Victoria Revay

Daily Diva Dressing

We’ve learned a few things over the years. First, it’s impossible to look confident, sexy and fashionable at all times, unless you’re a styled starlet. Second, the off days happen much less frequently when fashion is easy to find.

Resembling a European mansion more than just another store, the newMarciano on Robson, which opened just last week, had us thinking we’re celebutants in the making.  With delicate chandeliers and white shabby-chic armchairs in the changing area, we were instantly transformed into Hilton or van der something or another.

Adding to our high-society-like experience was the curve-hugging lines of the Reagan racerback dress ($15 in electric blue.  (It would’ve made Ms. Mortimer blush, but not us.)  We loved how the gold buttons down the side—circa Elizabeth Hurley in her Versace gold safety pin days—accentuated our tiny waist.  Also spotted: the Isidoro dress ($158), whose slinky, empire waist and cinched thighs would surely make our derrières the center of attention.

And for afternoon tea (an everyday occurrence, no doubt)? The floral eyelet, crème hued Elena jacket($21 with patch pockets suited us to perfection.

Hey, it’s hard to be fabulous, but someone has to do it….

Marciano 
www.shopmarciano.ca
1168 Robson St.

Here is my Mother’s Day story recommending places to visit for gift ideas for Mummy on Sweetspot.ca.

I wrote this recommendation for Sweetspot.ca, the best Canadian, online lifestyles newsletter. Check out my recommendations once a week for the best the city has to offer, as well as the things to go and do on the weekend.

Shopping in Vancouver has become so much fun lately, especially now that puddle-jumping in my gorgeous peep-toes is kept to a minimum. What really excites me however, is finding exclusive pieces made by Canadian designers, like Melody Cebula. Her Precocious label re-uses vintage materials, which is very eco-eco right now. The dress costs $120 (Tutta Mia, 1302 Victoria Dr.) and is made from old t-shirts. Can we say we’re loving the asymmetrical shape of the skirt? The cotton is soft. The colours pop. I’d pair it with gladiators (non-human) and a slouchy bag. Yey, Melody!

A few, small wedding suggestions from me to my fellow Vancouverites, only on Sweetspot of course!

Silence, please…

Silence for an entire weekend? It’s probably not what most of would consider an ideal way to spend a few days off. For me, I never thought it was possible to stay quiet for longer than a few seconds, never mind an entire weekend. But after covering a feature piece about Paradise Found Yoga, a weekend silent yoga retreat on Salt Spring Island (that I am certain I manifested) I am a believer that everyone should try it at least once. I’m not usually one to read into things, but strangely enough, I have been thinking about going to a place where I didn’t have to speak, so my vocal chords could rest. Hence my assumptions about the manifestation. You see I consider myself the social commentator of our group. Actually, any group really. Social, as some of my friends and co-workers have affectionately nicknamed me, has stuck for over a year now. So, when after a weekend that would’ve exhausted even the chattiest Kathy and losing my voice (down it was to a raspy whisper), I found it almost cosmically conspiratory that my editor in Toronto called about writing the piece. Awaiting me upon arrival to my final destination (from a car ride, a big ferry excursion and a smaller ferry-cab ride) was a pre-arranged aromatherapy massage appointment that was part of the package. My senses, if a bit exhausted, absorbed the quaint room’s healing properties instantaneously as a warm footbath refreshed my tired soles. The gentle, fragrant aromas of lavender and mint were silencing my mind as if foreshadowing the bliss that was to come that weekend. A warm mug of chamomile tea soothed my throat. Post massage, my “Karma Angel,” Kristen, picked me up just outside the doors of the spa (where I could’ve stayed for hours more.) Greeting me with a hand-painted sign with my name on it in big and bold colours, she radiated innocence, enthusiasm and pureness reminiscent of pre-schooler who probably could have painted that welcome sign. (As I found out later, Nomi Sat Guru Lyonns, the owner of the retreat, a yoga instructor and all encompassing woman extraordinaire, makes the cards before all her guests arrive as she meditates on our names.) On our drive to the cottage the twists and turns of the roadways navigated her narrative. The history of the island, stories about finding Nomi’s retreat and telling us about her true love - yoga - all intertwined, like the roads ahead. Once at the cottage, it felt as if it perched itself on the banks of Cusheon Lake. Surrounded by lush vegetation, a lonely rowboat anchored itself on the adjacent pier, just barely hanging-on as the winds wrestled to unloosen the fibrous noose holding it hostage. Nomi affectionately greeted us as we waited for the rest of our small group to arrive. Ironically, all of us present were women and had a media connection. We were all in a creative field having to do with words, written or spoken. As Nomi explained later, this connection happens often, as similar energies will attract others, even sub-consciously. That night, the mediation kicked-off our silent retreat with a pen and paper being our only guides to expression for the next three days. The evening was serene. Reading and walking, listening to my iPod and just being were the only things to worry about. Admittedly, it was really nice not to have to make conversation or”have to talk about things” with the people that I had just met. It was easier not to have to perform, think of the right things to say or think about what people thought of me after I said something. These are all things I never noticed when speaking was “allowed.” The next morning our wake-up call at 4:30 AM was courtesy of a groovy brass bowl-gong and its mallet accomplice. Stumbling sleepily, the dawn was marvelous. I’ve never experienced being so awake and feeling so tired at the same time. The mist drifted across the edges of the lawn where a rock labyrinth laid. We seated ourselves on the floor of the living room that was filled with magenta, coffee and gold-coloured cushions. With our heads wrapped in a white cloth, we flowed in a synchronized manner and listened to the breath, the sound and the movement of our group. Supporting each other, we passed the silent hours doing crafts, drawing, going for hikes, rowing, visiting an outdoor farmers’ market and eating delicious food prepared by Elly, the caterer (Karma Angel, number two.) Monday. Monday. And hence an end to my silent journey. It arrived too soon. Strangely enough, when at the conclusion of the retreat I was asked how I felt about not being able to speak for an entire weekend, I had nothing to say. What I was thinking was that it was easier not saying anything at all. Communicating that entire weekend was better with a pen and paper, with gestures, through art and observing each other’s smiles. I walked away with a greater sense of self, gratitude and connection to the people that I met, without having to say anything at all. And that is something to worth talking about.

