life/style for people who give the BIGGEST flying fecksvogoff.homestead.com/VOGOFF_September_2014.pdf · Even as a kid watching the Olympics I felt secret pleasure knowing that the

life/style for people who give the BIGGEST flying fecks

SEPTEMBER 2014

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p1

From the Editor – Even as a kid watching the Olympics I

felt secret pleasure knowing that the gold

medalists were not necessarily the best

athletes in the world. The greatest female

figure skater was probably living in the

tropics and had never even seen a pair of

skates.

Similarly, I wonder if the person next to

me in a café has an undiscovered talent

for swallowing swords or wrestling gators

or maybe has a knack for thatching roofs

or F1 racing. The thought that the

smallest prospecting may bust open huge

untapped inner resources at any second

gives me a fuzzy sense of hope.

That's why I like blogging. How delicious it is to stumble

across the blog of a full-time care-giver or an engineer or a

retiree or a student whose innate talents can stand up to the

work of professionals. While formal training may refine edges,

these raw hard nuggets, within a deluge of slick, highly-

produced products that have been market-surveyed into style

(and thought) sameness and safety, are exhilarating.

So here's VOGOFF. We may not

all be mind-bogglingly gifted,

but we're never too old to be a

schtar at whatever we fecking

well choose, just because we say

so. And it's fun to give those biz

pros, who feed and feed off

mainstream normcores, a run for

their money and let them be the

outsiders for a change.

We're smart, we're gutsy, and,

dammit, we do life with style

because we give the hugest

flying fecks of all. The life of

least effort is no life at all.

What's your secret talent?

Melanie Kobayashi

Bag and a Beret

http://bagandaberet.blogspot.com/

IN THIS ISSUE


Detailed credits are

listed at the back of

the magazine. All

text unless

otherwise noted has

been written by

VOGOFF

contributors.

Shelley

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p3 Skye

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p4 Joni

So, I hit the pavement and

ended up at my local thrift

store where a sign in the

window read “Volunteers

Wanted.” I love secondhand

shopping and since my

pocketbook was lacking a

monthly income I figured this

was the place for me. That is

until the “dream job” finds

me.

For a time I was happy

working the cash register,

sorting donations, cleaning

and organizing shelves, and

directing customers to the

restrooms (there’s not many

public toilets in my

neighborhood). But I

eventually began to sense that

familiar unsettled boredom

creeping in again. I needed a

new adventure!

I am now happy to share that

I’ve been promoted to a new

position within the store and

am thrilled to tell you about

my newly gained prestige.

“Thrift Store Mannequin” is

my new title, and I don’t

answer to anyone! I get tons

of looks, admiration, and

envy! I even get to enjoy the

regular outfit changes which I

choose from the many racks

of women’s clothes. My

favorite moments are those

when my ensembles are put

together so stunningly they

can cause an onlooker or two

a trip on the sidewalk. And

don’t think for a minute that I

don’t enjoy stripping in front

of all that glass. I think I’ve

finally found my dream job!

MY DREAM JOB

Trying to find my dream job has

been a life-long journey with

many wrong turns, disastrous

career attempts, and humiliating

rejection. I’ve even had my share

of believing my current

employment was a “dream come

true” only to walk out with

dissolution and reoccurring

despair. I eventually resigned in

my unsuccessful search for

meaningful and monetarily

satisfying career attempts and

have sat many hours at home

forlorn and wondering “what

next?”

Someone close to me suggested I

get out and volunteer until that

next mirage of opportunity sheds

some kind of new promise.

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p5 Joni

People see what they want to see. They create their own fiction and it becomes

their interpretation of the world. They cling to their fantasies as if they were

truths.

Many people can't see past my Cerebral Palsy so they see a crippled woman in

a wheelchair. A less-than, inadequate, incapable, unattractive, almost-person

that just sits there watching life pass her by. They think of me as a beige,

pitiful creature, and wish I was invisible.

Alicia Searcy http://spashionista.com/

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p6 Alicia

I don't think about my Cerebral Palsy so I

never see myself as disabled. I know

exactly what I'm capable of, although I

often forget that I have limitations. I don't

see the muscle spasms, the facial tics, the

curled fingers and shaky smile. Nor do I see

the wrinkles, the bags, the sags, or the fat.

