Harry - The Poet

When I first met Harry many moons ago (back when I thought the law school was a magical place...that's how long ago) - I knew I'd found my new M.M.F (alas no, get your mind out of the gutter...or is that just my mind? It's not a dirty acronym - but rather Mutual Muse Friend)

M.M.F = That friend who totally 'gets' your tortured artist side. Like your penchant for old French literary magazines. Vinyl records. Jeff Buckley. And a good glass of Scotch at night. And your somewhat bizarre dreams of reviving Beatnik nights and living like Kerouac all over again. Or maybe that's just Harry.

A true troubadour.
Poetic. Francophilic. The only person with whom I could practice my terrible with a capital T francais (or rather should I say 'mon francais tres rouille') Constantly looking like a vision out of a bygone era of travelling folk singers. And yet totally modern at the same time.

How can you not totally love a man who has the most amazing vintage collection ever? Comprised of paternal hand-me-downs (case in point - that leather snake-skin embossed blazer, cowboy belt and boots beat up to perfection) and finds discovered in many an op-shop around the world (that very Americana shirt was apparently in fact an Italian discovery)

Every single ensemble the man puts together seems to have a bit of a tale behind it.

Qualifying note - My father has nothing cool to pass on to me. What I've gleaned from old photos of him is that he was more tryhard Asian 'Bee-Gees/Travolta' than infinitely cool Dylan. Enough said.

The only thing I can really say every time I see Harry is that he's my personal version of a reincarnated Bob Dylan (and don't stone me - I know Bob's not dead) but it makes me feel all happy and nostalgic for a time when revolution was about free love and not war. And you roamed the country in beat up boots and a broken down car. And songs were about poetry and liberty. And doing something different. Because you could change the world a little like that.

Merci mon ami...tu m'inspires meme aujourd'hui.

Love & Peace

xx

Bec

PS. Harry truly does live the Dylan-esque dream and plays in a folk band with his acoustic guitar which you can see at many a law student society barbecue. We are also thinking of forming a breakfast club with a special emphasis on espresso if you would like to join. And there is of course the obligatory beatnik party.

No really. I kid you not.

Blingtastic L-O-V-E

Many moons ago - in one of their many bids to set me on a path towards literacy (tried and failed...because most days my textbook-addled mind is unable to process anything other than pretty pictures)...my parents bought me a set of rainbow alphabet magnets. All blocky capital letters in bright colours to form my favourite words.

And dear Lord, did I love those letters. Until of course, I apparently outgrew them. And then they were packed away. Never to be seen again. One of those tragedies that makes me go all misty and kind of sad on the inside. Especially because I had the great self-centred addiction of spelling my own name on the fridge. Countless times. Apparently cute when you're below five. Not so cute when you're above twenty. Something about age appropriateness?
Qualifying note: Friend of mine actually has a set of these - and you can now use them...in a very grown-up sense to write inappropriate messages on your fridge like...'X is a sexy f*cker'. Mature. Infinitely.

But praise the awesome powers above that be!
For I have re-found my block-tastic letters. But this time in solid gangster gold. So you know we're talking serious spelling bee goodness.

These babies are by Dallas & Carlos (no...sadly not two supremely hot South Americans I picked up in some sleazy bar who ideally would teach me to dance the flamenco on the beach while strumming their acoustic guitars...okay...too much information? Probably) but the beyond bling-tastic, amazing, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, bodaciously hot (was that possibly an overdose of adjectives...but no) lovechild of the lovely Jess & Katherine.

To which I should add - these beautiful lasses are suitably inspired by the awesome/slightly borderline trash-tastic goodness that is the South American continent.

Yes. Clearly Rebecca has not overgrown her obsession with spelling out her name for others to see countless times. Custom made goodness. But when it looks this hawt...why wouldn't you?

L-O-V-E

xx

B-E-C

You can find the full range of Dallas & Carlos goodness at their website:
http://www.dallasandcarlos.com/
Might I add - you should totally grab their bad-ass Catholic cord and gold crosses. I mean...if you're going to ward off vampires, you might as well do it in neon Hispanic style...but that's just me

If Billy & Ziggy Had A Lovechild...

