Friday, October 31, 2008

The difference in the shades

With only twenty four hours till the boyfriend officially moves in, we're still cleaning. This is mostly my fault. There are two reasons for this. One. I'm not the most inspired, being the clutter-loving type of girl I am. Two. My boyfriend would tell you I'm easily distracted. While I avidly pretend to disagree with reason number two, it must be admitted that I occasionally get sidetracked.

On an entirely separate note, I found the below pictured 3-D glasses cleaning and got a bit carried away (no, you're wrong. I was not playing dress ups and singing into an apple candle.) Her name is R-A-D-I-OO, L-A-D-I-OOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Wig: Appeared in my living room one morning to no ones claim.
3D glasses: A birthday present to Bobby from a friend this year.
Apple candle: Ikea
Dress: Vintage (on Ebay)
Scarf belt: Thrifted
Stockings: From Myer a few years ago.
Shoes: Myer too, also a few years ago.

I've decided to sell the dress I'm wearing (I do have far too many clothes) so I've popped it up on my Ebay just over here. Right there, that's it.

I'd better get back to my cleaning (aka dancing Elaine-style) but I'll leave you with some photos I took this morning of the beautiful Rainbow Lorikeets (as one nice commenter informed me they are called) that have been visiting our home, and letting us hand feed them, recently. Who would suppose we live in the middle of the city?

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Lightning strikes the postman

The Post Office is my new haunt. And with a queue never less than 15 people long, I don't think I'm the only one in on the secret. It's always packed and they freely give out stamps for a lot less than any regular hang out, no matter what shoes you're wearing.

How, might you ask, did I find out about such an awesome place? The Post Office revealed itself to me through the process of Ebaying. One day, I just started to find myself in said place writing stranger's names on my hand.

You see, I do this quite a bit. If you would like to be one of these strangers, with their names on my hand, in the new place-to-be, just bid on one of my current listings (such as the below '60s dress and the grape dress I'm wearing) here.

Or maybe I'll bump into you at my new haunt.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Pussy town

One day, I'm sure, I'll be an old cat lady. You'll recognise me by my grey hair, grandma glasses and the multitude of cats head butting my ankles. My home will be one not unlike the incredible cat friendly house in Japan though a little shabbier and a lot messier. My daily walk will mainly consist of posting posters on telegraph poles about my utterly cool cats.

Oh, and they'll all vote for Obama.

P.S. You can now follow this blog with bloglovin´ to be notified when a new post is... er, posted.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Space and the woods

It seems the link to my out-of-this-world space table in last week's post was a bit of a dud, so I thought I'd make it oh so much easier and just wham bam pop it right up here.

100% owl and the grapes made (with a little help from Ikea).

The fact that it has Pluto on it just makes it that much better. Now excuse me while Sam the monkey and I fly off to Earth. Oh, hold on...

P.S. Yes, it took a fair tidy to take this photo.

Friday, October 24, 2008

My old ways

My boyfriend is moving in. I understand that such things usually cause stress. Panic. Unsurprisingly perhaps, I am feeling the aforementioned things (really, I'm not usually one to stress. I'm unemployed). See, the problem is, my room is small. Not tiny, but small. Squashed. Disorganised. My light hasn't worked since I moved in. Clothes are spread across the floor on a permanent basis. Many of the basics, I am somehow missing - a mirror, a cupboard, drawers. While none of these things seemed to be major issues prior to this revelation, suddenly, with an influx of clothes, undies (mine are currently in a '70s telephone seat) and, you know, stuff, it is.

So I find myself trawling wide-eyed through The Selby for inspiration. Reorganisation in the form of new furniture, boxes, drawers. Decluttering in the form of Ebay, markets. And yet all the Internet throws me is amazing images of clutter. It's organised clutter, I'll tell my boyfriend.

Photo taken from The Selby of Jennifer Earle and Mike Gabel's London home

I think I have a fetish for mess. Shhh... don't tell him though, it might cause him to panic.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Waitin' For A Superman

Superheroes are wokkin' (that's hot as a wok). You know the type. A bit of a dark youth, a little hard-done by; an outsider of sorts. Suddenly BAM! POW! WHAM! (and if you're lucky enough, even a little chemical spill along the way) and it's all invisibility and flying at the speed of sound. Next thing you know they're being all Violet Parr and Banana Boy.

