I Know There's an Answer

Semi recently I was been asked to answer a couple of little questionares. The first was a follow up to the article I wrote for Brighton Frocks on Brighton Fashion Weekend with the purpose of having them publish it on their website (I'll update this post with a link when it is) and the second lot of question and answers was part of my application for a month long internship at 2threads. It was all (until now) sitting unpublished on Bobby's laptop gathering cyber dust and generally being a waste of space so I thought I might post it here. If I've repeated myself (in fact, there's no 'if' in the matter), I invite you to skim or even skip this post.

2THREADS: WHAT IS YOUR ULTIMATE DESTINATION FOR A FASHION FIX? "Earlier this year, whilst in England, I covered the Brighton Fashion Weekend. I spent some time travelling around the back alleys of Europe and trawling through boxes of goodies in tiny vintage shops and totally fell head over boots for the place (on more than one occasion, almost in the literal sense of the phrase). Next time I make my way over I‘d love to cover Amsterdam or Berlin Fashion Week, if only for my own blog, Owl and the Grapes."

LIST YOUR TOP 5 SOURCES FOR FASHION & STYLE INSPIRATION.

1. "I’m constantly in awe of the structure, the peeling paint and the artworks that dress my building. Not to mention the beautiful and creative people it houses.


2. I could go on and on about the wonders of a slick of red lipstick but I fear I’d bore you. There are no downsides. And when it ends up smeared across your face the morning after? Who cares? Clowns are cool.


3. Films, books, comics, photographs and magazines are obvious but priceless sources of inspiration. I love Russh in particular.


4. When I have some internet time on my hands, there are loads of blogs I like to peruse. Photography blogs, writing blogs, fashion blogs and simply unclassifiable blogs.


5. I also often make my way over to a nearby pay-by-the-kilo warehouse, where I trawl through mountains of (mostly rubbish) clothes on the chance that I might come across a gem. Thankfully, I almost always come out with a couple of mind blowing ’80s pieces. I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t influenced my style."
   

IF YOU COULD INTERVIEW ANY DESIGNER OF YOUR CHOICE WHO WOULD IT BE AND WHAT'S THE FIRST QUESTION YOU WOULD ASK THEM?
Whilst I, like most ladies, love Alexander Wang, Preen and Balmain, I don’t think I could resist interviewing Karl Lagerfeld. If only to ask how he comes up with those Twitter gems. “Florals are for middle-aged women with weight problems.” Or, “Fur is not murder, but it is quite expensive.” Wow. Both statements are completely wrong. But still, wow. And you know what? The more he does wrong the more I love him. Once we’d covered the whole “Are you actually mad?” thing, I’d move onto more important issues: Colours, collections and in what year he was really born. I’d quite love to pry my way into his mind and have a swim around.

WHERE WOULD WE FIND YOU ON A SATURDAY NIGHT? Out and about on the bustling Sydney scene (often, wherever free alcohol can be found), ‘networking’ (it’s my new favourite word) and snapping photos. If I’m not out, it’s likely it’s because I’m frickin’ knackered after a hard day’s work running my monthly Vintage and Retro Market from my Surry Hills warehouse. In the case of the latter, I’ll spend my evening drinking smoked tea, reading, blogging, organising my next market and listening to a whole lot of very good music.


BRIGHTON FROCKS: WHY DID YOU ENTER THE BRIGHTON FROCKS COMPETITION? I entered the competition because I thought it would be a great opportunity to gain experience. I simply love fashion and love Brighton so what could be better than being part of the event that marks the combination of the two? As you'll know if you've read my article, I had also never interviewed anybody before, so, while I was super nervous, it was good to get out there and do it. Now, hopefully, next time I do it I'll be a little better and there'll be a little less pee in my pants.

WHY SHOULD PEOPLE CARE ABOUT FASHION? What do you think of when you think of Marilyn Monroe? I think of that white halter neck dress. And Audrey Hepburn? Why, Breakfast at Tiffany's of course, and that stunning black Givenchy dress. Fashion is a way of expressing yourself. 'Don't judge a book by it's cover' is a pretty piece of advice however, unfortunately, it's not at all human nature. Good personal grooming and a solid sense of style are more or less essentials. And anyway, who doesn't like playing dress ups?

WOULD YOU ENCOURAGE OTHERS TO ENTER NEXT YEAR? Yes, of course. It was a fantastic weekend. Everybody involved with Brighton Fashion Weekend is so friendly, and they were all only too keen to have a chat. It's a wonderful chance to make industry contacts and the article was great fun to write. Oh, and I came out with a few goodies too.