In my own head I see a vampy vixen with

drop-dead sex appeal. Mae West had

nothing on me. I'm the epitome of a pin-up,

aren't I? How could anyone resist my oh-

so-unsubtle charms? Every man wants me

and every woman wants to be me.

Then there is fact. The fact that is who

I really am, and exists independently

of any fictitious assumptions about

me. Not a poor, useless cripple; not a

goddess among mortals. Not beige –

but not black and white, either. I am

colorful, creative, bright (and yes,

beautiful in my own way). I am a

whole person; a real package. I am

enough as I am.



ALICIA!

val's world VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p9 Val

Clementine had it all:

adoring husband, beautiful

children, successful career as

a writer, lifestyle and

relationship expert, and

motivational speaker, and

recently an online magazine

editor.

How the flighty

are fallen!

Could the following amateur photos really show the legendary

Clementine as a working girl? Some among the fashion cognoscenti

remark cattily that she has returned to her roots!

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p10 Curtise

Alas, poor Mme le Derriere; where

did it all go wrong? Last year saw an

acrimonious divorce from world-

famous designer Vin Tage, who left

her for a 19-year-old Ukrainian

model. Custody of the children was

awarded to Tage when it was

revealed in court that Clementine was

unable to recognise at least three of

her offspring. She was successfully

sued by her PA, the ghost writer of

Clementine’s international best seller

Bake. Dust. Fellate., who claimed

Clementine never paid her a penny,

and what is more, was unable to cook

and employed an army of domestic

staff. (Her legendary skills in the

latter arena remain undisputed.)

ClemFest was a personal and

financial disaster; the festival was

raided by the Vice Squad during one

of Clementine’s famously uninhibited

Love Workshops, and closed down

after one day, leaving her with huge

debts and a tarnished reputation. Her

online magazine, CLIT, ended with

poor traffic figures and disappointing

reviews.


Clementine has fled the public eye, refused all

interviews. Some believe she is on retreat in the

Tibetan mountains, working on healing her soul, and

a tell-all autobiography. Others report sightings on

the Reeperbahn.

What's next for our darling Clementine? The world waits…


I mean Clemmie


VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p14 Val

blast from the past

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p15 Jean

Bird on a Beret In the beginning there was the

beret, as our esteemed editor-

in-chief, Miz Bagg, will

confirm. Though the beret is a

quintessentially classic look,

in Spring 2017 it will be

deconstructed with reference

to the natural world.

The beret itself forms the

perch for the bird, one of

nature’s prime creatures. The

golden color reflects the value

we place on birds, especially

now that they are so close to

extinction. By placing it on

top of the head, you are

signaling respect for the

species. The purple of the

beret also pays homage to the

“royal” aspect, birds being the

royalty of the skies.

The gold/purple theme is

echoed in the shoes. The 6-

inch heels illustrate the

elevated nature of bird life –

both literally and figuratively.

The heels, teamed with the

expanse of leg, are a nod to

the more leggy varieties of

bird such as the heron,

ostrich and emu.

The mini dress in gold,

silver, and black is, of

course, the plumage of

Chrysopholus Pictus, aka

the Golden Phoenix Cock.

Vogoff readers will have

picked up on the gender

subtext here, of a “hen”

daring to display the

magnificence of a “cock.”

“Bird on a Beret” will, we

predict, be the perfect look

for raising consciousness

on these vital issues in the

Spring of 2017.

Besides, what could

be more fun than

tottering around with

a bird on your head?

In the interests of

animal welfare we

advise against a live

one (stuffed only if

you really must).

spring2017

VOGOFF Fashion Forecast

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p16 Miss Boom Baby

Fact: I once had a Fiat with the license number FFF 322.

Fiction: I own an Austin Healey.

Fraud: I'll sell you my vintage Austin Healey. It only has 32,000 miles on it.

Fact: My husband's name is Richard.

Fiction: My husband's name is Keanu.

Fraud: My husbands' names are Johnny and Jeff. And Rupert.

Fact: I have a life.

