I am SO sick of summer. Really, I know I say this every season, but it's just going on too long. I'm sick of dresses and short and singlets. My arms are getting tired of being out and about in the air all the time, and I keep having to shave my legs and cut my toenails and do all these preposterous things. Oh, and I had to dye my hair lighter because it told me it felt a little drab in the sunshine! How rude is that. But, if there is one thing I would like to celebrate this summer, it would have to be the return of the one-piece bikini. No, in fact let me extend this further and note that the return of Creative Beachwear has frankly made me all jelliod at the knees. Since the 21st century knocked on our doors with its millennium bug and its Generation Z, bikini's have been getting smaller and smaller and smaller. In fact, at one point they seemed to have disappeared up women's asses altogether, which was not a pretty sight. And these 'Brazilian bikinis' were so drab - you just couldn't fit anything exciting or cute on those little inches of stretch latex. But, oh what a revolution has taken place! Suddenly, fashion labels and swimwear creators have begun to re-embrace the wonderful 50's figure - those waist-hugging, breast-enhancing, sex-symbol creating one pieces that glorified a generation stimulated by a new world order. I'm talking Marilyn Monroe versus Pamela Anderson here people, and there are no prizes for guessing who has won this years bikini girl contest. Just check out the lines by Carla Zampatti, Hotel Bondi Swim and my favourite, Zoe Elizabeth. And on a similar note, I have begun to notice a change in the way young girls are dressing on a day to day basis. It seems that the less-is-more rule has been dropped in many cases in favour of pretty fabrics, sheer, waisted dresses and high waisted shorts with cute printed singlets. Ok, so I still see trillions of girls out at night in next to nothing, but we all know it's going to take more than one season of demurity to change the way women dress for the men they want to impress. My mantra has always been dress in what fits you best (though just because your bandage dress fits under your rolley bits doesn't mean it Fits).
Anyway, that's enough about my love of all things somewhat resembling Ms Monroe. And...onto my excitement at the first glimpses of Autumn/Winter 09. It looks like the jacket and coat are Big feature pieces, and will be re-created by many a label this season. See beautiful Australian label Lover for inspiration in that department. There also seems to be a leaning towards quality, simple pieces matched with outrageous accessories - no doubt a reflection of these tough economic times. If you can't afford the bling, you know what they say - Fake it till you Make it! But god, you've got to love fashion's durability in these tough times. Remember Christian Dior's fresh take on fashion post-WWII? His clothing practically personified the world's move away from destruction and devastation to new growth and a new world order. And though its terrible to see the world suffering as it is right now, I think we should think positively, and remember that everything in life has its ups and downs. I think a lot of people of my generation don't understand, and are generally in shock about the recession, because we have lived in a state of prosperity for so long. We Generation Y's and X's have never really seen what it means for the world to fall down upon itself, and so we cannot comprehend that it has happened before, that people have been through worse, and survived. I also find it so naive that people go about saying "I wish I voted for Liberal, because then we wouldn't be in a recession. It's all Kevin Rudd's fault." As if suddenly, the world economy rests on his shoulders. As if they could do a better job.
So many beautiful moments blossom from the struggle to overcome hardships, and from the feeling at the end, when the world feels new again.
Bird xx
Monday, February 16, 2009
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
New adorations. You need only read points 1 + 2, the rest is irrelevent
It's four o'clock in the morning, but I just have to express my adoration for several things, right now.
1. My newest reality TV obsession, Stylista. If I hadn't taken my sister's advice and youtubed this show, I don't know where I'd be right now. Probably sleeping. But seriously, this show incorporates ALL my favourite things, i.e.: Hilarious confrontations between obnoxious people, totally unrealistic 'challenges' that seem so easy and are yet so hard and of course, the possibility of dreaming about a show that combines a highly coveted fashion job and Absolutely No Previous Experience Required. It's like my dream job, all fun and no work! (I know this job doesn't exist, but if it did, It would have my lazy-assed name written all over it.)
