November 28, 2013

Little feet

I am on Castaway island in the wild and vast ocean of the blogosphere. What's happening in the world and why have I not written anything in that long? My organs are twitchy and lightning bolts are firing out my finger tips.
I'm on a plane right now and may or may not be thinking about changing my name after witnessing this very morning through the airport speaker system that, yes, no lies at all, a guy named "Cameron Curly" indeed exists and deciding that he has the best super hero-esque name in the history of gay hairdressers.
I'm contemplating between the following potential new names:
Marni Marbles
Coraline Charcoal
Astra Alkaline
Tori Tarantula
Peter Posh. Because people say I kind of look like a posh Peter. (scratches non existant chin beard)
Reader suggestions are welcome.
There are another seven flights for me to take this year. Seven. I am trying to sum up the annual total and am both curious and terrified about finding out just how much time I've spent mostly unpaid in metal transportation tubes or waiting for metal transportation tubes. My long haul flight doesn't count because awesome destination and no work.
People who air travel to work are a separate breed. You can easily filter them from the rest of the airport crowd. They pack lightly, look polished and ready for business at 4 am, lack excitement, their eyes are tired and empty and you can sense capitulation. We've made peace with the fact that flights are no longer synonymous to vacations, rest, relaxation and exploration. They don't mean newness, socialicing, adventure. They mean business, and they make a work day just that little bit (9 hrs last week) longer. They mean lonliness, homelessness, anonymity, disconnection.
We air travellers (that term reminds me of air benders and oh goddamnit I wish I could air bend Avatar style right now) don't have time for your shitty packing skills. We have our aerosols and laptops out so as to avoid any hold ups at the screening points, in order to place our coffee order just in time to get through half, then throw it and hope our bowels move quick enough before the final boarding call. Noone wants to poop on a plane. We don't go "ooo ahh ahaa smile smile okaaay" when we get chosen for that damn explosions test. We walk quickly, avoid small talk, we know our seat number and where exactly that seat is located before we enter that 737-800. We know that there is a thing called 'plane etiquette', which includes knowing that just because you got up as soon as the seat belt sign was switched off, you are still to wait until every row in front of you has gotten their shit together and not just squeeze past and force them to fall back into their seats when attempting to disembark. Pet hate right there. It's row by row, for crying out loud. We know getting up before the seatbelt sign is switched off will NOT get you off the plane any quicker. It will only agitate your cabin crew, mate. We know that not getting up and forcing your neighbouring seat mate to crawl over your lap whenever they want to get up is raa-huude! Ageing lady next to me reading The Hunger Games, take note! We ask the dude in the window seat if we can pass him down his luggage, to make life a little easier.
I guess it's pedantic on my side to pick up on these things. But seriously peeps, learn how to fly!
Now here's an unrelated hotel room selfie.

November 17, 2013

Austria Shopping diary

A little late but better than never - here's a quick rundown of some of the fabulous things I picked up whilst in Austria six weeks ago.
I went nuts at Zara and am already anticipating the opening of Zara in Brisbane (albeit dreading the crazy Aussie price tags). For the first time in my life I've done what I'd call 'sensible shopping', buying a few statement pieces, a few basics and workout gear and only three pairs of shoes - one as an emergency pair for a wedding, a pair of Nike Free Runs and one pair of ridiculous Bershka heels I adored and snatched up without hesitation (they're now reduced so get in quick if you're equally as obsessed as I am).  I usually buy ridiculous stuff whilst on holidays so this was definitely a personal victory in the 'stupid-consumerism' department.
One of my first purchases however wasn't fashion related - I went and stormed the MAC cosmetics counter asap and got some foundation, concealer and powder sorted. MAC is around 30 % cheaper in Austria compared to Australia, so I took advantage of that and stocked up on a few lipsticks as I went. YAY!
MAC face and body foundation, concealer and prep + prime translucent powder, lipsticks in "Ruby Woo", "Pink Braid" and "Snob"

intricate embellishments and the most interesting fabric made me do it. Also this is a skirt, not a skort. Skorts are for school girls and nanas. EUR 50 from Zara

the world's best skirt shape is back. Makes me feel weirdly mermaid-y. Preferably wear with a bikini top and nothing else. EUR 20 from Zara

hyper transparent and weirdly shapeless, a white body con skirt is kind of a must to wear underneath (it is THAT transparent). I never wear read, but after seeing it on Day One of my holiday and not being able to forget about it, it just had to become mine before I went home. EUR 50 from Zara

