Saturday, September 23, 2006

You Know You Want One

PeaceBang's Seal

I'm not sure how I just designed this. I was thinking about my sermon and kicking around some sites and wham, before you know it...!


No, I Won't You Be Your Neighbor, And I Hate Your Pants

He Was Kidding, Right?
Originally uploaded by Peacebang.

This gorgeous hunka hunka burning love is apparently J.C. Chasez, a celebrity-oriented type person. Never hoid of him before.

He's very handsome. He's fit. He's young, he has beautiful skin and cute hair. So what's with the outfit? Is this supposed to be ironic? Or nostalgic? Or just kind of whimsically elegant? Because fish ain't biting. To my eyes it just looks silly, and totally out of character. It looks like a costume, which is always a mistake. He looks like he just escaped from a bus-and-truck of "Forever Plaid."

Fellas, we know that the REAL J.C. always unerringly fashionable. This J.C., not so much. Look how he's emasculated himself, made himself a walking expression of sarcasm, and just plain dressed like a foo'. (As in,"Hey foo'! What's with the plaid pants!")

I know a good number of clergy gents who attempt this look on some level as a way of working the tranquil, unthreatening Rev. Fred McFeely Rogers vibe, but believe me, they mostly don't succeed. Even if you have a sort of avant-garde cardigan like this one, and you think you're dressing it up with a tie, think twice before emulating Monsieur Chasez. If you're truly gentle and fatherly, and you're over 60, maybe you can carry it off. If you're young and handsome, don't don this kind of ensemble as a way of underplaying your natural hotness. It might just make you look weirdly pervy, like this guy. And Lord knows we don't need that.

Thus spaketh the Bang, who when she sees plaid pants, always thinks "Darien Country Club," and not in a good way.

Thanks to the Go Fug Yourself gals for the photo.

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Friday, September 22, 2006

Dreaming of Dachshunds

SisterBang, this is for you. I added some photos:

If you get Mr. Beekman and Margot, I'll get Tim Gunn. And they can all have playdates over the summer.

New For Fall '06: The Vertical Tonsure!!

My dear and reverend brothers,

I believe in you. I do. So I know I don't have to tell you that this look probably won't work for you (maybe I would feel a weensy bit better about it if it didn't appear that this model was on the toilet in the photo, but I don't think so):

Ring Of Hair

If you're a Franciscan, maybe we can talk. But for the rest of you, while fringes are lovely on your vestments, they are not lovely on your head. In fact, if you're a fringey-haired fella, you might just want to consider the power of the bald.
Send me a photo and I'll advise.

Kiss of peace to you, spiritual hotties!

Photo courtesy of PlanetDan

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Brown Is The New Black

You may have noticed, beautiful clerics, that brown is everywhere this year. You got yer brown pants, you got your brown shirts, you got yer brown boots, you got yer brown bags and brown sweaters and brown coats!!

Brown! Brown! Brown!

With all this brown around, PeaceBang, a brown-eyed girl, wants to say a few words about this color.

1. Brown can be lush and gorgeous, or brown can be blah. Be careful how you use brown.


This is a lovely brown jacket. Men, I'm sure there's a nifty version of this garment for you somewhere at Macy's or the like. It's a rich brown, like the pelt of a cute animal like a beaver or otter, it has terrific bronze buttons, it's fun. You can throw an interesting, long, nubby scarf around the neck and wear it out anywhere with beautiful jeans and wonderful boots.

But, ah, mira:
The lady, she is so downcast! Por que? Because she did not take PeaceBang's advice to choose luxe brown pieces and she is just looking very blah in her brown sweater. The color is dead, it has no richness to it, and even though she is very pretty and slim and has shiny hair, her complexion and her demeanor are dragging because of this poopy garment.

Brown is fabulous, my darlings! But not all brown is fabulous. Choose it wisely and well, in interesting, rich fabrics that capture light and that don't just mope around like a dried out peach pit on the kitchen counter.

If you have a dull complexion and hair and refuse to wear make-up, avoid the brown. The brown, it will do you and your people no good. The brown, it can be a curse. Or it can be a blessing.