Fiction: The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.

Fraud: If I buy this product my life will be perfect.

Fact: Women are smart.

Fiction: Women aren't smart.

Fraud: Women aren't smart.

Fact: VOGOFF is an original magazine.

Fiction: Miz Bagg is a benevolent boss.

Fraud: Miz Bagg is passing herself off as human.

Fact: Yes.

Fiction: No.

Fraud: Maybe.

Fact: I used to work in an office.

Fiction: I'm a dancer.

Fraud: I can sell you some real estate.

Fact: Coffee.

Fiction: Tequila.

Fraud: Goji.

val's world VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p17 Val

Every month since I was left here, I

don the clothing I wore when I

arrived, and the brainwave

transmitting antenna I have

constructed, and return to the place

of my abandonment. I continue to

hope that the antenna will let me

contact my people, and perhaps

return home.

I have tried to like this place, the new home that I did not choose, but the

climate is too variable, the landscape is flat, and the people wear drab

clothing and look at me strangely. Where I lived, we were very much

influenced by the clothing we saw in a series of films from earth that

featured the character "Austin Powers". It seemed these films were very

popular with the inhabitants here, so I am puzzled when people point at

me, and ask if I am a "go go dancer". I have learned to speak their

language, but more often than not, I don't understand what they are saying.

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p18 Shelley

Photography by Mark Prokopiou


I arrived here several years ago

with my rodent companion with

whom I reminisce about our life

on our home planet. Where we

lived, animals and humans

conversed regularly, and rats were

often consulted by our

government on many important

decisions. She has been frustrated

by her attempts to communicate

with other rodents here as they

have poor listening skills, and are

quite argumentative. She has

confided in me that she feels the

leadership here is sadly lacking,

and her attempts to offer advice

have fallen on deaf ears.

We have tried to be useful during

our time here, but our suggestions

for improving the lives of the

people here have been ignored.

It is very lonely here, and I

seek the company of beings

like myself, but they are few

in number, and are afraid to

be seen with me. The brave

few that have taken the risk

have also faced ridicule. I

wonder if all cities on this

planet are like this.


they're here After years of waiting, watching, and hoping...

rescue at last.



Hello Dear One!

I hope you have a moment of quiet time to listen as

I whisper through the years. I've been wanting to

tell you that I love you very much. I know some

days it's hard to believe that you can love yourself

unconditionally and I still struggle with that,

although not nearly as much as you do.

What's made it a little easier for me at this stage are

a few hard-earned realizations that I want to share.

Feel free to pass them on if they resonate; you

never know what the ripple effect will be.

Here are a few, simply stated.

1) You don't have to prove that you're "good

enough". Starting where you are, right now, in this

moment, you ARE good enough. Don't let anyone

say or do anything that crosses this boundary.

2) Actions speak louder than words. Believe them

first and then listen to the words. Maybe.

3) Distance yourself from toxic people, regardless

of whether you "love" them or not. It they make

you doubt your sanity, "love" them from a distance,

as long as necessary. You deserve to be affirmed

and allowed to grow.

4) If a relationship makes your world smaller,

rather than larger, examine it very carefully. There

are great books out there, therapists etc. if you need

help. Be aware too that there's a difference

between being a "private" person and being

secretive. Shame is toxic and it is not your fault.

You won't believe the happiness that's waiting for

you when you let it go.

5) Try to find time to meditate/listen to listen to

your Self/Inner-Knowingness/Spirit/God etc. Don't

worry if you can't hear anything. You will, I

promise. Also, don't let ANYONE tell you what It

sounds like or what it's saying.

I know this is heavy stuff and might be more

than you can handle in this moment. That's

okay. I know without a doubt that everything is

going to work out for you!! I'm not talking

perfection or being happy all the time, that's not

real. Mistakes are essential for learning, just

don't beat yourself up. (See #1 above).

Just know you are lovely, kind, and strong.

Claim it, share it, and affirm it in others. The

more you share, the more you have, of anything

that truly matters.

