patios, my favourite activities were far more simple. The best moments were spent sipping two dollar beers (or in my case a dulche de leche popsicle), watching the orange moon rise over the boulevard, having potluck brunch at the lovely Skye's pad, and listening to Brian, Mark and Sheena rock out on the main stage at the festival.

These are the days that even money, jewels, or an unlimited supply of dark chocolate streaming in a man-made river through my imaginary mansion could not make better.

sangria and soccer

This city is full of well-dressed revelers, especially with this weekend being Quebec's "Fete National," as well as Main Madness (St. Laurent Boulevard is a giant street sale), and the Fringe Festival. I swear almost every woman in this city was wearing short shorts last night. I felt surprisingly dowdy in my tight jeans.

I am squeezing in writing/editing sessions between wine cocktails and walks in the sun. The screaming of Euro Cup fans continues, though the response to Russia's win this afternoon was much more subdued. Still, if I hear one more refrain of "YMCA" (an odd song choice for soccer celebrating, it seems) at the sports bar around the corner...

onward!

I'm currently in the process of selling most of my furniture via Craigslist. I'm hoping this will make for an easier (lighter!) move, and give me some breathing room for new design ideas. Even though I am moving to an apartment in the same city, I am looking at the move as a fresh start.

My present apartment has an unbeatable view and central location, but the beige cement walls often feel oppressive. It may sound crazy, but I really believe that living in a high rise has got to have some kind of squishing effect on the psyche. A three-storey walk-up will be a welcome change.

I'm also looking forward to a fresh start after these relatively isolated 2 years of grad school. Sometimes I think the main reason I chose to do my masters was as an exercise in self-discipline — a way to force myself to focus. Now I'm getting that restless feeling we all get when we feel we've gotten the gist of the lesson, and it's time to move on.

So I've been idealizing the move as this big turning point, when my life will suddenly become exciting again.

Each step in life has its own perks and pitfalls, I suppose. This pros now are the incredibly flexible schedule, and self-indulgent writing sessions. The main con would be the isolation this kind of writing necessitates.

So, inspired by a comment I've received on this blog, I am going to go with the flow and write short, frequent entries about my day-to-day progress, rather than waiting until something "big" happens to blog about it. If I'm honest with myself, and with you, I will write what I feel and what I truly believe. Then this blog can change as my life actually does.

I think reading and writing SO much about blogging FOR my thesis has made me feel a little zany and, I think, has had a negative effect on this blog. Studying aspects such as privacy and readership has made me extra cautious about what kind of info I share, especially (to be brutally honest) given the amount of strange people I have met, and who might very well read this blog. But to be a great writer, you have to take risks. It feels like a risk for me to keep writing here, and sharing myself when I feel the compulsion to shy away.

So I am going to suck it up, and keep writing.

working weeks and weekends

I'm working on the final draft of my thesis, which is due on July first. My posting may be inconsistent over the next while. Or, if I continue to procrastinate as well as I usually do, I will post at every available opportunity.

The Euro Cup is actually helping my progress. I pretend that the screams and wails of jubilant fans outside my window are directed at me and my epic quest to finish this freaking thesis.

weekends in the city

Me: "I keep wondering if I've made the right decision, staying here. Sometimes I wish I'd taken the easier path and moved to Toronto."

Dad: "A lot of things are easier. It would be a lot easier for me to live at the cottage and develop a dependency on alcohol, for example. But what kind of life would that be?"

Me: "Ha ha, yes, good point."

Dad: "Never do anything because it is easier. That's not the way to make choices."

Me: "Yeah, I know. I know. I'm just getting anxious, I guess."

Dad: "If you keep working hard and look for something that excites you, you've got nothing to worry about. It's only possibilities ahead."

I wonder if my dad had the same worries as me when he was my age? My whining about books and chapters and hypothetical jobs probably sounds so trivial in contrast to his memories of cleaning industrial chimneys, working at a steel mill, and trapping black bears for testing in the woods of northern Ontario. It's all relative, I guess!

