Kat’s Closet – The Teal Deal.

I like doing things opposite of what the rest of the world is doing at that time. And I guess my driving course through life allows me to do just that. So, on a Wednesday morning I conquered the errands, shmerrands list. Checkmark.

Boogied through the city in my teal jeans which have been a go-to this summer. And my sling-back geeky shoes. I’ve got mixed reactions to them but they’re worn in from city commuting to movie nights to pairing them with sweatpants in the cottage air. I believe in wearing whatever YOU love. Don’t worry about the top trends list. A friend posted the following quote on twitter that I just adore:

“Style is knowing who you are, what you want to say and not giving a damn.” -Gore Vidal

The real deal. -k

Tank- Aritzia
Jeans- Urban Outfitters
Shoes- G.H Bass & Co.
Purse- Urban Outfitters (Borrowed from Mom)

Love, risk and money.

At 4:43am we talked about regret and I said I don’t regret any motives, moments or mentions because as fucked up as some of them can be they all lead to that victorious goodness that’s somewhere soon. I keep catching it staring at me but then it disappears again.

If you could do one thing right at this moment and know that you would not fail, what would it be?

Sometimes the challenge of being patient is a painful thing that I serve to myself. Currently in the middle of a phase and doing very well according to my personal patience meter.

I have an addiction of putting myself in movie type scenarios. Minus the chair with my name on it and the bank account and the Vera Wang gown. I don’t think I try to get there half of the time. Never really. Life just takes me there. Insert Sinatra’s “that’s life” mantra.

And sometimes I produce these role played scenarios in my mind. Just like the carefree five-year old in her mama’s pearls, sitting at her tea party and asking the wind if he’d like extra sugar as she stirs. They’re my desires and ice cream hopes without the selfish extra scoop because the world doesn’t have a hint. And then days go by and I’m suddenly immersed within my imaginary tales. Leading lady. Mama always tells me to write down what I want to happen. Maybe she’s right. And I don’t know who to thank. So if you’re in this moment with me… watching, reading, kicking me in the ass… mucho thanks. -k

It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.

Tell us something that will save us from ourselves…

Advice? I don’t have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you’re writing, you’re a writer. Write like you’re a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there’s no chance for a pardon. Write like you’re clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you’ve got just one last thing to say, like you’re a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God’s sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves. Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we’re not alone. Write like you have a message from the king. Or don’t. Who knows, maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have to. – Alan Watts

Summer Staycation

When the days started getting longer and jackets were left at home and the ball dropped on the basketball court for the last time this season…I bought a book. I know, call me crazy. A book about travelling to Europe.

When the days started getting longer and jackets were left at home and the ball dropped on the basketball court for the last time this season… my dearest friends started getting married and having babies. All at once. This is where I would insert pictures from my European rendezvous but alas, my album is empty. For now. Weekends were filled with wedding showers and baby showers and bachelorette trips and wedding dress shopping and welcome home baby lunches and going to the chapel of love. Weekends were magical and exhausting and truly some of my favourite summer moments. Because my friends were so happy.

And so I decided to have a staycation. And do the things I hadn’t done.

I always label myself as a small town girl at heart with big city dreams so it would only make sense that I landed in Toronto with a scoop of naive and an ice cream hope six years ago. I adore city life. The landscape of people from near and far or ending up at a corner table on a hidden patio with close friends and looking up through the vines and christmas lights, feeling like you’re nowhere near home. A trip to Italy or Greece in just a subway ride, buying homemade perogies in Roncesvalles for Sunday evening and deciding with twenty minutes until opening pitch that you’d like to spend your night at the ballpark. And then making it on time. Hopping onto a friends boat at the base of York Street, the twirl of TIFF and other festivals and peering over my balcony to spot the streetcar so I can judge my timing and not have to stand in the rain. The endless possibilities when you’re restless on any night with the new people you meet on your daily dance.

Yesterday was full of a studio stop and meetings and creativity overload with company over afternoon coffee and cookie crumbs. Via foot. Yonge Street was my tour guide making it from Lakeshore to Eglinton and back. And this is what I saw…

If you’re a city rat, try it. Pretend you’re a tourist. You don’t even need your passport and you can sleep in your own bed without having to remember to put the do not disturb sign on the door. Bonus. -k

Kat’s Closet – Manic Monday Mode

Happy Monday, campers!

