Koh & Co.

Change of Homes

2010-10-21T21:33:00.001-07:00

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

2010-09-24T21:53:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-23T00:01:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-21T18:22:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-19T00:52:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-17T19:05:00.001-07:00

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

2010-09-16T05:32:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-15T17:50:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-15T15:56:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-13T16:39:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-13T00:35:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-09-12T16:19:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-11T00:21:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-09T18:23:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-09T00:20:00.001-07:00

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

2010-09-09T00:00:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-08T02:32:00.001-07:00

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

2010-09-07T16:20:00.001-07:00

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

2010-09-05T23:41:00.001-07:00

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

2010-09-05T16:12:00.001-07:00

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

2010-09-04T18:18:00.000-07:00

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

Act Da Fool

2010-09-02T18:46:00.000-07:00

I love film. And I love pretty wearable things. And I especially love when the two come together. Beautifully.

Coming from the girl who has watched 'The September Issue' about a million times (Do you also refer to everyday situations/people in terms of Anna or Grace...let's be friends) . And pretty much every single Chanel film ever made (I clearly could not get enough of the mythical Madame, her frocks and incessant very French bonking). Not to mention the Valentino documentary (I too would love an army of pugs and a perma-orange tan). And everyone's favourite retro party of camp - Blow Up (but with Birkin and some scandalous 60s era nudity - it's a real classic).

Now that we have that out of the way. I love lookbooks too. In case you haven't already noticed (in which case - you don't love me as much as you should and/or don't sit next to or behind me in class - best procrastination fodder. Bar none.)

So that whole pointless rant was really to kind of explain why I am going just vaguely bananas for this amazing piece of Harmony Korine film goodness. Ah yes, it's a Proenza Schouler lookbook (only one label could make me want to return to being back in private school in reincarnated grungy muse form). But set to a sparse, spoken word narrative, quasi-dreamlike ghetto playground. It's a little miserable. Majorly urban poetic. But kind of whimsically happy at the same time. Full of retro-faded, tres dreamy sunlight. Pretty clothes and a she-gang of tough looking teenage gals. It's kind of ugly and weird and majorly grunge. But captivatingly beautiful.

In other words - it's sort of brilliant.

Plus - it's all my loves rolled into one.

How could I resist...

Lovin' you fools

xx

Bec

Les Bottes

2010-09-01T16:36:00.001-07:00

Sometimes there is nothing better than a self-bought present.
It's all the indulgence (I mean, hell, it's my birthday...why ever not) minus the awkward 'I appreciate the thought but actually kind of hate it' fake smile and die moment (oh you know what I mean...surely...you fellow faux-smilers)

These boots by Vanessa Bruno (may or may not have sighted another gorgeous pair of non-functional but perfect hiking boots in store today...) were the perfect pointless, self-acquired indulgence. Pointless because (despite the miserable rain and gloom that was yesterday) - we are apparently heading into warmer months and longer days (i.e. non-ideal boot weather unless you're a dominatrix or a stickler for punishment and ruined leather)

But just looking at them - how could a girl say no...

Timelessly elegant and deliciously buttery calf leather.
For that instant dash of Parisian cool which automatically transports me to my fantasy world of days spent watching beautiful people , with equally dashing French beau sitting across (possibly reading poetry to me in a sultry accented voice), taking a drag on a Gauloise (preferably minus the not so desirable health effects), sipping a cup of Mariage Freres tea while nibbling on a whimsically flavoured Laduree macaron. Oh so modern Marie Antoinette no?

A bit of a subtle head turner with that gold flecked heel. With just enough height to raise me above 'average Asian height sans being stripper-heel'. And just hitting at the knee. Gorgeously simple - yes die superfluous hardware and unnecessary zips. It's enhanced minimalism at its sartorially perfect peak. Let us not forget that they also make impressive 'leg lengtheners' (without the very painful sounding surgery...)

Fantasy, instant faux plastic surgery and a bit of a beloved, timeless classic.
And that, my friends, is a worthwhile indulgence for anyone.

Indulge!

Lots of love and more

xx

Bec

Art-Deco

2010-08-31T18:05:00.000-07:00

I must confess - wearing this objet d'art kind of makes me feel like I'm wearing a medal (clearly I was one of those deprived kids who wasn't really talented at anything in particular hence serious lack of 'proper' medals for anything resembling an achievement...ho hum...I mean winning a race is just so passe these days...)