This is just an example of Zara doing, what Zara does best - floaty, boob-exposing shirts in seemingly timeless cuts and shapes - EUR 40 from Zara

excuse the change room selfies - I bought both these ankle caressing pants because secretly I'm still hoping to one day wake up and be Elin Kling. EUR 20 each from H&M (not available anymore). Also THIGHS! Starting to love those bastards.
heel-arious. ah, I see what you did there. EUR 40 (now $ 25) from Bershka

November 14, 2013

ISABEL MARANT FOR H&M - What I would buy if I gave a f***

The title says it all. I can't deny having felt very excited about this collaboration at one stage, but the hype has hit saturation point and THIS horrifying tale, which gets me excited in a very bad way (read: Disgustingly over privileged sub-culture who fulfill no real purpose in society), made me un-like the whole spectacle and most of the collection.

There's something so inauthentic about fashion at the moment and it BORES me. The whole "white, straight, skinny, wealthy, privileged" concept is tedious beyond means and I cannot wait for 70 % of the fashion blogosphere to crash and burn. One day. ONE DAY. I just explained to myself why my bloglovin feed piled up to 300 + unread posts. Time to delete some of the airy fairy BS. Current sentiment: resentment.

Moving on to the collection - a lot of it is just fluff and poorly shaped silk pieces. Especially the skirts and dresses, usually a no-brainer for this butt-flashing lover, I'm not impressed with. Just typing these words made me feel like the wrath of the fashionistas is going to come upon me. The horsemen of the Apocalypse are trotting my way in fringed boots and oversized blazers.

At age 10 I went to visit extended family in Romania and, I kid you not, saw coats and pullovers at the Gypsy markets almost identical to the ones spotted in the Marant collection.
Some of the sweaters resemble those hideous Merino sweaters you can buy at any New Zealand Sunday farmers market. I'll make this observation a short and sweet one: WHY????
Like, I get it. Paired with the right outfit these pieces might stand out or be a uber-witty sarcastic ode to hipsters' parents' poor upbringing or something, but overall it's not a style I think anyone would rip off shop floors, if it wasn't for the label and/or expensive marketing campaign.

I'm not sure if I am the first to make this observation, but H&M sure know how to do designer collaborations REALLY well. And by saying that I mean they always, ALWAYS tend to bring out their own nifty little versions of the designer collections' best sellers about 6 months after its initial launch. For a third of the price. I mean it. Identical. That's what I call clever recycling. Of other people's brain juices, that is.

But, in all honesty, there are some pieces I wouldn't mind calling my own at some stage in my life, and if it's just to add some Parisienne finesse to my anglicized personality:

The Brigitte Bardot hooker hat had to be in my most wanted items. Paired with a pair of white embroidered jeans that scream "Marant" from two miles away. The fluffy knit with 3/4 sleeves can go with either the jeans or hooker leather pants (sarcasm aside the knee patch and overall detailing on these is divine), so can this white intricate knit (I'd wear this with black half-sheer stockings for a Nineties vibe). A metal scarf is on there too, because hey, it's a freaking metal scarf and I'm in the most humid part of the world I've ever been and the potential feels of it on my skin just seems like the coolest thing right now. Bad puns in every post people. You can't escape them. I also had one of these thin metal-y scarves back in 2004 and paired it with the most horrendously coloured polka dot singlets I could find at - and this is where the vicious circle closes - trusty old Hennes and Mauritz.

What are your picks? Will you wait around for H&M's sneaky follow up "I STEALS EVERY DESIGN" (in zombie voice please) collection, like me? Are you over fashion blogs? Are you craving substance? Am I substantial enough?

Ugh, so many questions. I need a shower now.

November 13, 2013

Conor Backman - Hotel room art, only good.

Hotel room art really is something else. It sums up the quality and rating of the entire hotel. Right now I'm staring at a green/yellow canvas with five stick-like acrylic palm trees painted on it. It's one of the better hotel room canvases I've seen. You know that feeling of mild anxiety before you enter a hotel room in an unfamiliar environment? Is it going to be clean? Gross? Mouldy? The mattress actually a nail bed? And most importantly: Are there free biscuits on offer? After many fails (one particular disgusting yet expensive hotel room in London 2011 gave me the final blow), I've taken to researching a little more in advance and decoding some of the misleading photographs (some of them are strictly hilarious!) BUT hotel room art is just one of the things I like to wallow in when I first observe a new temporary home.

