don't let the door hitcha.....

so sometimes the most interesting things to write about are the wee altercations that occur as i'm out in the world spreading joy. some days i'm less joyful than others i'm afraid. one such instance:

i still work one waitressing shift a week. i prefer the term "waitress" to "server" because i am no one's servant. i do however spend a ton of time waiting for people to make decisions. (and i love any word that ends in "ess" or "ette" because i'm very girlie and enjoy words that celebrate that pivotal difference in humans.) politically correct? meh. also, the money's good and i love the people i work with. plus i get paid to be out rather than paying for the priveledge. it's win win.

i don't necessarily love mountains of chicken bones on wing night and boatloads of drunk annoying men. sometimes my patience wears thin. i was blessed last wednesday with a table of dudes who thought they were hilarious and expected me to be impressed by their wit. i may have cracked wise with them had they been less derogatory. i got a bad vibe and i reciprocated. on my third attempt to take a drink order (unsuccessfully) i just smiled and walked away. please note: i wasn't laughing at their jokes nor flirting with them. apparently that was annoying.

"hey!" says one. "can i just ask you a question?"

me: "sure. go."

him: ''was it always your life's dream to be a waitress?"

me: (pause.) ''i waitress because it's fun. i have a theatre arts degree. i'd teach drama but i own a clothing store so there's not a ton of extra time for teaching."

him: (pause.) "you own a clothing store? where?"

me: ''downtown. right around the corner actually."

him: "really? because i have the rights to a sunglass line out of australia. i have them in a store in westbank but i'm looking to get them in a place downtown. could i bring some samples by and see if you're interested?"

me: (pause.) "ummmmm.....no." (turn to walk away.)

him: "hey!"

me: "yes?"

him: "can we at least get a drink here?"

me: "from me? no. try your charm on another waitress." (smile.)

seriously? how stupid can you get? also: waitressing is not an easy job. i think going into the christmas season we should remember to treat everyone with kindness and respect. i wouldn't have been snarky if he hadn't made me feel bad.

today i am hanging christmas bulbs inside the store and preparing for my upcoming soiree. i'm not positive on the exact date, but there will be music, refreshments, deals and door prizes. DOOR PRIZES!!! eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! incidentally, life is pretty fantastic right now. thank you all for being in it. (hearts and smiles.)

enchante.........

well i'm going to need multiple installments for this. i worry that sometimes in the chaos of the store it's hard to find all of the treasures. it doesn't help that i think i'm a pirate and feel separation anxiety every time someone else touches something i've developed feelings for. the purpose of this particular blog is to show you the handmade art that i have access to. i admit that i have "sharing issues" and sometimes look horror-stricken when you try to buy something. i am actually delighted and the sourpuss face is a throw-back to the many years i spent keeping my possessions away from the grabby mitts of my beady-eyed little sisters. (whom i love very very much and appreciate blah blah blah.) moving right along........

let me introduce Floating Gold Iceberg. these lovely lasses are creating handmade clothing and accessories in victoria and i LOVE THEM!! i've got wristwarmers and a couple scarves left in house. i've ordered pants and skirts and pillows and shirts and anything else i could think of while i was talking to sweet cara on the phone. they're a staple at frock and have been since i opened almost two years ago. they've been patient with me as i've built up my little business and they've made me feel like i matter. this is an incredible company who provides stunning, unique, cutting edge pieces and I'VE GOT 'EM!!! and they've stood by me even when bigger fish in town could've upped their bottom line. i think there's something to be said for that. FGI has beauty, brains, and one of the nicest bikes on the block. and they won't make fun of you if you ask them to prom.



and now to introduce Lovejules......

you know the incredible leather with birds on wires, gunslingers, planes, trains and automobiles that i hoard like cake? that's lovejules. pictures? let's try....and here is an introduction from the sweet peach herself: "My studio is located in Whistler, B.C. I personally design and handcraft each piece in my collection, and though I may produce more than one of any particular design, no two are exactly alike, 'cause my hands just aren't that precise! I use nothing but the highest quality materials, as my output is only as good as my inputs, and I'm happy to say everything is sourced locally (Vancouver, B.C.)."

i'm sad to say i'm ending today's installment before i've even begun. getting these pictures up here in an orderly fashion is proving complex. i need a technological wizard. preferably one with a cape. stay tuned...........

