SPAM

I received an email yesterday from a girl called Cynthia who exclaimed that my fashion articles for 2threads touch her in her spirit. Creepy? Yes. Am I making this up? No. In all honesty, it was, in all probability (ok, definitely), spam and I'm pretty sure she's actually a robot but I still took some joy in the wording of her (its?) email. She ended with this quote: "Remeber the distance or colour does not matter but love and concern matters alot in life." Which I'm pretty sure means that she's calling me a racist for thinking her a spammer. Which I'm totally not... I'm just a... robotist?

Last week in owllywood*:

I reviewed the film An Education, a surprisingly brilliant movie about a 16 year old schoolgirl's relationship with a playboy twice her age. Trust me, it's much better than the average coming-of-age/love story/shit that's come out this year.This is also my first and very possibly last ever film review.

Because I love you (and because I'm kind of awful at keeping secrets), here's my guide to shopping for vintage dresses on eBay - including my top ten most affordable eBay stores.

If you haven’t noticed the cool kids wearing them on the streets recently, you've surely been living in a barn (geddit? Like Lagerfeld!) Whether you juxtapose them with frilly dresses or do it Madonna style, adorn your hands with fingerless leather gloves this Spring.

*I totally stole this from my friend Olly, who, I only noticed last night, has a photograph of the Hollywood sign on his door. Only, rather than Hollywood, it reads 'ollywood'. Amazing. It's unfortunate it doesn't work as well with 'owl'.

Lying Around (with hobos)

This weekend has been a weekend of rest. Apart from going shopping for the next Vintage & Retro Sale (which is quickly approaching), I've spent the entire weekend, well, lying around. Despite my tasks thus far being insanely enjoyable/easy, working full time is tough. Particularly when your day to day routine involves walking through the dodgier parts of Surry Hills (ie more or less where I live). On Thursday afternoon, for instance, I plonked myself down on a park bench around the corner from the office, my intention being to drink the coffee I had just bought and to continue my reading of Breakfast at Tiffany's. Typically with a container of cous cous, this is how I usually spend my lunch breaks. Perhaps ten minutes into my break, a (presumably) homeless man walked up to me and jovially muttered something incomprehensible through a mouth full of bacon and egg roll. As is my nature when approached by a stranger, even when being asked directions, I uttered the stock response: No. In hindsight however, it seems he asked me something along the lines of: 'You're my sister. Did you know that we're family?' Because he then sits down next to me and proceeds to inform me that everyone in the whole wide world is descended from the same two people: Yes, none other than Mr. Adam and Mrs. Eve. I gulped down the rest of my rather awful and oversized coffee (no, it wasn't Starbucks, though it might as well have been) as I listened to this man tell be that, though he was forty-two, he only discovered the bible last week. He expressed his bafflement that the church didn't publicise the 'fact' that we're all relatives more, and his sadness that he didn't discover it earlier. "Because before, I probably would have come up to you and asked you for *sex* or something. But you're my sister, and I shouldn't be having sex with my sister." For the hard of hearing, let me repeat that: HE TOTALLY THOUGHT WE WOULD HAVE HAD SEX, WERE I NOT HIS SISTER. He offered me some of his half-eaten bacon and egg roll before telling me to say hi to my Mum and Dad and tell them that we'll all catch up soon. As I was leaving, slowly and cautiously, he hugged me tightly and KISSED ME ON THE NECK. Suffice to say, on returning from my lunch break, I spent like, four hours in the bathroom vigorously soaping my hands and neck. Ah, okay, I'm being harsh, aren't I? Because well meaning hobos (as this one) are alright. Just don't let them have sex with you/kiss you. You might catch cancer.

In less cancerous news, check out some recent snaps I took for 2threads:

Radio National iTunes Launch

Street Style: Surry Hills and Cassette Kids Gig

P.S. I just discovered I have 69 blogger followers and I totally giggled. Yes, I'm immature. But I have read the Bible, so I'm *allowed* to make jokes about sex. It's not like I'm gonna go asking my 69 followers to have sex with me. Although, if I offered them bacon and egg roll I'm sure they would totally be up for it. Oh, and actually, when I say I've 'read' the Bible? I mean four or five pages. Maybe less.