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Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Make It Work

My two most recent posts on PeaceBang have cross-over appeal:

And if I got little Tim Gunn the Dachsund, I could dress him up in cunning little puppy outfits!

dachshund fashiondachshundfashion2

Now THAT's Fashion Entertainment!!

Oh my God.
Oh my God.
I am delirious!!
Go immediately to this link and listen to The New York Times' Cathy Horyn's commentary on Fashion Week:

If you don't absolutely burst your appendix laughing I will buy you a free appletini next time I see you.

I am over the moon on this! First we get to actually see the ridiculous stylings of Narciso Rodriguez -- just insane nonsense like they always do, you know, the pleatherette red breastplate and things inspired by Darth Vader worn by sneering stick girls -- and while that's all hilarious enough, you get the dramatically deadpan, extravagantly pretentious commentary of Ms. Horyn at the SAME TIME!! IT IS HEAVEN!!

She describes the clothing in phrases like "something evocative of the unsavory," and "nomadic, patched-up elegance" and if you ask me, we should all listen to this commentary over and over again in order not only to quote her extensively but to master her pronunciation of words like "show" (say"shee-owww," only don't move your lips or jaw while you do it) and "clothes" ("cleeooooooooooooooooowths"). I am Cathy Horyn's biggest new fan! Physically AND emotionally! Who IS she? Is she a real person, do you think, or a comedian pulling an elaborate hoax? And do you think she was born with that many y's in her name??

Anyway, do enjoy this to its fullest, but do not be drinking a beverage while you listen to the first couple of designer commentaries, I'm warning you. Things get more interesting and less utterly bombastic by the time we get to Anna Sui and Zac Posen (and Sui's collection just rocks, btw).

Go, go, go! Listen now! I don't want you to miss this! It is totally evocative of the unsavory!

(make sure to click twice on the button that works for your modem speed)


Pope Ben's Chapeau

PeaceBang is sitting here with her morning coffee positively chortling! Pastor Peters asked her what she thinks of Pope Ben's darling red chapeau,

and PeaceBang has to say, "Bravo, Bennie! What fun! I'm sure there's some serious ecclesiologicalastical reason behind the choice of that particular sombrero, but PeaceBang doesn't even want to know what it is, she just wants to say, "LOVES it, Your Extreme Holiness!"

Was the hat supposed to make a statement? If so, here's the statement I get:

"Hello, everyone! I'm the most important and powerful religous person in the world, and yet what I want more than anything is to play bocce ball with you, or perhaps to give your children a pony ride on my knee."

I don't know the history of the mitre, that big pointy hat worn by the pontiff on fancy liturgical occasions. However, my imagination has a field day with it. I see a really busy temple from maybe 3500 years ago, and they've got to sacrifice a goat but they don't know which guy's going to do it. So they finally find Schloime the High Priest and it's just about sundown and Schloime says, "You schmucks! You were almost late with this and YHVH will be displeased if we don't get this done by sundown!" And one of the goat wranglers goes, "But Schloime, this place is a madhouse! We couldn't find you!" And his friend, who's holding the goat down on the slab, chimes in, "Exactly! Why don't you get a big hat or something so we can see you through this meshugenah crowd already?"

And thus the mitre was born.
That my idea, anyway.
By the way, you can get one here for $19.95!

But the cherry red cowboy type hat is so much more kicky and fun, don't you think?

PeaceBang is the granddaughter of a milliner, and she just can't stop loving on that hat. If this Pope can rejuvenate the custom of wearing hats to church, PeaceBang will personally travel to Rome just to blow kisses at the Vatican. She won't even bitterly comment on the many beggars starving in the streets of the holy city, and she promises not to murmur anything about "those god&*%%ed thieves" as she rushes past the stolen treasures in the Vatican museum on the way to viewing the Sistine Chapel. Scout's honor.


Tuesday, September 19, 2006

The Perils Of Bangs

Let us study the absolutely striking and gorgeous Anjelica Huston:

anjelica 2

Sweet pigeons, I know she's a movie star and you're not. I know she probably has a private facialist and a private high colonicist and a private masseur and that she probably sleeps in a special hyperbaulic oxygenated chamber on satin sheets, and you're lucky if you squeeze in six hours of sleep a night.*

However, let's learn a few things from the elegant Ms. Huston. First, she's radiantly confident in her own skin, and at her own age. She's not trying to be an incarnation of the Goddess by draping herself in sparkly shawls and batik skirts and flowy hempen blouses that threaten to lift her off the ground in a stiff wind, she's incarnating the Goddess by being a striking woman. Period. It can be done in an understated, classic way. Simple lines. Elegant garments. In her case, signature raven hair and bold lipstick. Perfect skin. A dead-on sense of humor and sexy wisdom. Posture.

