#traffic cone coloured fashion model

[druidshollow]

hey what would you do if i dressed them up again. hypothetically

AWAAAAAAH WAAAAAAAHHHHHH WAAAAAAAAHHHHHH faux STOPPIT /affectionate

youre so good at giving them little outfits i am OBSESSED im OBSESSED

ehEhehEhEHEHE LOOK AT THEM YOU GUUUUYYYYYYSSSSS

FAUUUUUUXXXXX

[another-corpo-rat]

Dress For The Job You Want

A discussion with the lovely @merge-conflict put this idea in my head, and learning that their dear Valentine is a gremlin at heart was something I absolutely had to subject Victoria to (she deserves it tbh)

Incredibly minor Adam Smasher/OC at the end Summary: Victoria chooses fashion, Valentine chooses violence. (Valentine ofc belongs to @merge-conflict, ty for trusting me with your gremlin and helping me think of a way to end this!)

.

There’s a time for delicate words, when nerves are frayed and tempers are rising, fingers on triggers and daemons primed to bite – knowing what to say and when to say it was an important skill in the life of a suit. It could mean the difference between life and death. But this? This was not one of those times.

This was an insult against any higher power that might bear witness. It was certainly scalding the back of her own eyes, threatening to blind her. It would be a mercy if it succeeded.

“What,” she starts, tongue heavy with sincerity, “the actual fuck are you wearing?” Her tone has their attending salesman take a small step back, cowering somewhat as they hunch their shoulders and try to seem occupied as they scroll through the datapad of everything else they have in stock. There’s a tremble to their fingers, notable as they move quickly across the screen. And Valentine, the target of her ire, the individual currently dressed like a sentient traffic cone, grins brightly as she outstretches her arms and does a little spin – without needing prompted this time.

As if she was proud of the abomination she had conjured and its too many shades of orange and- dear God. Was that a sequin belt?

“I quite like it.” The other states, that grin taking on a distinct shit-eating quality as she regards herself in the full-body mirror. It gets wider when she meets Victoria’s dour expression, catching the none too subtle twitch of her left eye and the disgusted curl of painted lips.

“It’s…it’s certainly bold—” Any attempt of praise from the sales-jockey, desperate as it was to find something vaguely positive, is stopped by a sharp gesture of Victoria’s hand, fingers making a soft ting as they snap against the metal of her palm.

“There’s a thick line between boldness and stupidity. And you have...” Another cast of her golden gaze, eyes clawing through Valentine’s attire for the smallest thing that could perhaps be savoured. She found none. “soundly pole-vaulted across it, my dear. Next.”

Her glare is focused steadily, line-of-sight broken only when the curtain of the changing room is pulled across. A glimpse of the glint in Valentine’s eye promising to turn a mild headache into a migraine. Ugh, another self-chosen outfit then.

Curtain closed, her gaze and ire turn to the man standing beside the rail of clothing they had requested. A majority of it were her own picks, fashionable enough pieces that quietly demanded attention through the mere act of stepping into a room, but now that she’s looking she can spot more atrocious colours and materials that were most certainly not her choice.

She absolutely should not have handed Valentine the tablet to pick out a few for herself, it was the other’s lack of basic knowledge that convinced her this trip was necessary in the first place. “We need to have a thorough discussion about what you offer your clients.”

“I am currently removing the pieces that they were…kind enough to model for us.” Ah, that explains the hurry to his actions. He clicks through a few more things on the tablet, brow furrowing at what she guesses was an infestation of terrible stock choices. “Last spring’s obsession with orange was a mistake, to put it lightly.”

“A blessedly short-lived one.” A disaster she had the sense to side-step. She’ll stick to her whites and golds, thank you very much.

A sharp laugh comes from behind the curtain, the loud ‘Ha!’ has Victoria pre-emptively pinching the bridge of her nose even before Valentine throws the heavy fabric to the side with a gusto she certainly didn’t have for the earlier outfits. She closes her eyes against the sight that is certain to be blindingly horrific. The sharp intake of the man assures her it was the correct decision.

“I don’t even want to look at you.”

“Why not? I think this one really compliments my complexion.”

“So would coating you in tar and feathers.” Rubbing at her temple, she chances a look up and— “It suits you.” She admits begrudgingly and apparently to Valentine’s surprise, that smug grin loses a little bit of tooth.

