LEAPING LEATHER!

(ACNE)

Before I begin to wax lyrical about the joys of supple animal skin, a disclaimer: I used to be a vegetarian. Not the hemp wearing, vegan worshipping type - but I was definitely anti-animal food. When I finally caved in to my inner cave-woman, I could no longer shun the soft leather jackets and lofty suede lace-up boots that beckoned to me in all their ebony goodness. So, to all of you who prefer their food without a face, I apologise.

But the truth is, I know several vegetarians who turn their noses up at a delicious bolognese, but will happily indulge in a brand new Yves Saint Laurent leather bag without a second thought. What's that about, peeps? Sure, I understand the repulsion you get when you think about the origin of your meaty meal, and with PJ Harvey, Prince, Barry White and even Plato as your animal loving buddies, it's easy to see why you'd want to be in such esteemed vegetable-smelling company. But, seriously, stop with the falsity and omit the animal skin from your wardrobe . Trot on over to Stella McCartney (she'll sort you out with some non-creature derived threads).  

As for the small bunch of us who still enjoy satisfying our carnivorous desires, we also have the added benefit of being able to enjoy this spring's tricky trend - leather shorts. I suppose it was only a matter of time before the Acne people and Alexander Wang bucked the trend for the ubiquitous leather jacket and headed southwards to the pant region. Being the proud owner of a spiffy leather skirt myself, I understand the appeal of donning a leather piece. Buttoning up the high-waisted skirt, I feel confident, irresistible, and, well, tough. Melbourne can be a bit of a mine-field - sometimes all a girl needs is a bit of a thicker skin to battle the elements. The leather short might conjure up notions of homosexual fetishism - but I suggest you abandon those ideas at once and allow yourself to brave the trend. I think the key is to keep it loose and relaxed - wear with a slouchy tee and a smile and watch the world flock to your feet. What do you think of the leather short? And the vegetarians who might be wearing them?

THE SLEEPY SPELL

Personally, I always preferred inspiration to information. What about you? Sundays make me want to smell clean white sheets, read books in the park, braid my hair and crawl out windows. Getting ready for another week - expect more reviews of the city's hidden haunts and musings on the intrepid trend of leather shorts. Ooh, also, Frankie magazine's latest issue is out - the only publication that I adore whole heartedly. Expect a run down right here, on The Future Doesn't Exist. 

Until then

xx

THE VIEW FROM RIGHT HERE

Being the product of many English, Scottish and Irish ancestors, I have a natural affinity with the rain. It comforts me like no sunny day could. The dizzying heights of a Melbourne summer bear no comparison to the cozy darkness of a Melbourne winter. I woke up this morning unsurprised by the drizzle outside my window. I was so taken with my rainy day mood (and, really, was just finding excuses not to sit down and type my essay on networked society theories...can you blame me?) that I decided to show you the pockets of inspiration on my walls. I don't know about you, but I cannot stand blank walls or unfilled spaces. At least my unhealthy magazine habit gets put to some use when I butcher the publication for the sake of decoration. White walls get lonely too you know. So go on, rip out a page from that editorial that makes you grin and stick it on your wall. We all need beautiful things to look at. Especially when it stops raining. 

ME VS. THE KEYS

Unfortunately, there is no known cure for writers block. He's a nasty little man who enjoys making appearances when a deadline is looming. I found a picture of him (see top image). Does he look the way you imagined? He certainly does to me. Why is it that some people respond to pressure like a fish responds to water? Effortlessly, and wondering how they could meet a challenge without it? Others (ahem...) seem to lose all sense of priority and wind up playing dress ups with one's own clothes instead of opening up that document and just getting on with it, because they know Mr W.B. will rear his ugly head the minute they do. It probably doesn't help that I blast Billy Idol as soon as I try to work and just end up dancing around the living room like some sort of possessed pop-cultural fiend. 

