Zombie

Woah, we're outta Christmas leftovers and it's suddenly hit me that there was a time when I ate healthily (and in moderation) and actually did stuff, as opposed to lying around all day in food comas, drinking in absolute excess, wallowing in hangovers, reading books about cats and watching tapes on the VHS. Because I needed one desperately, and because I'm going to start taking writing seriously, I bought a laptop a few days ago, though I've barely even used it as I've been too busy with the aforementioned activities. Not to mention the fact that I kind of don't know how to use it what with it being a Mac and all. Also I think I might be breaking it as we speak because it's really frickin' hot and currently my Mac's almost as sweaty as me. With my sweat, of course, not it's own. It's not alive or anything. Though if it were I think it'd be a polar bear. Which makes the whole hot/sweaty thing even worse.

All this lard arsed behaviour considered, as of now (or, more likely, tomorrow) my new years resolution is to get off my newly fat arse, eat greens and not chocolate everyday and actually get some shit done. Whether this will be possible after two weeks of stupefied laziness or whether my body has actually shut itself down is as yet unforeseeable but I'm sure as hell going to try to exorcise the zombie in me. Did you make any new years resolutions? Last year Bobby decided I should make mine to quit smoking. I vehemently refused until we went to England and it kind of happened completely accidentally and without my even noticing. I blame the cold. I told Bobby that I'm thinking of making this year's resolution to pick up smoking again just so I can quit again with some venom because last time was kind of an epic disappointment what with the whole not-even-excersising-my-will-power thing. But then he called me an idiot so I think that means he doesn't approve.

Anya, unconscious girl and I demonstrating our Zombie-ness.

Anyway, when I started this post I think what I was trying to do was wish you a merry New Year. So, merry New Year folks. I hope this year treats you better than last and I truly wish you all the best. I hope that you had a wonderful New Years Eve, got absolutely shitfaced and made a fool of yourself because if you're only a douchebag once a year it should be on New Years Eve. I know I was. We spent the night at a rooftop party in the city from which we could see the fireworks and about four fifths of the Harbour Bridge with close friends (and some not so close friends. And a whole lot of strangers) which was oh so lovely. Thanks for reading, beautiful, talented ladies and handsome, clever gentlemen (because if there's any time to get all sentimental it's the days following a night of being a douchebag, right?)

Fairytale of New York

Why, don't you look lovely today? Is that vintage? You got it from one of my vintage sales, didn't you? Yes yes, I know how these things work. How was your holiday? I'm avoiding the C word (no, the other one, you dirty scumbag) as *I* don't discriminate. Also because I kind of hate the C word and the fat man and all his imagined buddys (I'm looking at you, God) and it's much nicer to just think of it as a celebration where everybody takes a little time off, eats and drinks 'till they spew and laughs at the dude with obvious bad luck in straw drawing sweating his arse off in an atrocious, hired red and white suit. Though that said, I kind of made a tree. Out of material. But it was done totally begrudgingly. Well, a little begrudgingly. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed/are enjoying your holiday. I hope it is/was peaceful and I'm really sorry about Aunt Alice interrogating you about your sex life. She means no harm, she's just a bit of a perve. I hope that the fish cooked through properly 'cause no one likes undercooked fish. Except the Japanese. And some owls. Speaking of owls, Bobby got Wiggi the Owl an easel. He hasn't stopped tweeting about it. Not tweeting about it silly. He can't use computers, obviously.

Wishing that the New Year brings you many a merry time and all. Sending my love (in a totally non-pervy way. Are you listening Aunt Alice?)

P.S. We're only just beginning to run out of all the food we made on the 25th. By run out, I mean we only have maybe three lunches and ten deserts left. I think we may have over cooked.

Coming Up Roses

I haven't the best reputation when it comes to making soft toys. First there was that time I tried to make plush number six for the boyfriend, the reason being that the boyfriend's nickname is Bobby Six (which, if you're wondering, refers to a Native American Bounty Hunter in a '90s television show called Renegade. Obscure? Try telling him.) Frustratingly however, this six just wouldn't turn out. I tugged and pulled, used scissors and chopsticks and all I got was a frickin' worm. I saw no other option but to slap an eye (read: button) on the bugger and give the cyclops worm to him for Christmas. Needless to say, Bobby was not impressed. Some time after that harrowing experience, prompted by the event that was Bobby's then-housemate's birthday, I spent hours making a near-perfect big eyed owl from vintage fabrics. Said birthday girl was all "Wow it's amazing, I totally love it," lulling me into a false sense of security, thinking my curse had been lifted. A month later however - right in the midst of uni exams - she kicked Bobby out on the street. We've lived together ever since. I kind of blame her, but mostly I blame my sewing skills.