P.P.S. You know how I kind of made fun of the Bible/God? I take it back. All of it. Because, obviously, someone's fucking with me here.

WHAT THE HELL HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS? Make this stop and I promise I won't go ahead with trying to seduce my readers. Or make any jokes about sex ever again. I just saw this guy's photostream anyway and I'm pretty sure I'm SCARRED. For life.

Nine to Five

As of yesterday I am officially interning at 2threads. The folk there are lovely and thus far my job duties have included nothing but writing a few short articles on the fashion world, snapping the stylish folk around Surry Hills, attending a Cassette Kids gig in Circular Quay and having (oh my, what effort) to take photos of the beautiful lead singer Katrina, amongst others in attendance. All in all, working at 2threads is certainly the best job I've ever had, pay or no pay.

I've posted not one, not two but THREE whole articles on the website already. Granted, they were short, but nonetheless totally awesome. Not that the ladies at 2threads would know, because no one even wanted to proof read the articles before they were published. Don't get me wrong though - this is definitely a good thing, as I did kind of talk about how I reckon Hitler's a babe and, in all honesty, I don't think that's the kind of shit you're supposed to be rambling about on your first day. Check out the fruits of my free labour below.



The easiest DIY you'll ever attempt: Good ol' bum-cheek-exposing denim shorts that Daisy Duke would be proud of.

I'm totally digging the latest trend in Spring footwear: Gladiator sandals for men. Please don't throw rocks at me.

Remember velvet? That gothic, crushed, horrible and unflattering fabric? Well, thanks to Topshop, the velvet dress has made a comeback. But boy, has it changed.

Can You See Me

CHECK ME OUT ON THE AMERICAN APPAREL SITE. I didn't even have to get my boobies out. Neither did I have to sleep with anyone or pose provocatively. This is probably why I'm such a tiny feature on the page. Still, we all win really: I get to go "HEY! Check me out! I'm on the AA website." And you don't have to be subjected to seeing me half naked and/or sleeping with me. In fact, I might possibly be the most fully clothed person to ever appear on the site. Oh wait, Susie's already beaten me in her coat. Better luck next time.

God! Show Me Magic

You see that chick on the far left in the below photograph? The one who, by some incredible coincidence, was standing just one row in front of me at a Jamie T gig we went to a few weeks ago? SHE'S WEARING A BOW ON HER HEAD THAT I HAND-SEWED AND SOLD AT OUR SEPTEMBER MARKET. Awesome? Only a little bit... GOTCHA! Seriously? It's probably the most awesome thing to ever happen to anyone.


It has to be said however, that she took my floral bow off half way through the gig to place upon her head a sailor's hat. Which she, later that evening, removed to replace with a headband. So, you know, it could just be that she was a complete head wear slut and she didn't actually like my bow at all. It could just be that my bow was one of hundreds that day. But, just like getting down and dirty with an ol' weathered prostitute, just because she's a head wear slut doesn't make my five minutes of loving any less awesome.

Does anyone else have photos of leading ladies/grumbling gentlemen in our vintage/retro/handmade wears? Email me at owlandthegrapes at gmail with photos of you, friends and/or strangers rocking shit bought from one of our Vintage & Retro Sale weekends and I might even feature you here, on the blog. I promise I won't call you a slut. And if I do (because I have been known to lie, though the remainder of this sentence is entirely sincere), believe me when I say that I mean it in the most affectionate way possible.

Disclaimer: The aforementioned 'ol' weathered prostitute' is purely a figment of my imagination.

I Can See Clearly Now

The sun is OUT again! Well, yes, there is the whole gail force winds thing but unless you're on a ferry/anywhere unsheltered, who the fuck cares? It's blue outside!

In other news, I had my hair cut and dyed on Tuesday. This is far more thrilling news than it might seem. Actually, no, it's not really.


Our Vintage & Retro Sale is THIS WEEKEND! I know I haven't been able to shut up about it but I'm even more excited than usual. Maybe I'm just in an excitable mood this week. Or maybe it's because our stock this month is unbelievably good. Like, mind blowingly good. Sydneysiders, you simply must come along. If you're lucky, and flatter my website/writing/incredible good looks enough, I might even give you a bloggy discount. AND, we'll be open an hour longer either end on Saturday and an hour earlier on Sunday morning so you'll have even more time than usual to check out our racks (not in a dirty kind of way). Here are some more photos of me wearing some of said unbelievably good stock. I'll also be selling some super cool cassette tape necklaces like the one in the below photos for a miniscule four dollars. Click for more detail.