On that kind of alterna-cool note.
Because that's the only type of vibe to rock these days.

Seriously. Or maybe I'm writing this on a bit of a bender from last night. Either way.

To finish that sentence...this video is TOTALLY a new obsession.

For a start, I'm a little scarily in love/intrigued/possibly borderline scared at the beautiful boy behind Diamond Rings. Rainbow eyeshadow. Patterned leggings. Chambray and gangster gold bling to outmatch me and my Asian grandmother combined. Like the lovechild of Billy Corgan (in his '96 Mellon Collie glory) and Ziggy Stardust(self explanatory unless you live under a rock and don't know who David Bowie is). It's a bit naff early 90s hip-hop. So that's real dope kids. Syncopation! And a dash grunge-misfit scene. It's all about hanging with the freaks and ghouls. It's making me embrace my inner awkward child. Grow up? Never. I just want to wait and see.

Oh yeah...I should also stop watching videos like this like a YouTube whore on crack.
Because new idea of the week: Totally dope house party with boomboxes and actual cassettes?

YES YES YES!

Don't forget your rainbow eyeliner.

Love

xx

Bec

Noir et Cuir

I really don't think there's alot for me to say at this point.
Except...I wish I had the actual panache, enigma and alterna-cool factor of the girl in this picture.

It's that frightening uber-cool vibe that we all know and love from those teen misfit movies of quality (cue early 90s)
Think Natalie Portman in Leon. Or Winona (yeah in them wild double denim, tattoo filled, hotel room trashing Johnny Depp days) in Reality Bites.

Screw the fluff of today!

But back on that X-factor:

Then and only then could I probably embrace my dark side with lashings of fur, signet rings, maxi leather skirts and scary/awesome boots (I like to think my new platform booties...which will be getting much love from and outside the camera...are kind of scary awesome in a kind of weird zombie love child of a trashtastic Lady Gaga-esque whore and a dandy Englishman...but story for another time)

I probably still wouldn't look half as amazing.

But they say they have cookies on the dark side...

Mmm...

Love

xx

Bec

Come Eat With Me

Digging through my photos this morning.
Because now I have the time and it's officially NOT procrastinating anymore.
Well it probably is...because there are probably more pressing things to do in the world like...saving it etc...but yes.

I re-found the ultimate solution to the double obsessions of both food and shiny things.
The cutlery necklace

Suitably shiny like your mother's best silver-ware. And with more than one option (so it's better than the humble spork). And really convenient (if possibly slightly awkward) for those pesky hors-d'oeuvres. Because it's simply uncivilized to eat with your hands.

Didn't your parents ever teach you that? Shame. Now we just have to wait for the chopsticks necklace. Then all my cuisine bases would be covered. There's an idea

Love & Munchies

xx

Bec

Rock & Roll Baby

Dear Pennie Smith ,

I thank the debaucherous rock powers that be for your photography.

Thank you for affirming my belief that it would be far more appropriate for me to learn the electric guitar rather than the piano (and/or the violin). For making me dream of seedy nights destroying five star hotel rooms in only the most artistic way possible. For introducing me to the beauty of the sight of countless empty (possibly broken) bottles of numerous intoxicating spirits (of the highly flammable and not dearly departed kind). And the sordid tales behind it all. Involving black leather, denim, anything short, tight and inappropriate and copious lashings of kohl on both boy and girl.

For providing aesthetic justification for my teenage angst and my misguided attempts to slash a good number of inches off my regulation tartan school skirt. And for the resultant feeling of rebellious cool when the vice principal told me it was far too short. For making me recall the feeling of listening to 'London Calling' for the first time and thinking I had actual artistic cred.

For inspiring me to embrace my inner leather clad, intoxicated misfit.

And to rock the Casbah via air guitar in the privacy of my own room.

Like every bona fide social outcast. Who isn't actually cool.

Love

xx

Bec

Pen - Bohemian Like You

'And I'm feeling so bohemian like you...'
One of my favourite songs. If only I could live up to it.
But not.