Time for re-enforcements. Raymond Carver, I need your crystalline prose asap.

xx

THE BIG SWOON

I love Sunday brunch. Sipping tea and nibbling blueberries while giggles are shared between close friends who have all had a bit too much caffeine and not quite enough sleep. Windsor was extra sunny this morning, and just warm enough for me to bare the lace blouse I was sporting without fear of contracting some sort of hypothermia-like illness. 

With the hope of the sun finally making a more consistent appearance in the next couple of weeks, I'm on the hunt for some new sunglasses. Karen Walker does a nifty shade, doesn't she? And the folks at Lost+Found certainly have a jolly assortment of eye wear for the slimmer wallet. I'm so sick of wayfarers and aviators and oversized and those John Lennon style round glasses that I'm fairly sure only look good Erin Wasson. I'm enjoying the glasses below. Caaa-ute, don't you think?

xx

MAKE ART, NOT WAR

Has it really become like this? Full of indecision regarding which side of the river to stand on. Why not just jump in and go with the flow?

x

THOUSAND POUND BENDER

BRET BRET BRET BRET BRET

(Easton Ellis - bona fide raconteur)

Ahh, 1000 £ Bend. I suppose you could say this place is just another cavalier Melbourne cafe, having happily sprouted up in a less trodden part of the city. But I tend to disagree. The motley collection of battered furniture and vintage teaspoons might, at first glance, appear to resemble many other 'hole in the wall' hangouts that pepper the city's lane ways, but 1000 £ Bend is like the new kid at school who was wearing Doc Martins before they were cool and was probably conceiving the character of Howard Moon in his spare time.

The huge warehouse space is home to a cafe, art gallery and cinema. Treading across the concrete floor towards the friendly faces at the counter, I notice a hodgepodge of people around me. Business men in thousand dollar suits chowing down on $11 pasta, young parents sipping on their soy chai tea in total relaxation, and a gaggle of trendies swirling their 3/4 lattes while they compare tattoos. I order a chicken sandwich and an EBT and promptly snuggle up in a booth. The sandwich tastes delicious, the tea smells delicious, the people look delicious. What more could you want? 

I hope the space remains an unpretentious, creative outlet. I'd hate to see it get gobbled up by its very own sub-cultural flair. 

I'm next heading to 1000 £ BEND for MUFF (Melbourne Underground Film Festival) to see the screening of 'Less Than Zero' (the film adapted from Bret Easton Ellis's stark literary portrayal of youth in 80's LA). Come along, why don't you?

x

IT'S NOT HOW BIG YOU ARE, IT'S HOW BIG YOU PLAY

Top Image - Sonoya and mystery man with shiny hair. Bottom Image - Nicole with lovely Roger. 

These two beautiful women are old friends of mine. They are two among many friends of mine who represent true strength in the face of adversity. When I think about Sonoya and Nicole I am filled with admiration. I miss them both - they are flitting around the world being lovely and exciting. 

Both these girls make me think about heading back to London. I want to drink tea in Liberty, fight my way through Topshop, brush the blooms in St. James' Park and laugh my way through the cobble-stone streets of Soho with Joe, Nicole, Adi, Louise and Alice. Do you know that sensation when you feel a glow when you think about the past? That's how I feel about London. But, I have to be careful, as we all do, to try not to recreate the past and to not worry about how London might be in the future. Luckily, I've got a pretty nifty city to live in at the moment and, my, with the chilly winds lately, I feel like I'm walking across the Tower Bridge in the middle of February! 

So, what's next? Reviews (more like songs of praise) of my favourite nooks in the Melbourne CBD. First up, 1000£ Bend. Oooh la la!!

x

WHEN DID WE GROW UP?

This weekend, my sister paid me a short visit. A Sydney girl through and through (minus the blonde hair), she may not have brought the Bondi sunshine with her, but she did bring the sort of comfort you can only find from someone who has seen you go through it all and never faltered in offering perfect advice. We laughed at the wind, admired white owls and scoffed a few too many pieces of fruity pavlova. 

