florals and verses

Hey Big Spender

2009-12-31T13:19:00.009+11:00

Here are my recent purchases courtesy of my personal shopper in NY aka my older sister:

A compact mirror

A Jumbo, Navy Blue Lambskin Chanel Bag

Finally, my YSL babies

A comically over-branded MJ tote to lug around my laptop/books/clothes

+ some Topshop and A.P.C goodies. Needless to say, I cannot wait for her to return with this booty in tow.

A Room of One's Own

2009-12-24T13:45:00.005+11:00

Bowls of snacks are imperative when you are working hard.

I'm allergic to nuts so this would probably kill me, but you get the idea.

Books, books and more books.

Ecstasy.

Lesley Arfin writing

I am setting out on the ambitious task of writing a book. I'm not quite sure if I want to write short stories or a whole story, but I am sure I will work it out. At the moment I am gathering snippets of inspiration and collating them in a notebook (a lovely mustard coloured O-Check Graphics notebook that reads "HAUT DANS LES AIR"(which means "up in the air" in French, which is rather fitting considering I have absolutely no idea what form this book is to take, or what I am even writing about).

I am very much interested in writing on the themes of oppression and marginalization with respect to women, and in particular, mental illness. I want to explore female sexuality and the demise of the pysche when it is repressed. It is my hope that I am able to delineate characters that are bursting with reality - anxious, real people who smoke, eat, fuck, cry, etc. I want them to absolutely jump out of the pages and into the consciousness of the reader.

Writing a book, I imagine, is going to be rather difficult and will require immense discipline. It will require one hell of a space with a comfortable chair, lots of bookshelves to house all my wonderful tomes that have taught me how to write, warm lighting and artwork on the walls to soothe and inspire. I'm in the process of redecorating my bedroom/study and writing space and love the above pictures from theselby.com, which is full of great interiors.

Let's Talk About Sex Baby

2009-12-23T17:00:00.001+11:00

.... let's talk about you and me?

Peek A Boo

2009-12-23T16:52:00.002+11:00

Polka dots are oh-so-charming. They remind me of the 50s and Minnie Mouse. I love this Phillip Lim bra from net-a-porter (it would look perfect under a slightly sheer cami) and this delightful blue cardigan just above.

one of those days

2009-11-15T12:13:00.004+11:00

...when you resent having to do work and would rather lie naked under the sun with an ice-cold blood orange juice, or sit on the floor of your best friend's bedroom and tear out pictures you like from fashion magazines, or wander around the art gallery idle and quiet, or sit in a cafe and talk shit over russian caravan tea, or have sex on the floor, or ride trams-cars whilst reading tolstoy, or, or, or -

Relaxing At Home

2009-11-11T06:56:00.002+11:00

Truman Capote characteristically kicks back with a book and a cigarette in his hand in his apartment which is, amusingly enough, rather eccentrically cluttered with paraphernalia.

Source: Click here

Easy. Breezy.

2009-11-09T08:31:00.002+11:00

Thanks to Global Warming, we have here a heat wave in November. Early November. During exams. Thank you predecessors for screwing up the planet to this extent with your extreme industrialism! Wonderful. Now the only thing we (well, I) can be bothered wearing are outfits that let a breeze in between your legs (oooh!). I'm backing the dress this summer for its airiness and simplicity. I'm going to wear it with big vintage wooden beads and I-don't-give-a-fuck tousled hair.

Hot

2009-11-07T10:16:00.003+11:00

Summer has announced its arrival with a radiating 30 degree day of clear blue sky and sunshine. I'm all white tank top-tucked into safari coloured high waisted shorts-with vintage light brown belt-and peach coloured nails to greet the sun and revel in its promises of fun to follow...

Give me a little room to get on with concentration

2009-11-06T18:58:00.004+11:00

I have a new-found appreciation for libraries.

Surrounded by others in a similar state of immense anxiety, one finds comfort and solace.

Plus, you can play eye-games with quiet boys with books across the table.

Today I spent all day at the library and it was so much fun, even though I had so many notes to get through.

What I bought today:

- A new nail-polish colour ("Go-Getter" from Kit). Because new colours on your nails refresh your outlook. It's true.

- Ricotta and chicken salad + the most perfect latte

- A book of love poetry. To counteract this growing cynicism.

- A self-help book! For self-helping purposes.

- Floral trainers. Oh yes.

The days were open lately, they went on and on

2009-11-03T13:22:00.004+11:00

Stripes. Florals. Bicycle. Mountain. Need I say more?

Source: Click here.

A Reminder

2009-10-30T09:33:00.002+11:00

What I purchased today.

2009-10-29T23:00:00.003+11:00

- Fake Blood

- Lingerie

- Hayfever tablets

- New Russh mag

Hiatus

2009-10-28T15:53:00.004+11:00

I do so like to scribble (well, type) my daily musings and loves all over this humble little blog but at the moment I am absolutely overwhelmed by planning tea parties and halloween costumes and studying for my exams and whatnot that I have little time to do so...

