Change of Homes

Hey loves and stuff -

In case you haven't heard the news - We've moved to a NEWER AND PRETTIER PLACE
Which can be found at:

http://kohandco.tumblr.com

Apologies if you haven't been getting the LOVE here.
But there are bigger pictures and more of the juice you all know and LOVE. Yes? Yes. Yes.

CHECK IT.

And keep it sexy and real!

xx

Forever and ever

Bec

Let It Rain

It's sunny in Melbourne.
Apparently it will be sunny and perfect all weekend.
Kind of brilliant. Yes, I am dying to whip out the K Jacques in all their Tropezienne glory. And the summer wardrobe that I have been building up steadily since the middle of winter is ripe for the showing.

But truth be told, I kind of want it to rain.

So I'm going to go do a rain dance now.
If only so I have good reason for jumping into puddles. Gloriously. With these babies from Ilse Jacobsen. Which also kind of belatedly arrived in the mail. Just in time for spring. How convenient. Not.

Particularly when they're pretty much the ultimate in 'pick-me-up-for-shitty-weather' boots.
Snuggly and fleece-lined. So basically like those not-so-beloved-Uggs (which really should never ever make it onto a pavement far beyond the confines of one's house) but ten million times better. Handmade in some area of Denmark which I'm not even going to bother attempting to pronounce. Adorably hitting at the ankles and with happy camper-esque laces. Like the preternaturally cool Scandinavian lovechild of Hunters and Doc Martens.

It kind of makes me wish there was a snowstorm outside my house...

But I'll take this back tomorrow.

Maybe.

Sunshine-filled kisses

xx

Bec

Maripossa

Newsflash - I'm having dreams of butterflies.
And no, before you go all Matrix-guru on me - not of the existentialist/metaphysical Tao/Kafkaesque variety.
But rather of the super-dreamy, spectacular shiny pieces of blingtastic goodness from Maripossa (which, to show off my non-existent Spanish linguistic skills - Hola anyone? - means 'butterfly' and also serves a neat double purpose as a nifty little insult...whoever said my spiels weren't educational...such a liar...)

Maripossa is the lovechild of the truly sublime Lauren Besser.
Who I totally have a girl-crush on now. And who is pretty much worth an ode and more unto herself.
She's part effortlessly cool shaman-esque, Charlotte Kemp Muhl epitome of fabulousity and part adorable hostess-with-the mostest (I was welcomed with a variety of bagels...need I say more...)

Clearly cool people make the coolest things. 'Nuff said.
I've been a bit obsessed with her hand-crocheted metal necklaces and natural crystal pieces since the day I first set eyes on them and drooled all over the counter (incidentally while indulging on yet another piece of bling...it's beginning to sound like a crack habit no? But like way prettier...). Amazingly intricate. Delicate and kooky. Girly with a good liberal dose of bad-ass edge. Like our shared love of girls who 'do it their own way', Erin and Lou. Tough and dreamy. Anything goes really.

The best thing is - you can tell it comes from the heart.
The result of some life-changing travel and an unstoppable need to 'go her own way' in everything that she does.
Maripossa is like the sartorial god-sent answer to those of us who crave the slightly off-kilter. The esoteric. The muse who embraces individuality...to the Nth degree. I'm bored with the conventionally beautiful. So challenge me.
It's for she who is inspired by everything and anything. The random. In an aesthetically indulgent way.

And so I got to invade her creative space.
And even better - I got to take back a little piece of positive crystal dangly-shmangly goodness.
And dangerously lust-filled dreams for those new tough-as-nails metal tube necklaces and double rock knuckledusters.

It was probably a dream.
It seems almost too good to be true.

Keep it in the dreamtime mes amours!

xx

Bec

PS. More information and L-O-V-E on Maripossa can be found at - http://www.maripossa.com.au

Happy Feet

There's something about happy shoes.
That makes life just that little bit less...bleurgh.
Which is why everyone should have at least one pair. Or multiples.
It's like the ultimate pick-me-up. But better than coffee (I may take that back after my first cup of Seven Seeds today...but anyway...)