"now that i'm older my heart is colder."

so i promised to share some photos of the brilliance that has taken up residence inside my shop. (none of it mine, but i have no problem with riding coat-tails. i'm also partial to tall shoulders and inside information. i'm a user. it's true.)

but first i digress......... (shocking!!) it was "breakout west" in town this weekend. i'm sure you're asking yourselves: since when does the cultural wasteland known as kelowna embrace independant music and showcase it in almost every mainstream downtown establishment? since now madames et monsieurs. apparently we're changing! kelowna has bought itself some patterned tights and an oversized 80's sweater and we're going to the party!! (WHAT?!?) if only we could go back in time and NOT dismantle sunshine theatre. (still irritated. can't help it.) anywho.....heard some new music and I LOVE IT!!

FROCK has been obsessing over the decemberists "the hazards of love" for some time now. i get obsessed and listen to things over and over again for days on end. (or weeks. whatever.) i now have new obsessions to rotate in. (dear maiya: can you handle the mixing of cd's that i'll love? as my pretend personal assistant you should be able to read my mind. get on it.)

right now the shop is playing my signed copy of dojo workhorse. (god i'm cool.) couldn't find any youtube clips, but three of the members are in the dudes. (whom i've known and liked for a while now.) i'll post a dudes clip in lieu of my new love. i'm also going to post the zolas. i've been slow jumping on the bandwagon but i've got a seat now and i've ordered a drink. first clip: the zolas, you better watch out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aye5sNBABsM

clip 2: the dudes, love is dangerous

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dk9hAJ2feBE

clip 3: we are the city, in heaven. (p.s. local and brilliant.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElUGg_bxTOM

i'm getting hungry so i'm going to have to sign out now. rest assured i will return for my "handmade accessories showcase." FROCK is giving these bands its stamp of serious approval. (pretty prestigious considering that i'm the self-proclaimed dictator of all things awesome.) there was even a generational consultation. read: pretty big deal.

dear kaela: where have you been?

well it's been a very long time since i've blogged. there's a jack kerouac quote that i completely identify with:

"i like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop."

that's me. perhaps i've even pulled these words from my pocket previously in this very blog. i defer to it constantly.

i like writing down my thoughts but i doubt anyone can follow them unedited. and then i become obsessed with being coherant. it's a time consuming endeavour.

i suppose this blog should probably focus on the store every once in a while, being that it's attached to my web-page. i am now going to colour within the lines. prepare yourselves.....

people have been bringing in their insanely expensive, worn once if worn at all, some with tags still on, possibly purchased in milan items left, right and centre. i find this exciting because these are pieces that i see on the overly-glossed pages of vogue, and will never be able to afford in my lifetime. sometimes i put them together on a rack and pretend i'm a movie star shopping on rodeo drive. (pronounced ro-day-o drive because it obviously sounds classier than ro-dee-o, just in case you aren't as fashion savvy as moi.) mixed in with my 1960's caftans and ten dollar lululemon tank-tops, i now have three diane von furstenbergs, two betsey johnsons, and two missonis. there's also this spectacular chocolate silk tiered number that practically waltzed out of time square and joined me for lunch down on pandosy. please note: these items are still expensive even at one third the original price. they're not for the faint of heart, and i apologize profusely for the price tags.

so even though my eyes glossed over a teensy bit when hollywood hung itself up across from my 1980's cash register, i can assure you my heart is still firmly rooted in yesteryear. i'm starting to break out the 1950's car coats and 60's wool shift dresses that i've been squirrelling away all summer. boots are marching, scarves are billowing, and mittens are mittening from one end of the shop to the other.

