Back to Basics

To quote The Smiths, I would go out to-night, but I haven't got a stitch to wear...

While I have lots of stitches in my wardrobe, none of them appeal to me right now. Sigh. I believe this is what economists refer to as 'non-satiation', the driver behind unbridled, vulgar consumerism. I'm making it my mission to find such basic items as a lovely little Breton tee (A.P.C perhaps?) to wear with high-waisted Cheap Mondays and white converse high-tops. You never get bored of the basics. 

Pyjama Party for One

Life's tough, you know? It's all go go go, push push push. And sometimes when you push something too hard, it has a tendency to break down. In my lecture today, we talked about John Stuart Mill (great legal philosopher and political scientist) whose father, James Mill, pushed him to his utmost limits from a very young age, teaching him Latin, Greek, economics, etc. At the tender age of 20, John Stuart Mill broke down and recovered by reading poetry (in particular, the poetry of William Wordsworth). I love that poetry has the capacity to resuscitate a life! 

Now that uni is back and the stress that hits mid-semester once assessments are all due is imminent, it's important to take some 'mental health' days. These are days when you lie in bed all day wearing pretty pink pyjamas, watching Grey's Anatomy re-runs, drinking lots of green tea and eating toblerone. Which is what I've been doing today in an effort to get over this persistent flu that has been dragging down my energy levels for a whole two weeks. Otherwise, you hit burn-out city, which is a student's worst nightmare. 

The Default Outfit

Take one white t-shirt. Wear with skinny, skinny jeans and killer heels. Add a blazer or a motorcycle jacket or any other great structured jacket (think Balmain style). Finish it off with a simple clutch, a pair of classic aviators and a cocktail ring. Instant amazing. 

A horizontal author

I am a completely horizontal author. I can't think unless I'm lying down, either in bed or stretched on a couch and with a cigarette and coffee handy. I've got to be puffing and sipping. As the afternoon wears on, I shift from coffee to mint tea to sherry to martinis. No, I don't use a typewriter. Not in the beginning. I write my first version in longhand (pencil). Then I do a complete revision, also in longhand. Essentially I think of myself as a stylist, and stylists can become notoriously obsessed with the placing of a comma, the weight of a semicolon. Obsessions of this sort, and the time I take over them, irritate me beyond endurance.

Truman Capote

Stuff I love (at the moment)

- Check dresses that resemble school uniforms

- Floppy 70s hats 

- Vintage Scarves tied on big totes

- Gingham shirts on boys

- Brown leather jackets

- White chucks worn with blazers and jeans

- Aesop Rind Aromatique Body Balm

- Inspiring desk spaces

- The rabbit fur vest that is in Claude Maus at the moment

- Spontaneous happiness

- Sequined mini dresses

- The journals of Sylvia Plath

- Long cardigans and pretty pyjama pants worn together

- Dreaming of travelling

- Cherry Blossom trees

- Scrambled eggs in the morning

- Tidy Bookshelves 

Death by Shoe

Sometimes I get so overly-excited when I look at shoes that I feel like I could die any moment from an aneurysm. I have compiled here a pictorial list of my favourite shoes of the moment. Oh, to own all of them! 

Working Girl

Lately I've been thinking about jobs and personal fulfillment. In particular, wouldn't it be lovely to work in a cosy little bookshop? To wear dainty dresses and turquoise spectacles, to drink espressos on the street with other shopkeepers? To spend your days sharing personal anecdotes and book reviews with the customers that float in and out of your store? Or alternatively, to own a florist, but not just an ordinary florist-- one with moody lighting, draped fairy lights and lots of shrubbery everywhere, evoking the feeling of a magical forest where nymphs dance? 

Spending my days with books and flowers, now that would be a dream. But then one thing bothers me: how on earth would one afford Lanvin on a humble wage? 

Pathways into the sky

Some are wanderers, drifting endlessly through a sea of uncertainty. I believe the term is "going with the flow". There is some merit in following "the flow" in that life may take you on a number of little adventures which may keep you in a constant state of ecstatic surprise. On the flip side, having little direction and no life plan to speak of can wind you up in the proverbial gutter, lost and desolate.

Personally, I like direction. Actually, I love it. I like knowing where I am going to be in a year's time, and even five years' time. Of course, as John Lennon famously once said, "life is what happens when you're busy making other plans". I like following a schedule, (which is why I dislike to some extent my uni holidays- they go on for a long time, which is great, but sometimes too much leisure time, ironically, stresses me out). I like making out to do lists and ticking them off. I like to know that I am getting from point A to point B. 

