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Flats and a Starbucks Coffee has moved and changed it's name!

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Excuse me, Mr. Universe

Today I decided to do a little experiment. Today was a day I decided to take a bible verse to heart. Today was Luke 11:9 day. Can you really just ask for something and just get it? Just like that? Is it that easy? Does God just let you have it? No questions asked?

Lets see.

For those of you who haven't read the book "The Secret" or heard of it, I will ruin the whole premise of the book. You could interpret it however you want, but the way I see, it really is 200 pages (an hour and a half movie) based on Luke 11:9. The universe is rooting for you. God is rooting for you. All you have to do is ask.

Anyway, I decided to take it to heart. God is rooting for me. And I decided I would take the positive thinking aspect from the book to reinforce my faith in those three infinitely powerful sentences from the Book of Life.

It was a gloomy rainy morning. As usual I ran for my life to reach my bus stop on time. I took my usual seat and stared at the misery that was the rain and slush this morning and I thought to myself, you know what I want? I want a Starbucks latte...or a cappuchino...or some sort of fancy coffee....or coffee. So I decided to ask for it. God, if you can hear me, I want a latte. Please give me a latte. Today is a latte day. It's all I could think about. I could taste it in my mouth. Latte, latte, latte. Please God. I was going to have a latte today. Somehow.

My work place is eons away from all the Starbucks' shops I know. In fact, my workplace is in a tiny little clinic in a complex that consists of a gas station and a fancy Italian resturant.

I didnt give up. I want that latte. At around 11:30, one of my coworkers came to my desk and I swear, the next few words that came out of his mouth: "I'm going to get a coffee. Can I get you a cappuccino or something?"

5 minutes later I was sipping a delicious cappuccino. Maybe this is just a coincidence. I don't believe in coincidences. Every little thing that happens has a rhym and reason. But it was just a stupid coffee. Coincidence is the most probable explaination. A couple of hours later, my boss walked in with two cups in her hand. "Thought you might like a cappuccino".
I stared at the cup.

Lets one up the stakes, I thought. As you all know the YRT 77 is the crappiest ride in the world. Getting a seat on the homebound 77 is a miracle in and of itself. Getting the most coveted seat of all (the seat right before the back door of the bus) is impossible. In the 10 minutes I waited for the homebound 77 from work, I prayed hard. I want a seat on the bus. And not just any seat. I want the back door seat. I pictured myself walking into the bus, seeing it empty and settling myself comfortably in it. The bus came. I flashed my bus pass and walked in nervously. The seat right before the back door of the bus was empty.

I sat down. This whole thing is a coincidence. I didnt believe in coincidences but this day had to be a huge exception. But what if it wasn't? I set out to do this as an experiment. And I had the results of my experiment. Could I turn around and say the results of my experiment were just mere coincidences?

I was still in my wonderous daze when I felt a droplet of water hit my head. I looked up. There was some sort of water seepage EXACTLY ABOVE the most coveted seat of the bus. My seat. This is probably why nobody was sitting in the most coveted seat of the bus. I actually laughed aloud.

I learnt a lot today. I learnt the incredible power of faith and positive thinking. I learnt that "The Secret" is probably completely legitmate. And that the Universe might cockblock you, leak on your parade (or backpack) and ruin all your plans and your hair but is still completely and totally rooting for you the whole time. But most importantly I learnt that if the Universe is truly that great that it will give you whatever you want ALL THE TIME if you really ask for it and expect to recieve it, then God is infinitely greater and the perfect filter to make sure that the Universe will give you the right things...ALL THE TIME.

Maybe the coffee was a coincidence. Maybe the only reason I got the seat today was because no one else was in the mood to get their hair wet. But you know what? All those things are reasons. And reasons are irrelevent here. Regardless of everything else, I got exactly what I wanted. I wanted a latte, I got a cappuccino (slight discrepancy). I wanted a good seat, I got it. And that is the power of Luke 11:9. Of believing Luke 11:9.

And by the way, after going through a spell of sitting in front of my computer screen and producing subpar blog posts or absolutley no blog posts, I really wanted to write a decent blog post. I incessantly asked for inspiration for a blog post. Here I am at the end of the first one in a long time that I'm actually quite proud of.

Ask and you recieve.

