Why is it that I can drink as much as I want and be a (relatively) normal drunk, but as soon as I add sugar-free redbull into the mix, I am a total Snooki-level partymonster?
So ladies and gentlemen – it’s time to condense our GIGANTIC vintage and pre-owned clothing inventory. We don’t have much storage space and we really, really need to get rid of as much stuff as we can, so this means a BLOWOUT. Like, BLOW. OUT. There will be so much that you might literally be able to jump into a pile of awesome clothing… although we would prefer if you did not do this.
We have a whole bunch of vintage men’s and women’s clothing including…
- CRAZY vintage clothing that would be AMAZING for a Halloween Costume
- Vintage Levi’s, Lee, Calvin Klein, Bill Blass, and Wrangler Jeans and Jean Jackets!
- Tons of pre-owned (i.e. BARE-ly worn) HIGH QUALITY clothing from Michael Kors, Marc Jacobs, Banana Republic, Club Monaco, French Connection, BCBG, Zara, etc.)
- Men’s T-Shirts and Button-Up shirts
- Wicked 70’s, 80’s, and 90’s dresses
- Plaid, plaid, plaid!
- Wooley sweaters for blustery days
- SO many hot pencil skirts
- WANT LEATHER? We have it in spades.
- Silk blouses in crazy prints, tie-necks, soft colours… you’ll be the hottest secretary this side of Sterling-Cooper Advertising
- Lace-up boots, cowboy boots, oxfords, pumps, 80’s slouchy boots…
What else could you ask for? NOTHING. THAT’S WHAT. See below for some pics!
Here are the deets:
When: Saturday, October 30th, 2010
Time: 10:00 am – 5:00 pm
Where:102 Bellwoods Ave. (one street east of Trinity Bellwoods Park, between Queen West and Dundas)
What:WEREN’T YOU LISTENING? Amazing vintage and pre-owned clothing!
Important Notes: We are not an international clothing conglomorate – we are just two chicks with lots of surplus clothing – you need to pay with cash. Also, we are open to negotiating prices to make YOU happy (i.e. increase your clothing-ness) and to make US happy (i.e. increase our money-ness), but we will not trade our Cherry-Red Doc Martens for your stereo (money is the only acceptable form of currency). Some prices are firm due to the sick, wicked, amazingness of some pieces, but ask us! There are deals to be had!
SEE YOU THERE-SIES!
Someone asked for a pair of black cowboy boots – we actually have a pair in FANTASTIC condition – I think they’re a men’s 10 or 11:
After the huge cluster-fuck that was Friday, we were (understandably) a bit foggy Saturday morning and slept in a little bit. It also helped that neither of us had our dogs with us – when you have a dog it’s really, really hard to sleep in, regardless of how ridiculously late you get home the night before. No dogs = glorious extra hours of sleep.
No breakfast was required, considering we consumed the equivalent of 23 eggs and a block of cheddar cheese at 5:30 am the night before. As mentioned previously, we were a little bit embarrassed of our new-found intimacy with the concierge and bellhop, so we tucked our heads under our wings like cowards and scuttled out the hotel lobby as quick as possible.
We hadn’t done anything touristy yet, so we thought we should at least walk around the city for a bit and admire the architecture. Chicago really is beautiful – the balance between new design and historical architecture is really well thought-out. Additionally, the green space and the rivers flowing throughout the city make everything seem really lush and picturesque. Our hotel was right next to Marina Bay, which Pam and I thought looked cool – kind of like a concrete loofah:
We were also very excited to see the building from ADVENTURES IN BABYBITTING!!!
We also wanted to visit Millennium Park and see the big bean. Although I’m usually somewhat unimpressed when I finally see things that have been overly hyped up, the bean was pretty cool. PLUS, we met two super-hot chicks:
Here, we tried to be like that chick from u2’s Mysterious Ways video… Hops got it right, but I just look like I’m crouching down in an outhouse:
We stopped into an adorable little cheese/wine/bread shop called Pastoral – it was really cute and the salespeople were great. I was convinced to buy a huge piece of taleggio, some olives and some rosemary crackers with strawberry and rosemary jam… MMMMmmmmm! Little did I know that we would not really have time to eat the cheese, and I had to force it down my throat when we got home at the end of the night in a guilty attempt to not waste high quality cheese. It was a lot of cheese. My stomach was not thrilled.