WHERE DO YOU HOPE TO FIND YOURSELF IN 10 YEARS TIME? In 10 years time, I intend to be a professional writer. I would love to write for Russh or Frankie; Australia (where I live for most of the year) has some really great publications. I've always wanted to write a book, but I think it's important to find my own voice first. Also, back in my Sydney warehouse, I run a monthly Vintage and Retro Market. I'd love to have the finances to be able to facilitate the entire floor as a store. A space where people could drop in and buy vintage, retro, some new and some old clothes and pretty things, drink coffee made by our (currently non-existent) in-house barista, have a beer and hang out on our (also non-existent) Astroturfed roof. I would also have a cinema room with super comfy little seats and a gigantic projector that screened cult hits and shit we like but no-one else does. Yes, I'd like one of those in Sydney, one in Brighton and one in Berlin please.

Fight For Your Right To Party

I've been back in Sydney for almost a week now. You wanna know what I've spent this past week doing? Sleeping. And blowing my nose. Yep, both Bobby and I have been ill. AND jet lagged. Whilst Bobby has tried more than once to convince me it's Swine Flu that's been plaguing us, I can safely reassure the few friends I have hugged/seen since arriving back in the land of Oz that it is not Swine Flu, merely a harmless, mildly annoying cold. I reckon he just thinks it's the cool thing to have right now. Which, let's be honest, it kind of is. I heard that my friend Jess had swine flu and how she was quarantined for two weeks and all her housemates had to wear swine flu MASKS. Can you imagine? All her housemates in piggy masks? Feeding her soup? I have to admit, it sounds pretty incredible. Alas, this whole lethargy thing has meant that I haven't spent more than five minutes on the computer (total), bar the time spent filling out online forms and doing the most utterly boring and monotonous yet essential administrative work imaginable. So, no blog posts for you, my friends.

One good thing to come out of this little sickness of ours however, is that it's given both Bobs and I a little time to become acquainted with our new housemates. Indeed, the shell of our home has changed little but when I say 'new' housemates, I really do mean brand spanking new. Like, all of them. We stumbled into the living room on Tuesday night to be greeted by four strangers sitting in our living room. Since that experience, I'm quite certain that Bobby and I are entirely qualified to be professional Big Brother intruders. Hello Grace, hello Dave, hello Dom and hello Katrina. Thankfully, they're super duper awesome. Actually, the whole situation is pretty frickin' awesome. I've spent more time hanging out in the living room in the past week than I think I ever have because it's just that good. Seriously, like, if I weren't me, I'd be totally jealous. Actually, even being me I'm still kinda jealous because imagine if I could live with all these incredible folks PLUS myself. Wow. I reckon we'd get along ace. Me and me. Although, I'd have to clean up after myself, which would kind of suck. But then I would still be just as lazy so I totally wouldn't but then I'd probably get annoyed at myself cause there'd be DOUBLE the mess. Double trouble? Cool. Double junk? Not so much. Unless it's the other kind of junk. Before I blow my own mind, I'd better change the subject:

Yes, Sydney is amazing and I missed it terribly and man, my cat? Totally missed her to bits. Though, luckily, she was returned to me not literally in bits, because that would have been really sad. However, I didn't really expect (well I might've a little bit. But not as much as I do) to miss England. The fact that those Eastbourners (and Brightoners) made our leaving do the best leaving do to ever happen to anyone ever didn't exactly help. I thought Eastbourners didn't 'do' dress up parties. How wrong I was. It was frickin' amazing. A M A Z I N G. The theme was the eighties and the nineties and everyone took it as far as they could. You might think that the amount of photos that I've posted here is a lot, but spare a thought to those that were subjected to the entirety of the night's photos. Three hundred? Nope. Try five hundred and something. I'm pretty sure I crashed the Internet trying to put them all on Facebook. And they're ALL brilliant. To be honest though, it's really difficult to take a non-brilliant photo when everybody's dressed so fantastically. Everybody should definitely dress like this all the time.

Looking COOL.

As, hopefully, you might have guessed, I was Madonna from Desperately Seeking Susan.

Patent bow, I made myself. Earrings and necklances from various charity stores.
Glittery top from a pay by the kilo store in Berlin.
Belt, shoes and scarf were both thrifted in Eastbourne.
And the pants are my stay-at-home pants, from Primark.

White Wedding

What a day. I feel completely secure in publicly declaring the wonderful wedding of the fabulous couple, Max and Helen, as an utter, hiccup-free success. Except for that time I slipped down the stairs. That was a bit of a hiccup. But I recovered quickly, with my glass of gin and something or other barely scathed. And that's the main thing, isn't it? Regrettably, I barely got a sober word with the bride and groom throughout the event, and won't do again before I leave back to Australia, as they're now on their honeymoon. Watching them mingle and laugh their way through the day slash evening was a good compromise, however. I don't think I've ever seen two happier people. The thought's crossed my mind that perhaps that was because they got away with only having to converse with me for five minutes tops but let's not go there. Again.