now something interesting happened last year: i ran out of "gift" items at the end of november because i didn't fully understand the consumer feeding frenzy that is "christmas." while i feel enormous guilt being an entrepreneur and contributing to this insatiable consumerist culture that has laid waste to north america, i have found a means of salvation. one word: art!!

my shop is now bursting at the seams with items handmade in canada by women and one man (thank-you leigh!) who are making a living creating spectacular treasures that mean something. nothing i'm selling has been mass-produced, nor made by children in developing countries. (if that isn't christmas spirit i don't know what is!) if you ask me i can tell you a little about the specific person whose tofurkey christmas dinner your hard earned dollars are providing. i think this is a step in the right direction.

the plan: i am now going to post a couple pictures of beautiful girls wearing secondhand garments that are for sale in my store. in my next blog i'll share some pictures of the handmade art i'm hocking for the holidaze. and right this second, i'm going to quote a passage i like from the book i'm reading right now. (because i wouldn't be me if i didn't obsess over literature.) p.s. thank-you for supporting me. i really can't say that enough.

book: "The History of Love" by nicole krauss.

"So many words get lost. They leave the mouth and lose their courage, wandering aimlessly until they are swept into the gutter like dead leaves. On rainy days you can hear their chorus rushing past: IwasabeautifulgirlPleasedon'tgoItoobelievemybodyismadeofglass-I'veneverlovedanyoneIthinkofmyselfasfunnyForgiveme...."

stunning i think.

photo 1: leah anderson in a 1950's robin's egg blue frock.

photo 2: alesha fell draped in silk. (hat-vintage.)

photo 3: beata woods in a gold 1940's frock and rose venne in one hot little number!

photo 4: maggie thomas in "kenzie."

blink.

i came across a passage in "the gathering" by anne enright that i'm particularly fond of. it's a tiny pocket of truth that makes my ribcage hurt. reading it made me take a moment to think of those i love and feel grateful. and now i wish a moment of gratitude for you.....

"there are so few people given us to love. i want to tell my daughters this, that each time you fall in love it is important. even at nineteen. especially at nineteen. and if you can, at nineteen, count the people you love on one hand, you will not, at forty, have run out of fingers on the other. there are so few people given us to love and they all stick."

how true.

new faces at FROCK

introducing: maiya kiy

chances are you've stumbled upon sweet maiya already, but this is your official introduction.

i can't pigeon-hole her: she's a hippie tomboy who can seriously rock a dress. she's a music festival junkie who will judge you silently if you question her song selections. she journals. she makes greeting cards. she'll kick your ass at volleyball.

if you run around the store like a psychopath (which i do often) she'll just stare at you and blink. i need a buffer in my life who's as laid-back as a recliner. enter maiya.

some fast facts:

favourite book: "life after god" by douglas coupland.

favourite quote: "with our thoughts we make the world." (buddha.) this is tattooed on her arm.

mode of transportation: bicycle.

who she hates: whoever stole her bicycle last night.

why i love her: she's kind, honest, and has a soft spot for well-worded observations.

FROCK is better because maiya exists.

also introducing: maddi parent.

maddi is only with us for the summer, but she'd be a keeper if it were up to me. she's an 80's dancing queen who consistently rocks florals, onesies, and high-waisted shorts. she has an odd obsession with antique time-pieces, and will soon be selling some of her one-of-a-kind creations here in our store. apparently she's a gymnast. i didn't know this before today, but now that i do i'll be exploiting her talents every monday afternoon. feel free to stop by for a performance.

yesterday as she was tagging (sweatshop-style) she squealed from the back of the store: "OH MY GOD!!! this is 100% RAYON!!!!!!!" and then she bought it. 'nuff said.

some fast facts:

favourite books: harper lee's "to kill a mockingbird," and ernest hemingway's "a farewell to arms." ernest hemingway? really maddi? (no judgement.)

what she loves: snakes. like live snakes. and she likes to hold them.

