Step aside Brian Williams

I realize it's been some time since the Vancouver twentyten Winter Olympics, but as I was glued to my set for the entirety of the games many things still remain fresh in my memory. Alex Bilodeau and his historic gold medal (I'm going to thank Brian Williams for burning that phrase into my head), faulty mechanics in the opening ceremonies leading to an embarrassing no flame-show for Catriona and consequently and even more embarrassing closing ceremonies (I napped through most of them but caught Avril Lavigne and scantily-clad mounties, enough to put any Canadian to shame), and of course...the fashion.

Allow me to start with figure skating, since it's just so easy:



Sarah and I couldn't figure out what Michal Brezina was going for, and at first couldn't even decide with all that spinning and fluttering whether the band at the waist was part of the shiny pink sequined sweater vest or part of the slacks. Yes, slacks. Is this Czech for guido? In the end, we realized that what he in fact embodied was k.d.lang at the office. She'd probably tone down the slacks, probably something a little more neutral, but definitely keep the bling.

I tried to find a picture of Evan Lysacek too, but failed, so will just emphasize that the black, feathered ensemble he wore made him look like the Adams Family meets Swan Lake. Instead, I will leave you with this:



What? Looks like Krippendorf could have his PhD thesis after all with this tribe of two. OH SNAP.

I also wanted to showcase the inappropriate jeanpants the American snowboarders were wearing and the fine moustache of the French halfpipe snowboarder well-dubbed "Inspector Clouseau" (his coach sported the same facial fashion), but could only find pictures of Shaun White smiling, Shaun White grinning, Shaun White winning, Shaun White paraphernalia, and so on and so forth. Halfpipe should have just been renamed to "Come Watch Shaun White".

As for the commentating during these games, nothing could beat David Pelletier's dry wit and French Canadian boldness
("Are they channeling their inner Avatar? This is why you don't let the competition design your outfits.") , but the women's alpine skiing peeps sure came close:

"My that was quite the spill Diane."
"Sure was! Wow she's still going, looks like she might make it to the finish line on her bum!"
"Well, she'd be real competition in luge."

"And the French skiier takes off! And she...oh my. Looks like she just....tipped over. Do you think she's hurt?"
"I think it's just her pride that's hurt Dave."

Thanks Vancouver, Brian Williams, and the rest of the CTV news team. Alex Bilodeau, men's hockey, and a 1 2 finish in women's bobsleigh may have captured the hearts and imaginations of millions of viewers, but to me the 2010 Olympics will always be Avatar catastrophes and poor sport choices.

A Precursor to the Olympic Catwalk

Before I write about the Olympics, which has taken up 99.9999998% of my time for the last two or so weeks, I thought I would bring back this goldmine of the fashion world to everyone's attention to really set the mood. I can only hope that I will be half as awesome when I search for my favourite pieces from the Vancouver winter games. Kudos to Johnny Virgil for creating this classic.

What (not) to wear

Living with Sarah has given me a lot to think about.

In my wardrobe, that is.

Before I leave the house, I go to the mirror by the door and check to make sure that I'm dressed exactly for the activity I'll be doing, or day I'll be having. For instance, for school, do I have the "pretentious but genuinely eager to learn" look for James Rutherford Hume's Ancient Greek Religion class, that at the same time presents itself as "stylish, scholarly, and sarcastic" for Frank Towers' American History, and at the end of the day will get me through biology with something that says "Not a first year or going to med school; I'm only here for the David Attenborough clips"? It's a tough call.

I didn't always give my outfits this much thought, but after Sarah's appointment with Jeremy-from-the-gym, where she sported the "I'm prepared to go to your gym but I'm not paying anything more than $50/mo" look and I told her the classy fall accessories paired with lulu pants did in fact portray this, I knew I had changed.

So the next time you see me, be prepared for a visual onslaught of meanings and themes through the magic of pashminas, dark-washed jeans, and a pair of heeled black leather boots that practically yell "Yes, I am fully aware that I'm a giant. Yes, that's great. Thanks for pointing that out to me. You're right, I need constant reaffirmation. What was that? Eff you, these are Arnold Churgin."