Like cute-as-a-button yellow Repettos.
The type that not-so-occasionally get stares that scream 'Good Lord, those shoes are loud...'
But do you really give a damn? Frankly my dear...absolutely not.
Nostalgic because it reminds me of carefree kindergarten paint days (where primary colours were du jour and grass-eating was the gourmet 'thing' of the week...) and a beloved (although somewhat cliched) yellow rain-smock...
Perfect for running around and making like Marina Lynchuk frolicking around the Arc de Triomphe to the sounds of Brigitte Bardot...

I'm getting too lost in the dream to care.
A dream of retro Left Bank crooners and getting messy with paint...

See...happy shoes...brilliant...

Give us a smile today my loves

xx

Bec

Deliciously...Dior

Sometimes label love can actually be a good thing (i.e. stereotyping people - with hilarious consequences and/or the simple task of being addicted to colourfully sticking post-it notes onto things so you don't drown in an academically induced flood of tree-killing papers...not that this has ever happened to me...)

And often it can be a bad thing - did you really have to ask why Ed Hardy went bust? (And if you did - we can never ever ever be friends...) or ye olde poorly made fake mishap - where you feel a cruel need to inform the proud wearer that 'Cucci' is in fact spelled with a G...

All the same. A bit of shameless logo bling never hurt anyone.
It's possibly the 80s Dynasty-relic, blingtastic, mah-jong playing, mistress-bashing Asian woman in me...
With a wardrobe full of old-school gold Chanel costume jewellery, I wouldn't really be complaining but that's entirely off tangent.

It probably explains why I'm a not-so-secret fan of my new Dior belt (part of the impressive birthday coup once again...)
It's mostly subtle luxe (super-yummy chocolate brown Italian leather...) but with a classic yet slightly 'in your face' buckle.
The whole 'You have the only one in Melbourne' factor probably didn't hurt either...

It's the perfect way to indulge your not-so-inner show-off.
And to be a bit cosmopolitan spoilt brat.
Admit it, you want to join the club...

Elitist and wholly yours,

xx

Bec

Lust For Life

I love this for so many reasons.
It's the perfect way to usher in a weekend of sinfulness.
Soft-focused and hazy. Like perfect lazy afternoons.
In bed with your friends and lovers. Recovering. Perhaps too well.

Hipster banality and singing into flowers has never looked so appropriate.
But perhaps the biggest win point of all is that it makes me feel more normal for dancing around randomly in my bedroom.

Maybe I'm crazy or just fucked in the head...

To reckless decadence!

Clink those shot glasses and away we go again...

BISES

xx

Bec

Origami

Raise your hands people if you too were suckered (cue word for forced via everything short of physical violence) into doing origami with your mother for its apparent beneficial contributions to your childhood development.

Nod silently (and try not to cry from the painful memories) if you were an epic fail at aforementioned activity.
So while everyone else created something beautiful and cool...like a jumping frog (yes - who would have thought paper frogs could be that talented...) and an impeccable crane...or the ultimate...a paper abode...
You simply ended up with a creased piece of square paper (the effect of many frustrated attempts) and a unique creation worthy of the term 'abstract art' by the truly avant garde.

Despite the childhood trauma - my subconscious desire to become adept at the art of origami is apparently alive and well.
It would definitely explain why I went slightly ga-ga (but not like pyrotechnic bra Gaga) for this crane necklace by Claire Taylor (who apparently is actually talented at origami). I was originally attracted to it in Kabbalah thread red then decided that embracing my inner insane Madonna may not be the best option at this stage.

Delicate and very zen. Spiritual. Lovingly handmade (feel the love - each crane is made with paper then cast in metal). A bit wabi-sabi (no not the horseradish that makes for very non-graceful eating experiences) - but rather the very Japanese love of the imperfect.

It almost makes me want to take origami classes again. Almost.

May life's pleasures unfold themselves beautifully for you today.

Kisses

xx

Bec

PS. Assuming they haven't been snapped up by other failed yet secretly OC origami-philes out there (they are out there...I know it) - find your special bird hanging on a mannequin neck at Alice Euphemia. In all happy, hipster colours of the rainbow...

Chronology

Beware the siren's call that is Net-A-Porter.
No seriously - as if I didn't waste enough time wishing I had an endless budget to spend on its pretty, lustworthy things (with its exorbitant shipping costs and that impeccable monochromatic packaging which apparently makes it worthwhile...beautiful lies...)