What really gets me though is the uncertainty that comes with love and people. People can vacate your life unexpectedly and put everything out of kilter. I wish I could control my emotions. I wish I could remain unaffected, as if I had a heart made of corrugated iron that was incapable of breaking. 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could 

To where it bent in the undergrowth; 

Robert Frost, 'The Road Less Travelled'

3pm stream of thought

want coffee. no, need coffee. require coffee. why are the veins on my arms so profound? why do I look like I inject heroin on a regular basis? caffeine headache, due to lack thereof. ouch. my nose is blocked. damn sinuses, terrorising my life. my calf hurts. why? i have done no exercise for the past two-three weeks or so. what have I done for the past couple of weeks exactly? can't remember. such numbness. fuck. my calf hurts from wearing high heels. but they're so much nicer than flat shoes. they make the muscles in my leg look pretty, even though they are causing irrevocable damage. want a glass of red wine. always want red wine. always want to feel warm and slightly dizzy. dislike feeling grounded and realistic. i think it's time to read the bell jar again. 

Re-lax

I go back to uni next week, which means I return to a stultifying routine and and a soulless black building full of psychopathic law students. They appear normal on the outside; on the inside they are a complex web of obsessive perfectionism and megalomania. Law school is quite an unnatural place, really. The brightest minds in the country all segregated in one building, each possessing standard accessories: a Macbook, a giant latte and sort of deadened look that says "I don't have time to sleep". There is just so much competitiveness, such tenacity in the quest for the top! You practically need to have jungle-animal skills to succeed. I once spent an entire afternoon waiting for a particular book in the reserve section of the library that I desperately required for an assignment to be returned so that I could immediately borrow it. Literally, I had to pounce on the girl who had brought it back after the two hour period was over. If I was wearing leopard print I would have looked like an actual cat.

And the scary part is that you observe and criticise bizarre law-school rituals and practices and honestly believe that you are dissociated from the whole culture, only to come to the terrifying realisation that in fact, you're one of them.

So before I head back into all of this chaos, it's time to relax. I have this one Ovid quote written down in my moleskine diary because I need to remind myself of this: 

Take rest; a field that has rested gives a beautiful crop

My recipe for relaxation is to sit in the sun, do some yoga, do some exercise, read lots and drink lots of tea. I would also say lots and lots of kissing, but I'm single now and sadly that's not an option. Times are tough for the heartbroken.

In a wrap

When the mercury drops, make like a Missoni girl and layer on clothes in a ridiculous fashion.

Jazzy, Baby

Jazz/Brogue style shoes are by no means a new trend. In fact, I'm probably like six seasons late. I never ventured to buy a pair, fearing I was not quite cool enough to pull them off. Well all that's changed. Not the fact that I'm cool (because I'm not). It's just that I'm following a new mantra that I have borrowed from the film Risky Business: 

Sometimes you just gotta say, what the fuck

So I don't think about whether I can pull something off anymore: I just do it. The mantra applies to much more than something as vacuous as fashion. It applies to seizing opportunities and doing what feels good (even if it's not the wisest option). Of course, the mantra is dangerous. But isn't life inherently dangerous? Anyway, back to jazz shoes. I love the idea of them because they are sensible and masculine and rather Michael Jacksonesque. When I eventually get a pair (I have my eye on a white pair of Salvios, though silver is probably a better option), I will wear them with navy opaques and floaty dresses and a tailored black tux jacket and a vintage tan leather clutch. 

And maybe if I am lucky I will be whisked away by a cute jazz-loving boy who will take me to the Bennetts Lane Jazz Club in Melbourne (I've always wanted to see what it's like) and buy me a martini or two and dance with me, putting my jazz shoes to good use. 

Imprinted.

My love, I can wait no longer

For a settlement that may never come.

I have beseeched my conscience to forget you.

Alas, you are a stubbon imprint,

tenacious and ungovernable.

     

Isabel Marant

How to sum up the Isabel Marant look evinced above in all these runway pictures? Uncomplicated. Cool. A particular brand of left-bank insouciance. Jersey dresses and tees under black furs with studded ankle boots; tall boots pulled cavalierly over loose, Elizabethan-poet type trousers. Pouches slung casually across the body. The epitome of classic, understated Parisian style.

How to do corporate.

Just because the term 'corporate' is similar to the word 'corpse' doesn't mean you need to look like a deadened individual when you enter the world of suits, photocopiers and serious caffeine addictions (worse than the ones you develop at university, if that is even possible). 

Just because you need to look serious doesn't mean you can't look like a classy little bitch with killer style. Embrace man-style in slouchy, high waisted pants and boxy little suit jackets. Add a super skinny red belt to an all black suit. Buy beautiful, feminine blouses in silk with intricate patterns to balance out the masculinity of the suit. Wear a polished heel, like a round-toed pump (pictured is a delightful red skyscraperesque Louboutin heel). Invest in a strong, well-tailored coat. Do wear spectacles, and keep hair shiny, soft and pulled-back. Make-up should of course be minimal but that doesn't mean it should be totally undetectable; a little white Chanel sparkly eyeshadow dusted lightly over the eyelids, I find, does wonders in the mornings when you are barely awake and adds a touch of subtle glamour. 

 

White and tight

White tights are tricky. But when done right, they evoke that whimsical Alice in Wonderland feel (and really, who doesn't want to look like Alice?).