The point is - It's like a really cool medal.
That kind of screams 'Amazing sartorial find - take THAT - the rest of you mere mortals!'

It even comes with a slight smug grin of pride story.
The type that begins with - Pointless wandering in the urban jungle. A pair of delicious black calf leather knee high boots which caught my eye (for the record - aforementioned boots were recently also attained...). The usual 'To buy or not to buy' debate due to epic 'Mind is going insane with item-lust but debit card says no' pain. A friendly chat with the kind of amazingly dressed girl in Dries Van Noten-esque pants. Leading to the discovery of the locked secret drawer.

'There are only two left...'
'One of a kind'
'Vintage Russian art-deco pieces from the 1920s.'
'It's by a girl who used to work here - she also sells to Colette in Paris...'
'I think you may have to pay in cash...'

A phone call was made. A kind of dodgy transaction was executed. The hip pocket was a little sore.

But I am seriously majorly in love. Bold and a dash tribal. In a kind of amazing geometric, retro way.
It really is the piece de resistance to even the most bland of ensembles.

Plus - as I said - serious medal lust...

Eat my dust.

But I love you anyway,

xx

Bec

PS. It took me FOREVER to get the name of she who is responsible for such pieces of joy - they're by Melbourne lass Anna Rossi who trawls the world for perfect antiques to turn into more adorable pieces of adornment...Definitely getting more love from me in days to come...

PPS. This accumulation of bling is apparently forgivable - so says my horoscopic profile anyway. Don't you just love the horoscopes in Vogue?

Of The Inspirational Femme

2010-08-30T16:53:00.000-07:00

Oh role models. Don't you love them?
Those people you totally want to be like.
I'd use the term 'idolize' if a certain pagan friend of mine wouldn't bite my head off while saying that my faith in certain preternaturally cool specimens of humanity is somewhat misplaced.

It's like that person you secretly mentally stalk who is just that little bit too awesome. Or the 'older kid' when you were a knee high little deviant. Or why I did my presentation in high school French on Chanel ('So basically - she was amazing and had several steamy affairs...Chapeau!') Some people were just meant to be followed. A bit like a 'Guide to Life' but better.

I dug out an old scrapbook of collages I made back in the day. Fresh out of school and into the bright new (now totally not so shiny) world of university. Some of it made me laugh. Alot of it made me feel nostalgic (remind me to burn my ex's letters in a bonfire of some perfume I don't wear anymore). And I re-discovered some of the women who made me fall head-over-heels in love with living a decadent, aesthetically indulgent life.

Jane Birkin and her similarly imperfectly beautiful yet irresistible scion (who could resist La Belle Laide). Tomboyish, tousled hair, untamed Parisienne sexiness. In spades. Who else could have made me want to sit around half naked listening to Serge Gainsbourg possibly dressed only in the simplest of high-waisted blue jeans. And maybe those infamous white Repettos.

Jean Shrimpton and her beehive, teased hair and scandalous shifts. Proving that dirty photographers go oh-so-well and hand-in-hand with devastatingly beautiful models (obsession with David Bailey much). I may or may not have spent countless hours in fruit(less) experiments with environmentally damaging hairspray.

Sofia Coppola. The too-cool-for-school princess of a film dynasty. And her gorgeously understated films. Like music videos with actual layers of meaning. Set to the best soundtracks. Ever (which FYI - gave one little impressionable girl her rather impressive musical tastes). You never wanted them to end. A little left of centre. Rebellious in only the most captivating way.

Definitely life lessons worth learning...

Love

xx

Bec

The Best of Franglais

2010-08-29T16:15:00.000-07:00

My high school French teacher would hate this video. Et pourquoi?
Possibly because it contains mind-numbing levels of that interesting linguistic creature we fondly call 'Franglais'
Apparently acceptable for us Anglophonic creatures - I mean doesn't it sound classy when you drop a 'tres cool' like it's hot (Qualification: Not ever in a trailer trash accent though...never...)

But alas not for les Francophones...it really does ruin the beauty/sex factor. Even if it means I can actually understand what they're saying...