Also, I'm fully aware that I'm going straight to hell for taking photographs in a 'Please no photographs' church but you know what? No. Wait. That's all. Hell. Yep, can't really argue with God can you? Because, you know, last time I checked I couldn't have an argument with a unicorn either. And I did check. He point blank refused to acknowledge me. Waving that horn about, eating grass, flying all around the place. Arsehole (that's directed at the unicorn, not God. God doesn't have an Arsehole. He's HOLY.)



We all positively stuffed our faces at the reception mostly courtesy of Emma (below, with her husband Ford), who made not only brownies but oh-my-honey-cake.



Post-cake, we hopped on a coach to the next village over; a quaint little place with no street lights. Don't ask me how they walk home at night. I suspect they are all anti-vampires (like anti-christs but not), and that they will explode into flames if they go out at night. And when you have anti-vampires flamin' up everywhere, who needs street lights?

We were asked to detail a wish for the couple and hang it on the apple tree which was soon to be planted in their garden. If I'm completely honest, I don't actually remember what I wrote but I do remember distinguishing myself from the other Emma (who is known as Captain), by explaining that I was merely the co-pilot (a position which, in retrospect, has nothing to do with captains or ships), a fact which would have been quite obvious no doubt sans explanation, if only by my overzealous use of 'awesome' and 'like'. I'm pretty sure I broke the world record for the number of times 'awesome' was used in a wish.

Bobby had to do a reading and he was SHITTING his pants. Not literally of course, that would be disgusting. It went down a treat however (the reading, not the shitting) and was followed by the best men's speech (below). Ford, Ben and Ryan - the three best men - charmingly chattered away, humorously following a 'Speeches for Dummies' (or something to that effect) paperback.

Wonderfully feathered hat and patent heels were a few quid from Scope (a charity shop),
the glomesh little bag I found in another cluttered charity shop in Eastbourne,
the dress I made (sans pattern) from some fabric we found in Berlin
and the patent bow I hand made.

Although I feel that it hardly needs to be said, given the photos and the nature of the party, I had the most brilliantly wonderful time at the absolutely amazing event and I wish the now-married couple the world. That's right, THE WORLD.

It's a Mystery

I must apologise for the lack of posts, ladies and gents. It's been tough, tough, tough; we leave in only a matter of days and my suitcase is five kilos over the limit. What's a girl to do? The obvious solution should have been to post boxes of goodies back to Australia months ago, ensuring that all my things would be waiting for me when I arrived. Alas, I'm not one to think ahead (or to think at all, to be honest), so I'm in a bit of a rather stressful dilemma. Hopefully, if I procrastinate enough, someone else will have to deal with it. In the meantime, I'm still, very guiltily and in disguise, hitting up the charity shops as per usual. A few days ago, on one such 'hit up', I stumbled across a massive Sherlock Holmes hard cover. Having never read any Sherlock Holmes stories, I decided it was time I become acquainted with the infamous investigator. After all, it was under a pound and I convincingly convinced the boyfriend that I'd leave it in England in between my wedding shoes and a couple of owls that just wouldn't fit. That way, we all won. Except the owls. Normally, I'm quick to moan if I must lug any more than absolutely necessary to work or town but recently, I've been taking the massive book, very contentedly, everywhere with me.

Perhaps what inspired this purchase and put me in the mood for mystery and adventure was the murder mystery evening my friend Michelle hosted a couple of weeks ago. It was SO much fun. Like, the kind of fun that you imagine musicians having (when really, we know it's all just tour buses and setting up. And maybe a little drink. But the boring kind of drink. Like beer. And whisky).

Miss Jo as Dr. Sigmund Fraud: A controversial psychologist, of course. She does look however, very Sherlock Holmes, wouldn't you agree?

Hostess Michelle as 'Chocolate' Bertrand: The greatest legend of the chocolate industry (the murder was a chocolate related one).

Me, as Little Fitz: A star of the Music Halls of Europe, where my ventriloquist act (with my dummy Ziggy) proved very popular. I was supposed to wear a check suit you see, but with my dummy being named Ziggy and all, I thought it only appropriate to Bowie it up a little. The best part of it all was, almost all (or perhaps ALL) of Ziggy's scripted parts were Bowie quotes. Amazing.

Tash as Mike Bison (they were certainly very inventive names): The rising star of American boxing. Tash's costume suggestion called for jeans and a white vest. I think the above costume far exceeded all expectations.

Gemma, as Dame Barbara Carthorse, the most celebrated beauty in England.

Miss Rosie as Marchioness Duchamp: An internationally notorious artist.

And Emma as Dr Doris Johnson: Amateur archaeologist.