I just bought the Frankie Photo Album to cheer myself up (studying is getting me down) and it is gorgeous (from what I can tell, I have only had a little peak)...I am using it as motivation. If I can finish these summaries, I will allow myself a proper look. This is the carrot-leading-the-horse technique and it really does work.

a visual list of things to do.

2009-10-21T20:03:00.006+11:00

Study very, very hard for exams

Bake friands and muffins

Grow hair long and free

Keep a notebook full of comforting maxims

Clean out wardrobe and organise it in a control-freak fashion

Give out compliments to people more often. It's nice.

Cheap Lit Kicks

2009-10-15T21:09:00.003+11:00

Was just perusing the Penguin Books site to search their 'Popular Penguins' range. My God, how I love that $9.95 price tag. Honestly, it should be government policy to subside (good) books so that the population may read more. Reading has so many benefits- it sharpens your intellect, exposes one to beauty, challenges one's thoughts, engages the imagination and provides entertainment. Do it in bed, on the train, in the kitchen waiting for your soup to cook...just do it.

My picks include Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (you will DIE of laughter) and the eerie Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde who is by far one my favourite playwrights (he is also excessively amusing).

Innocence

2009-10-11T15:24:00.001+11:00

Bicycles, Ice-Cream, Intimate Handwritten Letters and Brides.

Love is a losing game. Love fashion instead.

2009-10-04T20:01:00.003+11:00

I'm content to romp around this summer with these high-waisted lovers.

They're the kind of shorts you wear for ice-cream outings/make-out sessions/disco dancing/other.

Bath-time

2009-10-01T11:06:00.007+10:00

There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.

Sylvia Plath

A hot bath is the ultimate panacea for every woe. When you're tired/anxious/distraught or just winding down after a big week, a bath is the best thing for the soul. I love Aesop products and beautiful candles dotted around the bathtub and of course, bubbles. Put this divine smelling hair masque in your hair as you relax and your hair will come out soft and clean and smelling like roses (literally).

Loves

2009-09-30T10:41:00.004+10:00

School Blazers and Bare Legs

Beautiful Springtime Flowers

Mustard and gingham combinations

Inside My Diary

2009-09-27T13:56:00.001+10:00

Peace

2009-09-23T11:16:00.003+10:00

Hedi Slimane for Vogue Homme (Japan)

Oh my God.

I need to stop procrastinating.

500 days of Summer

2009-09-21T17:54:00.004+10:00

I am so excited about finally seeing this film.

A cute girl with a cute fringe, a cute boy, young love, kisses in the park...cue joy.

God I want a boy in my life.

Science v Literature

2009-09-18T17:14:00.002+10:00

Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.

Lewis Carroll

Reason and Truth: these are both lovely, solid concepts on which our modern, intellectual age is built on. Science, the Godfather of Reason, saves lives, after all. Forces are very useful. Chemistry is wonderful, certainly. But does truth and reason always deliver happiness? Certainly not! Perhaps this was why, as an adolescent, I gravitated away from the sciences, seduced by the whispers of literature which promised one solid truth: that of beauty. Words, give me words, my soul cried out in high school and let me not be subjected to the crude indifference of mathematical equations (although, I must admit, science boys thrill me to bits, especially those who understand physics, the most romantic of the lot with its forces, its atoms, its Stephen Hawking Radiation, etc).

More and more now, I shun reality and escape into my world of books - some playful, some serious, but always beautiful. Books make you believe in seemingly impossible things like, say, true love - the kind that destiny controls.

So I say, goodbye rationality- hello wild romanticism, hello impossibilities.

Veronika Decides to Die

2009-09-17T09:34:00.002+10:00

Some books can change your life. Veronika Decides to Die is one of them. You wouldn't think so from the morbid title, but this book can resurrect a life. If your soul is crushed, your spirit worn, your will sedated -- pick up this very readable masterpiece from Paulo Coelho and you will find yourself like Lazarus of bible fame, rising back from the dead.

I can guarantee that you will finish it and smile as you ponder all the beauty the world has to offer you - if only you let it.

Junior Boys

2009-09-16T13:03:00.004+10:00

There's a lot of substandard electronic music out there. The two gentlemen above (or should I say 'boys') are in the quality end of the electronica spectrum. I simply cannot wait until they play here in Melbourne in early October - the melodies, lyrics and moods of their songs perfectly encapsulate the way I have been feeling lately. I love the way their songs are so reflective of loss and angst and confusion, possessing a gentle aura of melancholy that is oddly relaxing rather than upsetting.