don't ever buy her: dairy. she'll smile and say thank-you but she won't consume it.

why i love her: she's always happy. always. or she fakes it really, really well. either way, she's lovely to be around.

r.i.p. old friend

a friend of mine passed away a week ago today. he was a 29 year old daredevil who pushed every boundary and filled every second. i hadn't spoken to josh in four years. i communicated with him solely by posting comments on the most outrageous facebook photos he posted. still, when i heard his body had been found after almost two whole days of searching, i was wracked with grief and sobbed in grotesque fishy gasps. this is because of who josh was.

i first met him when i was twelve years old and in junior high. josh was nine and already skateboarding with the "cool" kids in my grade. "cool" has eluded me my entire life, so this nine year old who had such a solid handle on it was quite impressive. josh was polite, sweet and shy. (shy is something he would grow out of relatively quickly, but the other two qualities stuck around for his lifetime.) everywhere i went in my youth, josh was there. that's something that happens in small towns. the crowds are always the same. i was priviledged to snowboard with him more times than i can ever count. the kid was fearless. after highschool, i started dating one of josh's best friends. for the next eight years, josh was around even when i didn't want him to be.

i've been to seven memorial services in my life. they are always sad and always make me examine my own mortality. i left josh's with purpose. i've never seen so many faces at a funeral. i don't know how many people are meant to fit into the brilliant cultural centre, but those on the main floor and in the balcony were packed like sardines. every door was left open so that people could spill out onto the lawn. josh's eldest brother spoke eloquently and bravely. his fiancee was a lioness (aptly labelled by a friend) who greeted everyone with grace and courage.

josh had an uncanny ability to make everyone feel as though they were his best friend. he certainly made me feel that way. i'm sure every single person at the service would say the same. another friend of mine, allison, posted something on his facebook page that resonates with me. she spoke about the number of people at the service who loved him, but more incredibly, the number of people there that he loved. she said that it was "inspiring to know how much love your heart was capable of holding." and that's the truly astonishing thing. this twenty-nine year old pro-skateboarder who travelled the world doing what he loved, opened his arms to everyone he came across. he had no delusions of greatness. he was spiritual, humble, and kind to a fault. he lived fully in the present moment, and never allowed heartache to damage him.

and it's that purpose that has haunted me since i drove away from my old town. i want to fill every moment with living. i want to appreciate what i have. i want to risk my significance and open my heart to everyone i come across. i want to be less judgemental and less afraid. i'm proud that i knew josh. i feel like it was such a gift.

i don't know what my purpose is in posting this here. i think i'm just in awe that a person can make a difference in this world just by LOVING. (josh made all the difference in the world for countless disenfranchised kids.) i think that's so inspiring. i think it's a lesson. thank-you josh.

(photos: josh and tia. josh being josh.)

so sometimes i'm a maniac. who isn't?

today i got angry. so angry that i was shaking, which is really quite rare for me. i have to feel extremely disrespected to lash out. (and boy, did i lash.) funny thing is, i feel no remorse for losing my temper. i try to err on the side of kindness at every turn, but i am not a doormat. i dare anyone to treat me like one. i can go from zero to psycho in half a breath. a woman told me today that she couldn't wait to tell everyone she knew what a terrible business i have. (another first to catalogue.) i replied "please do. god forbid i ever have to see you or anyone else like you in my store again." too far?

things seem to break-even for me. shortly after my field trip to the dark-side i got a call from a director i looove. he asked me to read for a part. his notes on the character i'm reading for are as follows:

"she has such a big heart. even when she's hurting, she can't be mean-minded. she never loses hope. i think in the audition you should just play yourself as honestly as you're able to."

what kind, uplifting words. so i'm not perfect. and maybe everyone doesn't love me and my little shop of horrors. i got over pleasing everyone in grade eight. no love for you, shrew.

so che questo:

or rather, i think that laughter is the most important thing. at least as important as oxygen, water, or bees.

and this delighted me:

"Reading a newspaper, I saw a picture of birds on the electric wires. I cut out the photo and decided to make a song, using the exact location of the birds as notes (no Photoshop edit). I knew it wasn't the most original idea in the universe. I was just curious to hear what melody the birds were creating.I sent the music to the photographer, Paulo Pinto, who I Googled on the internet. He told his editor, who told a reporter and the story ended up as an interview in the very same newspaper.Here I've posted a short video made with the photo and the music."