2. The Time Warp. Context: It's a beautiful night, and a group of lovely girls and myself have just had dinner and now we feel the need to totter off to a public house for a round of drinky-poo's. Our pick of the night, Supermild, was closed for a private function ("excuse me, I'm on the list my name is.....ummmm....Jane Brown" didn't quite work) and so we landed in The Worldsend. Obviously not literally, but je-sus it might as well be, if all the end of the world is lacking is some atmosphere. But we needed wine. And seating, and other friends found this somewhat unassuming pub a pleasant place. SO, how does the Time Warp get involved I hear you all ask. WELL, we found the lack of entertaining music didn't lend a sense of atmosphere or fun to our drinking house of choice......so, we made our own. Oh yes, what lovely catcalls, the sound of four tipsy girls roaring 'Mamma Mia', 'My Sharona' and 'I Will Survive' at the top of their lungs. Ah, but the icing on the cupcake was the Time Warp. Complete with actions, hip thrusts and disapproving looks from other friends, we chorused along. And then, oh it was like a musical in real life.....other tables of COMPLETELY RANDOM PEOPLE joined in. YES. PEOPLE in a pub, singing and thrusting together. And not just in disarray. Image, if you will, someone from the left of the beer garden begins with "its just a jump to the left" and then someone from Another Table yells "and a step to the right!" oh, it was glorious. Pure Gold. I will be writing to our PM Kevin07 tomorrow to discuss the conciliatory nature of a chorus of The Time Warp. It could solve all of the world's problems.
3. Do I have a number three? No, actually I have only put it here because otherwise, I would've had to start this post by saying I wanted to express my adoration for a couple of things, which doesn't sound nearly as exciting as several things.
4. And by the way three things is a few, so here in spot four I will discuss my love of high waisted underwear. Tonight, for the first time, I stepped out in a pair of lovely, white, silky high waisted pantaloons. And they are damn fine sexy little fuckers. Ok, ok I was also wearing my very lovely skirt over the top, but these gift-from-god knickers held all my lumpy bits at bay, while being extremely comfortable and made by Bonds. Could I ask for more? Dear god, I think not.
5. Five makes several. Phew, thought I'd never get there. And so I will take point five to say, I would like to go out more in order to wear all the preposterously unwearable clothes in my wardrobe. Well actually they are not unwearable but unfortunately, how much wear can a uni student/waitress get out of a floor length white dress with gold embroidery? or a teeny, weeny shorty white layered dress? And why is everyday clothing SO BORING??? I would like to wear my pretty pretty dresses everywhere. But then, they would cease to be special and so, ladies and gentlemen, this is my predicament. Holy, I lead a terribly stressful life, non?
6. Oh god, No, no more numbers. This is the end, its very late and I'm to bed before my elbow becomes my brain, and visa-versa.
Adios, Amigo!
xx Bird
1. My newest reality TV obsession, Stylista. If I hadn't taken my sister's advice and youtubed this show, I don't know where I'd be right now. Probably sleeping. But seriously, this show incorporates ALL my favourite things, i.e.: Hilarious confrontations between obnoxious people, totally unrealistic 'challenges' that seem so easy and are yet so hard and of course, the possibility of dreaming about a show that combines a highly coveted fashion job and Absolutely No Previous Experience Required. It's like my dream job, all fun and no work! (I know this job doesn't exist, but if it did, It would have my lazy-assed name written all over it.)