Leers, cheers, whispers and tears

The final taste before you're taken away

Odds, ends, final amends

It's all right to say it

Just as long as you don't really think so

Junior Boys, 'Parallel Lines'

So stay, what for?
Get lost, hit the floor
Cause there's fire all around
It's in my hands, it's out the door

Springtime, you're gonna wish that we were friends
That we talk, you never feel so sure again
So now, there'll be no lessons, no more cures
'Til you get yours, baby in the end

I'll run, give way
Which face, and whose name?
You're falling, from my eyes
To the bottom, you're all the same

Junior Boys, 'The Equalizer'

It's in the details

2009-09-14T17:35:00.003+10:00

True style is found on the street in a snapshot of an ordinary existence - carrying a great book to the train, a spare pair of heels to work, a bottle of water, paper bags full of new purchases...

Hold Fast to Dreams!

2009-09-12T23:57:00.004+10:00

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow

Langston Hughes, 'Hold Fast to Dreams'

The most important thing in life is to keep a strong mosaic of dreams alive in your head to see you through your every waking moment. Dream of love, of beauty, of friendship and of adventure. Dream in beautiful pastel colours.
Cling to these dreams at all times like a drowning victim to a life raft. Because without them, we are dead.

And remember this: never, ever let anyone take your dreams away from you.

2009-09-10T18:55:00.002+10:00

So I'm sitting in my underwear and an old striped t-shirt and I'm watching Woody Allen's Manhattan (which is amazing and feeding some very big NY dreams) on youtube and eating fresh lentil soup when I should be analysing some archaic economics paper by Alfred Marshall and I feel a level of contentment I haven't felt in months.

Besotted by Cardigans

2009-09-10T10:57:00.004+10:00

The cardigan: feminine, snuggly, easy and cute.

I love this Moschino pearl cardigan (top) because it is something a prim lady would wear to high tea.

The second is by A.P.C Madras and is a cashmere blend. And we all know cashmere is the heaven of all fibres.

Lastly,a cardigan by Comme Des Garcons, seen here on Alexa Chung (who never misses a beat).

I love this

2009-09-09T13:11:00.004+10:00

A big fluffy pink skirt, a glittery bodice and a big black bow

Interpret This

2009-09-07T17:20:00.004+10:00

Life is not unlike a grammatical sentence. It has a beginning and it ends with a period. The words in between are a whole lot of lovely nouns with some joyous active verbs and some boring conjunctions in between. And sometimes life can be ambiguous and confusing, just like language.

Things can always be viewed in different ways. As humans we must interpret and process knowledge that comes before us and your interpretation of such knowledge or events perhaps is invariably influenced by your emotions and your personal perceptions which are the product of circumstances and culture.

Amphibolous sentences, I find, are truly interesting. These are sentences that are grammatically ambiguous so as to lead to two different interpretations, depending on how you look at it. Sort of like that popular visual illusion of the drawing which can be interpreted as an old hag or a fair young woman with a bonnet on her head. For example, consider the sentence 'the courageous boy's friend'. Is the boy courageous, or is the friend?

Anyway, life is ambiguous, just like an amphibolous statement. And when people hurt you, you tend to interpret their actions in the worst possible way. And it fucking sucks.

Lady and the Tramp

2009-09-04T22:07:00.002+10:00

Life Rule Number 1: all men are tramps.

Life Rule Number 2: dress like a lady and turn your nose up at them.

A Golden Afternoon

2009-09-02T15:13:00.004+10:00

There is no greater luxury than cupcakes, a cup of tea, snack-foods and a copy of Lula.

B is for Beautiful

2009-08-31T18:00:00.005+10:00

Have you ever noticed some of the best things in life start with the letter B? From top: boyfriends in beds, braids, booties and books.

sing me to sleep

2009-08-30T21:19:00.002+10:00

in my dreams, time is a friendly comrade that lets you manipulate its hours and its minutes. it allows you to keep it still for a rare, transient moment when you find yourself floating weightlessly in a rapture of delight. in this paused moment hope is technicolored and coruscating.

but then i wake up and

everything

gone

into the wasteland

the past.

One must have sunshine

2009-08-29T19:41:00.002+10:00

Just living is not enough. One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.

Hans Christian Andersen

Favourites

2009-08-28T11:28:00.004+10:00

- Little Black Dresses with details on the back (ties, bows, zips)

- Black over the knee boots

- Cropped motorcycle jackets

Birthday

2009-08-25T10:32:00.004+10:00

It's my Dad's 50th birthday today. Amazing things about birthdays:

- pasted coloured party hats

- birthday cakes and pretty candles

- aesthetically pleasing gift wrapping

- group singing

Spring is beckoning

2009-08-23T18:22:00.005+10:00

It will be Summer -- eventually.
Ladies -- with parasols --
Sauntering Gentlemen -- with Canes --
And little Girls -- with Dolls --

'It will be Summer- Eventually', Emily Dickinson

Arms Full of Bags

2009-08-20T16:35:00.003+10:00

Ode to the Coat

2009-08-20T09:08:00.005+10:00

She was wearing a sheared-raccoon coat, and Lane, walking toward her quickly but with a slow face, reasoned to himself, with suppressed excitement, that he was the only one on the platform who really knew Franny's coat. He remembered that once, in a borrowed car, after kissing Franny for a half hour or so, he had kissed her coat lapel, as though it were a perfectly desirable, organic extension of the person herself.

