Tag Archives: party

Fashion spirit.

almie rose terry richardson lion

This is my most stylish, spirited outfit. You were probably expecting something a little less glamorous. I know. But I’m not kidding when I say that when I don this lion onesie, it’s like I have a whole new outlook on life. I feel freer. I dance more. It has pockets. Pockets! I like to put my hands in the pockets, turn around, and stare at the wall. When someone asks me, “Hey Almie, what are you doing?” I turn around, shrug and say, “Oh nothing, just lion stuff.” I’m telling you, nothing says party spirit like this lion costume.

When I’m not wearing my lion costume, which is alarmingly less often than not, I stick to my classic little black dresses with red lipstick. This is, obviously, a different look than the head-to-toe Simba look, which is so hot right now. My favorite color is leopard print. My second favorite color is sequins. And all of those things go very well together.

It’s holiday party time really, really soon. I’ve gotten three invites already…all on the same blasted date. That’s just diabolical. I’m never this popular. So of course, when I finally am, it’s all at once. You bet your sweet bippy I am wearing my lion suit to at least one of these parties. And I’m not joking.

Because that’s the thing. We may not want to admit it, but if we’re going somewhere that isn’t something you can do in sweatpants (grocery shopping, going to the pharmacy, coffee run, shoving children down stairs) then we really take a few minutes (or hours!) to plan how we are going to look. Hair, shoes, clothes. Even guys do this, though maybe not to the extent that girls do.

So I’m suggesting that maybe we all just step back and go with what we really want to wear and not what we think we have to wear. Let me tell you, there are 3 stages in your entire life where you get to do this:

1. Baby to toddler stage.

2. Your twenties.

3. Your eighties + beyond.

And that’s it. I really don’t want to wait until my eighties to wear red eyeshadow at a party, like Daryl Hannah’s screaming-whatever-that-was-character in Blade Runner. And I don’t want to wear pants anymore. I’m just going to wear oversized sweaters with tights and ankle boots, and I don’t care if I look like Claudia Kishi. And I don’t care if people think I dress and look like a hipster. To quote Josh, “You’re not hipster – you’re hipster adjacent.” I think that’s fair.

People are going to think whatever they want no matter what you do or say or wear, so you may as well just take that whole part out of the equation and do your thing with the utmost dignity, pride, and awesomosity. Take your inner style spirit and let it guide you. Like how Pocahontas listened to that creepy, old, nightmarish tree. She didn’t have to, but she did. And she learned something.

And guys, wear suits more. We really, really like that. And I know a lot of you really want to dress like Don Draper or Patrick Bateman but are afraid of looking like a pompous cad. But that’s what it’s all about.

 

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Is catcalling ever okay?

cat paint

A while ago I wrote a piece for my blog titled “Stop hitting on me” that people both praised me and critized me for. I think the criticisms came from people thinking I was bemoaning how hot I am and how I’m sooooo sick of male attention. Not even close. I don’t think that and that isn’t what I was trying to say. I probably should have titled the post “Stop harrassing me.” That is closer to the point of the article. Anyway, if you don’t feel like reading it, the post is about how rude and upsetting it can be when strange men harrass young women when all we’re doing is minding our own business. We should be able to walk down the street without a stranger commenting on our appearance. Doesn’t matter if the man in question is young or old. It comes off as creepy and disrespectful.

But. But. A few nights ago I had an experience with catcalling that did not make me feel degraded. It actually made me feel…happy. Attractive. Confident. Is this wrong and hypocritical?

I’ll explain the situation.

I don’t often like going to parties alone. I’ve written about the subject and on my blog and on Hello Giggles about how it’s okay to go alone and have a kick-ass time, but on occasion I feel overwhelmingly shy and not good enough. The event I went to last night was a gathering of beautiful people and hosted by one of my all time favorite film directors/artists and usually this doesn’t bother me, in that, I’m born in LA and have lived here my whole life, so who cares about celebrities, but given the drama that’s happened lately, I felt kind of small. And I’m really embarrassed, even ashamed, to admit that. Though I eventually met up with the awesome person who invited me, I had to go in alone and be there alone for about 40 minutes. But once I got in there I was okay. And here’s why.

I was waiting on the corner in my dress and lipstick and heels pretending to be busy on my iPhone determining if I should go in alone. I felt like a dweeb. Just very shy and not at all confident. I’m doing nothing with my phone and a car is at a red light near me. I don’t notice it until the man inside rolls down his window and says something like, “Excuse me, miss.” I’m thinking, “Okay, here we go.” And he says, “You have the perfect body.” And I’m stunned. I’m about to attend a party where there are size 0 actresses who look stunning like a ray-gun. I do not think I have even close to the perfect body. He went on. “I’m not trying to be weird or hit on you, but I muted my phone call just now, put them on hold, I had to tell you. You look so good.”