And it pretty much pops into my head every time I see Pen (I realize stalker vibes are radiating at mind-blowing levels)
Making the rather sterile (aka boring) halls of the law school far prettier with her piled on bling and adorable dresses (see ensemble of the day - cute mini with puffed sleeves, gypsy trinkets and boots). Thrifted eccentric with a classic edge.

It's bold, a little bit crazy in a good way...like the super cool gypsy-folk muse you wish you could be (yes change that to - I wish I could be) Note: Last time I experimented with the piled on 'trying to channel my inner Bats For Lashes' spirit...it was more homeless misfit than inspired mystic

And the best thing about Pen is how much the way she dresses is reflective of her 110% lovely, effervescent (girl-you-can't-help-but-fall-in-love-with) personality. Passionate about the environment (she does alot of impressive work in that regard...leaving me feeling rather ahem...unproductive...I should really start stalking less accomplished people). An intrepid traveller with a keen eye for the experimental and artistic.

An effortless muse really.

Now I'm just going to listen to countless replays of 'Bohemian Like You' and maybe that vibe will come to me.

One can always hope.

Love

xx

Bec

Wrist Adornment

Everyone loves a bit of arm candy.
No admit it...you do.
Whether it be in human, bag or bling form. Nobody likes a boring arm. Seriously.
Unless you're awesome tattoo lady. In which case...you're in a whole different category of cool.

Especially when it's all classic and retardedly easy to put on (for those of us who struggle like spastic kids with the lobster clasp...yes et voila...yet another skill Rebecca is hopelessly inept at..fastening bracelets with her left hand...harder than it looks amigos)

These leather and 24 K gold plated Vita bracelets were basically my lifesavers at work. Clasp-&-Go. They were the order of the day. Like Up-&-Go except far far prettier. And dear Lord does it improve the view when you're staring at a ridiculously colour coded spreadsheet that you've made because you have far too much spare time on your hands (but I am far too cool for that...so...yeah that never happens to me...never)

Go the orange when I'm feeling like it's a Gucci day (i.e. yes when my mother's Asian housewife serious loud blingage vibes infect my brain) and the white where it's a default Park Avenue Princess Day ( you see the elitist Americana obsession coming through?)

So screw the Up & Go and Clasp & Go instead!

Love

xx

Bec

PS. Somewhat useless but kind of cool trivial fact if you're a label whore - Vita does all the jewellery craft-work for labels such as Fendi and Gucci. But yeah...fraction of the price. Stalk time.

PPS. YES - they appear on Miijo.com (shame shame...I know the ultimate source for Hollywood starlet goodness) but for God's sake those women don't know the meaning of overkill. Personal opinion: these babies are not made for the stacking. But that could just be me and the fact that I hate Vanessa Hudgens almost as much as I despise Miley Cyrus.

Camp Americana

You could love this or hate it.

Me? I love because secretly I too am obsessed with the mess that's America.
And the sheer camp factor of this video is making me want to hold that West Wing themed party I've been meaning to have for some time. Hot dogs from a stand. Hold the mustard. Cheerleaders (yeah I totally always wanted to be one). 'So you live in Ass-tralia?' (Oh I wish everyone had butts worthy of it being called something like that). Prom queens. I've always wanted to go to a prom as opposed to the rather lamely named Formal. New England crab cakes? Idaho potatoes? The stars and stripes hanging everywhere in my house? I should really invest in a tiara so I can come as the Statue of Liberty or something. Or just drape myself in a flag and do like Marina does and blame Hollywood and Disney for giving me unrealistic expectations about life.

Oh in the home of the brave...and the land of the free...