Tomorrow, a new week begins. My degree in Media and Communications is starting to consume most of my time - shooting documentaries on female street artists, writing essays on Shakespeare, analysing the effects of social networking, and learning how to write in HTML code. Blimey. If only there was more time to lie in fields of flowers and sew poems onto handkerchiefs. Is it just me, or are you also desperate for the cold weather to trot on up to New York or London so we can slip on a cotton smock and paint our toenails and drink gin and tonic in the early evening sunshine? 

Next week, I shall post pictures of the summer dresses I am coveting most.

x

CONSIDER THIS

You know, change is truly in the air. And I'm not just talking about the sudden displacement of your cat/tree/large shed due to these ferocious winds we've been having. I don't know if you feel it too, but in my life change is manifesting itself in many different forms. Some of it is welcome change - this blog, my sudden determination to knuckle down and meet deadlines, friendships rekindling and spontaneous bowls of spaghetti with my sister. Some of it is not-so-welcome change - lives lost, broken hearts, endings of beautiful relationships. But you know what?

Yep. Shit happens. And, really, all change is good change, right? It's so easy to get trapped in destructive relationships and patterns. There's no point looking to the future for solace for that means hedging hope in a non-existent world. So, where do we look for comfort? Beats me. But I know that all the vices in my life - ex-boyfriends, mindless television, chocolate and wine - need to get the old heave-ho (does it still count as chocolate if it's coating a biscuit? Shh.) I can't hope for a sunnier tomorrow, but I can hope for a sunnier Annie.

DRAWN TOGETHER

Spring is coming. Though you wouldn't know it from the apocalyptic rain and wind, the sun has a slightly warmer glow, the morning air is a shade less arctic and the velvet night sky doesn't shroud the city before afternoon tea has been served. 

P.s. Run yourselves a bath, kiddies. Light some candles, put on Bon Iver (if you're truly exhausted), or Serge Gainsbourg (the person tired of Serge is tired of life), tuck into your new issue of I.D. and watch your fingers prune in the glorious warm water. 

A soul restoring activity.

x

IN HER EYES

I'm the kind of girl that dreads having her photo taken - you know, the type that jumps behind the next telephone post, tree, large dog, just to avoid the beastly white flash of truth.  But, there are a few people in my life I have trouble saying no to - like my fairy-like friend, Kate. With a flash of her sparkling eyes, she's got me convinced that I'm camera worthy. A sunny day in St. Kilda, a few gorgeous vintage dresses and many laughs later, I realised that it's not the flattering light or camera angle, it's the true friends you have that make you feel most beautiful.

THE FUTURE DOESN'T EXIST

The Future Doesn’t Exist came to me one lonely Friday night while nibbling on a large strawberry (as most ideas do). Around 9.45pm, after a night of water sipping and chowing down on the infallible Pad Thai from Colonel Tan’s, I decided to accept the past and try not worry about the stuff that I fear may happen (i.e. the future) because, hey, it doesn’t exist, right? A nifty notion, but one that will save you on countless occasions from the nail biting, white knuckled anxiety that so often takes control and prevents us from fully enjoying that rather large strawberry that’s just begging to be savoured, seed by seed. I promise.

So, this blog is dedicated to the beauty in my life right now - Friends, clothes, books, photos and, perhaps most importantly, ideas. 

I do hope you enjoy it.

x

x

LOVE INDEX

NINETEEN EIGHTY SEVEN

Ahoy there, merry readers. See that photo? Yep, that's my hometown - Sydney. Pretty, no? After seven years of transit, I reckon it might be time to head home. I sauntered around the cobble-stone streets of London for many moons and, more recently, the sable alleyways of Melbourne (and all before my 23rd birthday - yikes!), and I'm feeling the salty sea air and the relentless sunshine whispering my name. Not to mention those yummy Brioche loaves at Paris Bakery in Bondi. Ahh bliss. It's a lovely thought, moving home, but it is only an idea about the future (which doesn't exist), so as I plan my next move I am equally focused on enjoying the current (chilly) location I inhabit. Keep your pretty eyes open and your dainty fingers at the ready to observe my daily posts on the things I (and hopefully you) love most.