Then they had to make an exclusive film - the aptly named 'Chronology' - with the kind of amazing Luca Guadagnino (there's a sexy tongue twister for you...if only all tongue twisters came in the form of exotically named men...that came out sounding far more gutter than I intended...)

A delicious girly fairytale. It's almost too pretty for words. But with an irresistibly deviant, almost sinister edge. A decrepit mansion. Birds of prey aplenty (the predator jokes abound...). Mariacarla Boscono (or various versions of her) lost in a sublime daze - all while enviably clad in Miu Miu, Yves Saint Laurent among other yummy, swoonworthy things...

And who said fantasy was dead?

Dirty liar.

Get lost. No seriously, beautifully.

xx

Bec

Breakfast At Tiffany's

Ah, birthday bling.

Now that the crazy phase of overindulgent festivities has quasi-tragically grinded to a halt (that was like a really unsubtle hint that - yes you can, nay you should, offer to keep the flame burning and the celebrations coming hard and fast like...anyway...analogy ends there...) - It's time to take a moment to proverbially smell the roses and reflect on the rather fabulous loot...

While the actual birthday bling lust list remains sadly tres unconquered...something about asking for a pair of $800 bunny ears courtesy of Maison Michel just did not fly overly well (The exact typical Asian parent response being - 'Why would you pay that money to look like a...paid woman') A Chanel-esque head adorned paid woman. But apparently a paid woman nonetheless...

Gripes about amazing lace bunny ears aside - I can't really complain about getting anything from Tiffany's. Ah, that failsafe stalwart of perfectly pretty jewellery! The duck-egg blue boxes. The white ribbons. Getting lost in a slightly Hepburn-esque fantasy (now all I need is that Givenchy dress...) A gold affair for coming of age. Delicate, simple but gloriously luxe. Rose, white and yellow. Like a mini-version of the Cartier 'Holy' Trinity.

It's suitably Park Avenue Princess.

And that's the pinnacle of the ultra-girly dream, non?

Kiss someone and heart your 'i's this fine morning.

xx

Bec

Va-Va-Vaccarello

I love Lou.

Probably just a little too much.
Her divine cross-channel insouciance has inspired many a sartorial adventure (and one ill-fated misadventure...only Lou could convince me that high-waisted hot pants were kind of amazing as opposed to an item best relegated to blocked out memories of 70s porn stars...but like most things - my take ended up being more tragically the latter than the former)

But Lou just makes everything cool. And is the face of everything cool.
From Maison Michel headpieces to posing in the buff draped in Ere by Repossi bling.

And Anthony Vaccarello's FW 10-11 lookbook.
One has to ask why she's friends with all the uber-cool people who grace Planet Earth.
It's the stuff my noir fantasies are made of.
Monochromatic. Sheer. Body-con. Art-deco goodness.
Old school elegance sexed up for the new age.
Sharply tailored. A geometrically perfect (kind of see through) bra top. Amazing neck adornment.

All while taking a drag.
Rebellious. And structured.
Carefree. Yet meticulously executed.
Daring. But delicate.

It's all very femme francaise, n'est ce pas?

And off she goes again...into the night...

Va-voom!

xx

Bec

Ingrid

Some friendships were just meant to happen.
And when I say 'meant to happen'...I mean like the mega friendship version of 'Kismet' (yeah ain't that a better way of saying 'fate' or 'serendipity'...after Cusack and Beckinsale half ruined the concept for me)
And some people are just kind of ah-mazing. So you feel really lucky knowing them.

The lovely, divine and perenially chic Miss Ingrid definitely strikes two for two on the above.
And, oh is it ever so splendid! Meeting of the minds. Endless talks of models, Laduree macarons, Paris, the Asian art of tea and more. Candid and sparklingly witty. Our shopping/'ladies who lunch' dates are the stuff epic sartorial fantasies are made of. Blessed with the most amazing armoire I have ever seen (okay...confession...I haven't actually SEEN it yet...I just kind of sadly perve every single time I see her) Only deliciously full of the most glorious vintage designer. Ever. Dedicated to the art of living. Beautifully. Making her a girl after my own heart...

I find it hard picking out of all her amazing ensembles (it makes me wish I could just photo-stalk her every day...okay that just came out sounding unnecessarily creepy)...

But her vintage, purple Chanel jacket really takes the cake...




