Friday, October 18, 2013

Fancy That Friday: Cranberry Crush

Shortly after turning eleven I discovered became aware of the Cranberries.* Side note: Don't you think it's interesting how many of us claim to have "discovered" an artist, author, sport, vegetable, etc? As if Item XYZ was in some sort of existential purgatory until you unearthed them at a hipster archaeological dig in central South Dakota. I digress...

I recall hearing Zombie on the radio late one summer afternoon. I instantly smitten with Dolores O'Riordan. Her voice was sweet and feminine, but also raw and powerful. AND she had an Irish accent! I know some people don't care for the frequent breaks in her voice, but I LOVED it. It was so different than the Celine Dion garbage that was being pumped through every. single. place. In a year of The Power of Love, I'll Make Love to You, and Stay (I Missed You), I appreciated that Dolores didn't sing about rubbing up on anyone. She sang about political conflict, poetry, and her own flaws. Her voice was real, her lyrics and emotions felt genuine, and my little tween heart latched on hard.**  This week I'm unashamedly embracing the weirdness of the mid-90s with:

that hair! Not only did I adore Dolores's voice, I was enamored by her look.  I soooo wanted her haircut, but was too big of a chicken to chop off my hair until I was in college. While my fears of a pixie-cut were unfounded, I did learn that blonde (well, brassy-orange) is NOT a good look for me.  

these boots and this  blazer. Dr. Martens are most certainly an icon of 90s style. I remember looking at the album cover and thinking she's wearing combat boots and a t-shit with a suit! If only I could be that anti-establishment... or something like that.

this look. Achieve rock star worthy smokey eyes with this set from Too Faced. This matte red lipstick from smashbox is a must.

and this headdress and maxi dress to channel your inner Zombie.

What artist caught your fancy as a kid?

* My parents put up with me listening to the album No Need to Argue nonstop for weeks... and singing along poorly in my bedroom. Saints, they are.
**Feeling old. The word tween had not yet made it to mainstream lexicon when I was that age.

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