'Franny and Zooey', J. D. Salinger

I love coats. I love that they become a part of us, like a second skin. They are our protective shields. I also love that you can throw on a great coat and look instantly chic and pulled-together, like Ms Moss here with hair pulled-back into a ballet bun and aviators. Collars are super important in making a jacket. If the collar is ordinary, forget about it.

Bake me a Cake

2009-08-18T22:44:00.008+10:00

I'm no domestic goddess but I do like to bake on occasion. The problem is, the oven in my house has been faulty for the past decade. To get it going, you have to stick your head in it and tentatively hold a match to the gas and pray you don't die. But there's a new oven finally on the way and that means I can cook frittatas and cakes to my heart's content. Now I've gone kitchen crazy. I love the pink kitchenaid range, heart shaped measuring spoons and these beautiful cookbooks pictured above.

Bat for lashes

2009-08-13T19:10:00.003+10:00

For ethereal eyes, these Viktor and Rolf falsies are a dream.

Just a thought

2009-08-13T18:59:00.004+10:00

Realising that nobody loves you is awfully painful but it fills you with a wonder of what it will be like one day when somebody does.

streetstyle

2009-08-12T17:33:00.004+10:00

Being somewhat of a minimalist, I'm not really into the whole Dsquared look which blatantly screams rock'n'roll and wavers on the tacky side of things. But the Fall 2009 collection is fabulous. Headphones, cigarettes and giant takeaway coffee are part of the accessories line-up. It's clearly channelling that Olsen twin "I carry about a million things in my hands whilst I run errands in amazing Balenciaga boots" vibe. Plus, the clothes are a delightful jumble: checks, denim, fur, feathers and animal print.

flower child

2009-08-11T10:05:00.004+10:00

Lately I've taken to watching late-night documentaries and biographies on the History Channel before I go to bed. It's become rather an obsession. Last night was a bio of Roman Polanksi (director of Rosemary's Baby, Macbeth, The Pianist) and his flower-child wife, Sharon Tate who was murdered whilst eight months pregnant. Her end was truly horrific; I cannot imagine the trauma Polanski would have felt burying his beautiful wife and unborn son.

But Sharon Tate lives on as a 60s style icon: she was all big, bouncy, shiny hair, sequined mini-dresses and daring mini-skirts. On her Wedding Day, Tate wore a micro-mini, puff-sleeved, high-collared wedding dress with tiny white flowers woven through her long mane of hair.

It is said that while Sharon Tate loved her designer dresses, she was truly most comfortable simply being barefoot and free: a true L.A flower child.

Unleash the Voyeur

2009-08-10T17:45:00.010+10:00

There is nothing I enjoy more than looking at the contents of other people's bags and wardrobes. Not to mention bookshelves (I judge people by what they read). This may be why people don't invite me into their spaces very often.

Oh Darling

2009-08-09T20:17:00.006+10:00

Wouldn't high tea in this Stepford-influenced floral dress, charming ankle boots and a high bun be a glorious thing to do right now? Tidy slices of cake, cucumber sandwiches, scones with fluffy cream, Earl Grey tea, delicate jugs of milk...

Simply Irresistible

2009-08-06T19:34:00.006+10:00

Simply Irresistible

She's so fine, there's no tellin' where my money went

Simply Irresistible

She's all mine, there's no other way to go

Robert Palmer, 'Simply Irresistible'

I've already expressed my profound love for the little black Preen dress but I will express it again because I put one on lay-by today and it is simply amazing. It's tight. It's black. It references S&M. It's powerful. It makes me feel like I should be swaying my hips whilst pretending to strum an electronic guitar in a Robert Palmer clip. All I need now is some very red lipstick and a pulled-together bun.

morning ritual

2009-08-04T10:17:00.004+10:00

Every morning it is the same. Every morning the colour of the sky that appears in my tiny skylight, a lonely square of a much bigger celestial patchwork quilt, determines the theme of my morning. Every morning I am too eager to sip at my tea only to burn myself and flinch profusely. Every morning I read the news only to feel terrified and fall into a temporary sullenness at the grim nature of the world. Every morning I stand in front of the mirror and coat my lashes in black ink with immense artistry. Every morning I pack my bag full of books and music and headphones and pencils and spare coins for the train and drag myself onto the streets, only to find that they are dead and I am ultimately alone.

I wish I wish I wish

2009-08-04T00:58:00.005+10:00

I wish we could watch sunsets together.

I wish we could fall asleep in a little cocoon and wake-up and eat french toast.

I wish we could read books next to each other.

I wish we could kiss through the night.

I wish we could hold hands in parks.