Good driver, bad driver

For those of you who actually read whatever I have to say, I must apologise for my long summer absence from the blogopshere. Somewhere along the way I (finally) came to the realisation that keeping a blog about my day to day happenings involving work is probably not one of my brightest ideas. And that's when I sat down sad and puzzled, thinking of what other elaborate topics I can share my honest but not always educated opinion on.

Anyway, I came up with a big zero.

That being said though...

I MUST tell you about a recent chuckle I shared with myself about a common pet-peeve: traffic jams and asshole-style driving.

The other day I was driving home with a friend, who for confidentiality purposes we will call Jim Schwatz (Schawty for short...I never promised I'd be original). Schwaty and I were crusing along the 401 minding our own businesses, driving like normal people listening to whatevs was on the radio when all of a sudden, the blue Nissan which was shadily looming at the back of us speed up in front of us and cut us off.


Schwaty kept their composure but I learnt some pretty colorful cussing soo bad that could only be used for the callibre of someone who tortures babies in their spare time. I learnt why so many Canadians have roadrage. For the sake of safety and politness, one will sit in a sespit of boiling rage and calmly keep steering while their asshole counterparts weave through traffic like frogger on crack.


It was at that point that I understood the fundamental differences between traffic in Toronto and traffic in Kuwait City where I grew up.

1) Toronto driving: You generally obey traffic laws.
Kuwait driving: What traffic laws?

2) Toronto driving: Your insurance premiums are of colossal proportions if you have been in a previous accident, have demerit points for minor misdemenors and/ or are under the age of 25.
Kuwait driving: What insurance premiums?

3) Toronto driving: You have to pass the three stages of testing... G1, G2, G in order to be qualified on the road. However, being a qualified driver does not make you a good driver.
Kuwait driving: You have to pass the test of being a Formula 1 race car driver. Being a good driver usually means nothing.

4) Toronto driving: Cutting people in traffic is rude and Karma is a bitch that will come and bite you back in the ass for doing it.
Kuwait driving: Cutting people in traffic is essential. Otherwise it's usually death who is the bitch that comes to bite you in the ass for not doing it.

5) Toronto driving: Left turns are legal and generally safe.
Kuwait driving: Left turns are illegal and generally unsafe...just like driving in general.

6) Toronto driving: You have to be at least 16 to legally drive.
Kuwait driving: You could be a man, woman, child, camel or anything with a pulse to drive. Not really, but with shady traffic laws and no premiums any chimp can get by behind the wheel.

7) Toronto driving: Say a little prayer before you set out on your journey.
Kuwait driving: Write out your will before you set out on your journey.

8) Toronto driving: A driver must yeild to pedestrians.
Kuwait driving: What pedestrians?

9) Toronto driving: Good drivers let you make lane changes.
Kuwait driving: Good drivers let you live.

10) Toronto driving: Passing an emissions test depends on whether your car has harmful emissions.
Kuwait driving: Passing an emissions test depends on your nationality and/or whether or not you know some influential people.

And so my Canadian friends, the next time you polite folk are sitting in puddle of anger on Yonge Street feeling like you'd rather be shot in the face, remember you could be in a country where you could drive wild and free with no insurance premiums or traffic laws.

What it comes down to in the end really is the battle between what will kill you first. Some asshole lunatic who kills you by rear ending you at the speed of light or the stress and frustration of stewing in a hot pot of anger, rage and resentment. Not to mention, death is inevitable anyway after you have sold your liver to pay insurance premiums.

Wheel full of Clay

This summer, I decided to take pottery classes on a whim. A very expensive whim. I got a wide array of responses and reactions ranging from "OMG! Karen that's soooo neat!" to "OMG! Karen you need a boyfriend" (that was my boss...who promptly shut up after her patient squealed "OMG! Thats soo neat!").

On my first day at pottery, my quirky teacher Dennise sat me at the wheel. I was so excited! She did a little demo where she effortless threw a slab of clay on the wheel, had it spinning like it was being run by a pack of hamsters on crack and then produced what looked like a fine toothbrush mug. I gaped.

Then it was my turn. I started my wheel on full speed and devoted my life for the next hour to trying to stop the clay from flying around hitting walls and people. There was clay everywhere! On my hands, my face, in my mouth, in my nose, on my legs. I sheepishly looked at Dennise hoping to God I would somewhat get the hang of this soon. I had to somehow justify selling off my good kidney at Chinatown to pay for these classes. After making several pieces of unrecognisable crap on the wheel, I started to get frustrated and disappointed.