A steal from Washington. Those damn senator's wives. Vibrant and boldly luxe. They just don't make it like that anymore. Paired decadently yet effortlessly with a knotted Hermes (incidentally I'd like to add at this point that we are scarf twins - except I have the mini version...oh that delightfully sinful little indulgence also known as the Twilly...how you will kill me one day) The perfect pick-me-up for a typical schizophrenic (I can't decide whether it's sunny or kill-myself-gloomy) Melbourne 'early Spring' day.

Much like the lovely mademoiselle herself. Who adds that extra dash of sparkle and fantasy to the banal. Who is, much like our joint idol La Mademoiselle herself, the epitome of style and substance (scary legal eagle mind alert)...

And divine sartorial kudos aside - a truly wonderful friend...

Hug your BFFs today. Because you know you want to...
Especially when they wear vintage Chanel...

Love and kisses

xx

Bec

PS. If you didn't know that La Mademoiselle is my way of saying Chanel - I still love you anyway...

Here Comes The Sun...

My summer-lust has officially reached delirious heights.
I'm dragging out the tank tops.
Working out just a little bit extra to get rid of that winter blubber (kind of a lie...because this weekend was very, very bad...nay, the previous week was an exercise in sinfulness...)
The heavy coats are being relegated to the 'No Man's Land' section of the armoire.

Plus my new perfect sandals for balmy, idyllic, lemonade-filled days to come arrived in the mail (despite the slightly retarded episode where I had to inform UPS that my house was not in Queensland...)

Ah oui, oui, mes amours, les K Jacques!
My resolution for the summer to come. I had enough of the humble rubber thong. Although I still haven't thrown out my ratty black Havaianas (they have sentimental value). The girl has come of age and suitably should now be pounding many a sunny pavement or sandy dune in the traditional footwear of choice for the Riviera-chic folks of St Tropez.

With an eternal air of les vacances. Delicious smelling leather. The rather fantastic feeling of getting to wear a well-made, heritage product to death (they have been hand-made in St Tropez since the '30s...incentive much?). And the joys of channelling B. Bardot...

I haven't been this excited since the summer holiday bell in the fourth grade...

Bisous mes petits

xx

Bec

A Fashionable Egg

NYFW has finally kicked off.
After a delicious weekend of luxe (more stories about that later) - there's nothing like coming home to a cup of sencha, Internet reception, opening up the laptop and living life vicariously through the epic Style.com
(Mmhmm...also noting the very anti-climactic finish...)

The bold and the beautiful are out and about. Anna does her signature 'sunglasses and glare' routine from the front row. New looks to lust over. Old favourites to swoon about. It's the stuff excitement and fantasies are made of.

I found this cute little clip a few days ago. But didn't have time to post it up and share the love before jetting off for my surprise weekend of indulgence. How could you not love? Seriously. It's that adorable, cynical, miserable little one eyed egg Darcel. In all his animated fashion week glory. Only with my favourite staples of every season. The unblinking, unflinching Anna. My model for forever - Freja. Alexander Wang - Token sino-pride at he who made dressing like a model off duty do-able for all us plain folk. Andre Leon Talley - Seriously. Almost the next best thing to Anna. 'Famine of beauty' anyone?

And with a slightly cheeky/cheesy reference to the Brady Bunch (but infinitely cooler...duh)

Could there be a more cutesy-pie way to usher in the glamour and drama and 'drooling on my laptop' haze of the SS 2011?

I think not.

Here's to a decadent week...

Bisous my kittens

xx

Bec

PS. If you're ever in a miserable mood - Darcel and his other misadventures can be found at - http://darceldisappoints.blogspot.com

Mania Mania

To answer the questions in your pretty little heads:
Yes - this is THE ring that caused the much-ranted about bling lust
No - Such rants will not cease to plague you. I can't help it. It's like a disease. But more beautiful.

And here's the question for you (because the more questions, the better yes? I mean, life is nothing but a series of questions - or so French existentialism taught me...I was at some stage tempted to buy a Camus-head pendant then realized it may come across as slightly creepy in a nouveau head-hunter type way...and I didn't have the cool chutzpah to successfully carry it off...)
But back to the question for the day:

How could you NOT love it?
1. It has like a beyond cool sort of deep and meaningful name. The 'Afterlife' ring. From none other than Mania Mania's new collection 'Dust' (see kind of obsessive spiel about two posts down...there is nothing worse than 'repeat' ranting...I'll take that back shortly but anyway...you can watch the dreamy movies and be in a crazy-lust state like yours truly...).