I wish we could feed ducks by the river.

I wish we could go for long walks wearing warm jackets.

I wish we could belong to each other once again.

I wish it didn't have to end like this.

I wish we could go on and on and be happy.

But wishing doesn't get you anywhere. And so

my only wish is that I don't love you anymore.

Stick to the Routine

2009-08-02T19:04:00.005+10:00

Brilliant people are often very odd and very obsessive. I love this site which documents the daily routines of writers, artists and 'other interesting people'.

I especially like this extract on Karl Lagerfield from the New Yorker:

He spends most of his time in a thousand-square-foot room, at the center of which sat a modern fourposter bed. The posts were made of fluorescent bulbs, and a sable bedspread was strewn with paperbacks and magazines and more iPods. Lagerfeld says that he sleeps seven hours a night in this bed; he also spends considerable time lounging on it during his waking hours, reading and drawing. There was a large desk a few feet away, piled with papers, sketchbooks, magazines, books, newspapers, and art supplies. Lagerfeld complains that his desk kept getting “buried.” To deal with the problem, he recently bought four more desks. They got buried, too.

Next time my own desk gets out of control I think I might just follow Karl and simply buy some more desks. The man really is a genius.

Back to Basics

2009-07-31T09:37:00.006+10:00

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

2009-07-29T19:32:00.001+10:00

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

2009-07-27T19:41:00.009+10:00

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

2009-07-26T21:24:00.002+10:00

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)

2009-07-26T16:51:00.005+10:00

- 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

2009-07-24T10:49:00.004+10:00

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

2009-07-23T10:27:00.005+10:00

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

2009-07-22T11:33:00.005+10:00

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

2009-07-21T15:15:00.002+10:00

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

2009-07-21T10:19:00.006+10:00

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

2009-07-20T20:19:00.004+10:00

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

Jazzy, Baby

2009-07-20T18:53:00.009+10:00

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.

2009-07-19T12:46:00.005+10:00

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

2009-07-19T10:51:00.006+10:00

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.

2009-07-13T19:32:00.000+10:00

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

2009-07-12T18:34:00.001+10:00

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

2009-07-10T13:52:00.000+10:00

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.

2009-07-10T09:46:00.000+10:00

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

2009-07-08T00:07:00.000+10:00

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

2009-07-06T18:26:00.000+10:00

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.

Please leave me alone.

2009-07-05T18:10:00.001+10:00

I guess people are okay. There are some rather pretty boys out there just waiting to be kissed and lots of people who are adorable and silly and generous and comedic and light-hearted and make you feel happy to associate with them.

But sometimes people just suck. Some people make it their business to oppress you, disrespect you, hurt you, etc. I look around sometimes and I just see...sadness. People hurting each other. Continually. When does it stop?

Which got me thinking today, maybe it's a good idea to become a recluse. I mean, it's obviously weird and unnatural and mentally unhealthy. But what if such a radical life change actually brought you happiness? (ie. if you are someone like me, who just seems to feel like associating with other human beings, while nice, inevitably leads to trauma).

A recluse is someone who lives in almost or total solitude. The word 'recluse' derives from the Latin word 'recludere' which means to sequester, to isolate. There have been several famous individuals who have shunned the world in favour of a life of solitude: J. D Salinger (who of course wrote Franny and Zooey and The Catcher in the Rye), John Hughes (Writer/Director of classic 80s teen movies like Pretty in Pink and The Breakfast Club) and Syd Barrett (Pink Floyd singer; his retreat was allegedly the result of too much LSD).

Think of the benefits: complete selfishness, freedom from any expectations, with the exception of those that emanate from yourself, the ability to dedicate endless hours of time to creative pursuits. If you don't have people in your life, then there is nobody who is capable of hurting you.

On second thought, I think I'd rather stay attached to humanity. It just occurred to me that the life of a recluse does not include the possibility of being lovingly held. The prospect of even just a single passionate embrace is worth all the pain in the world.

Beautiful Indolence

2009-07-04T11:12:00.001+10:00

It's good to keep busy, achieve, progress, grow and perfect. But it's also good sometimes to simply do very little. Like a sloth, languidly hanging about in a tree. The mind works best in equilibrium: equal parts leisure to equal parts work. I think most people have the balance wrong. For some, leisure is a myth, for financial woes won't allow the mind and body to rest and engage in hedonistic activities. My worst nightmare is to have to work and work and work and never have time to simply hang about.

I'm quite spoilt in that I have much time available for me to do, well, nothing in particular. It's good to be able to lay about and daydream, have a little nap, read the newspaper for an entire morning. I'm a big fan of doing it in pretty lingerie; it seems to add to the whole sensation.