“What?” She can see the other’s shoulders lowering, a little edge of disappointment seeping in from the lack of violent disgust. Valentine considers herself in the mirror, hands on hips as she evaluates her choice of mixing a spotted yellow-green shirt with pink-blue striped slacks. She meets Victoria’s narrowed stare through the reflection as she presses, “Really?”

“Yes, you absolute clown.”

And the terrible grin comes back in full, dragging a headache along with it.

God help her, she booked them for an entire afternoon of private fittings.

.

It wasn’t often that Victoria allowed herself to look so openly defeated; curled loosely into the corner of the settee with hazy eyes, half sunken into its shitty cushions with the mere act of lifting the cigarette to her lips seeming tiresome, heavy in an effort she was extending out of habit than any true want.

“Victoria.” She blinks at the low tone of her name, looking up to the behemoth of a ‘borg towering over her. “You look like shit.” She knows she does; she can’t even argue for the sake of being contrarian, so she sighs and quietly accepts his astute observations as she turns to press herself deeper into the horrid cushion she had claimed.

At that, Adam’s tone becomes sharper, demanding; “What the fuck happened?”

“Valentine happened.”

“Ah.” And that’s all he offers on the topic of her, or at least all he does for now – his own rants about Hanako’s new little pet were a dime a dozen when he was in a mood himself. The settee dips and groans dramatically under his weight. “I’ll be sure to think of you when I kill her.”

She manages the slightest twitch of her lips at the easy promise, neither of them bringing up his failure to do so in Mikoshi. “Thank you, love.”

[garageprojectmotorcycles]

Royal Enfield Continental GT650 review / ride report.

When was the last time you read a bad bike review in a magazine or online? Was it the debacle that was the Bimota V Due? Even Braap’s are given a positive spin by reviewers even though they had 5 product recalls in less than a year. So many motorcycle reviews these day are either a reworded press release or a well written advertisement. Now I reckon there are two reasons for that; the sceptic in me says if the magazines don’t write a positive review, then the advertising dollars stop flowing. There are plenty of examples of that car companies having a dummy spit when they don’t win car of the year so it no doubt happens in the motorcycle world too. The other reason is that it’s 2019, motorcycles have been manufactured for a long time, manufacturers have got the basics down pat. This is were Royal Enfield excels, the basics.

I wasn’t planning on writing a review but my bike was getting serviced and it wasn’t going to be ready in time for the Perth Café Racer Run to the Hills ride, so I needed a suitable replacement. As my review of the Benelli Leoncino got an amazing 36 likes (amazing because that’s 34 more than I thought it would get once Ric and I liked it) and a couple of sales, I thought Ric might be open to the idea of handing me the keys to something else. Scanning the showroom floor at MotoMax, a Ducati Sport Classic, Triumph Thruxton, Rickman Honda and a cluster of classics caught my eye. Ric handed me the keys to a mildly customised Continental GT650. Ah well, beggars can’t be choosers.

We both had conditions, Ric’s was simple “Bring it back with a full tank you tight arse bastard and if you drop it, you bu….”. I’m not sure what he said as Peter was saying “look, look” while pointing at a lady across the road who was jogging past. It was far more interesting watching the world go up and down. My condition was the same as always, I wasn’t going to write a positive review just because I got a bike for the weekend. If the bike is shit, then I’ll say so but you don’t have to post the review.  So here it is….hang on…before we get to the review, lets get some background.  

Royal Enfield sold 32,000 motorcycles in 2017 and not many of those were sold outside of India. They now sometimes sell double that in one month with their top selling model the Classic 350 outselling all their other models combined. It sometimes cracks the monthly top 10 list of number of bikes sold in India. Royal Enfield sells more Classic 350’s in one month than all the road bikes sold in Australia from all brands in one year. Unfathomable figures when you consider the company was at the brink of bankruptcy in 1991.

When Sid Lal’s dad bought the company, nothing really changed until 2010 when the Indian Tech economy boomed and hipsters finally had some disposable cash. Sales picked up and then skyrocketed the company to the fastest growing motorcycle manufacturer in the world. The success of the brand in recent times is partly because they upgraded (think EFI, ABS etc) their Bullet/Classic line to make it relevant while keeping the looks of the old motorcycle. Boomers started realising their bucket lists were getting longer and they were running out of time to cross stuff off. Learners around the world are often restricted to motorcycles that take more time to get to 100km/h than it does for a politician to answer question in parliament and Royal Enfields are perfect for that market.