And I almost cried. I know. I’m apalled. But I needed to hear it, and he was so kind about it. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem. You look great. Really.” Then the light turned green and he drove off.

Maybe my perception of body image is warped, and by maybe I mean, 100% completely is. I was surprised to receive this compliment from a strange man. And yes, I was flattered.

Am I screwed up? What do you think and what’s your experience been like?

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Smell ya later!

Max Landis and Almie Rose Apocalypstick

Trustworthy, honorable, sober, etc.

A few days ago, Max Landis shared something gross and fascinating with me. Naturally. He brought to my attention something I wasn’t aware existed and would probably be okay with never knowing existed.

I am talking about Pheromone Parties.

What is that? You may ask. Yourself. Where does that highway go to? I’m sorry, I have an affliction where I occasionally segue way into Talking Heads lyrics. But that’s not important right now. A Pheromone Party is where you go to meet someone you want to date/fall in love with/bang with a twist: BYOS — bring your own shirt. But before you bring it, you have to sleep it in for three nights in a row and then take it off and leave it sealed in a plastic bag (the longer the better). I hope I never feel like that plastic bag. Then you bring it to the party. And when that bag opens, that’s when it all goes down. To quote their website:

  1. Bags are placed on a table. Guests smell the bags at their leisure throughout the party.
  2. If a guest finds the smell attractive, they take a picture with the bag at a photographer station. These pictures are projected as a slide show on the wall at the party.
  3. If you see a picture of a guest you find attractive holding your number, this is the greenlight to talk to them. Haaaay.
Minty fresh!
As gross as I find this concept I also find it interesting. First of all, I think the last thing anyone needs is to be rejected for smelling the worst out of all of the smelly t-shirts. Also I’m glad I’m not single because if I were I would have to go to this and try it and report back. I’ll still go but I’m not bringing a dank t-shirt. Also I would cheat by rolling my tee around in a nice pumpkin pie, because apparently that’s a scent that men love. I read it in a study. With the candlestick. And Mrs. Peacock. But I can’t deny that I like my boyfriend’s t-shirts. I like how they smell. And that’s the whole point of this. We’re all gross and we like how we smell. Because we’re basically jerks who walk around smelling for love. And then when we smell something we like, we bang it. Or marry it.
Here is my favorite tip:

“Some things for women to consider:

Strippers get more tips when ovulating. It is not proven whether this is because of pheromones or just actions, but worth considering for coordinating your odor print phase.”

This entire party sounds awesome. Can someone please go to this and report back? Are you adventurous enough to go? Wouldn’t this be the best “…and that’s how I met your mother” story ever?

But most of all, what do you think  — is this idea legit? Do you like how your dude or lady smells?

Get thee to Cinefamily on April 5th.

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How to have fun at parties.

ann-margret

There’s the obvious answer: get drunk. But sometimes you don’t want to drink. Like…uh…when you already feel nauseous! Or you’re pregnant (ew). Or you’re allergic. Or someone is paying you not to. Yeah, those are pretty much the only situations where you wouldn’t drink at a party.

In this scenario you have fallen under one of those situations, you poor soul. So what do you do to keep things interesting? I have some ideas.

Make up things about your life. It’s not lying if you’re joking inside. Here are some answers I’ve used in the past to the dreaded question, “What do you do?”

— “I’m Sharon Stone’s personal assistant. I mostly get her dry cleaning and go with her parties. Helps her feel young again.”

— “I work at a zoo.” (“Doing what?”) “Animal stuff.”

— “I am the Internet.”

Feel free to adopt these!

Instagram the shit out of everything. I accidentally addicted to Instagram (follow me @apocalypstick.) By taking artsy bullshit photos you force yourself to have fun and force those following you to see how much fun you’re having. I promise you that you will not be the only swine on Instagram at that party. And who cares? You’re sassy.

Take control over the music. As a host, there is nothing more annoying than someone hijacking your ipod/record player/DJ/string quartet but as a guest, there is nothing more annoying than rubbish music. Here are some classic jams that everyone secretly loves to get the party swinging :

— “Kiss From A Rose” by Seal.

— “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey. If you play the Glee version, just get the fuck out.

— anything Stevie Wonder.

— “Get What You Give” by New Radicals.

— “Save Tonight” by Eagle Eye Cherry.

Think, “would this make a good story?” and if the answer is yes, do it. Basically, standing awkwardly without speaking to anyone does not make a good story.

 

Try these and report back.

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Can’t Spell Confidence Without Con.

amazing photoshop art by me.

Let’s say you know that you’re going to run into your ex at a party. We’re going to say this because my friend wanted me to write about what you would do in that situation. I don’t know why she thinks I would be the person to ask; if I ran into my ex at a party I would stand really, really still and hope that like the t-rex in Jurassic Park his sight was based solely on movement. Or I would take the Jeff Golblum approach and wave fire in his face. Either way, it’s not a healthy reaction. But OK.