Talk to you tomorrow! Love ya. XXOO

Letter to my Younger Self


how to fuck a poet Prepare to be excluded from common language. She will surely find your “oh baby”s too pedestrian and your “harder”s too banal. Make ready to forfeit more quotidian tongues, the boilerplate adjectives generic by design, and, by default, the body parts mundane in their ubiquity. Find a worthier candidate for rhapsody than the thicket between her thighs, than his manmeat-joystick-lovehandle- mygodit’sjustapenis.

Write a sonnet, instead, in the pushpull of her lungs and turn a different phrase in every breath. Parcel his vertebrae into sharps and flats, and play his skin like the drum its tightness suggests. Detach your rosy goggles from the lump of flesh before you and laugh from your gut at the sheer absurdity of arousal. And when it’s said and done, wily foreplay vanquished, come like Dante’s inferno, and call me Beatrice.


VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p25 Melanie

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p26 Pao

Watermelon

val's world


hOOked

She watches men fall apart in her

hands and her sex

puts them back together

but only for a moment:

only until the bucks and moans

have shaken them loose again.

She rocks them to sleep with hands

like lace that might as well be steel

and fondles her dirty pearls when

they drop off,

waiting to hear them beg.

"Don't leave, don't leave"; their murmurs

set the cadence of the night, deliver

control straight to her lacy hands,

and she smiles: Forever is her

favorite word. Full of inflated

nothing. Pregnant with hot air.

A word that without the weight

of lust might float away, her

hard-earned pearls on the wing.

"I don't usually kiss," she tells

each one, "but for you, I make an

exception."



val's world


VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p31 Judith

This vintage black silk satin gown carries

with it an abundance of fond memories.

The black sequin covered hat laden with

beads from the 20’s can be tossed about

with a turn of the head. Especially when

dancing.

I love movement in my accessories. It

involves another sense, which always

enlivens any composition. Adorning with

movement feels like self-empathy, and has

the ability to extend outward to others.

This outfit was worn at a work holiday

party in the 90’s. On the dance floor.

Beads extending from me like Michael

Franti’s dreadlocks at a concert, twirling

to his reggae beat.

I use this memory today, when facing

difficult situations. To infuse my thoughts

in the foreground, when negative patterns

intrude. Style has magical and mysterious

healing powers, which I have come to

trust as a force in my life. It keeps me

moving forward, in even the darkest of

times.

Judith

Photography by Daniel

crone moon

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p32 Judith


VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p34 Peaches McGinty

"Of course!" she hissed, "even the

most menial of duties require a little

glamour, darling."

Haute Housewife insists eyebrows,

lips, and naps are essential to her

own well-being. Once she went

without any for a whole day…she

would rather not talk about it; it

really was a ghastly experience.

When it all becomes a little too much

HH has a series of immediate pick-

me-ups.

1. One must rest immediately.

2. Call the "masseuse". Kevin is a

genius. (I can’t share his number, I

just can't.)

3. Après massage, it is imperative to

eat…the finest truffles should

suffice.

One should feel suitably lifted to

continue with household activities,

such as creating art. HH lacks any

creative talent whatsoever; however,

making swirls (photo above centre)

provides enormous satisfaction.

Of course, after such a hideously

difficult cleaning marathon please

repeat 1, 2, and 3 (Kevin is on speed-

dial).

Now it’s time for a nap; it is all

utterly exhausting.

Once refreshed, and the eyebrows and

lipstick have been re-applied, HH is ready

for the next instalment in her hectic

schedule.

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p35 Peaches McGinty

BUY THIS LIPSTICK IF YOU DON'T, YOU WILL BE UGLY AND A SOCIAL REJECT.

YOUR FRIENDS WILL DUMP YOU AND LAUGH AT YOU BEHIND

YOUR BACK. LIPSTICK MATTERS.

Partial proceeds to the World Self Esteem Development Foundation


VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p37 Tami



As a sickeningly famous

artiste I, Miz Bagg, never

endorse the arts, but below I

grasp my Sticks at Midnight

LIVE DVD won on eBay for

a paltry million. (You may

have read about it.) In fact, I

attended this sold-out

performance at Joe Louis

arena in Detroit. I too tossed

my panties (designer,

paisley, thermal) into the

undulating sea of stage-

bound undies - which

magically erupted into

flames as they surfed over a

thousand twinkling lighters

raised in homage to the

stage.