***

Spring/summer Sundays are the best in Montreal, partly for the presence of tam tams, a weekly gathering of Montreal's finest, where the mountain meets Le Plateau. With a telephoto lens, I am now able to share with you some of the best people watching Montreal has to offer:

dispassionate fashion

I just finished reading a book called 10 Steps to Fashion Freedom, which basically makes you look through your closet and bad shopping habits, and seriously evaluate how your clothing reflects your inner state. I have absolutely gutted my wardrobe, tossing most of my spur-of-the-moment purchases, and things that I just bought without really thinking about WHY I was buying them.

Now my closet and shelves look pretty empty, but very organized and functional. I now look at my closet and only see stuff I love, and that I know functions as a wardrobe—not just a mess of random pieces. The last chapter of the book is called "Shopping." It doesn't encourage you to go out and replace all the stuff you've just gotten rid of, rather to make a list of your clothing priorities (in my case: a suit for job interviews, a black cardigan, a flowy summer dress, and sandals (check). It helps you keep track of what you actually need so that the next time you go shopping, you have a plan.

Kate recently wrote about her vow to give up shopping (a favourite pastime of hers), and it is nice to know that I am not alone in my downscaling. I have always loved clothing, shopping, and hunting for unique pieces, but being broke and looking critically at my own consumption habits has certainly tempered my fashion zeal.

The pressure to look trendy and current, and to compete with the throngs of twentysomethings (with their jobs and disposable income) is something I find difficult to keep up with. With Facebook photo albums becoming like weekly fashion reviews, it seems everyone feels the need to keep a fresh crop of clothing and accessories on hand. It's amazing how many people can't afford to realistically do this, and the lengths they will go to in order to try.

The age old trick of the buy-wear-return of clothing items seems to be happening more and more frequently. People who do this habitually seem to me to be selfish, shallow, and desperate. I put it in the same league as the dine-and-dash (an instance of which I witnessed last night) which really exposes weakness of character. Basically, if you can't afford it, eat at home, or learn to get creative with your existing wardrobe, for god's sake.

Who knows, maybe once I get a job I will change my tune about clothing consumption. But I really think that it's one thing to enjoy fashion and stay current, but quite another to be fixated to the point of obsession, and worst of all to judge those who you feel don't keep up as well as you do.

because i'm feeling superficial

Straying from the straight and narrow of academia, and into more fun and frivolous territory, I present to you this week's top beauty picks.

Sebastian 2 + 1 Conditioning Treatment is a worthwhile investment. It was recommended to me by the best stylist I've ever met (who I can no longer afford to visit) as the best at-home conditioner on the market. This stuff does not come cheap. At a beauty supply store it was over $20, but if you consider that it gives you multiple treatments, and salon quality results at home (and that a salon deep conditioning treatment costs upwards of 30 bucks a pop), I feel that it is worth it. The name stands for 2 parts moisture, 1 part protein—a ratio that fortifies your hair without leaving it slicked down. A deep conditioner is great during the summer, when your locks can quickly get dried out by the sun. This one really does the trick, even on my hack job of a highlighted head.

After searching long and hard for a face wash that would cleanse and moisturize my skin, I have finally found my ideal product. This bar costs about 8 dollars, which seems pricey for a bar of soap, but very cheap for a face wash. Happily, it is the latter, and therefore a great deal. It cleanses very gently, while managing to remove makeup, and leaves my skin feeling soothed to the point where I don't have to use moisturizer. This is the best product I have found in a long time.

I haven't yet tried these next two products, but if I had disposable income, they would be first on my list. PosieTint is the lite version of Benefit's Benetint, which I use daily as a lip and cheek stain. This colour looks adorable and I would love to try it out. I'm banking on it having the same staying power and a-little-goes-a-long-way quality as Benetint.

Apparently, neons and primary colours will soon be on their way out for makeup (to be replaced by pastels, ick), so I say enjoy this trend while it lasts. Used individually, the colours in this palette (especially when paired with a swipe of black liquid liner) would create a fantastic graphic look. However, one of the coolest things a makeup artist taught me about colour application is that any colour can be made to look natural, when used in moderation, or in conjunction with other colours. For example, that vivid red could be paired with a cream or sage green shadow to create a much more muted look.

(insert activity here) in the rain

Since my last post, I've been to Vancouver and back. The official "business" that brought me there was this year's Congress of the Humanities and Social Sciences (basically the biggest conference for these disciplines in Canada), which was held at UBC. I presented my first paper (a summary of my thesis), and got some great feedback.

