On J. Crew

When I was younger, 10 or so, I got into the (totally bizarre) habit of ordering J. Crew catalogues in the mail, then cutting animal heads out of old Owl magazines and pasting them over the model's faces. It was a brief summer craft project that turned into a full-blown obsession. I wish I still had a few of these kicking around--sadly, all of my outsider art was thrown away as kid crafts gave way to teen diaries. Back then, J. Crew was all crinkled khakis and pastel polos; it was more dockside, less desirable. It was the age of Dawson's Creek, what can I say?

(photo via stayinginwithvlada.com)

As much as I love Pacey Witter (which, to be fair--to this day--is a lot) J. Crew had to grow up eventually. And, year by year, it's been getting better and better. Under the creative direction of Jenna Lyons, she of the heavy framed eyeglasses and little boy nail polish controversy, the brand has become more classic and more daring at once.

They've been teasing an entry into the Canadian market for years, but next week it's finally going to happen: at Yorkdale on August 18th. I don't think this will damper my bi-monthly road trips to Buffalo, NY, but it's still a bright spot in a crowded mall. Now we just need to start pulling Madewell up past the border--gently, gently.

From the J. Crew fall 2011 lookbook:

Not so much the pants, but definitely the trench. 

I don't enjoy being swathed in black all fall/winter long, but my coloring (red hair, freckles) usually doesn't give me much choice. This is a combination I can get behind, though. Mint and burgundy? So pretty. Reminiscent of one of my favorite snacks: mint chip ice cream with blueberries. Tastes awful, looks delicious. 

Yes please. 

(photos via fashionolgie.com)

Ikea Kitchen Cart DIY

Truth: I've never wanted a Bekvam cart, that Ikea staple of a million undergrad kitchens.

It's a functional size and shape, but the untreated wood isn't very appealing. Last month, during a DIY drought--our apartment is running out of projects, how will I live?--I decided to give in, buy the Bekvam, lug the box home and start staining. Our existing kitchen "cart" needed to eat it, after all:

I mean, look at that thing. Purchased on sale at Canadian Tire in 2008 for $10. It could barely even stand up straight.  

Staining and painting are hard tasks when you live in a cramped apartment, so I opted to get the job done outside on our (equally cramped) front porch. Let's just say, I spent a lot of time yelling at wind.

After:

(Please ignore the disgusting switch plate. This ain't my house, so I ain't DIY-ing that thing.)

It looks like a million bucks--or like $249.00, which is the price of Ikea's similar Stenstorp cart. 

I'm currently living cheaper than Ikea. I didn't think it could be done. 

Also!

A gift from Devan's mom, or, a book salvaged from a basement in London, ON. Yes, those are goblets of milk on the front cover. 

I may have to start a series of blog posts testing out these recipes. Nay, will. 

Late Night Ottoman Upholstery

In second year university, my aunt foisted some furniture on me: an old pale pink corduroy wingback chair and matching ottoman from 1980s Sears. They were super ugly; still are. The wingback at least is in good shape, but the ottoman hasn't held up so well. It's barely survived countless house parties, spills, feet, crosswords and cats. Note the historical evidence below:
                                           

                                                                            

I've been wanting to recover the ottoman for a while. I bought a yard at Designer Fabrics, borrowed a staple gun from my mom, referenced a tutorial from Remodelaholic.com, and set to work at 10pm on a Friday night.  Please ignore any tall boys or glasses of red wine that may have crept into the backgrounds of these photos. 

Before shot. The ottoman in all of its filthy, Febrezed glory.

I removed the wooden legs first, only to discover that they WEREN'T WOOD AT ALL. You duped me, Sears.

Next, I made buttons using leftover scraps and a button kit. 

Don't do what I did: use a too-heavy fabric for the buttons, render the plastic button kit useless and end up hammering them together until a neighbour starts banging on the walls to shut you up.

Next, I measured and marked the locations for my buttons. This is where things got tricky. My ottoman is basically a hollow wooden box, and I decided to leave the existing fabric and padding in place-- not ideal conditions for button tufting. Devan drilled holes through both the top and bottom of the ottoman. 

Don't do what we did: forget to recharge your drill before using it. 

I centered the fabric, pulled it taut and stapled it to the bottom of the ottoman. I did the sides before tackling the corners; those I folded up, creating a double fold which I then straightened out (hard to explain). Don't do what I did: try to make it up as you go along. 

Somebody's pleased.

I couldn't find any long upholstery needles, so I made do with what I had on hand; a regular sewing needle taped to a barbecue skewer (really). I had to poke the "needle" through the new fabric, the old fabric, and the old padding before I could even hit the first hole in the wood. It took at least thirty minutes to get the first button tufted, but it was doable!

Don't do what I did: expect to tuft six buttons, when it's clear that you'll be giving up after number four.

The finished product!

Digby still likes it. 

Fake Gardens

I made a few resolutions at the start of this year: the same massive ones I make every year and inevitably fail at (control my diabetes better, run more road races, start budgeting), but also a new dumb goal (have more flowers in my apartment). The first three are off to an okay start; it's that last one that's sucking miserably.

My flower resolution hasn't gone well so far, mostly due to winter, but most-mostly due to me. The thought of carrying a plant home in mittened hands just seems cruel, and I already killed my Ikea succulents with too much love/water. I have a whole fleet of thrifted milk glass vases waiting to be filled with posies from Coriander Girl but they have to wait a little longer. In the meantime I'll be making these wool flowers (as seen in Sweet Paul) and tossing them all over my apartment. These were featured in the kid's issue, but I have the crafting tendencies of an 8-year-old so that's alright. I'm so sorry, Devan, in advance--our place is about to look even more like Martha Stewart's shitter.