About a year ago, I made the decision to venture into the Great Accessory Unknown.  Bags, shoes, and jewellery are all great ways of enhancing an outfit, but no matter how much adorable headwear I saw, I always asserted that, "I'm not a Hat Person."

Little did I know that everyone can be a Hat Person; it just takes the right piece of headwear.

Some women are best suited for cloches, but others rock the boho knitted toque.  Princesses have long worn tiaras and crowns, while screen queens once sported the mighty pillbox.

A sudden resurgence in millinery was obvious from runways all over the world.  In Toronto, designer Jason Meyers showed an especially delicious array of headgear from the elegant to elaborate for Spring/Summer 2010 that covered the spectrum and dazzled the onlooking fashionistas.

As for me, I'm still experimenting with the exact Golden Ratio that will lead me to Headwear Heaven, but I'm having a great time in the interim.  All women, disabled or able-bodied, currently have a rare opportunity to stock up on exciting, daring hats in innumerable shapes, styles, and colours to augment their wardrobes.  It's the first time in eons that women have been encouraged to adapt the age-old custom of donning head coverings, but as an avowed accessory junkie, I'm pleased to have yet another avenue to express the innate feminine fabulosity.

With any luck, this trend will stick around even longer than skinny jeans, though hopefully I'm not being too optimistic.  Though I've seen plenty of adorable lids for sale, I'm usually the only woman in a hat when I venture out and about.  It's a crying shame, too, because whenever I don one of my sassy, quirky toppers, I always receive a bevy of flattery.  People never fail to stop me and compliment my headwear.  It's different, it's fun, and it's something to make any woman stand out in any crowd -- no cleavage required.  Adding hats to your accessory wardrobe is easy and can compliment any age, figure, or complexion.

Honestly, I suppose it can be summed up thusly...

Hats are a no-brainer.

What's in a name?  Well, maybe not that much, but a friend on FaceBook referred me to a collection whose name caught my attention right away.  Designers Angela Irick and Antonio Wingfield are collaborating on a line called Heels with Wheels, and although the whole collection isn't available online yet, what they're showing is right in step with the more prominent names in adaptive fashion.  And I'm impressed.

For those unfamiliar with adaptive fashions, let me give you some perspective.  First, imagine your favourite pair of skinny jeans.  You know, the ones with a little stretch in them that lift your booty up to the sky?  Yeah, those.  Now, picture how you put them on: one leg, then the other, then a little shimmy to get them up your thighs, followed by a few hops to get them over the aforementioned booty.  Finally, you zip them with a satisfied smirk, throw on a cute button-up top, and you're out the door.

What if you couldn't hop and shimmy?  What would you do if you were unable to hold something as small as a zip, or manage tiny, difficult buttons?  And what if no one ever saw that nice booty because it's firmly planted in a wheelchair?  These are just a few of the issues that face rolling fashionistas, and depending on the type and severity of disability, this list of concerns can grow exponentially.

To help wheeled chicks speed up their morning routines and improve independence, a number of designers are stepping up to the plate and crafting collections made with these issues in mind.  Hot names like Canada's own Izzy Camilleri have even jumped into the market, upping the product availability from the foul granny-gowns and Snuggie-esque coverups of yore to genuinely covetable fashion.  I'm 29 -- I have no desire to dress like I'm 79; unless, of course, it's Coco at 79.  In that case, bring it on.

So, when I was shown the adorable duds on display at Heels With Wheels, I just had to spread the love.

First off, the "Lounging and Cover-Ups" section has gowns for lazy days, sipping wine by the pool, and according to the website, are even apropos for the boudoir.  Unlike other loungewear created for disabled individuals, these are actually cute.  And yeah, kind of sexy.  All the pieces appear to be light and silky, and I love the graphic-print halter tunic and the long strapless gown.  The strapless number is gathered at the bust and drapes beautifully on both the model in a power wheelchair and *gasp!* the standing model, too.  Yes, ladies, these are dresses that appeal to both able-bodied and disabled women alike, and I can certainly see why.  No Snuggies here, thank the gods.

The "Happy Hour" collection is perfect for the woman on the go.  Easy, flattering, fitted tops and dresses that can help turn any girl into Day to Night Barbie.  A quick accessories change, a sweet clutch, and any gal is ready to go from office to cocktail hour with her BFFs.  I'm especially impressed with the fit of these garments.  If any of you have ever seen most of the so-called 'adaptive' garments, many of them are bulky, shapeless, and completely unfeminine.  It's like the designers just want to make something convenient to put on and remove, and the self esteem and sexuality of the wearer are completely ignored.  Irick and her co-designer, Wingfield, clearly have other things in mind: like that we're women.