Firstly, ask yourself if it’s really necessary to see your ex at this party. Does he owe you four dollars? Is that why you’re going? If so, I would stay home. Kiss that four dollars goodbye. It’s gone, forever. I know in these difficult economic times, four dollars sounds like a lot of money. But it’s just not worth it. If, however, your ex is still in possession of your priceless Picasso drawing, then yeah, maybe you should head over there. Once a guy invited me to his apartment to see his Warhol. But I don’t think it was a euphemism. He’s the kind of person who would have an original Warhol hanging in his apartment but no toilet paper.

I just want you to know that you’re a human being and as a human being you likely have enough stress in your life without adding a reunion with your ex to it. If, however, you feel that by avoiding him you’re only proving to yourself that you’re weak, then I’m not going to be able to talk you out of seeing him. So put on your best outfit and go! You’re going to want to wear what makes you feel the best. Who cares if that’s a black figure-hugging cocktail dress and it’s a pool party? If it’s something you can wear and rock the fuck out of, then everyone is going to think, “Damnit, why didn’t I think to wear a cocktail dress to this pool party? I look like a MORON in these board shorts!” It’s all about confidence.

But let’s say you don’t have any confidence. HERE’S HOW YOU FAKE IT:

Get really, really drunk. Get so drunk that you forget what day it is. Get so drunk that you would swear that that bald guy in the corner is Matthew Perry. Get so drunk that you have to google “walking” for a quick reminder of how it’s done.

Am I right or am I right?? WRONG. I’M NOT RIGHT. You shouldn’t have to get flaming drunk to handle this. If you do, then you’re not ready. If, however, you want to take half a glass of wine with you so you don’t do something weird with your hands, then go ahead. Now get into the bathroom and take a few deep breaths. I’m talking real deep breaths, like how they tell you to do in yoga. The kind I don’t do because I’m thinking, “This is boring, I just want abs.” But when you do that, and only focus on that, your heart rate will slow down. This is good. Then look in the mirror and tell yourself that you’re fine. This is just life. This is nothing you can’t handle. You’re going to be home soon with that box of girl scout cookies that is probably expired but who cares, you’re eating it for the children. Don’t say this out loud though, because if someone walks by, they might hear you talking to yourself, and shit will get awkward real fast.

Now what you’re going to want to do is get some positive reinforcement from your friends. Go up to your friend and make them laugh. If your friend isn’t around, call or text them. It helps to hear a friendly voice. It helps to hear encouragement and a laugh is the quickest way to that. If you say something that isn’t funny, tell them to laugh anyway. If they stare at you oddly, remind them of that time in San Diego when you helped them. That should shut them up.

Still not feeling confident? Think about Faye Dunaway. Bitch was always in control, even when she was working on a project that was doomed to fail (I’m talking Mommy Dearest of course.) But did The Dunaway slink off into the corner and cry about it? Fuck no! She straightened her shoulders and said, “Don’t fuck with me fellas — this isn’t my first time at the rodeo.” I always like to think about that when I need confidence. Mostly because it’s such a stupid thing to say that it makes me smile. It helps to have a sense of humor about yourself. And now, a completely out-of-context quote from Faye Dunaway’s autbiography, Looking For Gatsby:

Jack Nicholson is staring at me, his face in a barely contained rage. When Jack is angry, he gets very quiet. He is very quiet now, the words barely able to escape his lips as he tells me he doesn’t want to hear another lie. I’m shaken by the sense of menace that is in the air. I stumble over my words as I try to explain. Smack. My left cheek is stinging and there is a faint red mark left by his fingers. Smack. The force of the blow across my right cheek wrenches my neck. It has caught me off guard. I lose my footing and raise my arms to ward off the other blows I know will follow. Smack. Again and again he hits me. Within minutes I’m in a crying, crumpled heap on the couch.

This has been a completely-out-of-context quote from Faye Dunaway. You just have to remind yourself that there is no winning or losing. So many people want to play that game, where they can say, “Well his new girlfriend looks like Rodney Dangerfield so I clearly won!” But I think that by even playing that game you lose. You have to think that you’re above it. You automatically win just by seeing him and appearing in control and cool. I don’t mean cool like calm, I mean cool like, the Rat Pack or whoever the kids admire these days. You want to walk away with people thinking, “Wow, Evelyn is such a cool girl, I just love her.”

Above all, the easiest way to fake confidence is by keeping it brief. Don’t interact with him more than necessary. Realize how cool you are. Tell yourself that this moment will be over soon and that you can laugh about it later with your friends. And remind yourself why you’re not with this dork anymore. Then get the fuck out of there, because you’ve got important shit to do.

Difficult — Uffie

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