DIY Bleached and Destroyed Jeans + Keith Richards' face on a t-shirt

I now present to you what is perhaps my second DIY success ever (the first being the studded boots in yesterday's post of course). While bleaching a pair of old, cheap jeans is admittedly not the most difficult DIY in the world to complete, I am nonetheless proud of myself for actually doing it without entirely ruining them...then again, the point was for them to be entirely ruined, so perhaps I succeeded in that? I don't know, and moreover don't feel like playing semantics with myself this morning.

These jeans (which I am now madly in love with and want to wear all the time) are the result of spending Saturday night at home with a cheese grater, jug of liquid laundry bleach, bucket and and a sponge. And before you ask: yes, I actually do enjoy Saturday night 'arts and crafts for a 3 year old' as G likes to call it, regardless of the fact that I've reminded him time and time again that a 3 year old shouldn't really be handling a two litre bucket of bleach.

I've had this Keith Richards t-shirt for ages, but unfortunately rarely wear it as a result of it being from what I like to call the Toronto version of Hot Topic...a shop called Black Market, located on Queen Street West. While Black Market does sell a certain amount of proper vintage clothing, the rest of their wares consist of mass-printed 'punk rock' tees which are, by way of their very creation and place of origin, not punk rock at all. So it's kind of a lame t-shirt by all means, but from time to time I certainly cannot resist the appeal of a young Keith Richards' face staring up at me from my t-shirt drawer.

In other news, I've determined that I do not own enough winter-appropriate clothing. I can't keep wearing tank tops and tiny, thin sweaters under wool coats and expect to not freeze. A thirfting trip for a pile of chunky knit sweaters and various sweater dresses and whatnot is definitely in order. Because yes, it's still cold here. And yes, it will continue to be for approximately forever, or rather, until it's not anymore. Getting more specific than that is just depressing for the time being.

Wearing

The jeans are initially from Urban Planet and cost $19, hence the reason I bleached, ripped and generally felt free to destroy them as I did.

The t-shirt is, as already mentioned, from Black Market.

Converse shoes, obviously. I've really been feeling the high-tops lately and am considering buying a pair, but understand that it would be reasonable to hold off on this as their thin rubber soles are the coldest and slipperiest thing imaginable in the winter. Damn you winter and the limitations you impose upon my clothing and footwear choices!!

The black oversized hoodie is G's, and I'm unsure as to where it's from. I don't think he likes that I take his clothes all the time, particularly in consideration of the fact that 90% of our closet space is alreadty taken up by my stuff...

Baby.

I'll admit it: today's theme is not all that far-fetched for me. I often dress and act as though I am approximately 4 years old, as evidenced by my intense and long-standing love for things such as rompers, frilly and/or colourful socks, rice pudding and juice boxes.
And speaking of socks, here's a fun little factoid about me: I own about 30 pairs, and not one single pair is a 'normal' colour or pattern. I have socks for every holiday, including the best one of all - Hallowe'en - socks with my initials on them (the ones I'm wearing in these photos actually), socks in every animal print known to man, and the list goes on. I've tried to buy a standard white or black pair many a time, and I've not yet been capable of bringing myself to do it. I've no idea why this is.

So I just want to put this out there: playgrounds are fun. Adults should hang out in playgrounds more often...that is if it weren't a super creepy thing to do when actual children are around. However there were no children in this particular playground this morning and as such G and I had a fantastic time.
I'd kind of forgotten how much fun it is climb up the ladder to a gigantic twisty slide (which, for the record, really isn't as gigantic as you remember it being the last time you were on it) and, better yet, sliding down such twisty slide!
And while slides may appear smaller and the ride down them shorter because, well, you've gotten bigger, it's at least good to know that some things never change: 15 years later and I still cannot for the life of me manage to get across a set of monkey bars without assistance. For one, they terrify me and did even more so when I was 3 feet tall and therefore quite a bit higher off the ground in hanging position.
Way more pleasant than my monkey bars terror is 'Baby', the Harajuku Lovers fragrance. It's expected given its name but really nice nonetheless; there's a strong baby powder aspect to 'Baby', but it's nicely offset with a fresh, clean floral base and hint of musk. It's absolutely the kind of scent I can imagine myself wearing for date nights, anniversaries, playground trips and any other event which is flirty, romantic or just simple fun. So while 'Baby' may not turn out to be on the heavy rotation shelf in my washroom, G and I both love it and it's therefore a definite special occasion keeper.
Wearing
Top: Erin Fetherston for Target
Dress: vintage
"S" socks: Goodness knows. Someplace nuts undoubtedly.
Shoes: F21
Bag: Harajuku Lovers