2. The Time Warp. Context: It's a beautiful night, and a group of lovely girls and myself have just had dinner and now we feel the need to totter off to a public house for a round of drinky-poo's. Our pick of the night, Supermild, was closed for a private function ("excuse me, I'm on the list my name is.....ummmm....Jane Brown" didn't quite work) and so we landed in The Worldsend. Obviously not literally, but je-sus it might as well be, if all the end of the world is lacking is some atmosphere. But we needed wine. And seating, and other friends found this somewhat unassuming pub a pleasant place. SO, how does the Time Warp get involved I hear you all ask. WELL, we found the lack of entertaining music didn't lend a sense of atmosphere or fun to our drinking house of choice......so, we made our own. Oh yes, what lovely catcalls, the sound of four tipsy girls roaring 'Mamma Mia', 'My Sharona' and 'I Will Survive' at the top of their lungs. Ah, but the icing on the cupcake was the Time Warp. Complete with actions, hip thrusts and disapproving looks from other friends, we chorused along. And then, oh it was like a musical in real life.....other tables of COMPLETELY RANDOM PEOPLE joined in. YES. PEOPLE in a pub, singing and thrusting together. And not just in disarray. Image, if you will, someone from the left of the beer garden begins with "its just a jump to the left" and then someone from Another Table yells "and a step to the right!" oh, it was glorious. Pure Gold. I will be writing to our PM Kevin07 tomorrow to discuss the conciliatory nature of a chorus of The Time Warp. It could solve all of the world's problems.
3. Do I have a number three? No, actually I have only put it here because otherwise, I would've had to start this post by saying I wanted to express my adoration for a couple of things, which doesn't sound nearly as exciting as several things.
4. And by the way three things is a few, so here in spot four I will discuss my love of high waisted underwear. Tonight, for the first time, I stepped out in a pair of lovely, white, silky high waisted pantaloons. And they are damn fine sexy little fuckers. Ok, ok I was also wearing my very lovely skirt over the top, but these gift-from-god knickers held all my lumpy bits at bay, while being extremely comfortable and made by Bonds. Could I ask for more? Dear god, I think not.
5. Five makes several. Phew, thought I'd never get there. And so I will take point five to say, I would like to go out more in order to wear all the preposterously unwearable clothes in my wardrobe. Well actually they are not unwearable but unfortunately, how much wear can a uni student/waitress get out of a floor length white dress with gold embroidery? or a teeny, weeny shorty white layered dress? And why is everyday clothing SO BORING??? I would like to wear my pretty pretty dresses everywhere. But then, they would cease to be special and so, ladies and gentlemen, this is my predicament. Holy, I lead a terribly stressful life, non?
6. Oh god, No, no more numbers. This is the end, its very late and I'm to bed before my elbow becomes my brain, and visa-versa.
Adios, Amigo!
xx Bird
Monday, November 3, 2008
Ranty Rant rant
ok, i'm having a rant
because really, i'm a little ashamed to be a 20-something girl in this post-modern world. I mean seriously, where did a little class, as opposed to a little ass, go??
I am getting SICK and TIRED of seeing multitudes of young girls running about on friday and saturday nights (and practically every other night in between) in what appears to be either a series of bandages wrapped precariously across their nether regions, or a brightly painted paper bag. Ok, i know we are going through a financial crisis and so forth, but surely these girls could save their dwindling dollars by buying less cigarettes, and more clothes? I, for one, would love to see a little je ne se quoi return to the outfits of women. And haven't their friends, mothers or mirrors taught them the rule of legs or tits? *Note: You can either flash your legs or your tits on a night out. DO NOT put both out there, or they may have their own party and leave you sitting on the sidewalk in a puddle of your own innards.*
But enough.
I have more important things to worry about.
Like cheap fabrics. This is another of my pet hates, rating somewhere in between lack of clothing on young women (no.1) and drunken cigarette smoking (no.3). Because, if you insist on wearing next to nothing when you venture out ladies, surely the least you could do for humanity is dress in something that isn't shiny, overly bright or obviously going to shrink when you wash the beer stains out tomorrow. Do I ask too much? Obviously, considering the number of women I witness committing acts 1-3 on my list.
Ok, ok, so I am not perfect. I was once the rather proud owner of several outfits from Supre and the now extinct Deborah K. But I was 13, people. 13! I was still going to my primary school discos, buying cans of soft drink and attempting to pretend I was not taller than all of the boys. I was not a legal adult, I cannot be blamed for my blatant lack of knowledge. But you, little lady who IS overage, you are to blame for your outfit of shame.
