my life

Kat’s Closet – Weekend Edition.

How the heck is Monday here already? How the heck is September a couple of days away? How the heck was your weekend?

A little work and a little play was the salad tossed. A lot of dancing and a lot of living was the meal of choice.

After ‘that’s a wrap’ was yelled on set, Friday brought all of my favourite people into one place. My brother and his band The Lad Classic took the stage at Cherry Cola’s. My roomie and I woke up the next day with the words ‘well, that was an unexpected good, good night!’ Alot of black, skinny jeans, vintage band tees, cons, bangles, military boots and jackets, tattoos and hipster dudes. A whole lot of Queen West.

Tank- Boutique on Melrose Ave. LA.
Pants- H&M (Pleather capped knees)
Hat- Big It Up
Shoes- Aldo (Living in these this summer)
Lipstick- Costa Chic- MAC

After ‘that’s a wrap’ was yelled on set, Saturday brought my roomie and I home for a major pillow crash as the week caught up to us. With hair and make-up done from a burlesque inspired shoot that afternoon, we ventured to a happy house-warming evening. A backyard in the city is a rare find. But a grand one. An evening under the stars. I’m ready for a week of the same. -k

Shirt- Skirt 
Shorts- Vintage
Shoes- G.H Bass & Co.
Lipstick- Lady Danger- MAC

Kat’s Closet- Weekend Edition.

I’ve been slapping the “staycation” card on the table all summer. And it’s been winning me major good times. And so as the summer glow fizzles a little more each day I’m for sure as heck taking advantage of the last hoorah.

Enter this weekend.

It was maybe the new moon, my broadway bound insomnia or that bad tuna salad I ate friday afternoon that put me a little left of center this weekend. I painted my toenails black. And I was in a carefree state of mind and rambled together whatever the heck jumped out of my closet at me with twenty minutes to dress to impress. Or not impress. I was not out to impress. A black and white palate was the tone of taste. Bright anything was not guiding me through my milky way.

Friday I met new people. Amazing people. Sauntered down Queen West to the Savoy and Beaconsfield and Brooklyn. Let the good times roll in a rock and roll soul inspired ensemble. This KISS tshirt started as a tshirt seven years ago. I cut a hole in the neck three years ago because it was fraying. I cut the sleeves off a few weeks ago. It’s tattered and torn and I can’t get enough. Threw a sheer black dress over lace shorts and went with some dressy heels for shits and giggles. Rockstar on the top, girly on the bottom. Just a whole lot of me.

Shirt- Some vintage store on Queen West that’s not there anymore. Time flies.
Dress – Same as above.
Lace Shorts- Urban Outfitters
Shoes- Marc Fisher
Jacket- Danier
Purse- Zara
Lipstick- Costa Chic- MAC

Saturday I spent the day at the zoo. Decided that all animals are spanish because at 3pm they were all siesta-ing when we arrived and we were looking for action. I got home in need of a siesta from the sun and had birthday shenanigans to attend at a dive bar on Dundas. Danced to the best 80s jams ever. Let go. Loved life.

Tshirt- Sauce Hockey
Varsity Jacket- Forever 21. Shocking, eh?
Pants- H&M
Heels- Aldo
Purse- Urban Outfitters
Glasses- Vendor in Soho NYC

Put yourself in a zone of magic. Nobody is here long enough to do it any other way. And I hope you had a magical weekend too. -k

WDYDWYD.

Do you remember that moment that probably fell somewhere between walking out the doors of the place that sucked up your soul for three or four years with textbooks and sleepless nights and the daily search for a critically acclaimed perfection… and walking into your place exhausted after a month or two or a year now immersed in the reality of your diploma? That moment where a loud question flies high above your head dragged by a plane. Destination: Your future. Question: Why do you do what you do?

I sat in a planning meeting yesterday, brainstorming ideas for the new basketball season which in reality will be here in no time. I was both stoked and inspired to bring fans that much closer to their team. And previous to the meeting I was in the studio shooting links for a TV feature reminiscing on the team community highlights from last season. Remembering the moments that answered the above question. Why do you do what you do?

The following is a ramble I wrote sometime last fall and it reminded me of my answer…

I am so tired it hurts. I missed out on the average 20 somethings friday and saturday night out because I had a late night work date with my laptop. It’s 7:30 pm after a 10 hour day and I’m in bed with a headache and a beer…doing more work…

And it doesn’t bother me one bit because…

Making people even an ounce happier voids all the assumed negatives. And this is why I’m more than thankful to do this daily in my ‘job’. I don’t like the term job. Living your passion is something I wish everyone would chase. Because it’s possible.

Yesterday morning when I was up before the average 20 something on a weekend, sipping my endless coffee and cursing the speed of my internet, a friend messaged me saying that he ran into a couple and their son in the city. They spent ten minutes thanking us for making their son happy by bringing him closer to the sport and team he loves through what we do. 

Today a grown man the size of the average hockey player hugged me at center ice and cried. It was his sons fifth birthday and he had been raising him for 4.5 years alone. I had just taken him to meet one of the players and he signed the jersey off of his back for the birthday boy. And I’ll never forget it.

I’m unsure and unsettled about a lot of things in life; the direction my career is going, the instability of my bank account and where my heart lies. But for years one thing I have known is that when you’re happy, I’m happy. And that’s what keeps me ticking. -k

I googled “WDYDWYD” and these photos came up. They’re dope…
WDYDWYD

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.

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

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