On Friday, I met with a local actor turned artist Martin Budny, who sold me my first piece of original artwork. He has graciously accepted my offer to donate his work to a fundraiser I am planning for a charity I work with called My Sister’s Closet. It’s called a Sweet Escape and all proceeds to got the Battered Women’s Support Services network, through this “social enterprise” they’ve set up called My Sister’s Closet. It’s a thrift boutique that sells used, new and vintage clothes. I actually picked up a BCBG blazer, (beautiful navy with a low collar) for get this $12, just the other day. Anyhow, back to art. So , I met with Martin on Commercial Drive and we had a coffee and he was flipping through the various pieces and this one jumped out at me, so I said to him that if he didn’t sell it, I would buy it. As soon as I had something lined-up for full-time work. He insisted on giving it to me for free, but after a few minutes we agreed on a very special, reduced price. So I am now the proud owner of this wonderful, abstract piece of delicious art. I’m not sure if you can tell, but there a two figures, one is upside down, the other right-side up, in the middle of the city. It resonates. I also love the sunshine and the long rays that seem to serve as a protective barrier to the city. The darks, intense colours and bursts of energy vibrate the canvass. Where should I hang it?

My weekly column for Sweetspot.ca can be viewed here. Happy Weekend.

It’s 2am on Monday morning. I am once again awakened to a loud voice shrieking with joy and in apparent ecstasy. It’s my sexy neighbour, having the time of her life, again. She actually lives in the building next to me, but comes visits her boyfriend who lives beside me. We live in a heritage building, which means the walls are thin. I can hear every cupboard close and open, the showers turn on and conversations in the bathroom next door. I am certain they can hear me.

Knowing this, why wouldn’t they at least try to keep it down? I’m convinced that she is putting on a show for me. There is no way that her moans, sighs, screams and orgasm are that cool. I mean it goes on for hours. The breathing patterns change, the rhythm changes. Everything is so theatrical. It’s almost comical. Easter long weekend, I was entertaining the thought of sending them chocolate bunny rabbits with a note, asking them politely to eat a few rabbits, instead of acting like a bunch of rabbits. It’s distracting. I wonder what the best way to approach this topic would be with them. Do I slide a note? Do I make a comment next time I see him? I mean, I am very happy that someone has a sexual sex-life. But when my beauty sleep suffers as a result, this sexy matter becomes old, fast. Like Borat would say making sexy time is fun, but when should sexy-time be over?

I had the chance to visit the good people of Converse yesterday to preview their Fall and Winter 2008 collections. It’s the Converse Century celebration, so to speak. Since 1908, we’ve been able to kick our heels back in style, thanks to Chuck, James, John and Kirk. Well, I might be exaggerating a bit. But thanks to the creative minds at Converse, women and men can saunter in style and save the soles of their feet. And now, we can do it while we make a difference. Converse’s 1Hund(RED) campaign stylizes creativity, courage and awareness and laces it together in their signature look. Over 100 emerging artists, ranging from textile, pipe and other materials to musicians and writers, were asked to contribute their designs. They were asked to illustrate what the number 100 and the word RED meant to them. With that in mind, they were asked to send their samples in. Some of my favourites from the project include the two, Chuck Taylor All Star’s featured below. Mike Schall’s “Fit for Change” uses his pipe work as inspiration. The metallic pipes, totaling 100 in number are accented in red throughout the shoe. The black backdrop is totally groovy. Ginger Jones had the idea to draw 100 mosquitoes inside the shoe, and then use a mesh, net layer on the outside to resemble a malaria net.