grunt, squeak, squawk

The Morning Strut has already seen me confess to a semi-serious canine perversion, but this week, Ruth's camera caught me fawning over some slightly more exotic pets.

Firstly, I'm not sure how I feel about Zoos (see why here and here). From what I gather, some animals are happy, some aren't. I understand that the protection of so many species is dependent on conservation programmes, but that doesn't necessarily have to involve odd-looking punters like me grinning at them like morons, does it?

Bottom line is this; I could watch these gorgeous dudes all day, but I'm pretty sure they'd rather I didn't.

Personally, I love being behind bars. Only for a couple of minutes, mind.

As you may have guessed, tigers, leopards and lions all give me the massive swoons, but if I'm totally honest, my spotted heart belongs to another.

The giraffe is my spirit animal. I feel a kinship with them for countless reasons. They're proud, confident and sneakily clever. They're very laid-back creatures, but they're fucking terrifying when they want to be (they fight like sailors and they've been known to kick lions to death!)

They're the ultimate oddballs of nature - they don't look like anyone else in the wild and they can't help getting noticed.

Sometimes when I go to visit them, they look like they're loving all the attention.

Other times, they really seem very shy.

Weirdos. 

threads: {dress - mangled vintage} {black belt - h&m} {gold elephant belt - vintage} {scarf - sister hand-me-down} {jacket - other sister hand-me-down} {boots - dodgy shop on Meath St.} {ear bling - random store in ny} {finger bling - street market in NY}

this ain't england

If I had my wicked way, I'd look like I'd come straight from The Cotton Club circa 1938 all day every day, but believe it or not, I don't have access to a lot of coyote fur coats and gold lame gowns.

'80s-tastic tack, on the other hand, seems to follow me around like a bad rash. Not only am I a 1987 baby, but my 7,000 ft stature allows me to take style cues from fabulous giant birds of the era like Brigitte Nielsen and Grace Jones.

I guess it's no harm to trade the Cotton Club for The Blitz for a while, if I'm allowed have tunes like this, this and this as my soundtrack...

 p.s. a shot that didn't make it to blog is positively going on file as a promo pic for my as-yet-unformed electro breakdance revival outfit. Get your interview requests in good and early, kids...

threads: {shirt - h&m} {shiny pants - aa} {cummerbund - d.i.y.} {jacket - vintage} {shoes - new look} {hugely beat-up clutch - penney's} {finger bling - asos} {scowl - model's own}

animal magnetism

Sometimes Ruth and I work really hard - proper back-aching, sweat-making, ass-breaking hard...And then there are those days when we sit around and paint each other's nails.

I had to go all the way to London to get my mitts on this miracle potion by Barry M (don't worry, there were other reasons for my trip - Kelly Brook wasn't going to stare at herself, now was she?), which creates a kind of beat-up graffiti effect on your paws.

I then surprised no-one by trying my hand at some animal patterns and Ruth was happy to play fucked-up zebra to my cheetah.

Oh, it's on!

threads: {my base coat - precious metals nail polish by 17} 

{ruth's base coat - the semen of a million irate stallions}

{top coat - instant nail effects by barry m}

three old bitches

Inhabitants of the city of Dublin will already be aware of my obsession with the canine species - many's the dog owner who's caught me perving off their pooch of a Sunday's eve...

I'm desperate for one of my own, but location, lifestyle and my tendancy to be a complete sham of a human being don't really allow it. If my goldfish Ginger makes it to her third birthday, maybe then I'll think about introducing a wee mutt into my family. For now, I'll continue to whore myself around for dogsitting duties and secretly hope someone lands a little flea bag in my lap.

I only kinda sorta coordinate with Minnie and Medjie in these shots (does two tone hair count?), but for a masterclass in doggie uniformity, look no further than the character of Nadine Hale in Easter Parade, played by the irrepressible Ann Miller, who I conveniently bigged up in this post earlier today!

threads: {swimsuit - vintage} {skirt - vintage...note the full-on leopard heads in the pattern!} {furs - M&S} {boots - shady Indian gentleman} {bag - penneys} {belt - vintage} {ear bling - vintage}

{Minnie and Medjie appear courtesy of the haus of Claire and Djamel}

style swoon - ann miller

Today I'm bigging up Ann Miller - the woman with the fastest feet in Hollywood.

She knew how to wear clothes, she loved the company of gentlemen, she danced well into her 50s, had ginormous hair, and was a consummate glamourpuss right 'til the end.

what's your favourite colour, baby?

If it wasn't already obvious, I've got a huge soft spot for animal prints. I've been known to set myself the challenge of making it through whole weekends wearing nothing but. 

I love to tell people that leopard is my favourite colour. When they reply that leopard is not a colour at all, I simply scream 

'It is, too! It's a living colour!',

claw them across the tummy and dash dramatically into a nearby jungle to hide in the forestscape.

Thank god for this spotted coat of mine...

threads: {bra - asos} {skirt - penney's} {shirt - h&m} {neck bling - leftovers} {hand bling - asos + topshop} 

{shoes - c/o unidentified Indian man on Meath St.}