Collapsing by the clothes rails in faint boredom, I lay by the fan dreaming of light and airy flounces I did not own. Prompted, it seems, by my visible distress, "I'll give you a theme," Bobby suggested, knowing how prone I am to a theme, "fairytales." Oh yes. It's a bit of a pity I got so lost along the way.

Apparently, as well as being O.K. to the W, superheroes are also incredibly distracting. You've walked through the back of said clothes rails (no, it's no wardrobe I know, but they're bamboo and I'll take a talking panda over an old lion any day) and you're well on your way to Narnia and the fairytales that come with. The apron's tied around your waist, the torn top, oh yes, you're feeling rather Cinderella. And then BAM! What do you know, you're V. You're all colours and victory, Clark Kent and vixen.

Belt around head: Mother's
Crochet top: Sacred Heart Mission
Slogan t-shirt: Thrifted
Teddy bear belt: Coburg Trash & Treasure markets
Green skirt: Anglicare
Tights: Gift from the man
Pastel blouse: Local markets

It isn't quite as cool as my brother's Halloween costume I must admit, of which I am quite jealous (not to mention that mine, in fact, is not a costume at all). At six years old, my brother is as prone to dressing up as I. Is it not unfair that he should get an oh-so-realistic wolf head and I should not? I do suppose he does wear it better though, what with the claws and that. He looks almost as good as he would were he a panda bear.

What is not so super or heroic, now, is my lack of internet. While I'll happily take the blame for stuffing it up, sans it all is proving to indeed be a hindrance, demonstrated by the complicity of posting new Ebay auctions. The above-pictured T-Shirt will be popped up there soon enough, (there's only so long one can keep up the superhero facade) so keep an eye out. In the meantime, catch last week's auctions before they end.

As for whom my hero is, only because you asked, I must say it is the night sky. If only the stars would align and it could provide unwavering internet too, from satellites, fast as a bird (or is it a plane?) Speaking of which, have you seen my space table? Pretty out of this world, huh? (Pun fully intended.)

Also thank you to Missa from Thrift Candy for her dedicated post last week. I am very much flattered.

UPDATE: T-Shirt now on Ebay here! And space table link now working!

Monday, October 13, 2008

Sing it back

As I have so briefly explained, recently we did that thing called Melbourne. If you listen hard, you'll notice that tone in my voice that only crops up when I'm feeling really apologetic that I'm such an avid procrastinator when it comes to all things writing related. But don't listen too hard, you might catch my cough. It's only taken a week. Actually, a little less than a week, I think you'll find.

We had our first meal-of-the-Melbourne-merry at Winsdor Castle, which, on walking through the doors, we were immediately confronted by an erect nipple and a hairy chest. Further, I was the only one who seemed to notice it. The man was, apparently, posing for a photo. Once I got past the disturbing nature of this incident however, Windsor Castle wasn't at all that bad. With yummy food, and a large albeit ridiculously crowded beer garden, it was actually quite nice.

The Castle was a light and airy walk from our place of stay which ended up being greatly convenient and wonderfully good value. And, they had a television (something of which I have none at home) which played such things as Snakes On A Plane and The Secretary. How did it know we'd be into such things? Oh, Maggie. Oh, CGI.

Michaels Camera Museum
allowed us to wander and ogle at cameras as old as 120 years. I fell hard in love with an amazing and entirely gold, partly snakeskin Leica camera.

St Jerome's
in Caledonian Lane that evening however, held no such antiques, the pub crowd seemed to average even younger than me. I was vaguely reminded of Purple Sneakers back home. I'm inclined to blame the night of the week though, and being Saturday, (pre a major football match at that) I would imagine most places in the City were of a similar vibe. I certainly, had we had enough time, would have loved to go back one afternoon during the week.

Daytime is so much prettier for such things and The Rooftop Bar at Curtin House proved as much. While the stairs took forever to walk up and the beers were rather on the expensive side, the view was wonderful, the building eerily similar to my home, and the Astroturf very entertaining. Who knew they could now make long-grassed and, yes, spongy Astroturf? I questioned my soccer (and therefore grass) knowledgable boyfriend for an accordingly long time. Awesome stuff. And when we realised it was crowded to the point of there being no seats, 'we' lamented, while I secretly cheered. Sitting on artificial grass with a normal-sized beer (none of those midis, or pots as they may call them, thank you) and a view of the city around. Again, while not as underground as one may be expecting (see what I did there?), I have to say, awesome stuff.

