VOGOFF September 2014

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 caf 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

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

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 (theres 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
Ive 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 dont
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 womens 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
dont think for a minute that I
dont enjoy stripping in front
of all that glass. I think Ive
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. Ive 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.

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/
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

Alicia
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
Clementines 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 Clementines 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.

Curtise

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

Curtise

I mean Clemmie
Curtise

Val

blast from the past
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
natures 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
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

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.
Shelley
Photography by Mark Prokopiou

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p19 Shelley

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.
Shelley

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

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p21 Shelley

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p22 Jean
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

Skye

how to fuck a poet

Prepare to be excluded from common language.
She will surely find your oh babys too
pedestrian
and your harders 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-
mygoditsjustapenis.
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 its said and done, wily foreplay vanquished,
come like Dantes inferno,

and call me Beatrice.
Skye

Melanie

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, p26 Pao

val's world
Val
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."

Skye

Jean

val's world
Val

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 20s 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 90s. On the dance floor.
Beads extending from me like Michael
Frantis 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
Judith

Melanie

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 dayshe
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 cant share his number, I
just can't.)
3. Aprs massage, it is imperative to
eatthe 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 its 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
Melanie

Tami

Pao


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 shes thrilled about the costumes (and the
push-em up bra).

Left, Madame Lash in her original morresque look

Linda

nobody's fool

Melanie


Jean

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)

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

Dross into Gold

Style Crone

Photos by Daniel

To My Younger Self

Strength of Elegance

VOGOFF SEPT 2014, 50
Travelindigo

Project Minima
patottoart
Mandala-a-Day

Sticks at Midnight

Haute Housewife
Space Oddity
Photos by Mark Prokopiou

Forest City Fashionista

Peaches McGinty

My Kingdom for a Hat
where decorum goes to die

how to fuck a poet
hooked

Decaying
French Salon diorama by
Val. See her Marketplace
link in Credits for details.
(This one is mine.)
Melanie
VOGOFF is published by
Melanie Kobayashi of
Bag and a Beret and her evil
boss Miz Bagg

copywrong 2014

Tami

VOGOFF September 2014

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life/style for people who give the BIGGEST flying fecks

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