Before the night was over,

fans and artists joined in

blissful ancient unity as we

danced around the mystical

bonfire.

Mme Lash and her group have

sparked a global frenzy for

Morris dancing and mummery.

Vancouver is now a hotbed of

mummification and the Sticks

at Midnight video has been

pulled from YouTube for

crashing the system.

VOGOFF is honoured to

present this next piece from

Mme Lash, whose staggering

fame, not as great as mine

own, has tragically not gone to

her head.

Miz Bagg

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p40 Linda

In the Boudoir of Madame Lash

Danseuse La,Belinda – also known to her fans as Madame Lash – leads her

stalwart troops through regular rehearsals in order to hone les morresque

fantastique, which is really an English dance form but everything sounds so

much better in French, or Italian, don't you think?

Les morresque has its roots in ancient dance expressed at its peak during the

Victorian era when men in white britches and baldricks would celebrate May

Day and other occasions of love and lust with bold displays of leaping and

capering. Women too, daring to bare a leg (horrors), thrust themselves into

this thicket of maleness to appropriate les morresque for their own infamous,

labially-minded ends.

Nowadays, not much has changed. An alternate future is upon us and

Ms. Chatham's Ladies and Gentlemen's Morresque has been wowing the

crowds on street corners and at sideshows throughout the universe.

La,Belinda is excited to invite you, gentle readers, to explore this world of

fancy and dancing. But mostly she’s thrilled about the costumes (and the

push-em up bra).

Left, Madame Lash in her original morresque look

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p41 Linda

nobody's fool




val's world


VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p46 Skye & Friend

Credits

An Artful Closet

CalligramORama

Thrift Shop Commando

Muse Fondue

Marketplace

Finding My Dream Job

Princess Fakeflowers

Fact, Fiction, Fraud

Below are thumbnails of the photos of VOGOFF

contributors before VOGGonization. Also listed are links to

contributors' blogs/websites, which you are encouraged to

visit. The text in VOGOFF is original unedited content by

contributors, except in cases where Miz Bagg butts in. The

following credits are in no particular order.

(BACK COVER)


http://artfulcloset.blogspot.ca/

https://www.etsy.com/shop/CalligramORama

http://thriftshopcommando.blogspot.com/

http://musefondue.blogspot.com/

http://musefondue.blogspot.ca/p/blog-page_9.html

http://musefondue.blogspot.ca/p/blog-page_9.html


Clementine Undone: How the Flighty are Fallen

Spashionista

The Secondhand Years

Miss Boom Baby

(COVER)

Spring 2017: VOGOFF Fashion Forecast

Alicia Searcy, the real deal

http://spashionista.com/

http://sopastcaring.blogspot.com/

http://missboombaby.com/


Dross into Gold

Style Crone ™

Photos by Daniel

To My Younger Self

Strength of Elegance

http://drossintogold.com/

http://drossintogold.com/

http://stylecrone.com/

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, 50

Travelindigo

Project Minima

patottoart

Mandala-a-Day

Sticks at Midnight

http://travelindigo.wordpress.com/

http://projectminima.blogspot.com/

http://patottoart.blogspot.com/

http://mandala-a-day.blogspot.com/


Haute Housewife

Space Oddity

Photos by Mark Prokopiou

Forest City Fashionista

Peaches McGinty

http://forestcityfashionista.blogspot.com/

http://holler44.blogspot.ca/

http://holler44.blogspot.ca/


My Kingdom for a Hat

where decorum goes to die

how to fuck a poet

hooked

http://colormebrazen.wordpress.com/

Decaying

French Salon diorama by

Val. See her Marketplace

link in Credits for details.

(This one is mine.)


VOGOFF is published by

Melanie Kobayashi of

Bag and a Beret and her evil

boss Miz Bagg

copywrong 2014

http://bagandaberet.blogspot.com/

Tami

Documents

life/style for people who give the BIGGEST flying fecksvogoff.homestead.com/VOGOFF_September_2014.pdf · Even as a kid watching the Olympics I felt secret pleasure knowing that the