And girls, please, understand that not all fashions are going to suit you. Lets discuss the bandage dress, i.e. a dress that is designed to look as if it has been wrapped around your body in a style akin to that of bandaging yourself (obviously, without the usual blood and such). This dress looks good on Meagan Gale lookalikes. It does not look good if you are a. carrying any extra winter warmth fat (totally normal and sweetly squishy) b. naturally a little tubsies or c. have giant titties. Sorry to offend, but we all must face the facts. This does not mean that us girls who are not on MG's level look horrid in everything, it means that we need to stop, pause and rewind when choosing between the too-tight dress, and the flattering outfit. And choose the flattering outfit. Who cares if your size 6 friend is currently squeezing her little bobby ass into some sham of an outfit? Dare to step away from the trend and into something that is truly timeless and suits your body.
While we are on the subject, what is with the return of the flared jean? Yes, I understand that we are currently going through a 70's revival, and I can deal with the fringed bag in tan pleather, the return of the paisley shirt and the roman sandal (ok, I like the sandals), but why oh why must we do the flare again? Surely all that extra fabric that is flapping around your ankle could make outfits for starving children? or better pants? And why is it flapping there anyway? Are your ankles so fat that they need to hide in your fat-bottomed pants? And for anyone with a higher hip to waist ratio than Kate Moss (i.e. 85% of the population) these pants simply make your hips look bigger. Yes, bigger. I have no problem with the straight leg pants for those ladies who like a little room to move, but the flare has no right to return to the wardrobe of the innocent buyer. No, no it does not. Tuck your paisley shirt and your fringed vest into a pair of skinnies love, and update to the noughties. Because really, flares belong with power suits....in the giant 'no returns' skip-o-life.
Oh god, this post is bringing up so many spiteful hates in me. I sound like a right pratty fashion frocker. So I will end by saying that, you, girl I saw last week in that sexy vintage frock, with your curves and your curls......Hola to you love! You looked smokin'!
xx
Bird
because really, i'm a little ashamed to be a 20-something girl in this post-modern world. I mean seriously, where did a little class, as opposed to a little ass, go??
I am getting SICK and TIRED of seeing multitudes of young girls running about on friday and saturday nights (and practically every other night in between) in what appears to be either a series of bandages wrapped precariously across their nether regions, or a brightly painted paper bag. Ok, i know we are going through a financial crisis and so forth, but surely these girls could save their dwindling dollars by buying less cigarettes, and more clothes? I, for one, would love to see a little je ne se quoi return to the outfits of women. And haven't their friends, mothers or mirrors taught them the rule of legs or tits? *Note: You can either flash your legs or your tits on a night out. DO NOT put both out there, or they may have their own party and leave you sitting on the sidewalk in a puddle of your own innards.*
But enough.
I have more important things to worry about.
Like cheap fabrics. This is another of my pet hates, rating somewhere in between lack of clothing on young women (no.1) and drunken cigarette smoking (no.3). Because, if you insist on wearing next to nothing when you venture out ladies, surely the least you could do for humanity is dress in something that isn't shiny, overly bright or obviously going to shrink when you wash the beer stains out tomorrow. Do I ask too much? Obviously, considering the number of women I witness committing acts 1-3 on my list.
Ok, ok, so I am not perfect. I was once the rather proud owner of several outfits from Supre and the now extinct Deborah K. But I was 13, people. 13! I was still going to my primary school discos, buying cans of soft drink and attempting to pretend I was not taller than all of the boys. I was not a legal adult, I cannot be blamed for my blatant lack of knowledge. But you, little lady who IS overage, you are to blame for your outfit of shame.
And girls, please, understand that not all fashions are going to suit you. Lets discuss the bandage dress, i.e. a dress that is designed to look as if it has been wrapped around your body in a style akin to that of bandaging yourself (obviously, without the usual blood and such). This dress looks good on Meagan Gale lookalikes. It does not look good if you are a. carrying any extra winter warmth fat (totally normal and sweetly squishy) b. naturally a little tubsies or c. have giant titties. Sorry to offend, but we all must face the facts. This does not mean that us girls who are not on MG's level look horrid in everything, it means that we need to stop, pause and rewind when choosing between the too-tight dress, and the flattering outfit. And choose the flattering outfit. Who cares if your size 6 friend is currently squeezing her little bobby ass into some sham of an outfit? Dare to step away from the trend and into something that is truly timeless and suits your body.