Thankfully however, there are curse-free people on this big balloon with mountains more talent than I making and selling beautiful things so that, should I not want to, I needn't ever touch a needle and thread ever again (well, at least not until it comes 'round to adjusting my second hand clothes). One such crafty creature is my very dear friend, Rosie Miles. Rosie makes, amongst other things, sulky fairies (see above photos). Which are kind of the most perfect Christmas gifts ever. If you're London way, pop along to the London Designer Makers' Christmas Sale this Saturday, where she'll have a stall. It's at the St Aloysius Social Club near Euston and she'll be there from noon til 6pm along with a bunch of other local creatives including Julia Pott and Daley Walton. Rosie's threatened to sulk and read twilight books all day if no one shows so, you know, serious pain and suffering hinges on your going. Oh, and there'll be cake and tarts too. Check out Rosie's blog for more details. On second thoughts, details or no, check out her blog anyway. Also if you can't make it on Saturday, head over to her Etsy shop to treat your loved ones (or yourself) to one of her creations. Though you'll have to order today if you want to ensure it arrives before Christmas day. Quick, quick! If you miss out, I take full responsibility. But personally, if given the choice between a late present made by the lovely Rosie Miles, and no present from her at all, I would certainly take the former option. I'm sure your family and friends will agree.

P.S. If anyone has/knows of anyone with a teleportation device, I would appreciate your passing on the deets as I'd very much like to be in London for this event this weekend. Thanks in advance darling ducks.

Red Turned White

I'm on a roll. Not in the way that a tumble weed might roll but more the kind of roll the toilet paper gets on when you pull a little too hard and suddenly it's all over the floor and oh shit now you have to go down to the shop and spend your last $6 on some more before the housemates stink up a shit because you used the last toilet paper roll. On a wee. Or maybe even the kind of roll Einstein was on when he discovered that yes, E really does equal MC squared. Okay, I know, I'm not no genius or anything (double negative, anyone?) but, he was German and I'm half German and Hitler was Austrian. So let's just let that double negative sit there.

This much spoken about roll and the successes of the weekend can't be published in a Cheat's Guide to the Owl and the Grapes kind of post because we all know I'm not very good at summarising (you should hear me explain my dreams. They. Just. Don't. Stop.) So make yourself a cup of tea as it's going to be a long one - if you call a few paragraphs long. By my standards, it is. Despite taking a very intense speed reading class when I was in high school, I'm still a slow reader. It's taken me six months to get half way through Lolita.

The long awaited - mostly by me - Part Two of our Vintage and Retro Fashion pop-up store proved more successful than a full-bellied polar bear's nap in the winter time. The extraordinary numbers that came through our door on Saturday was absolutely overwhelming. Thankfully Sunday was a little quieter as, with a hangover the size of Turkey, using the mathematical skill it takes to calculate someone's change proved relatively difficult.


I must give my wholehearted thank you to the lovely and talented folk at Two Thousand for featuring us. I have little doubt the majority of people found us through them. If you live in Sydney and are not a regular reader, get to it and subscribe because reading their newsletter is one of the online highlights of my week. It was an ironically lovely coincidence that the one week I failed to read it, a very kindly customer should inform me that our little pop-up store was featured. Awesome.

Also keep an eye out at XSSAT for photos of Bobby, Elle and I on our roof. I was photographed by two Sydney Street Style blogs during the weekend, it's just unfortunate that I only have a card from one, and my memory isn't all that good in my old age. Yes, I'm only twenty but I wear grandma boots and often find gigs too loud. What do you expect? You can see more photos of us and our store over here. Do join our lovely little group while you're at it, and we'll let you know when we have our next event.

The ice on my finger bun roll was receiving an email from Suzanne of Weardrobe asking if I would feature on their front page (I realise that they have a number of girls featured on there each week, but it's still nice to feel loved - in a strictly business kind of way). I'll post the feature in full when it's published but in the meantime keep an eye out for me on their site.

While we're on the subject of the snazzy and sweet site, I did these photos for one of their weekly contests a little over a week ago. Due to this jumbled brain of mine however, I failed to realise until much later that the competition called for Sequin and Sheer, not Lace and Sheer as I had thought. Not one to let something go to waste though, I thought I'd post the photos up here. Behold, Sequin and Sheer lost in translation (lost meaning jumbled and translation meaning my silly little head).

