Shirt+Trousers: H&M/ Shoes: Primark/ Necklace: Walibi
Teacher: You're a zebra. You're a leopard. I'm confused.
Love,
Dominique
Trousers+Shoes+Shirt: H&M/ Jacket: Thrift Store/ Scarf: Miss Etam/ Necklaces: Hardware Store
"You either love them or hate them", the saleswoman said to me when I (in the sense of my mom) was paying for these trousers. "One customer walks away with them as if they've found the love of their life. Others look at them as if they've just gone mad".
Checkered trousers, for me, got this massive association with punk (the good kind of punk). Although I must admit, I'm as far as you're gonna get from punk. Though, I've got a button which says "Punk grrrrl Rock" in pretty pink. That's a message from the heart.
About "message from the heart", I gave my sister a little listen to Broken by Jake Bugg (I somehow am in the mood for melo-dramatic soft tender music, must be the weather changing). And after our sit through all she said was, "He's got quite a funny voice". Which 1) is true. I really need to be in a sort of mood to listen to his music (which makes "special"). And 2) Wasn't really the deep emotional message behind the song/videoclip... or it was and I'm just like those amature art historians who sees behind every depicted thing a deep meaning/symbol. While in fact it's just an orange.
Love,
Dominique
Dress: Moonlight/ Leather Jacket: Only/ Shoes: H&M/ Tights: Wibra/ Ribbon in my hair: Wrapping from a gift
The Day of the Deaf is an annual event given on the 4th Saturday of September. The Dutch event was this year given at my sister's school with the theme: Visual Enrichment. Deaf artists were given a spotlight to show their work. This varied from paintings to woodworking. As said, the artists were all deaf, so communication between us didn't went so smooth.
While walking around I noticed that the chance of interrupting a conversation was ten times higher than usual. Everyone was talking in hand gestures and apparently that takes a lot of space.
I'm a total hand gesture rookie (I can spell my dogs name and I know the sign for sea turtle... like that's something that will come up in every conversation).
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It was very clear that it was the Day of the Deaf and for once the hearing (us) felt a bit lost/confused/ not being accounted with, but I just think that many deaf people feel like this in "my" world (hereby not meaning that the world is mine... though domination is coming closer every day).
Besides that all, there was a clown. I don't like clowns. This clown saw me and thought "I'm going to make her laugh... or scare her so bad that she'll have a trauma for ever and ever and ever". He did the last one. I just really don't like clowns.
Years ago (when I was about 16 years old) I had a Drama exam (Spoilers: I passed) and we had to make our own production. So I'd written a detective, set in a circus called "Grand Opening". The ringmaster welcomes us all into his circus and than tragically dies on stage (Grand Opening indeed). From there on, an all knowing manic Columbo-esque detective comes to the scene and interviews all the weird and wonderful people you can think of hanging around a circus. One of those creatures was a clown. A creepy clown who hates kids and basically dislikes everything and everyone that has ever excisted in our universe... played by me. My mum even made me a clown suit (that I still own) and my face was totally whited. The contours of my face were highlighted with black and my lips were coloured blood red. After a long and thorough research, we got a confession of the killer of the ringmaster (Spoilers: It was the accountant).
Love,
Dominique
All my life I've been fascinated by dolls. On one hand they creep me out and on the other I often wish to be one myself (a full functioning, very intelligent doll... although, compared to all the other dolls, it's already impressive if I could stand right up on my own two feet).
When I was about twelve I was totally obsessed with the Lolita style, which led me to other (Japanese) subcultures. One of my favourite books I've got at that time is "Gothic & Lolita" by Masayuki Yoshinaga and Katsuhiko Ishikawa. A real page turner, I must tell. When I feel uninspired, I just open this book and drool over everything I'll never be... then I try to adapt the perfectness of all the people photographed and come up with something that will do.
Dress: Superstar/ Legging: H&M/ Necklace: Forgot the name of the store... sorry/ Shoes: Outlet Store
Love,
Dominique
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When I was about twelve I was totally obsessed with the Lolita style, which led me to other (Japanese) subcultures. One of my favourite books I've got at that time is "Gothic & Lolita" by Masayuki Yoshinaga and Katsuhiko Ishikawa. A real page turner, I must tell. When I feel uninspired, I just open this book and drool over everything I'll never be... then I try to adapt the perfectness of all the people photographed and come up with something that will do.
Dress: Superstar/ Legging: H&M/ Necklace: Forgot the name of the store... sorry/ Shoes: Outlet Store
Love,
Dominique
Kimono: Made by my mum/ Leather Jacket: Only/ Tights: Wibra/ Shoes: Van Haren
Love,
Dominique
Skirt+Vest: H&M/ Shirt: Gift from my aunt/ Tights: Wibra/ Shoes: Primark
Yesterday, like almost every day, I was on the train. I sat next to my friend (a.k.a. "Train Buddy"), minding our own business. Complaining about things. The normal stuff. A guy gets in and sets himself infront of us, putting his bag under the chair. Train Buddy and I resume to our very intelligent conversation, until we get to the next stop. The guy steps out. Leaving his bag in the train.
A reconstruction:
Train Buddy: He's left his bag under the chair.
*Silence*
Me: Yeah.
*Silence*
Train Buddy: Should we... you know... say something or...
*Silence*
Me: Yeah, probably.
*Looking at eachother in despair*
So I grabbed the bag and went to the door (the entrance/exit... that's a door right?). Then it daunts me: What if the train leaves without me because I'm returning the bag of some strange guy who ought to keep sight on his own stuff? I mean who forgets his stuff (which equals to life essentially) on the train?!? Surprisingly loads of people. It's ridiculous, like I've worked three days at a supermarket and two people had forgotten their debit card. IT'S YOUR DEBIT CARD! That's like very important.
I always guard my stuff with great suspicion towards my surroundings because, as stated before, it equals my life (not intending to sound like a materialist, but it does).
So, when all this goes through my mind, I come up with a radical solution. I'll just shout.
Me: SIR!!!!
*Everyone turns around*
Me: YOU'VE FORGOTTEN YOUR BAG!!!
Now the guy turns around, looks at me and sees his bag. "Thank you", he says. I, still standing frozen in the train, am not moving. Then he realizes that he's supposed to collect his stuff, because no freakin' way I'm stepping out of this train. Worst case scenario: I'll throw it to him. But there was no need to. He excepted his fate and did the walk of shame.
After all this drama, I sat back next to my Train Buddy. She looks at me and says: "I'm a bad person, because I wasn't that sure if I would've return it to him". "Neither was I", I said. But what goes around, comes around. So I'm expecting some good vibes within these coming days.
Love,
Dominique