Throughout the rest of the conference, I listened to lots of other academics present their research (to the sound of rain beating on the window panes), ate as much free food as I could find, and tried to look as nonchalant as possible. It was intimidating being surrounded by so many profs and Ph.D students, especially when —as a Master's student— I was at the very bottom of the academic totem pole.

As luck had it, several of my friends Montreal and Winnipeg happened to be in Vancouver at the same time, which led to excellent times. After the conference, we were hosted by the very kind Andrew at his place just outside the city...


... and by Gill at Crescent Beach and in Coquitlam.


Despite the fact that rain soaked almost every day of the week's vacation, fun was still found in abundance. The natural beauty of BC is truly phenomenal:

faux naturel

My friend Nicola has an upcoming photo shoot, and since I won't be available to do the makeup, I agreed to give her a lesson in the basics of natural-looking makeup for photography.

Makeup for real life and makeup for photography are two entirely different things. For this reason, I often have to warn my photography subjects that I they may look at the makeup job I have done on them and wonder why they look like women of the night. Likewise, I usually have to headlock male subjects into letting me apply translucent powder (and sometimes bronzer) to their precious, manly faces.

The reason makeup photography is different comes down to one factor: light. When allowed to reflect off an oily face, light will play ugly tricks with a person's appearance. On the other hand, if makeup is applied with light(ing) in mind, light will bounce off the highlights and be absorbed into the dark parts, creating a beautiful, sculpted appearance.

So, when models wonder why I'm tracing brown powder down their sides of their noses or applying a shimmery highlighter to their chins, the answer is lighting.

Nicola (who, late twenties and had barely worn a touch of makeup in her in entire life until I got my hands on her) effectively did her own makeup in these photos, under my annoyingly careful instruction. Though it may look like she is makeup-free (see photos below), she is actually wearing mineral powder foundation, a flesh-toned blush, 3 colours of eye shadow, and mascara. Also, I taught her the age-old trick of pinched cheeks and bitten lips that hussies and belles alike have been doing for centuries. All of these items and techniques, used in moderation, create the perfect fauxnaturel look, as I call it.

The more I use mineral foundation, the more obsessed I become, and the less likely I will be to go back to the liquid stuff. Here is Nicola's natural look:




When I saw the new cover of Vanity Fair, I couldn't help but notice Nicola's resemblance to Angelina Jolie.

Jolie's makeup look, however, is lipticked, big hair'd, boobed (and photoshopped) far beyond the faux naturel level. Though, I have to say, if I had lips, hair or boobs like hers, I'd be working them to the high heavens too!

underdressed and overexcited

I was walking hurriedly home as the rain started to fall, when I heard a male voice yell out to me:

"Hey girl!"

I turned and looked to see a young guy, maybe a few years younger than me, wearing a black hoodie with gold Louis Vuitton motif, and a LOT of bling. He was standing on the steps of a church that always has beautiful music streaming out its windows on Sundays.

"Hi," I answered.

"Why aren't you in church?" He asked, grinning.

"Well, I don't really go to church. I haven't even been inside one in a long time."

"Well come on in, you're welcome here," He paused, adding with a wink, "You can come hang out with all the black people."

"What the? What do you mean?" I asked, laughing. "Do only black people go to this church?"

"Well I guess there are a few white people too. But it don't matter anyways, come on in and join!"

I walked in the first set of doors with him before remembering that I was wearing denim capris, running shoes, and a wet raincoat.

"Oh no I couldn't. I've seen how fancy the ladies who come here are dressed. They even wear hats! I'll come back when I'm dressed better. Well, maybe I'll just take a peek."

He pulled open the second set of doors, and I was hit by a wall of sound. Ladies and gents, children and the elderly, dressed to the nines were dancing and spinning around as they sang "hallelujia" at the top of their lungs. Some ladies near the doors glanced at me and smiled invitingly, waving me in despite my attire. I smiled back but shook my head, gesturing to my running shoes. Quietly I snuck back out. I did, however, promise Dwayne (the blinged-out guy who invited me in) to come back some time.

I have a not-so-secret obsession with gospel music and lively church choirs, and I have always wondered how I could get in on the action (despite my aversion to church-going). I once had a similar experience of being invited by strangers to join a choir in Tanzania. Perhaps opportunity has come a-knocking once again.