sun by psychokinesis

Dublin's a pretty grey place to be at the moment (in all senses of the word) so this week I've been dressing to redeem my good mood. 

Since last weekend, I've been rocking floral skirts, tropical prints and cutout swimsuits. I've been freezing, but the idea that I might be charming the sun out from behind the clouds has kept me nice and toasty. (note: in no way is this true - I think I heard my pockets chatter at one point.)

Today, I pulled another swimsuit out of storage, and when I set foot outside my apartment block to trek over to Ruth's studio - BAM! Swimsuit weather!

Before I knew it, me, Ruth and Chewbacca (Ruth's pooch...looks like this) were frolicking among the dunes and I had no clothes on.

Whether it was the inexplicable 10° hike in temperature, or the satisfaction of transforming the skies with my bulging brain and impractical wardrobe, I didn't feel the breeze for one second.

I can already hear my Mam teasing that I look like Miss Dollymount Beach Clean-Up 2011, so this last one is for her...

"...and I pledge to represent all pregnant teens beach clean-up ladies, be they man, woman, black or white. I thank you."

threads: {suimsuit - h&m, with fringe from asos dress} {scarf - vintage} {skirt - mangled vintage} {parasol - found in chinatown in nyc}

let's fucking have you, ireland

image c/o Life

tomorrow's threads

down the hatch

Today, we begin with a moment of genuine terror. 

I'm in the kiddie tunnel at the National Wax Museum. 

No, not the kitchenette of horrors or whatever they call it, the cute little play area where you stick your four-year-old when they show a disappointing level of interest in a life size model of Brendan Grace. I'm not going to tell you what was up in that hatch, but it was not suitable for children.

There's absolutely no balance to this outfit.

Print for print, it's pure trash. 

Seeing as I made absolutely no attempt to class things up when I got dressed that morning, I thought I'd see if hanging out with some of Ireland's great political and artistic minds (and a couple of head scratchers who presumably made it to wax on some form of dare) would make me look like any less of a harlot.

Your guess is as good as mine on that one.

Needless to say I felt right at home in the Writers' Room, with Wilder, Joycee and the lads.

ATTN: GOOD PEOPLE OF THE NATIONAL WAX MUSEUM - When you finally come to your senses and add me to this exhibition, I want my waxwork to be doing this. 

And don't be putting her in no tea dress.

threads: {top - mangled dress} {skirt - motel} {belt - vintage} {leopard collar - oxfam} {bracelet - vintage} {tattoos - found in chinatown in London and helped along with eyeliner}

style swoon: mary margaret dunne

Known to a whole city as Mad Mary, this vivacious lady stood on Dublin's O'Connell St. almost every day for 20 years and just danced.

A Facebook page dedicated to the curious dancing woman currently has over 20,000 fans. More often than not, visitors to the site recall her unfaltering glamour.