ANYway, back to Saturday morning. We decided to try to walk around again and went up the Magnificent Mile just to see what it was like. It was REALLY packed, and it just seemed like all of the stores were the same as the ones in the local mall in Canada, so we very quickly booted out of there and started walking across Chicago Ave. Our ultimate goal was to find a patio or restaurant to have a relaxed lunch… maybe in the sun… similar to the patio we sat at the day before…
So we walked. For HOURS. No restaurants. No patios. If we DID see a restaurant, it was closed for the day. On a BEAUTIFUL Saturday in gorgeous weather. This baffled our minds. I mean, don’t people need to eat? Don’t people want to escape from their house-caves and consume calories in order to sustain life? Aren’t there tourists visiting that need to eat? Aren’t there people who are related to people in Chicago who are visiting for the weekend and need to eat? WHAT IS GOING ON?
We walked. And walked. And walked. SO HUNGRY. And walked. Incidentally, we happened upon another vintage store that we had wanted to go to called Dovetail. The girl and guy who ran the shop were really cool and tried to suggest places to go that night. After our “Silver-Jeans-Pink-Bar-Tops” experience the night before, we were eager to listen. The store was awesome, and she had some really well-selected pieces. Again, I lucked out and found an almost mint-condition Dooney and Bourke hunter green saddle bag. I LOVE IT.
I also found this plaid shirt with a short placket… so awesome. It makes me feel like a hipster Peter Pan:
After that, we finally happened upon a great vegetarian place called Mana. I personally think their food was the best I had the whole time in Chicago, and since we kind of just stumbled upon it, I think that made it even more awesome.
Mmmmm best Caponata I’ve ever had and some delicious veggie lasagna:
Hey! Remember when we bought AWESOME boots yesterday? Me too:
I felt completely and utterly fantastic that day… despite the numerous, numerous drinks and late night on Friday, so I was loving life. Unfortunately, P-Hops wasn’t feeling quite so chipper. And by that I mean she was so hungover that she could barely communicate and just wanted to go home and pass out. We took a brief nap, then went out for dinner. We had really wanted to try this other veggie place called Green Zebra… but of course we couldn’t get our shit together and didn’t make a reservation. When we got there, the server told us it was “Sweetest Day” (Whaaaaaat the fuck?). Apparently, it’s a Valentine’s Day alternative for peeps in the Midwest. So a whole bunch of couples were there frigging staring into each other eyes and blowing kisses at each other. GROOOSS.
So we went to this other place called Lokal. It was ok.
Pam was really feeling like SHEEEET, so we went home early and passed out for our flight the next day. When I got back to the hotel, I ate a huge block of Taleggio, as mentioned earlier. Then, I felt like sweaty ballsacks and went to bed.
Toronto Natalie was percolating and was ready to re-emerge.
Ok, I need to take a break from Chicago Natalie – I’ll post the conclusion this weekend, but I’m feeling a little “insane-Chicago-Natalied-out”.
I’m going to a wedding tomorrow. Unlike the picture you see above, where I am the only girl above 13 who is “eligible” to attend the bouquet toss, there are many things about weddings that I really like.
These are the things that I like about weddings:
Usually, when you get to the reception, there are little appetizers and canapes. I fucking LOVE little appetizer things. Then, you get to the table, and there is usually a big, overflowing basket of rolls… with butta, and they bring more if you ask them to. Then courses, courses, courses. A perfect excuse to gorge myself on food stuffs. And most of the people I know have some additional midnight food item… usually it’s poutine. Natalie loves food in her belly.
When you’re an adult, you don’t have tons of opportunities to be fancy. Going to a wedding permits my “fancy” alternative personality to be released like a mushroom cloud of sparkles and chiffon petticoat layers.
3. Permission to Dance Like Elaine from Seinfeld.
For those of you who have seen me dance after a couple of drinks, you are a select and privileged few. Weddings are prime “Natalie Seizure-Dancing” sighting grounds. I’m sure that Saturday will be no exception.
