Consider This Your Invitation

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes of Sydney's legendary Hibernian House Vintage and Retro Sales, Dear Pluto is your new favourite shop, friend, cinema and second home.

Please join us for a drink (or two) to celebrate our GRAND OPENING on the evening of September 17th at 5a Wilshire Street, Surry Hills. Dear Pluto's collection of hand picked garments and accessories from decades past will be available for purchase on the night, at the same low prices you've come to love us for.

Dear Pluto: No garish shop-fronts, no flashing signs, no bells and whistles, no pretension, just a whole lot of retro goodness tucked away in a laneway between Crown & Bourke St.

Art Land

In a photographic tribute to Surry Hills (the Sydney suburb I, and most people I know, quite pathetically but very contentedly rarely venture from) my good friend, excellent popcorn maker and even better photographer Daniel - the same Daniel who took this series of shots of Bobby, Elle and I around this time last year - showcased a small portion of his work as part of an exhibition hosted by Time Out Sydney at the relatively new Urban Uprising on Crown Street. His photos are no longer on display (it was a one night only affair, unfortunately) but you can have a squizz at them on his website.

Included in the exhibition were photos of the late Hopetoun Hotel, burlesque performer Gypsy Wood and well, lots of other really good stuff. We wandered around the deservedly buzzing space, admired Daniel's skills (also pronounced skillz), drank a couple of beers, chomped on a veggie pie or two (which were curiously called vegie pies) and then, realising we were already running late, rapidly ran off to catch Jeffrey Lewis at Oxford Arts Factory where I had this totally epic conversation with Jeffrey himself (motioning to the comic books on the merch desk I was like, "Are these the only comic books you have left?" And he was all, "Yeah, sorry! We've sold out of all the others.") If you're currently furrowing your brow in confusion, check out his Myspace and perhaps you'll understand my excitement at meeting this particular balding young American man.

All photos courtesy of Daniel Boud (pictured above).

My black lace leotard, cropped denim jacket, faux-Glomesh bag, floral skirt and granny boots are all from various charity shops, markets and garage sales. Lace headband made from lace bought at C&H Fabrics in the U.K. and the stockings were originally from a department store if I remember correctly - the holes I inflicted on the poor things some time ago (inspired by Rodarte, of course).

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.

Kitty

If you can tell me with a straight face that you do not find a kitten racing around the room trying to catch bubbles with its tiny paws entertaining, either you have never tried it or you are lying to yourself. While the boy called me simple, it was indeed the most I laughed all evening - so much so that my stomach ached.

Indeed, now that we (the word we being used loosely, and actually referring to my housemates) have a kitten, this is how I spend my Sundays.

Scarf: Chapel Street Bazaar, Melbourne
Vest: Surry Hills Markets, Sydney
Skirt, pinned up at the bust to wear as a dress: Anglicare, Sydney
Tights: Hand-me-down from Mum that I've cut up
Shoes: Cream on Crown, Sydney
(All thrifted)

Take this bread

The take-away sandwich. Too many times have I been disappointed by this animal. Thankfully, no more. For those who have been awaiting the day where they no longer have to endure the overpriced and unsatisfying, say hello to Malibu.

This hole in the wall sandwich bar tucked away in the scummy part of Surry Hills is absolute heaven for any sandwich-loving foodie. Their sandwiches are large enough to feed a small nation and made with only the freshest ingredients. It's run solely by the two owners, Marc and Marcella (I find Marc a little more generous, so sidle up to the front when you see that glint in his eye and oh my wholemeal, yes please) who pile on ingredients as you stand wide-eyed.

Despite it's word of mouth nature and the fact that people like me lived two minutes from it for months without ever hearing of it, at lunchtimes there can be quite a queue. Yesterday, for instance, after standing in a line that stretched onto the footpath outside the tiny shop for five minutes I realised that I had the whole of 20 cents in my purse. While Malibu sandwiches are great value, unfortunately they do not yet give them away free of charge. With one setting you back $7 to $8 (with a full purse, being an absolute bargain) I found myself $15.80 short. So it was all the way to the ATM after which I repeated the whole process.

However, despite being gone for thirty minutes longer than I had said I would be, those gargantuan alo-foil wrapped sandwiches well made the trip and the wait worth while. The two wholly vegetarian sandwiches lasted us from lunch through dinner and looked scrumptious enough that when the housemate walked by to see us trying to unlock our jaws in order to get our mouths around the Surry Hills skyscrapers, she immediately asked for directions. It's just on Foster Street, off Elizabeth. You'll see the tattoo parlour and follow the graffiti. There are a few umbrellas and a bunch of crates out the front and very possibly a line. You might even see a halo hovering above the roof. Don't be surprised, just ask for Vienna bread with whatever you feel like.