Until finally, Dennise stepped in and helped me out. She patiently explained to me that while pottery was fun and ultimately very rewarding, it was not going to be as easy and romantic as Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore made it look on "Ghost". Well I guess it could be once you learnt how to stop it from flying into your mouth. After all, nothing says romantic like a mouth full of dirt.

I made some okay little bowls but nothing sexy to write home about. They were ugly, deformed and relatively worthless, but I delighted in every single piece because I put my whole heart into it. I knew I would recognise them as mine anywhere.

Now, why am I boring you with all this? Well because what struck me after taking these classes were two things: 1) Pottery is the most fun thing you can do on a Sunday afternoon...apart clay flying off the wheel onto Dennise's walls. It's all mud in the sun until it's flying in your nose. 2) I finally really understood the magnitude of the biblical metaphor of the Divine Potter. For those of you who are not in the mood for God talk on a Sunday night, I will break this down for you in the most painless way possible.

First of all, in terms of pottery, if you want to make anything remotely decent you need to focus on the damn clay. Clay (like us), I learnt the painful way, is like a 3 year old child that moves in every direction OPPOSITE of where you want it to go. Last time I had it under control, I thought what a fine job I was doing and I had flying clay in my face. You can't even be THINKING of something else. Clay on the wheel demands the Potter's undivded attention. And since God only makes masterpieces, His options are very limited in the attention department. Half a second of loss in focus could be the difference between a cute little teapot and something that very much ressembles a large piece of poo in the toilet. So trust me, God must have spent a little more time on you because He normally does not make poo.

Second of all, as Dennise kept stressing "No two pieces you make will ever be the same". Every potter wants and knows every single piece he has ever made. The Potter has infinite patience. He has to. Even if his clay is behaving like a 3 year old child juiced up on Red Bull. So we can jump and fly off the wheel and rebel all we want. But sooner or later, we're going to be held onto until we calm the heck down and turn into a funky vase.

And thirdly, potters were creative. We all start off as a mound of mud. What we become is at the discretion of the Potter. Some of us are small little teacups and some of us are large decorative vases. Some of us have fabulously extravagant colours, others have more down to earth monotones. Dennise proudly showed me displays of her pottery. Some of her most boring colored pottery were by far her most beautiful pieces. It didn't matter if it was a mug or a plate or a boring looking ashtray. Only the Potter knows the time and love he put into creating you. Only the potter knows what your use is. And only the potter knows where you'll shine and look your most beautiful. Most of all, only the potter truly knows you, your worth and why you were made.

If God is a potter, I now truly have a new found respect for God.

Free advice

Inspired by the experiences of Karen in the past week:

I feel the need to pass on every day bits of wisdom to my peoples.

Simple Life Lesson One:
If you are not an avid beer drinker like myself and only drinks beer in the summer because it looks and feels cool, please stick to the familiars. Barking Squirrel Lager might sound terribly exciting, adventurous and might be a run for your money...but it might also GIVE you the runs (for your money).
If you are an avid beer drinker and don't have to go to work the next day: bark away, squirrely.

Simple Life Lesson Two:
When wearing stilletos that you've never worn before, "breaking them in" by running a race against time around the North York public library is not the best idea. Especially if you keep running after those shoes of satan have removed the skin from every single toe and you almost feel bone.

Simple Life Lesson Three:
If being forced to take an 8 hour long English test when your first language IS ENGLISH seems like hell on earth to you, then being stuck in a small room with 12 other extremly sweaty and nervous people for 8 hours doing that same damn English test is like hell's public bathrooms.

Simple Life Lesson Four:
If you decide that it would be fun to take pottery classes for the summer, try not to schedule three hours of funness with flying wet clay after Sunday mass.

Don't play with dirt in your Sunday skirt.

Simple Life Lesson Five:
Cute shorts on a Toronto summer day are cool because it's hot. Cute shorts on a Toronto summer NIGHT are cool because it's cold. Know the difference and dress accordingly.

Simple Life Lesson Six:
Do not eat a fresh slice of Asiago cheese pizza on a very crowded subway train. Unless you want to be ambushed with stares of hatred and death. If looks could kill (or if Canadians packed heat and weren't so full of fake politeness) I would not be writing this post right now. True say.

Simple Life Lesson Seven:
Do not kill someone if you feel homicidal after a long work day. I haven't, (congratulate me) but I have posted this only to remind myself not to.