4. Yes. The Open Bar.
As per my numerous previous allusions to my alcoholism, I like to drink the beers. I also enjoy consuming beers without “paying” for them. And since weddings are usually a “per hour” cost for alcohol (not per item consumed), I don’t feel bad about consuming SEVERAL over the course of the night.
Brrrap, brrrap! Bring on dem nuptials!
Alllright! Time to wrap up Friday! Things definitely get more and more interesting as the night progresses…
After our anchor tattoos were firmly wrapped in some saran wrap, we tooted back to the hotel to get ready. Hops and I were pretty excited to be our “Chicago” alternate personalities… so we got pretty radically hipstered up and thought we were preeetttty cool. First stop was The Bristol for dinner. We had heard some good things about it and it was down the street from the bar(s) that we were looking to stop by later on that night, so it worked out well.
We had drinks and delicious olives in the upstairs bar, then a fantastiche cheese plate.
Thank GOD the Cook County department of health is looking out for me. If they didn’t inform me that consuming raw or uncooked food “may, in fact… end my life.” I would be eating enough raw fruits and vegetables to kill an Olympic soccer team:
However, the best part of The Bristol was the hauted toilet paper in the bathroom. It had an intense desire to lick the rim of the toilet seat:
A few glasses of wine got things warmed up and we took a trip down the strip to find a dive bar. A couple of interesting attractions along the way:
Chicago Pam apparently spends much of her time hackin buts like a Kentuckian at a police auction:
After a few duds, we ended up at Beachwood, which was pretty relaxed. But the BEST PART of Beachwood was that they were playing Terminator 2: Judgement Day on the TV, which is one of my TOP 5 MOVIES of all time.
“Don’t go in there! The fire has set off the Halon system!”
(Next line? Arnie comes out of the smoke with two gas masks and hands them to Sarah Conor and Miles Dyson… “Here.. put diis on.”)
Apparently Pam is not a fan of the film… as her middle finger would indicate:
We met a couple of guys at the bar – all of whom were obviously enamoured with Pam and followed her around like puppies. One guy was pretty cool… although he was drawing pictures of horny monsters while sitting at the bar… Like, monsters with multiple horns.. not monster desirous of sex… here I am taking an awkward picture with him in the background. He is not impressed…
About this time, Natalie could be heard to say “Chicago Natalie wants to BLOW IT UP! Let’s bounce, sucka!”
When we left, Pam could be seen hackin’ a but (check out that guy eye-raping her caboose…):
So… this is where things got fuzzy. We went to the Flat Iron, which is open until 4… it really kind of sucks. We felt like we were at a college bar that caters to mid-30 year-olds who have not grown beyond their college years. We saw multiple examples of the following:
– Jeans with Reeboks
– Button-down, darted Anne Klein dress shirts, untucked… perhaps with some embroidery at the breast pockets…
– Flip-flops with “wedge heels”
– Flared Silver Jeans with whiskers
– Crystallized hoop earrings
– “Bar Tops” (ladies, you know what I’m talking about… those tops you used to buy about 7 years ago at Sirens to wear to the bar… all nylon-y and titlicious… perhaps with a pink “wavy” pattern on it…)
So, we made the best of a bad situation and got demolished:
“Hey, Chicago Pam! You know what would be a totally pithy and creative thing to write on the chalk board that is currently being used to keep score in an active pool game? OUR NAMES!!”
And now, I should probably eat the chalk.
They had a photo booth in the bar. Which is awesomeness and dangerousness all wrapped into a ball of glorious embarrassment:
Let’s skip forward to about 4:30, when we leave the bar. First, Pam needs to hack a but:
Then, we grab a cab to get back to the hotel. Let’s go through the conversation Pam and I are clearly having:
So, at 5 a.m., we come into the lobby like a tornado, completely accosting the (very, very, very cute) bellhop and all-night concierge to ask them where to eat. In retrospect, it seems like we talked to them for like 2 hours before leaving to go to the restaurant, which was appropriately called “Eggsperience”. Along the way, we passed a lonely motorcycle. Then I became a chick from an 80’s hair video.