The increase in sales meant Sid (the CEO at the time) had cash burning a hole in his pocket so off he went to the UK and bought Harris Performance which I remember reading about in the UK magazines for making custom frames for GP bikes. They’ve developed the chassis for all the new models including the Continental GT Café Racer, the Himalayan adventure bike and the recent 650 twins. The Café Racer handled as good as it looked but it didn’t get many hearts racing and only sold in low numbers, hence it was discontinued after a couple of years. The Himalayan has been known to get a few hearts racing which has more to do with them being ridden where they are named after. A devoted fan base will see the Himalayan continue to be developed for many years. The real game changer for Royal Enfield though, are the two 650 twins, the Interceptor and the Continental GT 650. Royal Enfield are exporting more than they are selling domestically and dealers in Oz are selling far more twins than they are of the 350cc and 500cc singles.

I’m not a brand snob so will any bike I can get the keys to. My list of motorcycle brands I’d like to put my bum on is topped, like most peoples, by the Italian exotics such as Bimota, MV Agusta etc. For me, Royal Enfield sits a long way down that list; I’m no fan boy who gets excited when a manufacturer changes the colour and releases it as a 2020 model. I lived in the world of sportsbikes and track days so Royal Enfields never registered on my radar; I always felt they were a little weird looking. Sort of like a girlfriend I had  in the 90’s that looked like a cockeyed Nicole Kidman without the Botox. Like my girlfriend, if you ride a Royal Enfield a few times you start appreciate the attraction and you end up falling in love. Since my first Himalayan motorcycle adventure in 2013, I have ridden all of the Royal Enfield models in Australia and in the harshest of conditions that the Himalayas can throw at you and while I still wouldn’t consider myself a fan boy, I would say I was an advocaat. Damn, it’s 11pm and I’m out of beer and wishing I had a liqueur cabinet. Is there an Uber drinks?   

The Conti I got had a few subtle changes made to it. The tank hand been replaced with the rounder tank from an interceptor, bar end mirrors had been fitted and the bike had been encouraged to find its voice with some aftermarket reverse cones mufflers fitted. The bar end mirrors worked perfectly, completely vibration free all through the rev range however the bike was a little quiet for my liking. You could certainly hear it under throttle and it let out pleasing pops and crackles on a decline but I’d like a deeper, louder sound. More Tom Jones than George Michael. If you’ve got standard pipes on your bike and you’re bored with it and possibly considering a change of bike, put an aftermarket set of pipes on and you’ll fall in love again. The Interceptor tank looked great on the Conti and helped take my eyes off what I consider to be the ugliest seat in the market. For some reason, Royal Enfield in Australia decided that the dual seat would be standard and the solo seat with a cowling that is used for the promo pics, and is standard in most of the 50 other countries that it is sold in would be option for Australia. I know looks are subjective but the transformation that the single seat makes on this bike is amazing and I wonder why more people aren’t swapping them over when it is such a cheap option. Maybe it’s just me. 

I am trying to squeeze myself into my daughters Katy Perry T-Shirt when Andy arrives early on his Ducati Sport Classic. With no time for Small Talk, it was time to Roar into Leederville to meet the others. We took the back roads before getting onto the freeway and this is the Conti’s playground. With narrow 100/18’s on the front and 130/18’s on the back, the bike flicks left and right really quickly. On familiar roads, I found myself turning in too quickly and having to readjust my line which the bike did without drama. Later on in the day when the speeds picked up a little and the mercury wanted to blow its load, the front end felt squirmish when going over the bitumen that is poured into the cracks of the road. No one else felt it so again, maybe it was just me.

Our group heading to the start point of the ride consisted of a Sport Classic with Zard pipes, a Thruxton with Staintunes, a V7 Guzzi with Lanfranconis, a Honda CB1100 with an aftermarket 4 into 1 and a W650 with open pipes. It was amazing listening to all the different sounds as we lined up at the Christmas trees, sometimes known as traffic lights by boring people. The Sport Classic consistently got the jump on the rest of at the lights but the rest of us all had a turn at coming second without any clear next fastest. The Conti is styled as a Café Racer of old but it is no race bike with ligths like they were in the old days. Sid Lal himself says “…we (Royal Enfield motorcycles) aren’t going much faster than 100 miles an hour. If someone wants a quicker motorbike, go elsewhere.” During the week, the media reported that a car was hooning through the tunnel at the outrageous speed of 140km/h. The bar had been set low so there was simply no need to crack the ton in the tunnel. Absolutely no need. By my calcs, I reckon 170+ is possible but as I never break the speed limits I’ll never find out.