And, finally, in the "Glamour" section, we see a small sampling of two chic, easy wrap-tops.  As a devoted fan of Diane von Furstenberg for more than one reason, I'll scoop up anything that is wrap-like.  I have arthritis in my hands and it can often make it painful to grasp little zip pulls and fasten buttons.  One day, I was wandering through Holt Renfrew and thought I'd try on a classic DVF wrap dress.  It went on like a dream, tied at the waist painlessly, and suddenly I was wearing a gorgeous, sexy, yet professional frock that made me feel like a million bucks.  And, I thought as I handed over my debit card, on my student budget it felt like I was paying about the same amount.  But it was so worth it.

That was quite some time ago, and to this day, whenever I need a new outfit, I head straight for the DVF section at Holt's.  Failing that, I scour the Internet for wrap dresses in classic cuts and prints.  The wrap-tops on Heels with Wheels offer that kind of elegant simplicity, though  am hoping for more colour options.  As much as I love the wider, retro-cut sleeves and elongated kimono-style bodice, I'm not a huge fan of either the orangeish pattern or the gold lamé.  I prefer silver any day, but I also think that some more subtle patterns or solids might be nice given the voluminous cut.  I do love the slimming effect, and as this is not the full collection, for all I know there are a zillion more colours from which to choose.

As of right now, there isn't a way to buy from the site directly, but I'm hoping that will soon change.  I'm jonesing to get my paws on a few of these pieces and report back my final opinion.  Any time fashion and femininity meet function, I'm all over it, and Heels with Wheels is definitely on the right track from the look of these samples.

That, and I totally dig the name...  ;)

*****

Update! Designer Angela Irick confirmed that yes, there are other colours, solids, and patterns available.  I can't *wait* to scoop up some finery!  Check back often for further updates.

*****

(All photos are from the Heels with Wheels website.)

Part of the art of blogging involves revealing yourself to the masses through an anonymous medium.  Well, since I'm a relatively open, real person, it isn't such an incognito undertaking.  But we're all friends on OnSugar, so here goes...

I used to be a dancer.

Actually, I still am, but not like I was when I was younger.  I was born into a family of competitive, avid ballroom and swing dancers, and did them all proud in my tiny, formative years.  I was learning ballroom, latin, and swing dancing before most kids could walk, and could execute a decent cha-cha and jitterbug by grade one.  I loved dancing, and my parents, grandmother, and/or aunt took me everywhere they could.  I seemed on a fast-track to becoming a future member of the dancesport community.

That is, until my legs failed me the first time at age nine.

I was shuttled from specialist to specialist, only to find that I already had "advanced arthritis" in my lower limbs and a major bone deformity.  No one knew how to correct it, everyone was afraid to touch me at such a young age, and no one had a very optimistic prognosis.

I'll spare you the gory details, but umpteen surgeries and a world of hell later, nothing improved... except my outlook on life, that is.

When I was fourteen, the first full year I spent non-ambulatory, my parents took me to a swanky New Year's event that included dancing into the wee hours.  I spent the first chunk of time being surly, missish, and not really trying to do anything other than feel sorry for myself.  Suddenly, the DJ slid from a generic dance tune to one my mom and I had danced to a zillion times when I was a baby.  It was, "Heaven Must Be Missing an Angel" by Tavares, and as it relates to my given name, she would sing it to me while hugging me close to her, even before I could walk.  That song still makes me happy.

"Angel, c'mon, let's do this.  We'll kick their asses!" my Mom smirked, then grabbed my hand and pulled me bodily out onto the dance floor.

And we danced.

I don't know how she knew, or how I knew, but somehow we both just moved in synch, wheelchair and all, and cleared the floor amidst a standing ovation from onlookers.  We rocked it, and I have never once looked back.  I found out later that she had requested that song specifically, knowing I'd never deny my Momma a turn about to a song from my babyhood.

Now that I'm a grown woman, my husband is the one who usually takes me out on literal 'spins' around the dance floor, and his own dance background shows.  When he was a child, he took dance for fourteen years, including jazz, tap, ballet, and modern, but I've since helped him add disco, swing, ballroom, Latin, and goth dancing to his impressive repertoire.  And between the two of us, we can execute a perfect wheelie tango that would sex the pants off any standing couple.

And, most importantly, we're not alone.

Across the Pond, the Brits have done it again by way of progress and mainstreaming PWDs, but, this time, the Yanks aren't too far behind.

The American DanceWheels Foundation recently released an informative email to their members that featured their most recent accomplishments:

"Ballroom and Latin Dancers using wheelchairs will be featured in a new television series, Dancing on Wheels, debuting next year in the United Kingdom. News about this innovative and controversial dance show created a buzz in the U.S. and producers from America's Got Talent asked American DanceWheels Foundation to audition for their show."