Jarbas Agnelli

alligator pie

well i was late for my own “grand opening” soiree, which is pretty typical. i could argue that i was FASHIONABLY late, and considering that i curled my hair for the occasion i think i can sell that as truth. overall the whole shebang was a smashing success. (quite literally since i ended up smashed and singing in my bff’s passenger seat. i can vouch for very successful drinking if nothing else.)

{*sidenote* just kidding dad.}

i feel utterly consumed with the store right now. the newness of it all inspires me. it’s a clean slate. i’ve said before that I like beginnings. they are pie-crusts that i can fill to bursting with the fruits of my imagination. i’m painting things. i’m building things. unfortunately the aftermath of inspiration has created a shanty-town in my living room. i’ve got stacks of empty picture frames fencing in glue-guns. (yes, plural. one gun is never enough. ask the NRA.) flattened silverware has booby-trapped the path to my bedroom. piles of tulle look like cotton-candy corpses. it’s a war zone and i’m sprawled in the middle of it wielding plastic scissors. i’m not really sure what I’m making at this point but I’m pretty sure I LOVE IT!!!

but there's another side to this frenetic energy that terrifies me. i worry that i will become nothing without it. if i stop moving i will cease to exist. (which is not a new thought for me.)there is a passage by yan martel (author: life of pi) that i stumbled across years ago in the globe and mail. i like it.

"I got to thinking about stillness. To read a book, one must be still. To watch a concert, a play, a movie, to look at a painting, one must be still. Religion, too, makes use of stillness, notably with prayer and meditation. Just gazing upon a quiet lake, upon a quiet winter scene - doesn't that lull us into contemplation? Life, it seems, favours moments of stillness to appear on the edges of our perception and whisper to us, 'Here I am. What do you think?'
Then we become busy and the stillness vanishes, yet we hardly notice, because we fall so easily for the delusion of busyness, whereby what keeps us busy must be important, and the busier we are with it, the more important it must be. And so we work, work, work, rush, rush, rush. On occasion, we say to ourselves, panting, 'Gosh, life is racing by.' But that's not it at all, it's the contrary: Life is still. It is we who are racing by."

so within the midst of this chaos i'm looking for moments of calm. i'm trying to breathe. i'm trying to believe that i am more than kinetic energy. i'm slowly learning that the world will allow me my allotted space whether i chase after every moment screaming or sit in silence and watch it swim by. who knows: it might even be safe to sleep. (mon dieu!)

sky circles

when i was in grade three i was asked to write a test to see if i was smart enough to be part of the “gifted” program in school district number nine. the kids asked to participate were selected based on their scores from the standardized exams that used to be given at the end of every year. the problem with this is that many forms of genius don’t necessarily excel in written exams. (newsflash of the century.) fortunately, i was one of those creepy children who did phonics workbooks for fun, and was a prime candidate for said program. my dad was beside himself with glee that i’d been asked. (what parent doesn’t like a little reassurance that their genes are holding their own?)

i wrote the test with two other girls from my school. i brought four freshly sharpened pencils and my own snoopy sharpener in case i got over-excited and pressed too hard. i breezed through the multiple choice and short answer questions. (the test was phonics on crack. awesome.) i was feeling a little cocky when i hit the last few pages, all of which were covered in silver-dollar sized circles. the instructions stated clearly that i was to draw anything and everything i could think of using these circles. i panicked.