While we are on the subject, what is with the return of the flared jean? Yes, I understand that we are currently going through a 70's revival, and I can deal with the fringed bag in tan pleather, the return of the paisley shirt and the roman sandal (ok, I like the sandals), but why oh why must we do the flare again? Surely all that extra fabric that is flapping around your ankle could make outfits for starving children? or better pants? And why is it flapping there anyway? Are your ankles so fat that they need to hide in your fat-bottomed pants? And for anyone with a higher hip to waist ratio than Kate Moss (i.e. 85% of the population) these pants simply make your hips look bigger. Yes, bigger. I have no problem with the straight leg pants for those ladies who like a little room to move, but the flare has no right to return to the wardrobe of the innocent buyer. No, no it does not. Tuck your paisley shirt and your fringed vest into a pair of skinnies love, and update to the noughties. Because really, flares belong with power suits....in the giant 'no returns' skip-o-life.
Oh god, this post is bringing up so many spiteful hates in me. I sound like a right pratty fashion frocker. So I will end by saying that, you, girl I saw last week in that sexy vintage frock, with your curves and your curls......Hola to you love! You looked smokin'!
xx
Bird
Monday, October 6, 2008
a new blog, a dream + a fear
...and so, I've started a blog. Seduced, finally, by trawling through all the interesting blogs on offer and thinking "I could do this". To tell the whole truth, I created this space almost two months ago, but its just been sitting and waiting for me to write something. And I'm scared, oddly, because what if what I write isn't good enough? This is rather ridiculous, obviously, because I probably will be the only person to read it, considering I'm not going to tell people about it. So why do I care? Its a moot point.
Back to uni tomorrow...not that I feel Anything about this, whatsoever.
I had a dream the other night. I was in a small town, in the middle of the afternoon and the sun was high in the sky and everything shone. But as the shadows grew longer, the people around me began to change; their clothes became an odd assortment of tea-cosy hats and scarves and long johns, and the fear in the air grew and grew until it was as palatable as the salty sea air. At first I couldn't see it, lurking in the shadows near my feet. But as soon as my body fell within that line, the one between light and shade, its tiny, pointed head would rise and its body would glide towards me through the grey. And I knew, somehow I knew, that if it caught me, I was dead. The snake haunted everyone, in their dreams and their waking hours. In the sun, they learnt to fear the shadows. It took me awhile to discover that the inhabitants dress code was necessary, not decorative. Because if the snake didn't recognise its prey, it couldn't hunt, and so the clothes stores and the op-shops were pillaged for disguises. As night began to fall, I took the main road out of the town, running away from certain death. But as I turned the corner, the town appeared again. I was on a ring-road:no way in, no way out. And I suddenly realised, that this is what my life has become - hiding from the shadows, seeking disguises, seeking alternatives, running to escape the only world I knew.
And then, of course, I woke up.
Do you ever have those dreams where you are asleep, but in the dream you think you're awake? You're having a dream and then you wake up, but you're not actually awake, you're just awake within the whole dream. It happens to me all the time, and sometimes when I do wake up, in the real world, I wonder how much of it is real, or if it's another dream within a dream. If I'll ever wake from this dream, to find a whole other world I've been hiding from all this time. Like the whole "what if the universe is simply a speck hanging from a dragons tooth" theory. Dreams within dreams, realities within realities - I wouldn't half mind, truthfully, because then there would be a whole other universe to explore, like those in the fantasy books I devoured as a kid.