Late nights and early mornings seem to be the theme of my summer daze. Last night a text rang “Let’s go to the movies” and I said okay. I ended up at the theatre to see “The Campaign”. All I have to say is 1. Will Ferrell is definitely back on his game and 2. The dinner table scene. … From there it was an evening of good company and conversation that travelled from Ossington to College to watching the sky light up on my balcony. Chatty Kathy.

When your latest nights are your greatest nights the pillow tends to hold onto you for a wee bit longer. So when I don’t have a lot of time to put myself together I always choose one colour and dress it head to toe. Today it was white. And a messy bun. And kicks to motor around the city. And bright lips to distract from the well earned circles under my eyes. -k

Image

Blazer – Forever 21
T-Shirt – H&M Men
Jeans – Madewell
Shoes – Converse
Lipstick – ‘Lady Danger’ MAC

Imperfect Perfection.

She was a girl who knew how to be happy even when she was sad. And that’s important. -Marilyn Monroe

I have a love/hate relationship with the intensity of my emotions. The face flush from an accidental too many words or the stars in your soul when you can relate to someone or something, somehow unexpectedly. Goosebumps. Runaway heartbeat. A bead of anxious sweat falling down the center of your chest while you try to hold it together. Dabbing your upper lip while hiding your guilty grin. Feeling claustrophobic on the street corner when the only thing touching you is the wind. Crying. For someone else and their pain.

My copy of  ‘My Week with Marilyn’ is sitting in front of me on my kitchen counter for a friend to pick up. I remember seeing it in the theatre after a few days of unexpected transitions, meetings, praise, distractions and baby steps. Growth is an addicting kind of painful. It has left stretch marks on my brain yet stretched my smile, sometimes at the exact same time. As I watched this powerful woman on the screen only feeling comfortable caped in her hollywood persona, I related. In a career type way. I was told earlier that day I saw the movie that I had found my nook on camera and I hadn’t realized anything had changed. It really doesn’t matter what or why it changed. I did however realize that I finally trusted that everything sitting atop of my size eight feet was enough. Coming from an acting background where you absolutely tap into personal experiences yet cover the truth with an artificial passport, it was an adjustment to break. I roll in and out but I now know that no script, alternative name, blond wig or background that isn’t my real life works is needed. Just me. That’s enough. -k

Kat’s Closet – Headscarf and Heels

When I let the cat out of the bag about this blog journey, many people splashed out the, “You’re going to post your outfits, right?”. So, welcome to Kat’s Closet. One of my ‘moment to myself’ weaknesses is getting caught up in fashion blogs online. So let’s see if I’ve absorbed anything from my surfing…

The headscarf has been my go-to this summer. Dressed up, dressed down, beach hair, gym hair, need to go out and no time to do your hair; it works for all of the above.

Last night it was a little Burrrronto in the city! But I have to admit, the next season is my favourite when it comes to dressing your own mannequin. I headed to the village for a beer with some good, good people who I hadn’t seen in a minute. I’m all about mixing dressed up/dressed down pieces. -k

Sweater- Zara
Shorts- Joe Fresh that I sliced up myself because I wasn’t wearing them and voila!
Shoes- Aldo
Headscarf- American Apparel
Lipstick- ‘Lady Danger’ MAC – it’s my absolute favourite!

Imprints in time.

Remember when I would stand on your feet and we would polka in the living room Sunday afternoons to the music from the Lawrence Welk show? And then we’d go walk through the corn rows in your garden that were taller than us and protected us from all the bad things in life? And you’d tell me about watching the world go by from an open freight car at seventeen years old, the war stories, having seen and felt more chaos at a young age than I wish on anyone… thank you. It still feels like just yesterday. Happy Birthday. Thinking about you up there in the sky. -k

Porcelain Cabaret Chic

Porcelain is a cabaret chic inspired show that I’ve been fortunate to be a part of, as both talent and contributing choreographer. Amberley Waddell, the shows creator, took a leap into the scary unknown, taking the popular burlesque movement from her dancing days in Vegas and LA and took a chance on a town called Toronto where it had yet to exist. Stepping back onto the dance stage after a year hiatus, I realized the need for music and movement in my life. It’s an outlet that makes my skin buzz and pokes at the unreachable zones that I often tuck under my pillow for a rainy day at home. And that I definitely left a piece of my heart in the 1920s. We’re making our stops through the city. info@amberleywaddell.com is where you can get the scoop! Did I tell you how much I admire and adore these ladies? Laughs, tears, bruises, fears…we’ve left our souls on the dance floor for you.