We love Anjelica. We really downright worship her.
If we weren't 5'3" with the shape of the Venus of Willendorf,, we would dress just like her, dye our hair raven brown, and slather our mouths with Paloma Picasso red lipstick.

However, I trust that Ms. Huston will not be offended if I point out just how difficult it is to make heavy bangs work for you when you're not absolutely glowing and elegant and generally at your gorgeous best, and when you're over 50:

anjelica huston

All of which is to say, pigeons, that even Hollywood goddesses may have to re-evaluate their classic "look" and update it now and then (Babs Streisand, I'm looking at you and your Clinton-era 'do, honey). If you're wearing bangs because your Aunt Lily cut them for you when you were 11 and you've just never thought about wearing your hair any other way, it's time to take a good, hard look. They can age you terribly. They're also very much back in fashion for the younger set, so be careful you don't look like you're trying to compete with the dewy fresh young thangs.

P.S. Classic red lipstick is also back with a vengeance, and I'll be shopping for shades for you any day now. And speaking of satin sheets, which we were a few moments ago, they really do help keep your skin and hair smooth. No creases, and no snarls or bed head! You may want to invest in a satin pillowcase. Your spouse will tease you, but he or she may also prefer how you look in the morning, which PeaceBang just calls a WIN-WIN.

P.P.S. Men should not have bangs. I can't think of any man over the age of 6 who looks better with bangs.

* I think I made that up, except that it sounds like something Michael Jackson would own.

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Transitional Seasons = PeaceBang's Personal Hell

I think I made it okay through the last few big church events. I wore pretty skirts and blazers and my hair was acceptable, if not great. A member of my faithful Booger Patrol helped me wipe away some stray Tammi Faye Bakker smeared eyeliner after a funeral on Saturday, and my feet didn't hurt too much in the various cute heels I wore.

Then the weather turned really warm and muggy again, which has me standing in my closet fretting over what to wear. Summer blouses are too white, too cottony and beachy, or just wrong colors for autumn. I always feel good in a blouse or sweater with a blazer, but it's too warm for that. So I'm left with autumny or wintery looking tops that are either too warm or too dark for this Indian summer weather, and I just feel bloated and sweaty and my hair is a wavy nightmare no matter how much product I use in it.

Today I wore a long, straight purple kind of dressy, Indianish print skirt I've had for about six years, with a black tank and black v-necked cardigan over it. I wore black Bandolino wedge sandals and a prayer wheel on a long silver chain. It worked fine for a Chamber of Commerce lunch but was too uncomfortable for class, and I noticed that the skirt is getting a little bit SNUG. Augh!

When you're a chunky gal, it's all about layers, and it's just too warm for layers right now. I wore a striped, short-sleeved empire waist blouse to the board meeting tonight, with black pants and black flats. I forgot to take my hair down from a big, sloppy stupid hairclip I wear when I'm cooking, so rather than show up looking like Mad Hair Woman of Borneo, I tried to neaten it up and kept the clip in.

I hate transitional seasons. When it's this warm I just want to be knocking around in shorts and a t-shirt. Blah.


Sunday, September 17, 2006

Merrell's RIP

This is the saddest non-important thing in my life this afternoon:

My beloved Merrell thong sandals that I have had for three years and worn almost every day (certainly in the summer) around the house and all around the universe because they are the most comfortable shoes EVER (take THAT, Crocs!) just broke.

Keening. Wailing. Gnashing of teeth and renting of garments (which, in the Biblical, means tearing. Not like renting of tuxes, for your non-Biblical people out there). Donning of sackcloth and ashes.

I tried to replace this pair last year but they stopped making this style, and the new version just wan't heavenly comfortable, so why purchase it?

These are all run-on sentences but that's what happens when you are GRIEVING YOUR SHOES.