Simple Life Lesson Eight:
Asiago cheese pizza is not the cure to an upset stomach created by that damn squirrel barking beer.

Simple Life Lesson Nine:
Go to bed instead of staying up on facebook reading some dumbass status updates. (Just as a rant: Who the hell cares that you just pooped and baked a burnt cookie?!?! Is there a reason why the whole world should know you're LAME?)

Simple Life Lesson Ten:
Take a vacation if you feel like you'll never learn Life Lesson #7.

Astrological musings

Disclaimer: This post solely represents the opinions and thoughts of the writer and is not meant to be taken as true facts. The writer also wants you to know that she does not think less of people who shop at the mall. She does it all the time too.

This post was inspired by one of my morning rituals on the 77 wherein I read my horoscope for the day. I think that section was invented for cranky morning commuters like me to inject a little happy in their morning by saying s0mething nice and positive. If you look closely, everyone's horoscope is the same. A couple of days ago, my horoscope read, "Never feel the need to justify your beliefs to anyone".

And since I ALWAYS feel the need to justify everything in life, I started to think about all the times I never took my silly astrological advice. And then I realised I had a whole bunch of nonsense, coma-inducing open ended theories that I just pulled out of my ass to justify things to people I could have cared less about.

Analogies are fun things when they make sense and don't send one off into a boredom induced coma. The best analogies are born from shiz that you just happen to think in the mundane rountine of life like when you drinking coffee, sitting on the toilet and folding laundry.

Unfortunately, mine are usually born out of a need to argue and/or bore the toffees out of someone. (Thank you Lisa Livera for teaching me the art of inserting the word toffees in random places)

For example, there is my theory on the afterlife in which the afterlife is like the Mother of all New Year's day parties and that you better be tight with the host if you want an invite. He should at least be aware that you'd rather be boogying it on the dance floor after you kick the bucket then spend eternity in your room (where the air-conditioning is just as dead as you are) sulking with the rest of all those who somehow in life got convinced that the host ran out of chips and tequilla for this big party in that Big Bang confusion.

Then there is my theory on waiting for The One. For those of you who do not live in this millenium (or planet), The One refers to the proverbial Soulmate.

Basically, I compare finding The One to the rides at Wonderland, or any theme park you might have been to. The most badass rides usually have the longest lines. In the summer, you can be expected to be in line for 2-3hours where you would usually kill time getting frustrated, complaining about the heat, complaining about the line, winking at hotties, texting relatives you never bothered keeping in touch with and trying to convince yourself it is all worth the 30 seconds of the crazy adrenaline rush you'll be rewarded with.

Everyone has that one ride that makes them come alive. A lot of people though, would rather amuse themselves with tons of other smaller, less crowded rides that provide a temporary fix and kill time.

You KNOW you'll have the ride of your life on the Votex. But you'd rather fool around on Taxi Jam because the line-ups are shorter and there's not as much risk involved.

As a corollary to that absurd and ridiculously flawed comparison, lots of people are scared shitless of Twister, Topgun and taking chances and would rather keep to the safer rides like the teacups and eating funnel cake. Nothing wrong with that. But remember, you don't want to be swirling around in a teacup eating funnel cake your whole life.

My justifying analogy on pre-martial sex is not as elaborate as finding your soulmate but is just as lustrous. I think pre-marital sex is like prematurely opening a good bottle of wine. The wine will probably taste fine but you really won't do it justice until you have patiently waited for it to mature. It's all downhill after uncorking it a few times, until eventually you just find yourself cooking with it. Still good, but not being enjoyed the way it was meant to.

And my favorite to finish: believing in God. Personally, I'd like to think believing in God is much like Vintage shopping. Not that there is anything wrong with shopping at the mall, but there is something very fascinating that draws me to vintage shopping that I don't experience when I go to the mall. Every trip to a vintage or a thrift store is different.

You never know what you're going to find. Somedays are just plain frustrating where you spend hours and hours looking and searching only to come home with nothing. And then somedays, you just find one gorgeous dress or a breathtakingly beautiful scarf that you paid just a dime and some time for and you know all your perseverance is completely worth it.

With God, no two trips to search for Him are the same. He's too creative to wait an entire season to bring forth new lines. He does it everyday.

Somedays its plain frustrating and you wonder why you bother wasting your time searching and somedays He opens your eyes to a new perspectives that are just unquie and fabulous to you and then you understand why you bother.

Another great thing about going vintage is that it allows you the freedom to be yourself, form your own sense of style and not conform.