American DanceWheels is a fantastic organization, and one of the many wheelie dancing orgs here on our fair planet, along with Wheelchair Dancesport USA, Wheel Chair Dance Sport Australia, Malta Wheelchair Dancesport Association, and B.C.'s Canadian Wheelchair Dance Academy.

The release goes on to include more local news...

"ADF highlights this past year included a three-page article in the Philadelphia Inquirer about our own Reesa Marchetti and husband Dan.  Reesa has had her own band for over thirty years and uses a power wheelchair to dance. She and Dan dance a mean Fox Trot and always bring the house down when they perform. You can read Reesa's story on our website, and yes, Reesa is as colorful on the dance floor as she is in life!!"

Their site is a great resource for those of us who still love to cut a rug on wheels, along with many other similar sites on the Web.  For people like me who remember when the notion of dancing without legs was as bizarre as disabled models, we're in luck.  Maybe we're catching up with the world; maybe the world is catching up with us, but either way...

We're taking the world by storm.

(Photos from my personal collection and New Mobility Magazine.)

This is a momentous occasion in my house.

Tonight, for the first time in my life, I'm going to schedule my night (or at least my DVR) around a reality show.

Some people may know that I'm not terribly fond of eliminate-y reality shows.  I don't care for the banal dialogue, pointless standing around, and overused pregnant pauses for dramatic license.  I also find it excessively irritating that to really appreciate the show, one must follow it religiously, much like a soap opera, but without as many any marriages to amnesiac evil twins who, in the search for their estranged fathers, discover they had four children whilst in a cult, underwent a sex change, and have been brought back from the dead...twice.  And, now that I think about it, even that sounds way more interesting than who can swallow a bug fastest or stand Flavor Flav the longest.

But, tonight will change all that.  The Brits have finally decided to export the coolest, most fabulous thing since Topshop... Britain's Missing Top Model.

The concept is basically the same as [Insert Country Here]'s Next Top Model, except these ladies are gorgeous, glamourous, and all disabled.

After doing some digging on the actual BBC site for the show, there should be a badass animated interloper to spice up the action named Disability Bitch.  I'm hoping she doesn't get edited out for the export, but if not, we can expect some seriously sassy gems like these throughout the show (from the UK site):

"Hi, I'm Disability Bitch. I'm disabled and I love it. Everyone should be disabled. Everyone should be like me."

"Mostly I use a crutch, but when I want to slip into a pair of high heels - which makes it almost impossible for someone with my lack of balance to even think about walking - I have a wheelchair to match. Of course, I'd prefer to be carried around on a sedan chair. Preferably by semi-naked men. But even I can't have everything, more's the pity."

"I love gossip, especially gossip about disabled people. Barely a day goes by when I don't find myself scanning the tabloids for news of Heather Mills."

"I eat doughnuts and I hate exercise. Quite frankly, I don't see why disabled people should have to do exercise in the first place."

DB will also be interviewing the models as they get the boot, one by one, so I'm hoping for some juicy, catty tidbits, but with as classy as these girls look, I may or may not get my wish.

The only thing I am a little confused about is the 'Missing' part.  I mean, I'm a disabled model, and I'm not missing.  I'm sitting right here on my tushy, typing out a blog.  I know a lot of other gorgeous disabled models, and they're not missing either -- they know exactly where they are and where they're going.  Professionally, I haven't really faced all that many issues, except maybe trying to explain to photographers that "just a few stairs" is NOT equivalent to wheelchair accessible, and no, I can't always move that way.  We already have a great network within the community, from runway shows to photography exhibits, but I can see that we are 'missing' from mainstream media.  Still, we're out there, and it's good to see we're finally being taken seriously by AB people.  And this..well, this is bloody brilliant, if you ask me.

The other bummer is that the BBC.co.uk page on the show is still up, and since this show was aired last season, I already know who wins.  Unless you want the ending to be spoilt, I don't recommend going directly there.  Instead, head to the BBC America page for the episode guide, intros to the models, and a little more about the show.  If you don't mind knowing who wins before the show even premiers, the UK page has tons more information.  There, you'll find quotes, downloads, message boards, extensive photo galleries for each model, and background info on the judges.  Even though I already know which of the stunning women makes it to her very own photo spread, I'll still be watching every episode as it airs.

So, if you're trying to get a hold of me tonight at 9 PM, it'll be for naught.  I'll be watching eight beautiful women as they attempt to break into the modelling industry and shatter stereotypes along the way.

(Hey, Canada, the US... where's our Missing Top Model show?!)