Love

xx

Bec

PS. If you want me to host a West Wing themed party - do let me know...it is in the making

Adorably Offensive

Part I: The Post-Break-Up Hotness Factor
I was tempted to call this 'The Metamorphosis of Claire' then decided
(a) That sounded far too much like a beauty commercial of the door-to-door salesgirl type. Bad.
(b) It could bring back really bad memories of Latin (apparently a bitch of a subject...not that I ever tried) and/or high school science (Now look at the ugly bug as it undergoes metamorphosis and turns into...a butterfly...Awww...which by the way only has a 24 hour lifespan before it dies. Apparent moral of the story: You spend most of your life ugly, have a brief epiphany of beauty and then die. Am I particularly cynical today? Probably)

No but seriously. I have decided...not that I'm drawing on personal experience or anything. That some people just look WAY hotter post-break-ups. Maybe it's the fact that you're on the prowl again...or that you just need to cut that bloody bastard out of your hair (yes I did that) and/or you're feeling your empowered woman (or man) mojo return in a whole new AB-FAB experimental way. But it is so true. Claire's always been beautiful. It's that stupidly gorgeous Eurasian gene that she has. But Z-O-M-G...the hair! The complete change of wardrobe and aesthetic! Goodbye standard student uniform of tees + jeans and hello 'oh I just picked this up off my floor and I look amazing' vintage perfection.

The first time I saw Claire post break-up. My jaw nearly dropped. Oversized blazer with a pocket chain and floral dress. This time it was an old jersey dress made good with a 'I just found this old thing' heirloom Ferragamo belt (adorably, she didn't even know it was Ferragamo and hence had to rely on my heinously acute designer spidey sense) and the bling...Oh the bling...

Part II: The 'Jerk' Necklace
The 'Jerk' necklace is so awesome it deserves a whole part to itself. No not a mere paltry sentence. A whole PART.
More so because I picked it. And yours truly also layered it over her old 'handed down from many an Asian mother-to-daughter' piece. And even if you're not impressed by my stylist abilities (although I am currently offering my service free of charge if you did want a personal shopper...*nudge nudge hint hint*...) it really was just the most fabulous thing I'd seen in a while.

It's by ex-Melbourne (currently Adelaide *sniffle* based) woman of bling - Toto (and available at Lenko...if you did want to stalk it out...because you should) and here I provide you with a well organized list of reasons why it should be your next statement piece:

(1) It is absolutely bold,adorable...and yet offensive. So it makes for those absolutely grand awkward moments where someone goes: 'Oh my god...what a cute necklace...but so...' (trails off into weird silence) Yes it says JERK goddammit...

(2) People who wish to insult you no longer have to actually say the word to your face because you have embraced it in an all too aesthetically cool way

(3) Related to the point above - you save yourself some effort by not having to insult people verbally anymore. It's just like my 'Yo' ring...I mean why say 'Hello' anymore when I could just give people the finger AND meet-and-greet 'em at the same time.

(4) You can get more offensive words. Like 'Ass' or even 'Ass Face'. Or just really naff words from the '90s. Like 'Dope' or 'Phat' (which is totally on my indulgence list once I get out of my fricken' house post-exams)

(5) At only 30 bucks a pop...your inner cheap Asian/Jew/stingy Ebenezer Scrooge should be rejoicing...because that's like ridiculously easy on the hip pocket for an awesome slice of bling. Pamela Love and your stupidly priced 800 buck bracelets. Eat your heart out.

Hell yes.

Love

xx

Bec

PS. You can find the full range of offensive (or just pretty awesome) words at: http://welovetoto.com/

In Another League

One of the more unusual compliments I have received goes something along the lines of: 'You're a dandy man in an extremely girly shell.' Masculine vibes aside, (inner) dandy gentlemen rejoice!

I stumbled upon the indescribably fabulous 'Take Ivy' by Hayashida a couple of weeks back and couldn't stop staring for hours. Staring. Yes. Only the most productive use of time. Not only is there so much to love about its beautiful, grainy, late 60s technicolour (1968 to be precise with the dates) aesthetic and incredible preppy goodness, it pretty much re-affirmed the purpose of my existence on this planet. Stalking. No seriously, if some Japanese photographer could traipse through the United States of A with a camera snapping the cream of the Ivy League crop in the fullness of their elite, Long Island Ice Tea sipping, tennis playing, loafer and chino wearing glory. I too can totally awkwardly style-stalk (no I mean...'creatively capture') . It's acceptable. Totally. If only because he did it too.