Riding along the Tonkin, I rolled the throttle on and off, looking for flat spots but couldn’t find any, it just smoothly accelerates all the way to the redline in a very linear fashion. The 5 speed box has perfectly spaced gear ratios and I rarely looked for a 6th like I constantly do on my W650. We joined the rest of the riders and took off along the escarpment as the pace crept up through the hills. The bike was in its element, enjoying being thrown around and asking for more. I worked my way to the front of the pack and when there was a break in the traffic I gave it what it wanted and took off. On these sort of roads, I neither needed or wanted anymore power, I just enjoyed rolling the throttle on and rolling it off coming into a corner, letting the engine compression slow me down with only a slight dab on the rear brake when needed. The Pirelli Phantoms had more than enough grip and never troubled the ABS system. I considered putting the Phantoms on my bike but baulked at the price so Royal Enfield aren’t skimping on quality to ensure they stay at the $9990 price point.

After a cool down and a group photo, we headed to lunch at Parkerville and to pay our respects to Kevin the kookaburra who had his head ripped off recently by a complete and utter wanker. As we hit the road again, I found my right hand feeling a bit tingly which is a little unusual. My bike has thicker grips so maybe the thinner grips on the Conti passed on the vibes or maybe I’m just old and the years of abuse I’ve given my right hand is coming back to bite me. The suspension soaked up the bumpy roads but my bum was starting to feel a bit numb. The seat looks flat but is actually slightly rounded which was giving me numb bum…which would have come in handy when it also got years of abuse in a previous life. These are the only two faults with the Conti GT that I could find, both of which wouldn’t stop me buying one as I’d change the hideous seat and put thicker grips on anyway. Everything else was perfect; the horn is louder than my cars, the clocks are easy to read, clutch and brake lever action is effortless, the gearbox is ridiculously smooth, riding position is spot on.

At under 10k, the only bike that is comparable to the Conti is its stablemate the Interceptor. The visually challenged Harley 750 is being run out a similar price, Suzuki threw a bikini fairing on its SV650 and called it café racer and is watching them gather dust on the showroom. The Benelli Leoncino and the oddly styled Husqvarna Svartpilen are similar prices but I doubt the circles in the Venn diagram of people interested in these three bikes would overlap.

For $13,000, the W800 from Kawasaki is another option but I’d rather have the Conti and spend the difference on customising it. The only other option is to buy a Triumph Street Twin at $16,000 and then throw some money at it to make it a café racer. Buying a bike that 100’s of other people have got and keeping it standard, doesn’t make any sense to me. If I had Triumph money to spend and the option was to have stock a Street Twin or a one of a kind Continental GT with a big bore kit, killer paint job, custom seat and a custom exhaust then it’s a no brainer. I’m in the minority though as most riders are happy with buying a good looking bike and leaving it alone. The Continental GT can be enjoyed as is but also makes a very smart choice as base for a custom motorcycle.

[suzylwade]

Jen Wink Hays ”I didn’t hold a paintbrush until I was in college. One day I just felt ready to make art again.” - Jen Wink Hays, Artist. Jen Wink Hays fell in love with art while at ‘Barnard College’ and pursued the practice full-time after graduating, before pivoting into a successful graphic design career and then again into school administration. Wink Hays is a founding partner of New York’s ‘Blue School’ a model of progressive education. What surfaced in her painting was a clear, visual language rooted in abstraction. Colour and shape both natural and manufactured dominate her work and the juxtaposition between them is an endless source of fascination for her. “I like putting synthetic, trippy colour moments and sharper man-made forms, like a neon orange traffic cone, in the middle of stuff that feels more organic and seeing how they inhabit the same space. That sort of interruption thrills me.” #neonurchin #neonurchinblog #dedicatedtothethingswelove #suzyurchin #ollyurchin #art #music #photography #fashion #film #words #pictures #neon #urchin #jenwinkhays #artist #astraction #form #aboriginaldreamings #tylerhays #space #colour #blueschool (at Pennsylvania) https://www.instagram.com/p/B4PXHfAB7Cy/?igshid=8yszltwqsw39