Colour studies via

November 12, 2013


Hi there. Hope you're having a lovely evening/morning/midday, wherever you might be from.
Thanks for stopping by again. I've been on hiatus for personal reasons, mostly because the universe decided to take a massive poo on my life, but I'm back and firing away at the key board.

I didn't want to write a "10 reasons" post about October, because October stank and the stink of it is still deeply embedded in my nostrils. I can taste it on my tongue. October, you sucked! BUT as the numerous self-help blogs I religiously frequent  preach: You're responsible for your own happiness! Having what you want won't make you happy, but wanting what you have will! You can't stop the waves, but you can learn to surf... and so on and so forth.

So after a few extremely tough days, massive writer's/creativity block and some nervous breakdowns, I finally decided to take down the depression curtains and air out my stuffy brain. I'm not going to forcefully track down 10 reasons this month, but will gratefully make do with half that number.

October, you weren't great. You were one tough motherfucker to be precise. But you were full of lessons, revelations and opportunities for growth. And to be fair there was SOME fun stuff and one pretty great concert:


Holy shit balls is all I can say. Please refer to my previous post, for a more detailed description of concert awesomeness. I most certainly learned one lesson that night: "Whatever you do, be more like Beyonce"

A co-headlining tour featuring Queens of the Stone Age and Nine Inch Nails was basically a pinnacle of my month. Well, it was announced in September but pre-sale commenced on the 10th of this past month, and I sure as hell got in as quickly as possible and snatched up two tickets. They're playing a day after my 24th (!!!) birthday, almost exactly 10 years after I first bought a QoTSA record. It's a sign, people.

As announced previously, we've started a veggie garden and - aside from a few casualties thanks to our puppy - have managed to keep alive herbs and seemingly exponentially growing tomato plants. Nothing will ever beat my mum's Austrian homegrown summer tomatoes I enjoyed this September but ours can definitely give them a run for their money! Looking at how little effort it takes to grow your own food, I finally see so much potential in any and all small patches of dirt.
Grow food, not lawn peeps.

I had an encounter with a lady this morning, both of us walking our dogs, but hers being as calm as a tree in the wind and mine being the crazy ass puppy that he is. She reassured me that it gets better (edit: I love my puppy, but sometimes he drives me INSANE!) saying the first year with her dog (his name was "Atlas" - hands down coolest name for a bull dog), was like hell. Seeing the old fella standing there, taking all the shit he had to from my intense and over excited puppy, it gave me a lot of hope! I also started puppy school this month and, not wanting to brag or anything, Marlow has been THE star pupil and even won a handful of silly in-class competitions. Did anyone say proud mama?

Ahh of course October harbors Halloween, which is always a fun thing to look forward to. I went to a party at a friend's house dressed as the evil possessed nun from "American Horror Story: Asylum" and had a blast (albeit running on 4 hrs of sleep and making it an early night). We got many trick or treaters this year, some of them in the cutest costumes, all of them super well behaved and polite, one of them even treating us (ahh...I just can't help myself) to a Halloween joke. There might be hope for the younger generations after all. (read: some capable parents still exist)

So yeah, this was it for my October. Sorry for the lack of posting and high levels of sarcasm.
There is a light at the end of the tunnel everyone. I, for one, am looking forward to a better November with more quality writing (than this...uhm.). The amount of interesting and awesome photos/articles I've flagged and taken screen shots of should give me enough material to post, like, every day for the rest of November. Sounds like a challenge to me?

November 07, 2013

Beyonce at Brisbane Entertainment centre - a revelation

Last Tuesday I went to see the Queen Bey, my trustiest childhood and teenage companion to whose vocal sounds I performed countless (and may I add exquisite) bedroom mirror dance routines, live in concert. It was a pop diva first for me. I've only ever seen Pink and Katy Perry, both by chance, outside of stadiums, but have never felt the urge to actively contribute to a pop diva's wealth by attending one of her concerts. Long story short I spontaneously went, by myself, and I was and am still blown the flip away.