2. It takes the phrase 'wearing a rock on your finger' to a whole new amazing LITERAL level (I think we need to add a dash of the literal into our otherwise metaphor overdosed lives...it's so overrated). Because...it literally is...an rough hewn chunk of black tourmaline crystal on a piece of almost ancient-cultish brass (I for one think the brass ring would make a pretty awesome nose-ring...for the incredibly daring)

3. It spins. No seriously, it does. Clearly I haven't gotten past the novelty of things that move. Plus it's a much prettier alternative method of fidgeting to the rather banal 'twiddling your thumbs'. Not only is it fun - but you can have different rocky surfaces adorning your finger - so really it counts as being more than one piece of bling...Yes? Yes...

4. It feels like one of those candy rock rings I used to love when I was younger. 'Looks like a huge, knockout jewel but you can actually lick it like a lollipop' (if you missed out on this - you never had a childhood). And there's nothing like a bit of forever-and-ever nostalgia to make new acquisitions just that little bit more special

5. The girl at the store hated me for snapping up the last of these babies. Don't get me wrong, I am all about spreading the love. But there's something about 'bling envy' hate that makes me feel just a bit smug. And awesome.

Sigh.

Bling lust. Easy on the pocket it is not.
But it makes the world a prettier place.

Rock something today.

Kisses and lollipop licks

xx

Bec

Cut, Paste, Voila

Iris
Qualification: Not the song...or the author...or the movie...but it is...kind of a movie...

It has now become apparent to me that lookbooks in film are a very bad distraction.
And it's clearly worse when you get update e-mails about them flooding your ahem...'work' e-mail.
Yeah I have a job. Like didn't you know that?

But point of difference - this isn't so much a lookbook-film as it is a proper film-film.
It's the new piece of brilliance from director Barnaby Roper. Lucky chap who works with models and edgy pretty things in the world of P-O-P (not the N*Sync single...for those of us old enough to remember it with some fondness...in any case - speaking of boybands - someone in LFO died and I'm actually feeling a little sad...that song did get me a little obsessed with Abercrombie & Fitch for a whole summer...)

Back to the NOW though - this has to be a really FUN way to watch the FW '10 collections in style.
All cut-up and twisty. It reminds me of craft lessons in kindergarten (oh look what I made...I still do that nowadays...but to much less excitement from less than amused parents...'So that's what you're doing with your law degree?'). But hi-tech. And set to a track best suited for some disco dancing androids...although in my personal opinion...Iris Strubegger is pretty damn close...

Now there's a thought...

Do the robot!

Love

xx

Bec

Let's Kick Some Dust

Confession: I actually started writing this when I was in - what I now fondly refer to as - 'The throes of spendthrifty bling lust'. An agonizing decision about whether or not to get a certain kind of amazing knuckleduster (yes, the family continues to grow...although I think I may have beaten Brangelina at this point...) End of the story is - I succumbed to it's shiny, bold, 'will possibly knock some teeth out' siren's call. And you will be inundated with much blog love about aforementioned piece of finger adornment. At some point. That is, very shortly.

New beloved piece of ornamentation is the lovechild of the only vaguely crazy-obsessionworthy jewellery label MANIAMANIA. Which has been in the 'aspirational bling list' for some time ever since Garance gushed about her shameless love for it. It doesn't hurt that one half of the duo behind the whole sh-bang is part of my bible to the Antipodes - RUSSH (was so over Vogue Australia a while ago...but still subscribe anyway...just...because...)

Natural crystals. In raw, chunky, apparently 'positive energy radiating' splendour. Inspired by the best of 70s rock and cult film. Holy Mountain. Bowie. And 'Rebel, Rebel' no less. Shamans. And ancient civilizations. It's a little manic. In the best way possible.
And a film campaign to boot. It's the best way to perve. Because really you're just 'appreciating a short film'. Connoisseur much? Or jewellery voyeur?