see, my eight year old self felt very comfortable with rules. i was a perfectionist and needed to know exactly what was expected of me at all times so that i could execute each task precisely and correctly. the circles held too many variables. imagination is skewed. that’s what makes it so incredible. imagination sits on the precipice of art. it dips its toes into our truths, thrilling us with its audacity, and produces ripples of doubt. the realization that our collective knowledge is fragile and can be manipulated and challenged is both terrifying and exhilarating. within imagination there are no compartmentalized “rights” and “wrongs,” and that is extremely intimidating to an eight year old who lives for checkmarks on a page. i drew a blank and sat motionless for over twenty minutes. as i gazed frantically at the clock i was struck by a lightening bolt: CLOCK!! circle number one became a clock-face. one down, ninety-seven to go.

the next four circles became faces. “they’re all different people.” i reasoned. seconds before “time” was called i managed to turn circles number six and seven into a pair of eyeglasses. i carried my paper to the front of the room emanating the stench of failure. until this day i’ve told no one about the nefarious circles and their undoing of my precocious early years.

i didn’t get into the program. only one part of the exam had been difficult for me, but i was paralyzed with shame and told no one about my gross short-coming. my dad muttered under his breath that the whole thing was a “racket” and not something we’d want to be involved in anyway. (god bless fathers and their blind love.) i began to question my creativity. to this day i see circles everywhere. they haunt me. i love circular logic, circles of friends, birds and their weightless sky-circles, circles of life and circular saws. i enjoy crop circles and virtually round scoops of ice-cream placed delicately into slightly asymmetrical bowls. I rarely see polka-dots without squealing in delight, and have a soft spot in my heart for any circle that’s drooped under pressure.

in ralph waldo emerson's essay "circles" he begins:

"the eye is the first circle; the horizon which it forms is the second; and throughout nature this primary picture is repeated without end. it is the highest emblem in the cipher of the world."

i take from this that circles are indeed a worthy adversary. they encapsulate everything. most importantly, they've come to equal imagination for me. within imagination i find freedom, breath, and beauty. (ergo i love circles.) but i'm also wary. often in my store someone will comment on the creativity in which something has been displayed. my heart beats faster. i want to confess that i'm unable to do anything with circles on a page; that when push comes to shove i can't prove a creative mind on a piece of paper. i want to explain that i've had to let go of perfection in circles and because of this i can create them everywhere. (an example that success is born of failure i think. there is great potential in mistakes if we look at them obectively.) i can create. that right there is a definition of myself that i am painfully proud of. in your face school district number nine.

and another beginning?

so i'm a girl with a short attention span who loves beginnings. i excel at first steps, first kisses, first words and first tries. i'm a perpetual optimist and i fling myself into all of these things like a fleshed-out frisbee. jack kerouac said "i run from one falling star to another 'til i drop." i get this. i rarely take the time to breathe, and i'm sure this is a gross oversight that will shave years off my life. (there's that optimism!)


this blog is a beginning of sorts. i've been recording minutiae on scraps of paper since i was old enough to write. i love stories. i begin them all the time. a year and a half ago i opened a business. perhaps if i attach this blog to that business i can build a story i'm proud of.


i own a dress shop. it seems like such a small, innocuous sentence, but really it's quite overwhelming. i've tied myself to something. i've invested in something. i'm believing in myself. i don't find that a particularly easy thing to do.


*sidenote*people often ask me about my "business plan," to which i reply: "oh yeah. i have one!!! biiiiiiiig plan for business!" (said business plan consists solely of a theatre arts degree that bellows from a box in the back of my closet: "lie like a rug, ya big faker!!)


i think in the absence of a plan, i'm ready to substitute something shiny and new. enter blog. my original idea was that i would focus on anything and everything pertaining to the store. after letting this percolate, it became slightly suffocating. my new idea is to write about anything and everything in general, and hope that my store reflects well in the meanderings of me. this is a conduit between myself and my business.


so i'm a girl who dislikes capital letters. i love eating blueberries when i can pick them right off the bush. i can be very bossy if i'm sitting in the back of a canoe. and i own a clothing store. life is strange.