On a sartorial note, there's so much inspiration to take in for today. Button up shirts over tailored shorts. Blazers, V-necks, Cuffed chinos. Leather loafers. Oh and who could forget or visually ignore the multicoloured Madras checkered shorts in the final shot which totally scream Ralph Lauren '09. I only know this because my possibly over-indulged cousin has a pair of pants in exactly the same print. Pants. Anyway...ignoring that .

All the classics that we know and love. I have officially decided that the next boy I date has to know this book back to front. If he does, he will probably be cooler than me. Which is also probably not hard to do.

In the meantime, I am totally celebrating my preppy inner man and breaking out a Scotch on the rocks. Listening to Ethio-jazz. Pretending I am FAR too classy for exams. Or anything academic for that matter.









Love

xx

Bec

Black Leather & Bow Tie

Words cannot describe how much I love this take on 'girl does boy'
PS. Not in that woman on top sense although that works too...

On the one hand - a sort of sartorial ode to the boys that we would all love to date
Part bad-ass, Jimmy D.
The untouchable yet desirable bad boy.
Part dandy intellectual a la Hamish B.
The boy who has impeccable taste with rapier sharp wit to match. And knows it.

On the other - an equally compelling homage to the female muse/ingenue we would all love to hate (but can't...)
With that louche 'I slept in, stole my man's shirt and walked out the door' appeal.
Like the girl with a love life (a la Francaise)

It's a mix we could totally have oh-so-much-more of.

Turn that cool factor up a notch kid. And possibly listen to multiple repeats of 'Androgyny' for good measure.

Love

xx

Bec

All Tied Up

When I was but a young gold-digging girl in kindergarten, I also discovered that tying up shoelaces wasn't one of my go-to skills. Buttons - I could deal with. Zips - I could do with my eyes closed unless it jammed...in which case...there could have been blood or alot of fabric rippage.

Laces and perfecting the art of the sloppy bow were something else. Eventually, that little girl did end up learning how to perfect the rather elementary art of tying up her shoes but decided ultimately most of the time they weren't worth the effort. Hence why several pairs of Chucks have ended up unworn and unloved. Brogues are worn loosely enough to be slipped into. And 'retardedly-easy-to-put-on' babies like zipped up biker boots or my beloved pop-button-on Chloe booties (and their identical but significantly cheaper Zara twins) are much loved favourites.

I have always loved tie-up boots from afar. And these 'self tied up' Trimapee boots (belonging to my favourite man of edgy style) were a crushworthy new discovery. They're like combat boots without the ubiquitous lace holes and structure. And it's like a whole string-tastic work of art just tying them up.

It's inspiring me to put alot more effort into my much maligned shoe-lace tying skills...which fingers crossed will exponentially improve with the arrival of those dandy man inspired, side lace up Illex platforms arriving in the mail this week. One can hope...

Love & Laces

xx

Bec

Pretty She Howls!

Sad truth of the day: Seeing indescribably beautiful yet enigmatic things make you come up with cryptic, weird titles which don't really make any sense but sound kind of cool...like you have some artistic credibility (when you clearly do not)

Case in point: This visual/aural piece of art by the lovely Phildel

If I could direct a home-made video of my life, I hope it looks/sounds as good as this. It's a little Blair Witch. A little French New Wave. Alphaville meets Marienbad. A dash retro Velvet Underground. A touch scratchy vinyl. Sofia Coppola if she was directing a movie on angsty, alterna-chick who gets around wearing copious amounts of black eyeliner and perhaps not much else. Perfect for running around in a Lover tunic and gumboots in a deserted forest. A bit Kerouac and heavy metal.

Or if all else fails (i.e. no home-made filming is done) - it's also perfect for sitting at home, thinking about imminent legal failure tomorrow morning...drinking a cup of green tea. And not much else

Love

xx

Bec

Retro Glamour In Red

Beautiful people watching over coffee. Is there anything better? Okay possibly being one of those aforementioned effortlessly beautiful people would be better...but for those of us mere mortals who don't have a choice.