Baby You Can Drive My Car

2009-07-02T14:38:00.000+10:00

I wish I had a boy-chaffeur to drive me around while I run my errands. I'd sit in the back seat and apply red lipstick from a Chanel compact and not have to worry about observing road rules and watching for oncoming traffic. I like going for drives when you have great music playing and it's sunny or even when it's gloomy outside and it's gloomy in your head and you need to be soothed by a fairly mechanical and rather intuitive activity like driving a car. I like to think when I'm in the car. Sometimes I cry. Once I cried driving home after picking up an awful essay from uni. A kind gentleman in the lane next door to me told me to smile at the traffic lights and all but offered me a tissue.

But on the whole, no, I don't like to drive. I have to fight the temptation to venture far off into space and daydream about pink macaroons and Chloé boots and whatnot in order to ensure my life and the lives of my fellow motorists are preserved.

Got Inspiration?

2009-06-30T16:28:00.001+10:00

According to the dictionary, 'inspiration' is the process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative. While inspiration is of paramount importance to those of us who count ourselves as creative types (writers, designers, artists, flower arrangers, etc), I think every single human being needs to feel inspired in their lives from the time they wake up in the morning to the time they fall into their beds at night. A life without inspiration is a life devoid of any thrill; it is banal, monotonous and thus worthless.

It's not our looks that make us attractive; it's what inspires us. I guess that's what makes creative types so attractive to me over your average office worker; there is a big circus tent of inspired creativity going on in that person's head and you can't help but be attracted to it.

What inspires you? For me, it's literature. Literature that is so powerful and written with such poise and panache that you have to stop and re-read the sentence to fully grasp its brilliance. And of course, other people inspire me. People on the street. Girls who share their charming lives with the world through the 'blog world'. Leith Clark, who is behind Lula. The entire Vogue Paris Crew (Yes, I am rather obsessed by PV).

At the moment I'm most inspired by my own personal strength. Through difficult times, I have learnt that I have within me the capacity to overcome awful, hurtful circumstances -- a strength and courage I never knew existed.

At the end of the day, your biggest inspiration should be yourself.

These Boots Are Made For Walking

2009-06-30T10:58:00.000+10:00

I love boots, in all forms: over the knee, ankle, mid-calf, flat, high heeled, cuban heeled. Suede, leather, shiny, matte, black, olive, tan...

At the moment I am eyeing a pair of Moschino ankle boots that are gold and crazy cool. Gold is a little tacky, granted, but when worn with a skinny minidress and a black leather jacket they would look amazing.

It's the little things.

2009-06-29T23:14:00.000+10:00

I read the news online at least once a day. It always saddens me to find that the main pictorial inset is of a murder, an explosion or some other equally morbid atrocity. But today theage.com.au features the beautiful story of dolphins swimming in the Yarra River here in Melbourne against an anomalous urbanised background: the freeway! What an odd yet lovely contrast.

Little wonders like this put a smile on my face. Other little things that make my soul dance include: listening to ancient opera records, dusty old poetry books, peppermint tea at just the right temperature, window shopping at Le Louvre on Collins Street (always resembles the whimsical French-chic of a spread in Paris Vogue), wearing stripes, receiving messages from friends who tell me their leg is stuck in a vending machine at a train station.

il y a longtemps que je t'aime.

2009-06-27T12:18:00.000+10:00

I saw "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime" over the summer with a friend I'm very fond of over bad coffee and an equally bad gluten free blueberry muffin bought at an eatery in Carlton that is open late. While the snacks left alot to be desired, the movie was incredible. Kristin Scott Thomas flawlessly plays the lead, Juliette, a woman who has spent fifteen years in prison and attempts to rejoin the world. This is obviously no simple task; in the beginning of the film, she is a deadened soul; her trench coat appears creased, awkward, out of place-- as the movie progresses, it straightens out as she slowly enmeshes herself back into society. Only at the very end do we learn of her tragic secret as to why she was imprisoned.

Like most international cinema, it is beautifully and artistically shot. I highly advise anyone to watch this film; its themes are universal in that it addresses loss, love and redemption. It's about being numb and tortured by a memory and feeling your way through life again and all it has to offer. I saw this film six months ago but it still reverberates with me today, especially following the cessation of a long relationship with someone whom I loved very much (and still do). I, just like Juliette, must re-enter a new world (the world of 'just me') as petrifying as it may be; I must learn to live again, to dream, and to love.

me myself + i

2009-06-23T17:32:00.001+10:00

I had my last exam yesterday. I walked my way out of the exam hall along with other streams of young students eager to leave behind the products of their short term memories in exam scriptbooks and ready to embrace freedom and all the wonders it offers: cocktails, movie marathons, baking sessions, dancing, laughing, long promenades. Well that's what I'm looking forward to. Cupcakes with sprinkles and tapas bars and sweet little velvet dresses: All on my to do list for this week.

