My Life

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

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.

Expose Yourself. Your Real Self.

Hi, I’m Tom. Who the hell are you?

“So, how would you describe your style, Kat?”, sing songs in my head from a recent conversation with a friend debating next steps.

There was a time walking down the runway of life where I was almost fighting my tomboy tendencies; unsure of their sudden slap in the face appearance. Standing in front of you I’m 5’8 inches of no doubt about it female that I am confident yet protective of for the majority of my everyday minutes. The reality is that I work in a squeamish industry where the moment you walk through a door can decide your destiny. Yes, my hair blows in the wind, my heels click down the pavement and I look forward to getting a little spicy on a friday night. But lately I’ve traded in my six inch spikes for a flat madden boot and taken all shades of pink out of my tickle trunk because they make me puke in my mouth a bit. I understand that with maturity and other influences ones style goes through a roller coaster of changes. Trust me, I have done the victoria beckham bob and bebe bustiers. But what are these other influences? My brain has been storming and has come up with the following:

environment. I live in the big city. Trends. Fashion. Sports. In. Out.
social network. Can I borrow that top, friend? I want one now.
finding oneself. I believe your guts come out in your style.
creative hub. I am a creative nerd. I am passionate about dressing my own mannequin.
confidence. Try something new. Bolder. Out of the ordinary.
rebel without a cause. I don’t care what you think.

Now why would I use the tomboy stereotype? I have been called out lately for my vocabulary including frequent bouts of dude, ya man and bleepin’ dope. I accessorize my dress with a toque instead of Tiffany’s. My last couple purchases were from the men’s department at H&M. Guys. Yes, alot of my friends are guys. And in the moment I don’t mind at all because it’s where I feel the most me.

You create your outside from the truth within. And as you mold as a human, especially through your sensitive teens and twenties, you display those strengths on your drawing board. There are those pictures that you can’t quite creatively finish, some with eraser marks like wrinkles in your white dress shirt and the one that you rest proudly on your mantel hoping that someone will call it beautiful. So if I associate tomboy tendencies with a mirrored verb I get comfortable, cool, relaxed, simple, honest, confident, low maintenance, humble, wild and free. I will use this observation within my framework because I’m actually kind of excited that I haven’t yet found all of me. -k