We got to Eggsperience and were disgusting monsters. Although we definitely needed this:
As we consumed our eggs, we realized that the very, very, very cute bellhop left us a secret message in the directions he wrote. Apparently we told him that we got tattoos. Over and over and over again:
On the way home, because we wanted to thank the concierge and the bellhop, we decided to steal flowers from all over the city and give them a bouquet. But not before butterin’ some bread and taking it to go:
What a gorgeous bouquet!
But I think it needs a huge spring of wheat:
Here you are completely sober Concierge-Man! Aren’t you glad we picked a bouquet of rotting flowers for you?
Awwwww, the very, very, very cute bellhop wasn’t there because it was 5:45 am and he had to go DELIVER THE MORNING PAPER to someone. Jesus, it was 5:30 am. So we left his bouquet at his bellhop station:
Apparently, we found out later that they kept both bouquets and put them in a vase for the whole next day. Unfortunately, we were so incredibly mortified the next morning that we scuttled out of the lobby like silverfish shooting under your fridge after you turn the kitchen light on.
Sigh. Tomorrow – the last chapter of the Tales of Chicago Natalie. What will you hear about? Some more vintage finds, the discovery of two VERY hot chicks in Chicago, and our mysterious entry into a parallel universe where no one needs food. Stay tuned!
Tales of Chicago Natalie will return tomorrow.
In the meantime, to keep you company… and to get you all randy and turned-on… here is the song that’s been in my head all day long.
YEY! So let’s pick up where we left off…
After my fantastic La Martina bag purchase, I was on top of the vintage world. The only thing that could make me happier was, of course, an ice cold beer. Fortunately, it was about 23 degrees, sunny, and BEEee-autiful in Wicker Park, so Hop-Bone and I set off to find a patio. One really weird thing we noticed about Chicago was that patios were few and far between. I mean, if this was a 23 degree day in Toronto, there would be people falling all over themselves to sit on a patio and be seen somewhere.
After about 15-20 minutes of searching, we stumbled upon a huge, amazing patio at Big Star. I would say this was by far the “coolest” (well… coolest by Toronto standards… which I’ll talk more about tomorrow) bar/restaurant we went to the whole trip.
Big Star is a re-purposed garage a la Parts and Labour that is wedged directly under an L-Train line in Wicker Park. They, of course, have the stylized garage door that rolls up to provide a huge virtually indoor-outdoor bar that seemed to house a LOT of people. They serve beer and Mexican food. Natalie’s dream bar. We ordered some chips and guacamole, and sifted through the beer list…
Now, I guess I didn’t realized how “Canadian” I am, but apparently ALL the beer I drink is Canadian. The only beers that I recognized were Schlitz and Blatz. Everything else was new to me. In a situation like this, I always recommend asking the server what they drink – she recommended a great beer on tap that went down smooth as silk. So, we sat in the sun – not too hot, not too cold… surrounded by our fantastic vintage finds and a bunch of hot bearded-tattooed-black-t-shirted men, listening to the Patsy Cline album that they were BLARING out of the speakers (Patsy Cline sounds so awesome when it’s loud…), hearing the deafening roar of the L-Train careening by… and enjoyed ice cold beers… mmmmm… I have a big boner for you, Big Star.
Speaking of boners… look at the size of that hot-dong:
One quick thing to point out if you are me and you are drinking beer in Chicago. They were only serving the draft beer in 12 ounce glasses. Pints are 20 ounce glasses. I don’t know if you know Natalie, but she can pack away a LOT of beer. Like, a lot. Like, “Andre-the-Giant” a lot. So, 12 ounces of beer is like 4 sips for me… and I felt like a huge alcoholic ordering beer after beer after beer in the super small shot-glass-size pints they were serving. Whatever. It was delicious.
After about 16 mini pints of beer, we stumbled out of our seats, fully intending to wander back to the hotel and chill before busting out that night. We stopped at The Worm Hole for a coffee and a washroom break (16 mini pints can do that to ya…). They had a whole bunch of 1980s movie posters all over the walls, AND a full model of the Delorean from Back to the Future:
So – we’re back at the hotel lobby… it’s about 4:00 or so (we haven’t even checked in yet, we just chucked our stuff in the hotel luggage room at 7:00 am). The front desk person asks Hops for some ID to get the room purchase all in order… and… she realizes that she lost her wallet.