While many would be inclinded to believe that it's the nutbag church goers who blindly conform, I find that there seem to be more people in this world today that conform to the idea that God is either too dead, too unexplainable, too non-existent or too busy looking for those chips and tequilla that He lost years ago in the Garden of Eden.

But that's just what I believe. I avoid my crazy elaborate analogies these days and just smile and make you read all about it in my blog instead. :D

It's a sign

Look what I found on Bloor St!

Expedia has done it once again. Yet another billboard sign that impressed me enough to stand like a fool in the middle of a busy intersection and take a picture.

What do you think?

I think I need a vacation.

Don't let your feet touch ground

I've done it. I have found the perfect theme song for this summer (and life in general). For those of you in Toronto this summer, you may recognise this song from the Lotto 649 commercial. You'll feel like you may as well have won the lottery...even if all you really have is sunshine and no money.

Karen's Recommendation:

This song goes perfectly well with a black tea lemonade from Starbucks and hot sunny days days like today in Toronto (or any where else in the world that has 28 degree C weather)

Enjoy!

77 Politics

Obey the rules of the road or else...

It has been 8 months now since I have been taking the York Regional Transit #77. Although, the YRT service is nothing great to write home about, I have to say this giant beast of metallic junk is the only means of connecting me to my source of income. I will not bore you to a temporary comatose, but I've had my fair share of drama including been pushed around, snarled at (yes, snarled), my stuff picked up and thrown on me and having drivers heartlessly drive away while I helplessly watch from across the street waiting for the pedestrian crossing.

Although 8 months of daily commuting hardly earns me any street cred points, I have made some curious observations and tricks to dealing with the joyness that is taking the bus.

1) It can be safetly assumed that in Toronto and the GTA, no one has the desire to sit next to you or talk to you or anyone else on a mode of public transit. There are a wide array of activities that the average Torontonian would rather do than sit beside you, much less speak to you. Some examples of these activities include plugging their ears into their iPods, picking their nose, testing every single one of their cellphone ringtones, and staring aimlessly outside the window. Some exceptions to this rule are if you're exceptionally good looking, or if they're a Jehovah's Witness.

2) In the unfortunate event that you are sitting next to someone who has bad breath, is crazy or a nasty combination of both, you may do any of the above listed activities of the unfriendly Torontonian commuter. If you're not into that you may use some common phrases that are useful such as: "No, I don't want to tell you where I live. Would you like a mint instead?" or "No, I'm not interested in reading the Book of Mormon. Would you like a mint instead?". My personal favorite is to just pretend you're dead.

3) In the event of a rare treat that a hot guy gets on the bus, please close your mouth and try to be discreet with the stare. Remember that creepy old geezer with bad breath who tried to ask you where you live and then tried to convert you to a Jehovah's Witness and wouldn't take dead for an answer? You're not him, but oogling is the first step towards it.

4) Please offer your seat to an eldery man or woman. I understand that many people are jaded, 'hurt-before-by-bus-politics' commuters but good manners always go a long way. So does good karma.

5) The best way to have two seats to yourself (one for you and one for your purse/ego) is to sit on the aisle seat with your purse/ego dropped on the window seat. This is a concept that thrives on the fake politeness/ pushover-ness(I know that's not a word) of Torontonians. Most people would rather stand than ask you to move your shit so they can have a seat. Every so often though, you will have the non-pushover commuter who will sit on YOU if he can't find an empty seat. True story.

6) Don't have lengthy coversations with the driver about spending your weekend buying clothes for your dog. This will cause him to miss stops and piss the toffees off of a bus load of cranky people. True story again.

7) If you got delayed at Starbucks because the lunatic in front of you decided to pay for her coffee in pennies, it's not a good idea to run like a cat on hot bricks with scalding coffee to catch your bus. This will cause your clothes to consume more coffee than you do, you will reek of coffee and you will look like an idiot. Accept defeat with dignity and an intact coffee cup.

8) It is perfectly okay to smile and make small talk with your everyday fellow commuters. In fact, make an effort to do so. However, one can draw the line when the over-friendly bus idiot moves your stuff around and cockblocks you from the bus cutie.

9) Find things that will make your long morning commutes enjoyable. Personally, I like to read, listen to music, talk to God, do the crossword and twidle my thumbs. In really hectic times, if you really can't find anything to keep you occupied, stare at a picture of Jake Gyllenhal.

