The Anthology

I just made my own moccasins.

Totally average weekend activity, right?

You get together with your girlfriends, you drink mimosas on a sunny patio…

And you make your own shoes.

Whatever.

It was all part of a workshop taught by the very patient, very talented Dan of Rickard Guy (who’s moving to New York soon, mes amis, so if you want in on the shoemaking action, make like a kangaroo and jump on it).

He walked us through, um, step by step — from picking our leather to threading our laces. Just look at that craftsmanship.

It floored Leroy, that’s for sure.

I haven’t actually taken them off since I made them.

(Unless you count the Juvenile Diabetes walk, I rocked my runners for that.)

Another thing I haven’t taken off?

My bangle, which made the journey all the way from India (thank you, Anji!).

No. Big. Deal.

P.S. I sew love it when you add me on Facebook.

Fighting juvenile diabetes? Well, what d’ya know, so am I!

This Sunday I’ll be at the Walk to Cure Diabetes with nine-year-old wunderkind Jack Stuart, who has been battling the disease since he was five.

But that’s not all I’ll be doing.

There’s also a Rickard Guy moccasin workshop (photo by Michelle Ford).

An old roommate’s art show, dinner with friends, dinner with family, bridesmaids dress fittings and fun things like that.

And you better believe I’ll be carting around this hippie dippy bag (nabbed from my sister, who found it in Thailand) because it’s been going with me everywhere from Coachella to the Commodore.

But back to Jack — if you want to help the mini man fight diabetes, you can join his team or pledge him here. See you on Sunday!

Oh my! There are so many new goodies up on The Anthology Boutique (which is now super fancy and super Etsy-ed out).

Shop your hearts out, friends! And send me your feedback at theanthology@live.com

And it’s not 100 degrees in Vancouver, either. Shocking, I know.

But in my mind The Temper Trap’s set (at the Commodore the other night) kept bringing me back to sunnier, sweatier times.

Because the last time I saw the Australian supergroup we were in the middle of the California desert at Coachella.

In other words, a far cry from a dreary Vancouver evening. (Get it together weather, it’s June, for crying out loud.)

It doesn’t mean you can’t wear shorts and your favourite hippie-dippy purse. It just means you’ll be carting around an umbrella instead of a water bottle.

And that instead of wearing a flowy dress, you’ll be wearing a men’s shirt belted with whatever belt you happen to love at the moment.

And your wrist will be wrapped in a pirate-themed bracelet. Why?

Because if there’s one thing my love of cheesy pirates has taught me — there are palm trees on desert islands. And you’ve got to keep the dream alive somehow.

P.S. Twitter is a tropical destination of sorts. So follow me.

What a way to end the season. Vancouver Opera’s take on Puccini’s classic Madama Butterfly is beautiful and brilliant, not to mention, brightly coloured. And I was there to blog all about it (nerd alert!).

Before taking our seats, opera bloggers John, Gus, Stacey and I had a backstage tour. We weren’t allowed to touch (or twirl) these parasols, but let me tell ya — what looks like simple corrugated plastic backstage makes for dramatic props on stage.

And I loved every psychedelic-shaped, primary-coloured inch of it. (Photo by Tim Matheson.)

Looking like the set of a sixties game show (can’t you just envision it filled with dancers doing the Austin Powers?), the stage’s swirls have been known to cause vertigo in those sitting in the balcony.

But we were sitting front row, centre. (Surtitles be darned — sitting that close means you can see the singers’ throats quiver).

This visual spectacle is the work of set and costume-designer Jun Kaneko, a Japanese-born sculptor at the forefront of the contemporary ceramics movement. (Thanks, Vancouver Opera, for the photo.)

So what’s the story? A beautiful fifteen-year-old geisha falls in love with an American sailor and sacrifices everything for him — her family, her friends, her religion, you name it. He marries her, but then leaves to return to the States, (didn’t her mother warn her about guys like that?) and she gives birth to his ridiculously adorable child.