Then people watching just becomes awkward when you just kind of drool for a good twenty minutes over the subject of your observation. And aforementioned awkward staring is duly noted by 'just-as-beautiful-but-unwilling-to-be-photographed' companion of observation subject. The adorable (and super lovely to boot) Madeline is one of those crushworthy girls!

I just love seeing people who look just that little bit out of the ordinary. I just couldn't get enough of her amazing vintage dress with that impeccable 40s glam factor, cut and details...and in the most incredible shade of dark red. My coffee partner and I could not stop dress perving from afar. Coupled with fishnets, red lipstick and that beyond cute bob, she really looked like she'd just stepped out of a bygone era of beautiful dresses, feminine mystique and a whole lot of classiness.

Bring that glam factor back and work that feminine mystique, girls!

Love

xx

Bec

In The Mood For...The X-Rated

Passing out your lighter
Sneakin' through the doorway
Fakin' like you just stayed home
That's how it really goes
You know it does - The Virgins

There's no real point to this post aside from the fact that I have had it up to here with pretending I have the slightest intention/aptitude to read things pertaining to the world of law.

And I'd like some bad-factor right now. Yes that's right. Bad factor. The type that's all leather. Short shorts. Bare legs. Lots of leg. Illicit trysts in hotel rooms and bathrooms. Voyeuristic videos. Salacious photography. And countless counts of substance abuse. Mussed up hair. Kohl eyeliner like Twiggy on crack. Countless black bras. Preferably sheer. Private affairs. Ripped stockings. Artistes and groupies. Being a groupie. Menage a trois. Destroying property.

Not knowing what hit you the next morning.

Short black.

End of story.

xo

Bec

Images - Guy Bourdin; Erin Kleinberg AW 09/10; Jalouse

Si Don Juan Etait Une Femme...

If Don Juan were a woman...
I'm not even going to attempt finishing that sentence. That movie was beautifully mind blowing. Plus girl-on-girl action with Jane Birkin? Yeah. Enough said.

But I can definitely finish this sentence with much elaboration -
If Bec could get her hands on some myPetsQuare booty...
She'd go nuts like a kid on crack in a candy store. Seriously. No exaggeration.

I've had a minor obsession with myPetsQuare and their beautiful things for just a little while now. And the girls were nice enough to further fuel this obsession of mine by sending me a look book of their new goodies for the upcoming Summer (totally appropriate now that we're facing winter and ahem...exam blues)

The gorgeous look book for the Spring/Summer '10/11 collection is seriously proving to be a major hurdle in the war against procrastination and I was pretty much drooling with severe dress lust on every page. There was far too much to love. Rarely does one (such as myself) get to seriously love with a capital L pretty much every single thing she sets her eyes on. It's the perfect mix of ingenue type prettiness with a dash of the garcon manque (that we all know and love from Au Bout Du Souffle)

Sadly - Blogger has some kind of evil limit where they don't allow you to upload like a gazillion images at the one time. I hate you technology and clearly you hate me.

Having said that, I have my heart pretty much set on the strappy baby blue number and white frock for carefree days in the sun with a straw boater and some brogues. And that very classy black evening number for when I feel like imitating Sofia Coppola and pretending I make movies that are far too pretty for their own good. Even better - I would love to rock that tuxedo jacket (with nothing else) and make Monsieur St Laurent (may he rest in peace) proud...

Oh the possibilities!

Either that or I could just revel in its awesomeness and pretend I'm starring in my own French Nouvelle Vague classic. Oh and I might add that whether you're a regular Brigitte Bardot, Jean Seberg or Anna Karina - there is seriously something for everyone to get their enigmatic noir femme fatale mojo on in a big way.

Love

Bec

xo

PS. I am very excitedly expecting my two dresses from the current Winter collection to come in the mail. So stay tuned for their Virgin Suicides-esque goodness. Always a good thing.

PPS. Check out the amazing myPetsQuare website at: http://www.mypetsquare.com/
It even comes with outfit suggestions? I mean seriously - could you get any more fab than that?

All images courtesy of myPetsQuare