Yes. After about 7 hours of shopping all over downtown Chicago.
This is after she also forgot her designer Betsey Johnson sunglasses at that brunch place earlier this morning at Orange, and we had to walk an additional 20 minutes or so to go back and grab them.
Oh Hop-Bone. Toronto Pam is so responsible. Chicago Pam is an irresponsible disaster. But a hilarious one, nonetheless. SO, we call the Worm Hole, and some guy found her wallet on the back of the toilet in the shitter. Classy lassy, that Hop-Bone.
So – baaaack in the cab to bust it back down to the Worm Hole to grab her wallet. We speculate that someone has stolen all of her IDs and is using them to rent carpet shampooers all over downtown Chicago. Here is Pam all upset about her wallet:
Juuust kidding. She’s laughing.
So of course, because everyone in Chicago is so nice, we get there, she gets her wallet back, and everything (including $40.00 cash) is still completely intact:
Them peeps at The Worm Hole were wonderful. We asked their advice on where to go and rock out with our cocks out that night, and they wrote out a sheet with a whole bunch of options.
Earlier that day, Pam and I pretended that we were spontaneous gals and thought “HEeeey! Wouldn’t we be so spontaneous if we got a tattoo while we’re here?”. Well, at the Worm Hole, we noticed that there was a tattoo parlour about two storefronts down… sooooo…
We popped in and got’er done! We decided to get anchors on our fingers… yeah… cheese. Symbolic of how ‘we’re each others anchors’ and to ‘not let ourselves get carried away’… sigh. Cheese. I know. The guy at the front had something really similar to what we were looking for.
At first, I was a bit nervous. The last tattoo I got was about 11 years ago – I remember it not hurting at all, but memory can get fuzzy in old age…
But then, I saw that my Tattoo Artist, Joey, had a “Certificate of Mexellence”. So then, I felt pretty confident in his skills:
Here we go!
Oh Joey – you’re awesome.
Then, it was Hop-Bone’s turn. Her guy reminded me of Henry Rollins… with glasses and a backwards baseball cap.
Sistersss are doin’ it for themselves:
Anyhoo – the guys at Metamorph were awesome.
Sigh! By now, the sun had gone down, and Hops and I were starting to itch for some nighttime debauchery… which will be recounted tomorrow.
What will you hear about? I mount some stranger’s motorcycle, Pam meets a horny artist, we re-enact the whole plot of Terminator 2: Judgement Day, and we go on a 5 a.m. hunt for flowers. Stay tuned!
Ok… here we go:
Friday was a LOOONG and very adventurous day, so I decided to break it into three parts. Hops and I got up at 4:00 a.m.-ish to make it down to the Porter terminal in time for our 7:00 a.m. flight (we had some last-minute packing to do…). Porter is frigging AWESOME and we were greeted with absolutely delicious cappuccinos when we got to the lounge:
Yeah… we were preeetty excited on the plane:
We landed at 7:30 a.m. due to the time change, which meant that we had TONS of time in the morning to explore the city and bang off some vintage shops. First… brunch. We went to this cute little place that had mid-century retro furniture and some farm-house details called “Orange With a Peel”:
We really, really, really didn’t want to stay in the touristy area (which seemed to be overpopulated with women in Anne Klein button-down t-shirts, flared jeans, and hot pink stiletto heels… and circa 2001 martini bars), so we made a bee-line for Wicker Park, which people have described to me as the “Queen West of Chicago”. It definitely had the “industrial-meets-shithole-meets-hipster” vibe of Queen West… seemed to be a perfect area to stumble upon some thrift/vintage/consignment stores.
Which we eventually did! YEY! The vintage shopping was actually faaaacking awesome:
So. First shop we stopped at was really a true “thrift” store. The prices were DIRRRT cheap, and it had that “old people who keep clothes in attics with their old cod-fish-liver-oil smell”. AND, what visit to a thrift store would not be complete without a weirdo trying to hit on Hoppers. Some guy followed her around asking her opinion on this 1970’s leather jacket… over and over… poor girl. I guess that’s the price you pay for being hot.