10) Try to thank your driver after you have arrived at your destination. Unless you've been in a terrible accident, in which case, thank God you're not in the hospital busy being a vegetable.

And that folks is my 2 cents on the public transit. You may pay an additional $2.98 to experience it for yourself.

Do I look fat in that shirt?

Summer is officially in! As are my earth-shattering inspirations to blog. Better recognised as the end of my shameless laziness.

Today was so hot that even a desert girl like me will admit that air conditioning wouldn't have been the worst idea. With all the fabulous things that come with summer (read: fun, flip flops, freezies and fudge icecream), I been scouring the stores for some sassy summer shirts and skirts.Vintage is my new favorite flavour of the season. Tout Toronto will soon be tooting with posts about my escapades to find the perfect vintage finds. Soon as I manage to get off my lazy ass and tout away that is.
Anyway, the very reliable Torontonian weather forecasters have prediced a hot summer this year and with that segway, I will get on with the actual point of this post. Some old trends with a new twist for a hot summer. All of these reflect my own personal style and opinion. I am not a fashion guru. Please do not send me angry emails and crazed wall pasts on facebook telling me of how you wore your grandma's 70's flower-power-polka-dotted, obnoxiously large shoulder-padded blouse with a bedsheet-like hippie skirt you rescued from Kensington Market to a hot date who ran away from you with fear and trembling (and lets face it, a little awe) at the sight of you. If you do however, send me a photo and I will post it on my what-not-to-wear segment. Just kidding. I'm sure you looked lovely. That been said, here are a few trends that having been catching my fancy lately.

Shoulder pads: I know what you're thinking. You don't want to wear your mother's 80's power shirts while trying to flirt with that hottie in the ice-cream aisle. Understandable and even sensible. I do however, truly believe there is a way of dressing up shoulder padded garbs without becoming your mother. For example, a shoulder padded blazer. Granted, blazers are not the best idea for 28 degree C weather. Neither are they the best idea for bigger girls who have no need of a cure for droopy shoulders. But they're hot. As in trendy. And not as in emitting heat rays.
For example:
As cool as this looks, please do not wear this unless you are a runway model, have an overflowing cup of confidence and cool, a meatless petite Korean girl, or Rhianna

If you are one of the above four, I'm already jealous that you can rock that without looking like an idiot.




Scarves: Scarves are not new fashion discoveries. They are ageless. However, I newly discovered the genius of scarves when I bought one for a dollar at some random scarf stand on the street. Scarves are an inexpensive way (I say inexpensive only if you do not buy your scarves at Prada) to brighten up one of those bland colour shirts you bought at Bluenotes on sale for $5.00. Vintage stores have tons of these, and if you're willing to shop around, you will find some beautiful scarves for even less. Once again, scarves in the sweltering heat, not the greatest idea. But they are oh so pretty...and perfect for those summer days at work.

Patterns and polka dots: I love patterned blouses. Although, I've been told patterns are not for everybody and their grandmother. Or maybe they're just for their grandmother. But to me, nothing welcomes in the season of sunshine like a summery cotton print. As for polka dots, they've always been in style whether you would like to admit it or not. Use discretion with this one though. If prints scare you, try testing out pieces that are not overwhelmingly patterny. However, if prints, patterns or polka dots are really not your glass of iced tea, move on to the purses.

Vintage purses: I have nothing more to say. Its a purse. You should invest in them whether vintage or otherwise.

Vintage shopping is a bit of a pain in the butt. (Literally, all that walking takes its toll) It's a lot of searching and bargaining. Not to mention, you're not always lucky to find stuff in your size, appropriateness of shoulder pad size and design. But those are the best parts too. Hours of walking looking for that perfect scarf to go with a perfect shoulder padded blazer to be rewarded with a bargain deal of a fabulous purse instead. Or bear with me here...actually having your mind opened up to possibilties of wearing something or at least trying out something you wouldn't normally wear. That's the amazing thing about bargain shopping. Its the thrill of finding cute little shirts and trying to create outfits in your head that makes vintage shopping the flavor of the summer. So go ahead. Shop. Create. And have fun putting together cool outfits this summer.

Also, I would like to add: Combining all of your outfits created by your artistic genius with a cute pair of flats and a tall green tea ice tea from Starbucks is optional. (although very much recommended.)

Happy Shopping! And stay tuned to Tout Toronto for some cool vintage stores I discovered!