My only qualm is that they have the potential to make even a great set of legs look wide...to avoid this I would advise wearing very, very high heels. In fact, try to wear heels wherever possible. The pain is character building. 

 

Coco Avant Chanel

I finally saw Coco Avant Chanel last night and it was incredibly inspiring. Not just in terms of style (black and white Chanel suits and strings of pearls, oh my) but in terms of feminism! Audrey Tautou portrayed Chanel as a hard-but deep down inside- somewhat fragile woman that is essentially 'done over' by one particular gentleman and consequently vows never to be anyone's wife. WONDERFUL! What a strong, independent fiery woman. A woman with incredible style and a penchant for aristocratic and very rich men. A woman who built one of the most influential fashion empires in history and worked until her dying day in 1971. A woman with class, intelligence and strength who needed no man (other than for transient pleasures). 

The movie got me thinking about strong women who never marry and achieve so much more than they perhaps would have had they settled for a dainty life as somebody's wife. Elizabeth I, the 'Virgin Queen' comes to mind; she refused to marry despite protests from English Parliament that her death would result in civil unrest and war if she was to die a single woman. Had she married, she would have inevitably had to relinquish her power. Instead, she renounced marriage and led the country into its golden age. 

Is love obsolete in today's society? Possibly. Is marriage an archaic concept that only serves to demean and oppress women? Maybe not, but at the moment I feel terribly empowered as a woman and so I will say that the answer is yes. What's love? Pain. What is marriage? Constriction and mediocrity. Call me a cynic (and I am) but I am never falling victim to love again. It is much more fun to be the Femme Fatale of Velvet Underground Fame.

You're written in her book

You're number 37, have a look

She's going to smile to make you frown, what a clown

Little boy, she's from the street

Before you start, you're already beat

She's gonna play you for a fool, yes it's true

Femme Fatale, The Velvet Underground

Or Estella from Great Expectations:

She'll only break your heart, it's a fact. And even though I warn you, even though I guarantee you that the girl will only hurt you terribly, you'll still pursue her. Ain't love grand?

How to be Happy.

In a transient, perplexing world, we all search for one highly elusive concept: a state of happiness. What's the secret? Surely not money, for those with trust funds in the millions and billions sometimes seem the most miserable. Maybe happiness comes from having some but achieving things so that you can have more little by little; this way, you don't have everything, but you can at least revel in your achievements. And then once you have everything, well, that's just...boring. Sometimes dreaming is much sweeter than actually having; it is the bread and butter of the soul. Without having something to dream of and look forward to, what do we have? Rien!

One of my favourite ever quotes is 'Happiness amongst intelligent people is the rarest thing I know'. This quote comes from Monsieur Hemingway. It's quite a depressing quote, but I like it for its simple truth. Stupidity is the perfect breeding ground for happiness. Those gifted (cursed?) with brains have an unfortunate habit of over-analysing and over-thinking things, possessing far too much foresight for their own good. Because thinking about things is scary. When you contemplate the future your cross over into foreign, mystical territory and traverse the unknown. 

Better to simply not think in some cases. Don't think about past loves, or where future love lies. Analysis of things gone and past is useless; the only thing that must be carried on is a fond memory, and a lesson. 

You know that I need to go away, away, away: yes, yes, I can’t go on here anymore. You know there are always the angels and the archangels, thrones, powers, cherubims, seraphims--the whole choir there. But here these baptised beasts always make themselves heard, these and nothing else. I’m going away from here. Walking one arrives: if not to the grave, at least a little bit outside this human, too human world. 

D H Lawrence

Skip to the End

If I could cheat,

I would skip to the end,

And decide if it's worth going through with.

Skip to the last, paragraph, just before we start,

To see the happy ending, or the broken heart.

Skip to the End, The Futureheads

Parlez-Vous Francais? Mais Oui

I studied French all through high school but I'm sad to say I have deserted the most beautiful language in the world in recent years. Learning a language is challenging, difficult, irritating and incredibly rewarding all at the same time. Despite the tedium involved in learning a whole bunch of grammatical rules only to find that there are about one hundred exceptions to the rule, there are a great many benefits to speaking a foreign language, especially when it's rather...sexy. Here is my list of motivation to speak French fluently:

1. It sounds truly, deeply sensual. What comes out of your mouth reflects on your person. This means, you speak french= you become more attractive. 

2. You can read Paris Vogue.

3. You can appreciate French cinema without wasting your time on reading subtitles so you can focus more on the emotion displayed on the actors' faces. Very important.

4. You can travel to France/live there and communicate with its people freely. This means you can conduct exotic relationships with French men.

5. You can read Camus in his original language. 

6. You'll feel more authentic wearing A.P.C and carrying a Chanel bag.

7. It will open your mind and challenge it, just like learning any language does. 

8. It looks great on your CV.

9. It's a great way to meet and make new friends

10. You'll be able to pronounce French cheeses properly.