Due to Sunday laziness and an extraordinarily long walk, we unfortunately missed the better part of Coburg's Trash & Treasure and the entirety of Camberwell markets. On exhaustively plodding through the gates at the Coburg Drive-in, we noticed with dread there were an inordinate amount of cars leaving. True enough, it was because the stall-holders were closing up. Oh, Spader. Regardless, I still found a charming belt, two teddy bears strong, one of which with an apparently amputated arm. The concept of this non-market is wonderfully intriguing, it truly felt like twenty garages sales at once (I'm sure it would have been more, had we gotten there earlier), and I highly recommend it should you have a car and/or there is some secret Batmobile-type vehicle we were unaware of. Which actually could be quite likely, considering the location of said non-market. Check out the station after Coburg, it's lutes worth the train ride just for that.

The Carlton Hotel, with it's excess of taxidermy animals, was horribly nauseating. How this bar is well recommended I simply fail to understand. Palmz, the rooftop wasn't even open to allow escape, due to renovations. An unavoidable giraffe head (neck included) that hung on the wall between two doors was 'complemented' by emus and what one would imagine to be an entire Avery. Do you really find this impressive, Melbourne? Dim lighting and exorbitant '20s decor only added to what was already a uncomfortably heavy atmosphere.

In contrast, Lord Of The Fries is a breath of fresh air in its trade and you're highly recommended to, as we so merrily did, enjoy their thick but always crisp hot chips. Their menu is simple, and their delicious sauces categorised by country. Their prices are great too, even though I've heard it takes 24 hours to make a chip. And wait, here comes the clincher. They're vegetarian to the bone (they can do vegan too, if that's your thing) and their oil is reused in their vans as fuel.

Easy Cafe, in the basement of Bourke Street mall had fantastically swinging-from-the-ceiling benches, entangled with vines amongst garish (in the best possible way) colours. With Chinese Channel V and all the types of bubble tea you never knew existed, how can you go wrong? Sesame Milk Tea. Yum.

On Chapel Street I found the second best coffee I was to have in Melbourne. It was right up the end, opposite the train station, and it restored my hope for Melbourne coffee. The waitress was lovely too, and it seemed (I didn't nose too much) it had a garden in the back. I wish I could remember what it was called, but for now it shall just have to be that-lovely-place-opposite-the-train-station. The coffee was smack bam in the middle of our Chapel Street adventure, during which I found a dress I cut much too short, a little '70s purse and a check and floral scarf from Chapel Street Bazaar. The latter had an overwhelmingly large collection of vintage toys and clothes and furniture and knick knacks. It's the kind of place you struggle to find anything because there is so much to find.

Similarly, Retrostar was awesomely intense. Hidden away on Swanston Street, it's certainly a gem. It, believebly, claims to be the largest vintage store in Australia. On a less expensive note, Sacred Heart Mission on Brunswick is also worth a look, what with $1 vests and the like.

The best coffee now, wasn't due to the bean or the blend, the machine or the barista. As I was standing in line, waiting to order in a cafe opposite Retrostar, a strikingly amazonian woman turned around and walked past me. I smiled as one does when one thinks they know someone. I quickly ordered my coffee and found myself staring blankly as the waitress slyly smiled "Megan Gale just bought your coffee." As my severely hungover head struggled to compute this, she reiterated, "You know the supermodel? Megan Gale? She. Just. Shouted. You. A. Coffee." Giving Gale a mumbled thank you as I left, I spent the next ten minutes in a strange stupor. A lovely stupor however. Free coffee from a supermodel is a lovely thing. In fact, I'd even go as far to say (I don't think it's that much of a jump), she's a lovely one.

Alas, after rocking out in ACDC lane for a short while, it was time to turn away and go home. Turning away being something you might need to do, considering the absurd length of this post. Quick, before I flash you my nipple. And hairy chest.

Friday, October 10, 2008

I heard it through the grapevine

Sunglasses: Paddy's Markets
Scarf: Gift
Grapes: Costume store, threaded with leather
Top: Mother's (remixed)
Cardigan: Gorman
Belt: Thrifted
Green Skirt: Anglicare

Amazingly, pure coincidence. An owl stumbled upon in a Melbourne alleyway, grapes unwittingly worn around a neck. Grapes, owl. Owl, grapes.