While she was busy fighting off that guy, I was busy looking for stuff to buy in glorious “weirdo-less” solitude. I found this over-sized Cosby sweater that looked cool, but ended up realizing that it had some stains on it that looked suspiciously like poop… so… yeah. That went back on the rack. After about 20 minutes or so, I left with this pair of vintage oxfords from Neiman Marcus and an old chain-strap purse from Argentina. Total cost: $10.00:
Good warm-up. A couple of stores down, we went into a big space called Belmont Army – on the top floor, they sold a bunch of pretty cool lines like Dolce Vita, Cheap Monday, Alternative, etc. The basement had an o.k. selection of vintage clothing finds, but the real finds here were in the army surplus section:
DO YOU SEE THEM IN THIS PICTURE??? The fuggging AMAZING Swiss Army ammunition bags from the 1960s with leather closures and personalized stamps? I did. And my brain almost escaped through my nostrils from excitement:
I must admit… I’ve been looking for these EXACT bags for a little while. They are beautiful and exquisitely made, and the leather detailing is a really unique addition that is seldom seen on military gear. Those Swiss. So stylish. Anyhoo, I bought both of them because I want to steal this guy’s idea and affix them to the back of mylinus as saddle bags. I’ll be the coolest girl-who-looks-like-every-other-hipster chick on Queen West this fall:
So yeah. That was pretty exciting. I walked out of the store with a big “Wow, what a vintagely wonderful day!”, and if I didn’t have any other wicked-cool finds that day, I would have been a happy lassy.
But, to my delight, the day got even better. First, we walked into this mind-blowing store that had about 300 pairs of vintage boots that were all in unbelievable condition. They had some grrreat Frye boots, a few Justins, and about 100 other styles/brands that were all respectable and well-made:
I tried on about 25 pairs of boots to Hops’ chagrin… she found a pair that she liked in about 2 minutes. Apparently, my foot/ankle/calf is the size of a huge, puffy she-monster, because NOTHING fit. The poor salesgirl was literally bringing out pair after pair – I felt like an 17th century obese king whose servants were trying in vain to source a pair of silk clogs to cover his royal cankles. I left boot-less and defeated. On the way out, the salesgirl mentioned that they also own another vintage store across the street, and “they have more boots there…”. She didn’t add “…you puffy disgusting monster…”, but I know she was thinking it.
SO, we went across the street. The old man who owned the shop was the nicest guy in the world…
…and it was like the vintage gods decided to part their stormy clouds and shine down some boot-lovin’ down on me. The first two boots I picked up off the shelf fit me perfectly and were totally awesome. First, I got a pair of studded ankle boots:
THEN, I found a perfect, perfect, perfect pair of vintage G.H. Bass & Co. lace-up boots in amazing condition.
I was already ecstatic with the realization that I wasn’t an obese cankle-afflicted she-monster, so things were looking great. Then I spotted this wicked tooled leather wallet in perfect condition. GUADALAJARA, baby!
I loved it. I started to take out my wallet while Hops tried on some belts… when I saw it… calling to me from a top shelf at the side of the store. A huge, all-leather duffel with an intricate leather closure and an embossed logo:
He was charging $190.00 because it was in great condition, and was all-leather… and beautiful. We negotiated for a little bit, and since I am a totally shrewd barterer (and because everything in the store was already 30% off), I ended up getting the bag, the wallet, and BOTH pairs of boots for $150.00.
Now, I knew that the bag was a good deal. But like, ONE HOUR later, when we were relaxing with some beers in the sun (more on that tomorrow…), some guy from Germany stopped, looked at the bag, and told me it was this super-fancy company in Argentina that is really expensive. When I got home, I looked up the brand, and he was right. La Martina is like… a rich person’s brand. NO BIG DEAL. I have a feeling my bag is worth over $1000.00.
What a GREAT day of vintage shopping!
Tomorrow, we’ll move on to Friday afternoon… when I drank a whooooole bunch of beer, Hop-Bone almost lost her identity, and we both defaced our bodies. Stay tuned!