After the exam, I went for a stroll around the city to do nothing in particular, indifferent in my recent emancipation. Hordes of work people filled the laneways and streets in their monotone uniforms with their sensible black shoes. I didn't feel like eating. I have no appetite. I flicked through the new Lula magazine which absurdly I failed to purchase. I contemplated getting a coffee at Journal on Flinders Lane but they were so busy it seemed an effort. I admired a gypsy band that wasn't playing music but rather discussing their history with a paedestrian. There was an accordion, a tambourine, a guitar and a violin and some other instrument that has escaped the confines of my memory. I thought about buying some fresh flowers but it occured to me that they would soon die and I felt upset. I ended up purchasing two fish; one a pearlescent colour I named Anna Karina and a black cumbersome fish with a fluffy tail and big goggly eyes that I named Godard. They joined the fish tank with my other fish - Fish.

I transported my new-found aquatic friends back home on a mostly empty carriage and attempted a crossword but the clues were obscure and I couldn't think anymore and I gave up.

Stream of Consciousness

2009-06-21T19:04:00.001+10:00

The rain makes a sound on my sky-window that comforts me. It falls evenly and consistently and I like this reliability. My head is pounding as if there is a sharp little hammer inside my cerebrum tap-tap-tapping away above my eyelids and on my temple. Add to this repertoire the fast beating of my heartbeat (which is for the most part, beating unevenly, fluttering like a delicate little papillon above flowers in a meadow) and you have a neat little rythm: heartbeats, raindrops and a throbbing head.

You're gone and there is nothing I can do about it.

I want to read everything. I want to read every beautiful goddamn word that every talented writer in the world has ever written. I want to find beauty everywhere and feel nourished to combat this famine. I want to know that beauty exists outside of your countenance and your spirit.

I want to write poetry. Not stupid, lame poetry, but poetry that is armed with unbelievable feeling and conviction. I think I can do that now, now that I know what it feels like to long for something -- someone -- or rather, an image of someone that you once loved, that changed into someone who could not be touched by affection nor moved by adoration.

I just want to feel better.

2009-06-21T16:52:00.000+10:00

you just keep me hanging on

2009-06-20T13:56:00.000+10:00

Set me free why don't you baby

Get out of my life why don't you baby

You really don't want me child

You just keep me hanging on

You never, never, never needed me

You just keep me hanging on

You said when we broke up

you just wanted to be friends

Tell me, how can we still be friends

when seeing you just breaks my heart again

and there ain't nothing I can do about it

Motown has a crafty way of expressing human sentiment, does it not? God bless The Supremes for expressing what I am feeling right now in a popular rhythm. Did you know rhythm is the only word in the English language that is made up of purely consants? Good to know in case you are on a game show or sexually attracted to an English nerd like me who loves trivia like that.

Back to what I was saying - yes, motown, pain, longing, distress, losing people, ejecting people, deleting people - I didn't go that far did I to cover all those sentiments. Well I am feeling them all.

I don't know what to do with myself anymore. I keep thinking of this one fucking e.e.cummings poem that tears me apart. DAMN YOU E.E.CUMMINGS.

The Midnight Garden

2009-06-14T19:27:00.000+10:00

This shot reminds me of dizzingly romantic summer nights out in beautiful gardens playing hide-and-seek, where the prize is a voluptuous kiss.

flavours

2009-06-12T20:23:00.000+10:00

I had chargrilled octopus yesterday with a smooth glass of red wine and olive crostini. Amazing. And now I am eating the most succulent oranges. Olives, seafood and citrus food. Decadent.

Oh and I just purchased the most fine cropped bomber leather jacket. The colour is a lovely tan and the leather is oh so buttery soft. I could just stroke it forever, as it if were some sort of luxurious cat. And it was nearly half price too; Doubly exciting!

I am in good spirits surrounded by some lovely taste and touch sensations.

Love is...

2009-06-10T22:31:00.001+10:00

Rather quite stressful in my opinion. So many opportunities to feel anxious, frustrated, perturbed...

I should be studying....

2009-06-10T11:29:00.000+10:00

But there are just so many more interesting things to do...

Studded Heels and Sequined Dresses.

2009-06-09T20:18:00.001+10:00

Fuschia YSL Heels, dresses that sparkle, frivolous wardrobe spaces and a plain white tee tucked into a sexy little Balmain skirt.

Beautiful.

Les Fleurs

2009-06-05T22:57:00.000+10:00

There are always flowers for those who want to see them.

Henri Matisse

Oh Sofia

2009-06-05T16:11:00.001+10:00

What would you prefer to see in a campaign for a luxury brand: a model who, while beautiful, really doesn't achieve anything by pouting in front of a camera -- or, an interesting, creative, intelligent woman like Sofia Coppola? I know where my preference lies. I love Sofia. I love her for Lost in Translation. I love her for The Virgin Suicides. I love her for creating the wildly flamboyant sets in Marie Antoinette, and the dreaminess she inspires in the Dior advertisement for Miss Dior Cherie. And I love the roomy black bag with the strap she has created for Louis Vuitton! It is the perfect day bag. I'm not really a fan of the LV classic canvas monogram but somehow this shoot makes me like it (the top four shots). The little personal touches - the vase of flowers, the camera, the bookshelf- give it a sense of intimacy and accessibility, far removed from the world of cold and static high-fashion advertisements.