Three years later, he returns to Japan to take their son to the States, leaving Madama Butterfly behind. She is in such despair, she… well, I won’t ruin it for you. (Manga by Roy Husada.)

Coincidentally I wore a sixties dress, but less mod and more Aud(rey). And that means it’s official: I have not worn a single dress from this millennium to the opera this season.

First, there was the eighties number with the crinoline, then there was the eighties number with the shoulders, then there was the fifties wedding dress and now this. Plus, last season, I rocked this significantly shorter sixties dress.

Even though this is the end of the opera season, my friends, there are still five performances of Madama Butterfly if you want to get in on it.

P.S. Make like a social butterfly and add me on Facebook.

He’s inspired thousands. He’s raised $35,000 for diabetes research. And he’s only nine years old.

Jack Stuart, captain of Team Jack of Hearts, will be leading the charge at The Telus Walk to Cure Diabetes in Vancouver. His goal? To raise $20,000 for the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation.

And I’m on his team.

Want to help him achieve his goal? Of course you do. Join Team Jack and walk with us Sunday, June 13, 11:00 at Nat Bailey Stadium.

Or show your support and pledge Jack. Now let’s hit the road!

Is the name of a beautiful song off Radio Dept.’s latest album.

And it is the perfect title for this post.

Because this skirt is, if you ask me, much better this time around.

When I first scouted it as part of a twofer two piece, it looked like a garden threw up all over it.

But I find separating separates to be very effective (see the blouse here).

Because in smaller doses, this beautiful paint-splotchy print is downright delightful.

P.S. A Token of Gratitude is another Radio Dept. song. And it’s also what I owe you for following me on Twitter.

And those of you who didn’t take literature in school ask: Who?

He’s the Irish author of The Commitments, The Woman Who Walked into Doors and now, The Dead Republic. And, if the reading I attended is any indication, he would make the coolest dinner guest ever.

Nerd that I am, I had him sign The Dead Republic. The unfortunate thing about it? It’s volume three of a trilogy. Which means there are about 800 pages standing between me and it.

The event must have inspired me. Because the next day I showed up dressed like a middle-aged author: tweed jacket, driving shoes and all.

With some bohemian touches: hippie dippy necklaces. I made the red and silver one, and I found the pendant in Playa del Carmen, Mexico.

It’s from a little shop tucked away in a picturesque courtyard off 5th Avenue (between Calle 6 and 8, in case you’re headed there).

My driving shoes? They’re from a far less quaint source: Cole Haan.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some reading to do.

P.S. Speaking of books: Facebook!

Your grade two teacher wore something very similar to this, didn’t she?

Long skirt, exceptionally shoulder-padded shirt — it’s a foolproof combination, isn’t it? So classic. So vintage.

My favourite thing about a twofer is that you can treat the separates as separates and wear them, well, separately.

All I needed to do with the blouse was remove the shoulder pads and it was ready to rock.

Easy peasy.

And all I needed to do with the skirt was take it to the tailor’s (D.I.Y. is so easy when you have someone else D.I. it for you).

So how did the skirt turn out? Who knows! It’s still at the tailor’s. But I’ll let you know as soon as I do.

P.S. Tweet, tweeps, tweet!

I’m pretty sure Grace Coddington would approve of wearing it head-to-toe but, Anna Wintour most certainly would not (have you seen The September Issue?!?).

It doesn’t matter, though, because neither were in Vancouver last night. And neither were at the jam-packed first-anniversary party for JK Models at Leone.

It was so much fun to see such beautiful faces (I’m talking to you Liv, Kim, Adela, Nicole, Olivia, Niki, Anya, Erin, Lisa, and Raul).

And it was so much fun to wear my new-to-me giant spiral gold earings, which are — you guessed it — straight out of the 1980s.

When you’re decked out in ridiculous accessories from such a ridiculous decade you can’t help but have a blast, even if you’re dressed in the most solemn colour in the rainbow.

P.S. Like the Anthology? Like Facebook? Might I suggest this?