Whether it's the overwhelming amount of work that was obviously involved, one woman's ability to draw an ocean of people of all ages/genders/socioeconomic groups into one spot or the fact that Beyonce simply is one of the best in the business, the concert has definitely left a sweet and tenacious after taste in my life. I walked in with excitement, but little expectations and left the building feeling motivated, ambitious, emotional, proud and (all the cynics close your browser NOW) empowered. Yes, everyone - I felt empowered. I felt like nothing in this world can stop me, if only I have a clear vision of self, of my purpose and of what it takes to get to where I want to be. The concert was a first-hand demonstration of the fact that dreams can come true, as long as you outline what that actual dream of yours constitutes of. And then work your buns off for it of course.

The concert

Dull moments please walk on, because there are no seats for you at a Beyonce concert. Some people might get the idea that I'm too biased to say anything about the show itself, but let me tell you that after the experience I had, I will always, ALWAYS buy a ticket to her shows from now on for the rest of my lifetime. I don't care if she ends up doing acoustic folk at Age 80, while still busting out those edgy dance moves, I will be there, waiting in anticipation, lining up at that mother of a box office.

There has been a bit of speculation about whether or not she sings live or over the top of a pre-recorded track, but either way she sounded better than on record. Hard to believe, but true. Her dancing was spot on, rocking her glittery leotards once again made me feel good about my body shape (moderately sized boobs and big legs/ass over here too), the curly weave, the dark make-up, the hard earned sweat on her forehead, the glitter canons, the fire shooting guitar - short: it was a premium A class pop gig and most importantly it seemed authentic.

In between costume changes the audience was treated to short movies, all separately shot for the Mrs Carter World Tour (wouldn't expect a re-run of something at a Beyonce concert, now would you?), hinting what song/season the crowd could expect next. Energy levels in the room hit boiling point when her last short film played, picturing significant achievements and moments in her life. We got to see snippets of her "Life is but a dream" documentary that included family life, concerts, the whole "Beyonce/Sasha Fierce" transformation, Destiny's child, her meeting the president, selling out stadiums and just being a (somewhat) human being. Don't quote me on that but I believe 99 % of the crowd were equally as emotional as I was during that last short film (Yep...cried like a baby, je ne regrette riens).

The show itself evolved from a cool and a little aloof start with "Girls" and a mash up of "Bitter Sweet Symphony" and "If I were a boy", into what I would call different seasons. There was "sexy Beyonce season" (think: "Naughty Girl", "Crazy in Love", "Baby Boy"), running into "loved up Beyonce" ("1+1"), next up "Party Beyonce" ("We like to Party", "Freakum Dress"), into "Dirty South Beyonce" ("Why don't you love me"), into "empowering Beyonce" ("Love on Top", "Irreplacable") and last but definitely not least we got served "grateful Beyonce" with her closing number "Halo" - wearing a wicked costume-made shoulder accentuating long-sleeved hyper-embellished jumpsuit. (hyphenated idioms run the world!)

Her all female band and back up singers charmed the crap out of us bystanders and were showered with standing ovations throughout the gig. One would think a performer with an ego as large as Beyonce's wouldn't want anyone to steal her shine, but all her band members got their moment in the spot light and were received with praise from the audience. For me that's just another valid reason to respect Beyonce. Valuing other people's talents instead of trying to overpower them is a beautiful character trait and expresses her level of confidence and professionalism in a way that is most beneficial for all parties.

The aftermath

I was dreading a massive post-awesomeness come-down when the show wrapped up and the unavoidable truth of going back to a glamour-lacking job hit.
Thankfully the come-down is yet to come down. ahhh....AAAHHH...NO SHE DIDN'T.
As ridiculous as this may sound to you, attending this concert has kick-started an almost dead thought process in my brain. I've started thinking about my life again, my past, connecting long passed events with present strange behavioral patterns, questioning every path I take, asking myself why I'm feeling happy or miserable when I do, taking a step back when I feel overwhelmed, listening to my body, trying to concentrate my emotions into a stream of productivity or total relaxation, figuring out why I am the way I am and starting to trace the outlines of who I want to become, what I want to achieve, the shape and consistency of that mark I want to leave on this Earth ball.

And while it's a bit of a shame that it took participating in a pop culture event to make me question my current path, I'm pretty much open to enlightenment in any form or shape. Some people climb a mountain, some people find illumination in volunteering, I pay $ 200 for a concert ticket to feel a step closer to my purpose.

Life moves in mysterious ways.