Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Bond Girl Style: Helga Brandt!

Also known as Agent #11, fiery femme fatale Helga Brandt knows exactly how to simultaneously combine elegance and danger with one swipe of her lipstick. Channel your inner Bond girl by investing in a few bad girl basics - look for pinup worthy pencil skirts in leather (try a deep cognac for daytime and pitch black for an evening look), glamorous fitted cashmere sweaters (preferably trimmed in fur), and a beautiful pair of seamed stockings. Just add a quick slick of liquid eyeliner for that iconic cat-eye look and you are ready for a little secret rendezvous of your own...
Comrade Von Pussycat

Things I Love In November

Autumnal prints & muted colors - cozy pumpkin spice and warm creme brulee sweater separates make it easy to mix and match for a laid back and elegant Autumn look.
Mixing textures and patterns - creamy cappuccino angora sweaters pair perfectly with rich chocolate colored pencil skirts and mocha plaid wool circle skirts!
Swedish Hasbeens "Singoalla" Peeptoes - the cutesy cutout details and low wood heel make these darling shoes perfect for everyday wear. My favorite thing about the natural leather? Olive oil and sunlight make them darker with age, turning them into a delicious creme caramel color!
Miniature sweet treats - I don't have much of a sweet tooth, so when I find little desserts that are as beautiful as these macarons, it takes me to a happy place. Favorite flavors: Persian Rose, Pumpkin Spice, Amaretto, and Red Velvet!
George the Cat - after losing my beloved Samson in Macedonia, I swore that I would never get another cat. Well, George just showed up at our front door one day, and that was that. Someone up there definitely has a sense of humor.

Comrade Von Pussycat

Monday, November 10, 2014

Strange People...

Barely able to stand, he gripped the bright yellow handle on the bus, tightly, as if life itself would slip through his fingers if he let go. He sat down, abruptly, on the plush navy cushioned seat, the stench of liquor heavy on his breath, streaming hotly out of his nostrils and staining his greasy canvas jacket, wet from new rain. As I glanced quickly at this strange man, my hardened gaze lifted, the fragility of this being struck me deeply and immediately I felt a sadness envelop me. Right there, sitting across from me, knees nearly touching yet worlds apart, my obligatory stony gaze crumbled and fell. His eyelids were swollen shut from crying. The kind of crying that causes your whole body to tremble, I could tell. His noble Balkan nose was the hue of a fresh bruise, and there was a smear of blood dripping down his right eyelid and onto his cheek, moist from tears. His knuckles were scraped and bloody. His ash grey mustache twitched involuntarily with a deep pain…anguish…agony…sorrow. An unfathomable sorrow. What had happened to this man? Suddenly I felt the urge to throw my youthful arms around this ancient soul and save him from his sorrow. I thought of my father, my brothers, my grandfathers, my uncles. Would anyone comfort them if they were on this bus, alone and dejected, not a hope in the world? Would anyone take a minute out of their busy schedule to embrace a stranger in need of a little mercy from humanity? Or would everyone avert their gaze, too uncomfortable to leave the safety of their own lives to comfort one in need? I hated myself for being one of those people. I have so little faith in humanity these days, and now I am just as guilty as all of them. I feel like I failed God. Please, God, forgive me for being too cowardly to help a person in need.
Sinner or saint? Angel or the devil’s plaything? Does it truly matter in the end?
Drowning…swirling…sinking …
Down, down …down to the bottom.
We all go.

Comrade Von Pussycat