Tell me something good

Apologies it has taken me a wee while to pop these links up, but for a spanking new blog it truly is absolutely (or lutes, as some might say) awesome to have the support of these brilliant bloggers / reviewers / musicians.

Painfully Hip
"If she got any hipper every dive bar in the US would name a drink after her."

No. 48

The Philly Jays

Bobby Six
"Snazzy new offering, sure to grow into something even bigger and better.

The Philly Jays
, as I hear, are even better than before. Check out their Myspace for new October gigs in Sydney. And if Bobby Six isn't the coolest reviewer out there so knock me senseless. He's a longstander, with his blog covering interviews and reviews with all the best bands you have (and haven't but should have) heard of. Recently, he reviewed Late Of The Pier, who, if you haven't heard as yet, are definitely worth a listen. In the words of Bobby Six, "Sounds like Klaxons having a fight with Muse on the Death Star". Lutes.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

One nation under a groove

For a place known for its excellent coffee, amazing transport and good food, our time in Melbourne was disproportionately spent drinking bad coffee, walking unthinkable kilometres and searching for good pub grub. Melbourne itself, of course, is not to be blamed, and despite these setbacks, it was a wonderful week. I scoured op shops, admired vintage gems, enjoyed beers on roofs, slept wonderfully, and had a supermodel shout me coffee.

More on all of which shall come later.

For the time being, below is a photo. Take away my Melbourne finds and I'd be left in my underwear and shoes. It's a good thing I bought such things that cover one up.

The '60s shoes are also selling on Ebay as of yesterday. I'm past the stage of lying to myself that I can wear size 8 shoes. Hello size 10 (said in the way that one says Hello Moto).

(All bought in Melbourne, Australia - excluding shoes)
Head scarf: Chapel Street Bazaar
Vest: $1 at Sacred Heart Mission on Brunswick Street
Dress tucked in: St Vincent De Paul on Chapel Street
Crochet top: Sacred Heart Mission
Teddy bear belt: Coburg Trash & Treasure markets
Pants: Sacred Heart Mission (it's a goldmine)
Purse: $2 at some little thrift store on Chapel Street
Shoes: from a local Sydney Market

Friday, October 3, 2008

Dancing with tears in my eyes

You know you're in trouble when the only way you can hope for your fans to appreciate your music is by encouraging them to do drugs. So was the case with The E.L.F. And Darren Cross did it with such admirable subtlety too, "Take your drugs at 3.30 and then come see me at 4.30!" he shouted at Oxford Arts on Wednesday night, shortly after informing the crowd he was to play at Parklife. Amazingly, they (being the few kids front of stage) seemed to listen. I think I may have even heard a slight cheer. Who were these kids? Those that danced, danced front of stage, for all to see. They seeped an inexplicable air of self-satisfaction in 'Van She" t shirts and the only mildly worse slogan t shirt, "So, do you wanna...?". No, thank you, I'd really rather not. Evidently, Cross knows how to pull a crowd. His set ended in a carnage of "Hey Mickey" amongst a jumble of other tunes we never especially liked in the first place.

It seems my tolerance for old, flannel-wearing men behind a laptops making strange hand gestures is significantly lowered when I'm ill.

Local band Grafton Primary however, was none of the above. Joshua Garden (on vocals) robot slash Tai Chi danced onto stage. He was chanting, charming, androgynous, and brilliantly 80s electro-noir in a neck scarf and arm-flashing shirt bearing a print of a half naked woman. The trio, pictured below, had a pretty sweet stage presence.

And if (when you undoubtedly see them) they don't have you wide eyed by the end of the first song, just wait till Josh's brother Benjamin Garden (also on synths) pulls out the oh-so-fantastic keytar. Yum. Grinding, heavy, monotone, rhythmic, and intensely layered, their sounds are simply vibrant live.

By the time Does It Offend You, Yeah? (below) arrived on stage, the conjunctivitis was vying for attention (oh I had not forgotten about you conjuncty), alas, I found one eye wearily closing. A crowd-surfing Har Mar Superstar was even more confusing than it should have been.

And that was the note the night ended on, weary but well entertained. Check out Grafton Primary on their myspace while I cross my fingers that conjuncty forgets about me. Maybe if I cross them long enough, he'll leave me be and instead pay a visit to Cross.
Related Posts with Thumbnails