Love Minus Zero/No Limit

2009-06-04T12:24:00.000+10:00

Watching this clip makes me oh so happy. My love, she speaks like silence/without ideals or violence ...

Bob Dylan playing Love Minus Zero/No Limit

Chloe Delights

2009-06-04T10:48:00.000+10:00

I quite like what Hanna MacGibbon is doing with Chloe these days. I like the palette, for starters; the mushroom coloured boots, the caramel of the shorts, the luxurious mother-of-pearl of those slacks. Have a closer look at the ankle boots; the beauty is in the details. I love the way they lace up and fold back to reveal a beautiful contrast between the mushroom and the caramel. I think the look is quite grown up, with a dash of that classic playful Chloe-ness that girls have come to adore over the past few years.

Une Fille Un Style: Paris Vogue

2009-06-03T17:40:00.000+10:00

The Paris Vogue site has a lovely little section entitled ‘Une fille un style’ in which famed blogger Garance Doré snaps charming ladies in their natural habitat: journalists, musicians, stylists… These pictures are of Daphné Bürki who is a journalist in France. I love the interior of that leather jacket; the pairing of sequins with stripes, and the beautiful silk dresses.

Click here to see more.

Beautiful Spaces

2009-06-01T13:01:00.000+10:00

What’s a defining feature of entering your twenties?

Dreaming about owning property.

The idea of rent bugs me, owing to its precarious nature. If I am living on land, I want it to be my own. Perhaps I am just a capitalist, aiming to hover above the proletariat. But I think it is more that I like to fully own things, rather than just possess them. The same goes with books. While book-swapping is certainly enjoyable, economical and practical, I rather like to own my books, feel free to crease the pages, not have a heart-attack if I spill tea on a page, underline certain passages that are particularly overwhelming.

I've posted some lover-ly interiors above.

Becoming a Hermit During Exam Time

2009-05-30T18:05:00.000+10:00

While I enjoy reading, writing and learning, I absolutely abhor exam season. It is just such an unnatural period in one’s life; constant streams of cortisol running through my student veins, sleep deprivation, rapidly declining eyesight, shoulder/back pain from sitting at my laptop like I am the hunchback of Notre Dame, lack of social contact which renders one a hermit of sorts—the list goes on.

The worst part is that I always reassure myself that ‘This is the last time I will be so unprepared. Next time, I will not be stressed because I will be ready.’ Well, I have let myself down for the 100^th Semester in a row.

I can’t wait to repossess my normal brain activities, like thinking idly, instead of frantically summarising and making checklists of every bit of information that comes before me.

The Striped Tee

2009-05-29T08:38:00.000+10:00

Vintage

Modern

I have long been an advocate. A classic look: see pics above.

I'm always on the hunt for the perfect striped tee. Not too tight, not too loose. That elusive 'worn-in' look.

Obsessions.

2009-05-28T19:46:00.000+10:00

Mazzy Star (“Fade Into You”, “Look on Down from the Bridge”, “Into Dust”)
Anna Karina
Hot baths, taken alongside steaming green tea and Japanese Russh
Kissing
ID Magazine
Art galleries
Taking pictures
Coffee in the mornings

Phoenix Love

2009-05-26T19:07:00.001+10:00

I just bought tickets to see them play in August. This is very, very exciting.

Ballet Flats and Blake

2009-05-25T15:59:00.000+10:00

The sky outside is grey, occasionally tumbling down raindrops on our humble human heads. I’m dreaming of whimsical prose and conversations with mystic people, like William Blake. Imagine meeting William Blake, and even better, sharing afternoon tea with him. What stories he would have to tell over earl grey tea and coconut macaroons.

And Ballet flats. I’m dreaming of the perfect pair. And I think I may have found them; Bloch. Their soles are flexible yet sturdier than Salvios. I like the black and white two-tone shoe (very Chanel). I also like them in plain old navy.

And finally, I am contemplating love and its impermanence. Carrying on loving when you can see the end in sight. Forbidden love. Emotional love. Erotic love. Unrequited love. Love comes in so many forms. Me, I love to love love, in its all its species. It trumps every other emotion in my opinion.

Grey, melancholy days always make me think.

Preened & Perfect

2009-05-24T18:24:00.000+10:00

A couple of months ago, I tried a Preen dress on at Marais, here in Melbourne. The shape was amazing. It was a sort of tulip shape, with a cutout pattern on the neck and on the back. Excuse the poor description. The point is, I loved its shape. An example of perfect tailoring. These two dresses on netaporter.com are completely lustworthy. I especially love the detail on the S&M inspired little number. I love it: it’s sexy and brazen. Only a girl with some serious attitude could pull it off.