Either way - and in a haze of bling-crush mania - I couldn't help but waste 'study-time' by watching these babies in rather beautiful procrastinatory bliss. Might I add, it comes in Part I and II. Because all good things need sequels yes? Or many. And unlike most hit films - this one is actually worth watching.

Revel in its occult, glam-rock yet painfully hip aesthetic.
Because you're a voodoo child...
And lost in a Purple Haze...

But that's the way to go when you're a rebel and you've torn your dress...

Allez mes petits...

Kiss the sky!

xx

Bec

Les Chats

I love cats.
The way they purr and act all adorable when they want something. Then skulk off into the darkness all of five seconds later. Disappearing until you hear an epic tiff with another member of the feline species over a prime spot on the covetable roof. Before returning for food and a bit of human affection. One could also interpret this as being very Gallic.

And everything associated with those creatures. Feline-eyed sunglasses. The term 'catfight'. Being catty.
Sex kittens...but maybe not the hairballs. I mean, if they're good enough to be a Grace Coddington obsession, they're plenty good for me.

And I love them more when they're decked out in delicious outfits fresh off the runway.
Like these cat girls. The stars of the new issue of Chelsea (ah yeah, so hip it hurts - find it in New York...typical)
Kitty heads on the sensually voluptuous bodies of retro pin up girls. In Miu Miu, Louise Goldin, Stella and more. Messy cursive in bad grammar (a pedant's nightmare surely...) Delicate, sweet and oh-so-wrong.

It's a bit creepy and dreamy-feminine at the same time. All in a kind of beyond awesome way.

Magnifique. Nothing less.

Miaow.

Love & Purrs

xx

Bec

Blanche

I cannot wait for summer. Literally.

Lazy afternoons lying on the grass. Iced Pimms in a jug (i.e. happiness in a bottle). Breaking out the K. Jacques.
Denim shorts sans winter-ready noir tights. Copious amounts of jewellery on bare, bare arms. Open air parties. My new take on the humble barbecue (oh yes keep posted). Popsicles. Lemonade. With umbrellas. It's all about freedom. Having new year's resolutions and breaking them. Fleeting romances. And hot, hot days.

And clearly recent additions and pointless indulgences kind of make the above a bit of a 'Hello El Capitan Obvious' statement.

L'ete '10-11 is clearly going to be all about the gauzy, sheer tank.
In all shapes, sizes and colours. Basic but with a certain delicate edge. Practical (throw on over a bra, pop on some sandals and run out your door for those daytime romps - simply add vertiginous heels come sunsets on the rooftop...) I'm a little in love with the ingenue-esque, minimal beauty of my newest addition. It makes me feel very Virgin Suicides. With its fragile, almost innocent but 'not as sugar sweet as she looks' aesthetic. Especially when thrown over the every knowing girl's wardrobe essential - the black bra. And paired with the simplest of silver charm necklaces.

With its requisite suitably Gallic details - a touch of 'Le Petit Ecolier'. With a Peter Pan collar framing a plunging neckline. And little girl smocking adorning an otherwise bare back. It's all sort of deliciously yet subtly risque. Cute and yet somewhat subversive.

In other words, my new favourite thing for a summer of love.

Can you feel the sun?

Lots of love and sunshine

xx

Bec

Packin' It

Backpacks are cool again.

Fat is putting them in their shop-window displays.
The overly skinny, cigarette puffing cool cats at The Bend are wearing them.
And my bible of all things hip and happening in The Big Apple (yeah because clearly I live there and can partake in aforementioned super cool activities) has proclaimed that they are oh-so-back in a big way.

And on the additional flip, you can please your Asian mother with its beneficial physiotherapeutic qualities. Something about distributing the weight equally on the shoulders...I wasn't really paying attention at the time.

In any case - I really want a knapsack. If only because it makes a catchy rhyme - 'A knapsack on my back...' (Lame? Okay...yeah I'm going to shut up now...it's the whole 'year older...lamer jokes' thing...apologies if your dork radar has just exploded in your face)

You could just jump on the bandwagon and you'd be sort of cool (like the cigarette puffing and beanstalk legged crowd that shop like crazed retail whores at Fat). Or you could do one better - by simply doing your own thing. Like the always impeccably attired Tarang (such a stalk-mine if there ever was one...and a truly lovely friend to boot).