Maybe, dear reader who doesn't exist, you're wondering why I'm "a bird in a cage"? There are stories, about birds who don't realise they're caged, or birds who like the confines; who when released don't like the real world and want only to return to their small world within a world. I was in a play at high school called The Cagebirds (David Campton). It told the story of seven metaphoric 'birds' trapped in a cage by their 'mistress'. Each character had an obsession, and a name relating to it: Gossip, Gazer, Thump, Gloom etc. and their minds were not active outside of their obsessions and their blind obedience of 'mistress'. And then 'the wild one' enters their cage, and she's full of fire and ideas of freedom. And she opens the cage door, and welcomes the others to join her outside, in the air and sunshine. But stone walls do not maketh a prison, and in their minds the fear of the unknown is greater than imprisonment itself. So they kill The Wild One and return to their imprisoned state.
I'm scared this is what I have become. Like a bird in a cage, I could fly away and be anything other that what I am. But what if its too hard, or I don't like it, or it hurts or is sad or it kills me? Isn't it better to stay where I'm safe, rather than risk the unknown? I don't know. And so, like a bird in a cage, sometimes I feel a little giddy.
Bird xx
(by the way, I played The Wild One. So maybe I will break away.....)
Back to uni tomorrow...not that I feel Anything about this, whatsoever.
I had a dream the other night. I was in a small town, in the middle of the afternoon and the sun was high in the sky and everything shone. But as the shadows grew longer, the people around me began to change; their clothes became an odd assortment of tea-cosy hats and scarves and long johns, and the fear in the air grew and grew until it was as palatable as the salty sea air. At first I couldn't see it, lurking in the shadows near my feet. But as soon as my body fell within that line, the one between light and shade, its tiny, pointed head would rise and its body would glide towards me through the grey. And I knew, somehow I knew, that if it caught me, I was dead. The snake haunted everyone, in their dreams and their waking hours. In the sun, they learnt to fear the shadows. It took me awhile to discover that the inhabitants dress code was necessary, not decorative. Because if the snake didn't recognise its prey, it couldn't hunt, and so the clothes stores and the op-shops were pillaged for disguises. As night began to fall, I took the main road out of the town, running away from certain death. But as I turned the corner, the town appeared again. I was on a ring-road:no way in, no way out. And I suddenly realised, that this is what my life has become - hiding from the shadows, seeking disguises, seeking alternatives, running to escape the only world I knew.
And then, of course, I woke up.
Do you ever have those dreams where you are asleep, but in the dream you think you're awake? You're having a dream and then you wake up, but you're not actually awake, you're just awake within the whole dream. It happens to me all the time, and sometimes when I do wake up, in the real world, I wonder how much of it is real, or if it's another dream within a dream. If I'll ever wake from this dream, to find a whole other world I've been hiding from all this time. Like the whole "what if the universe is simply a speck hanging from a dragons tooth" theory. Dreams within dreams, realities within realities - I wouldn't half mind, truthfully, because then there would be a whole other universe to explore, like those in the fantasy books I devoured as a kid.
Maybe, dear reader who doesn't exist, you're wondering why I'm "a bird in a cage"? There are stories, about birds who don't realise they're caged, or birds who like the confines; who when released don't like the real world and want only to return to their small world within a world. I was in a play at high school called The Cagebirds (David Campton). It told the story of seven metaphoric 'birds' trapped in a cage by their 'mistress'. Each character had an obsession, and a name relating to it: Gossip, Gazer, Thump, Gloom etc. and their minds were not active outside of their obsessions and their blind obedience of 'mistress'. And then 'the wild one' enters their cage, and she's full of fire and ideas of freedom. And she opens the cage door, and welcomes the others to join her outside, in the air and sunshine. But stone walls do not maketh a prison, and in their minds the fear of the unknown is greater than imprisonment itself. So they kill The Wild One and return to their imprisoned state.
I'm scared this is what I have become. Like a bird in a cage, I could fly away and be anything other that what I am. But what if its too hard, or I don't like it, or it hurts or is sad or it kills me? Isn't it better to stay where I'm safe, rather than risk the unknown? I don't know. And so, like a bird in a cage, sometimes I feel a little giddy.
Bird xx
(by the way, I played The Wild One. So maybe I will break away.....)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