The glasses are a present from my lovely housemate Dom, the awesome red jacket and top are both from Anglicare (pay-by-the-kilo op shop), leggings from god knows where, the cassette necklace I made myself, the watch from Paddys market (actually my birthday present from Bobby) and the shoes you should all know by now. Man, I need some new boots.

Heavy Weather

Ol' Sydney town has been incredibly unpredictable on the whole weather front recently. First, we had that bizarre apocalyptic red sand storm, then it was absolutely swelteringly hot and now it just won't stop raining. And I've heard rumours that it isn't going to clear up for another month. Which would kind of be okay, you know, cozy and relaxing; inside, by the non-existent fire (I can be a home-body when required), did we not have to go via the exposed, roof-free balcony to get to our bedroom. It's a strange house and, what's normally a cool feature - stepping out of my room onto the amazing astroturfed balcony every morning is something I very much treasure - becomes the most annoying thing in the world, ever.

"Err, Bobby, why is your hair all wet?"

"I had to go wee."

"So... You pissed in your hair? Wow. This is awkward. You know what, I'm pretty down with most things but that's totally not cool. Like, that's not even kinky-cool."

"What? No. It's raining. And to go to the bathroom one has to go via the balcony. Remember?"

Despite all this doom and gloom, we fought the elements on Saturday in order to do one big Anglicare buy up. We spent four hours in that hell hole and purchased a whole TWELVE kilos of awesome. One party of said awesomeness is this amazing acid wash parka (see below photos). I also picked up the floral top and leopard print leggings which will be washed and hung up by the weekend. So exciting. You wouldn't believe how good our rack of new shit for our market is looking. Like, I think I might actually wet my pants. Oh, wait, I totally already have. Or is it rain? Darn, I have got to stop getting so easily confused.

Anyway, here are some photos of me goofing around in various series of undress. Despite the connotations of that, none of them are sexy, I'm afraid. The up-side of the whole weather debacle however, is the amount of layering I can get away with. Yesterday I wore a jumper ontop of a cardigan. I know, right? That's some fucked up shit.

Parka, floral top and leopard print leggings are all from that second hand pay-by-the-kilo warehouse in Summer Hill that I always bang on about. The little white cardigan and belt were purchased for a couple of dollars courtesy of Vinnies' half price sale last week (it's a charity store, for all you non-Australians). The black leather bumbag, chunky watch and glasses are all from Paddy's Markets. The shoes were from a vintage store in Sydney and the skirt from a vintage store in Paris.

P.S. I'm never taking off this bumbag/watch/glasses/parka. Ever.


P.P.S If you're in Sydney, Vinnies is having yet another half price sale today. Get down there!

Great DJ

Last Thursday night, Marissa (aka DJ Stella) kindly welcomed Bobby and I into her weekly DJing slot at Club 77. We played Blondie, The Cure, Kitty, Daisy & Lewis and many other jingles to compliment her rocking '50s and '60s jangles for an hour or so until the gaggle of club-goers dissipated into the night. Admittedly, there wasn't a massive crowd (see above photo) but nevertheless, do you realise what this all means? We made our debut DJing effort. In other words, we're like totally legitimate, awesome and employable DJs now. Goodbye Bobby and Emma, hello DJ Bobbysix and DJ Meowcat.

Help The Aged

I know that it's a quite (okay, very) likely scenario that you are all completely sick of these dress up party posts but, unfortunately for you, I'm not. And neither is Sydney, apparently, because I don't think I've been to a party since arriving back in the old home-town that wasn't a dress up party. The most recent of this series of splendour was courtesy of the lovely and beautiful Miss Janaki Peart, who celebrated her seventy-fourth birthday in her pretty little inner-west home. We drunk punch from teacups and peered over our spectacles at the young folk in the backyard.

The ol' birthday girl.

Everything's thrifted. Nothing cost over a fiver.

P.S. So many new things to share with you. Studded boots, chunky black watches, computerised sewing machines, owls, black leather bumbags, more glasses... Oh my, more regular posts are needed, I think.