My inner dandy man (who clearly has serious consumer whore problems) is way obsessed with his beautifully practical canvas and leather piece of backpacking goodness. Simple, deliciously pragmatic and made in limited batches (that's the real catch...) - with a real 'heritage-cool' edge to it. The apparent physical benefits of getting your back into it just got exponentially more obvious.

That, or I'm getting old and turning into my mother...

I'm going with the former

Much loving,

xx

Bec

Birthday Bling List Part I

Birthdays were made for indulgence.
Decadent amounts of cake that would make Marie Antoinette proud (overly well taken care of by Asian mothers...who certainly take the phrase 'Let them eat cake' to a whole new hyper-bad-for-your-diet level)
An over-expensive drop of booze.
Breaking the rules (yes I will dance to jazz in my room in nought but black lingerie and a trench)

And presents. Ah, presents.

I'm cleaning up quite nicely so far. Parents clearly believed this was the year for a Chanel starter kit (the bag, the jacket...oh so much to love...it kind of reminds me of the excitement surrounding the Easybake oven of childhood days almost forgotten but ten billion stylistic times better...)

But alas - the list of wants never quite ends...here are some beautiful, pointlessly decadent shiny things that still remain sadly unchecked off the list:

1. Pamela Love talon cuff


Ah, the talon cuff. The one piece of jewellery that has obsessed my magpie-esque mind for most of this year. I often dream of it adorning my itchy wrist. Possibly too often. It's almost become like a phantom limb. Neo-goth but oh-so-cool. In an edgy Roitfeld Junior way. It would elevate my faux-cool cred to almost god-like levels. Then all I would require (post acquisition of talon cuff that is...) would be an endless supply of Balenciaga, Givenchy and Alexander Wang...a industrial warehouse in the Big Apple...and an assortment of fashion royalty as new BFFs...

I mean, getting the cuff is the hard part yes?

2. Maison Michel headpieces




I tracked down that hidden oasis of all things eclectic, cluttered and ornamental, Christine. For the sole reason that they had the new collection of Maison Michel headpieces. There are so many things which scream instant death trap for my hip pocket here. Head adornment. Lovingly made by the Laetitia Crahay (ah yes, she who designs accessories for none other than Chanel). Perfect chapeaux in every size and shape. And the headbands. My now nearly dead inner accountant nearly baulked at the $600 for a piece of ornamental headwear...but seriously...

3. Repossi ring




No wish list would be complete without the ultimate luxe addition to my rainbow family of knuckledusters.
And this would be like the Rolls Royce of the collection.
Black gold.
Bold and big to the point of non-functionality.
It was love at first sight.
It doesn't hurt that it also comes with not-so-optional fantasy of living like modern Monaco royalty and/or the chic sister of a certain Greek shipping heir who may or may not have famously dated Paris Hilton. I'll let your pop-culture trivia addled brain work that one out...

Love

xx

Bec

PS. This isn't quite over...and I am kind of...and I mean only kind of...willing to wait until Christmas...Maybe...

A Beautiful Brunette

Ah brunettes. There's something about them. Something which made me tear out that 'Brunettes Special' in Russh filled with muse-tastic goodness in the form of Isabelle Adjani, the Birkin scion, Emmanuelle Alt...you get the picture. Something which makes me fantasize that my imaginary dreamboat will have dark brown hair and a very nice accent. Something which makes me think - mystery and art. And chocolate. Definitely chocolate.

Yummy.

It's a bit of an unhealthy obsession. Like most things. Which spilled onto my taste in bags. Lord knows how much I love a good beaten up brown bag (I kind of love brown paper bags as well...save for the fact that they do tend to lose out on the durability factor) I rediscovered this baby while rummaging in the ever-expanding 'drobe for a birthday outfit (you really do need to dress up for those special days). And it was a nice find indeed.

Deliciously abused (apparently lugging around your life in things and throwing your bags on grass and every surface known to man has its effects) so it looks like it has a bit of a story (or many...and trust me it does). With that beautiful butter-soft leather. Perfect for cuddling and the sniffing (oh you SO do smell leather goods - you're just lying...through your teeth).

It does make me feel just a little bit Gossip Girl (if only my school bags were that yummy)...

Now all that is required is aforementioned brunette dreamboat with...an accent...

Perfect birthday present no?

Love

xx

Bec