Dress (worn back to front): A beautiful lace dress from Bobby that I received for Christmas.
Sheer cream top (worn underneath): Another Christmas present from Bobby.
Beret: Darn, I'm all Christmassed out. Indeed, this one was another lovely Christmas present from my Mother
Vest: From a Charity Store in Rozelle, Sydney some time in 2007.
Belt: Anglicare
Bag: $3 also at Anglicare

Update: The charming and kind Xiaohan Shen of XSSAT has posted the photos I mentioned she took of the three of us on our roof. Check them out over here.

If You're Looking For Love.

Oblivious to the current cash situation (i.e. a lack of) and the masses of Christmas gifts I received over the holiday, the list of things I'm lusting after continues to grow like Alice in Wonderland.


As of yesterday, the New Years dress and white singlet can, thankfully, be crossed off. The dress is appallingly '80s, bright red and more or less a giant sack. And, ecstatically, I am head over heels - or rather, boots as the case may be.


Click for larger images. Clockwise from top left: Headwear - Vintage photo from Agent-Lee; Haircut - Polaroids of Anja Rubik; Swimming Costume - Vintage photo Fishup; Cigarette Holder - eBay; Hold ups with Garter - eBay; Boots - Cannot remember, but if it's you're photo and you would like me to take it down, please contact me; Frames - The Selby; Vintage Collar - Etsy; White Cat T-Shirt - eBay.

Holiday

Our Christmas tree was a beautiful mess of a broomstick and twigs. The self-made birds sat on the branches as the fairy lights glowed and the star sat happily atop the tip. My presents to Bobby were a painting, diary and URL (we're a modern duo) and my dress was a bright orange vintage thing. It continues to be a wonderful holiday indeed.

Dress: Vintage, I bought half a lady's closet from her earlier in the year and this was one of the treasures. The dress' waist tie is scrunched up and sitting on my head.
Sandles: Local shoe store, Nu & Nan
Belt and old binoculars bag: Anglicare

Hey Guys! It's Christmas Time!

Hope it was the kind of awesomeness that only Kinder Eggs and Christmas are capable of bringing.

She Painted Pictures

Ten days isn't long. Santa Claus is close enough to breath his nauseatingly sweet breath on you. Yet in Sydney, we have very few reminders that so soon it will be upon us. From the skies fall no snow, the smell of pine is difficult to come by, as are acorns. You will be very hard pressed to find a squirrel, which don't even appear in our zoos, let alone our backyards. We spend as little time in the kitchen as possible in the heat and so we eat no roasts and sit by no raging fires. In Sydney, Christmas is a searing hot affair where one gets very drunk on very cold beer and eats as much barbecued seafood and cheese as their stomachs will allow. It's not very traditional and, unless you're a regular at shopping centres or enjoy browsing the tinsel-stocked aisles at your local Supermarket, it's very easy to forget about entirely.

To help remind the English born-and-bred Bobby that, yes, it is indeed Christmas, I made him an Advent calendar way back in the dawn of December. Not the flimsy cardboard and chocolate kind, but more of a-little-bit-of-Christmas-every-day kinda thing. While I would love to spill to you all twenty-four gifts, this would be not only a killjoy for the man in question, but a lot of them are, I suspect, quite uninteresting to those that haven't been a fly on the wall for the entirety of our relationship.

For one of the days this month, however, I'm sharing. The stocking baring the number 10 held a small chatterbox which when played, revealed an invitation to a play date. The type of play date you'd set up for your little brother and BFF's little sister so you could drink long blacks and smoke menthol cigarettes without your parents' scolding you as the kiddies jumped around on play equipment and you felt guilty about giving your little brother second hand smoke, only a much, much better kind of date. We (to Bobby's relief) avoided the play equipment and (to my relief) the menthol cigarettes. Instead, we spent the afternoon plaster painting amongst a jumble of children.

We visited the store at Fox Studios where you can choose the victim of your paintbrush from all kinds of Batmen, skulls, Darth Vadars, dinosaurs and motorcycle piggy banks. They're open on Weekends and Wednesdays. Once you have your plaster, a lady will give you water and paint and all those things you need to bring your plaster alive. If you're the uncreative type, you can buy one of the pre painted ones, but with four year olds to either side, there isn't that much to fear in way of going outside the lines. The lady offers regular words of encouragement and, once you're all done, you can even have glitter if that's the kind of thing you think you might be into. And if you are inclined to do a bit of that play equipment stuff, it's right there too. Showing you what we plaster painted would be equivalent to exposing all twenty-four presents, but I can reveal that it was beautiful. The lady giving out the paint said so.

Beret: Salvation Army (Charity store)
Scarf: Traded for a beer
Bag: $3 from Anglicare (Charity store)
Jumper: Borrowed from a friend
Pants: Hand me downs from Mum
Shoes: Cream (Local vintage store)
Cigarette: Virginia Green rolled tobacco