I'm thinking that Madame would totally change her mind if she saw this kind of 'so cheesy it's kind of amazing' clip. Two skinny garcons (one who kind of looks like Rupert Grint but better because clearly he is oh-so-Francais). Doing the tres Anglophilic retro tennis outfit thing (Having recently just engaged in headache-inducing debauchery at Brussels...this may have been an obsession that has spilled over into this week). To an infectiously catchy little cheerful indie-disco ditty.

Yes - they do sing en Franglais. But, hell, if it's good enough for the APC (oh yes - temple of hipster Parisian cool) - it's good enough for me. Michael Jackson or not.

Bisous

xx

Bec

PS. Chere Madame, please ignore the copious amounts of Franglais in this missive
PPS. Aforementioned episodes of boozy debauched indulgence lead to 'une voix rocailleuse' the next morning. Really quite sexy if there was anyone there to appreciate it. Instant dose of faux Carla Bruni much?

Sketched

2010-08-27T03:09:00.000-07:00

The muse.
She who walks into your life and leaves you all inspired to reach greater and more creative heights.
Or plunge further into the depths of glorious procrastination.

The following gorgeous girls did exactly that. And left me with an itchy pencil finger and my kind of retarded (but now I like to think artistically 'original') colouring with oil pastels (who would have thought coloured pencils were so hard to find in one's humble abode). It's basically true to form. They really are that cool. With a dash of fantasy added in. Every girl needs some. Whether it be a Celine box bag. A whimsical Benoit Missolin bow. Or an oh-so-Parisienne Yves Saint Laurent downtown shopping tote (which clearly you would use for baguettes for that romantic tete-a-tete non)

I think we could all get a little arty-farty today. Or any day really. Plus they're just really really fun to do.
Until the parentals pick up that your 'creative outlet' is wasting more time (and money...ah yes...market research) than originally expected...

Lots of sketched hearts, hugs and kisses

xx

Bec

PS. If you do like what you see - I'm actually happy to take custom orders for sketches...for birthday cards etc - Just give me a yell...it kind of makes me feel like there's "purpose" to my procrastination. Method in the madness. Whatever. You know what I mean...

Work/Play

2010-08-25T17:17:00.000-07:00

All-time dorkfest confession of the year: I kind of love work.

Maybe it's the faux-glam appeal of being temporarily able to call myself a 'workaholic'. The dream of being some uber corporate power-bitch dressed to kill and thrill in noir Prada. Or the ability to perve on boys in suits 24/7 (Hot Asian Guy who Runneth Triathlons - the only one on planet Earth - please come back to make my photocopying days worthwhile again). Or maybe it was just the opportunities to be shamelessly decadent with dressing up. And getting away with it. Mornings spent waiting in the coffee line with my beloved Prada work tote. A different Hermes for each day. Sigh. I'm getting a little misty eyed now. And all because one has to look 'respectable' and 'professional' yes? Yes. You concur.

It's all about the Working Girl these days. So says Vogue Paris anyway. Enough said. Or rather, 'Point, c'est tout...'
And those indulgently 'practical' pieces that take you from the laptop to the swanky bar.
Which is why I loved this Yves Saint Laurent clutch from the minute I set eyes on it (love at first sight...clearly)

Patent. Black and gold. Elegant. Simple. Subtle. Luxe. Like a Le Smoking you can hold in your hand.
Just big enough to hold a modern career girl's essentials. Red lipstick. Phone. Credit card(s). Clearly, I am trying to downsize.
Cute enough for day. With an adorably neat little scarf. Maybe with a little charm to boot.
Perfect with that indecent dress and those disgustingly high heels you have tucked away in that drawer come salacious nocturnal activities come sundown.

Oh so indulgently Parisienne...
And for climbing the corporate ladder in style...
I'm sure Monsieur Saint Laurent would be agree

Love

xx

Bec

Armand

2010-08-25T16:44:00.000-07:00

I've taken to naming my special pieces of bling. Especially the knuckledusters. We have become rather close companions this year even if the family keeps expanding. Impulsively but fabulously.
It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'Diamonds are a girl's best friend' (if I was lucky enough to own diamonds)
There's Fred the Boulder and Syd the Snake Ring and Tupac the ghetto 'Yo' ring...

And now, there is Armand L'Aigle. My newest adopted piece of finger candy. From delicious little label Alkemie from the sunny, West Coastal shores of LA.
Seriously I couldn't help myself.

A little neo-goth and sinister (I think there's something rather evil Hitchcock-esque about birds...). It's a little Pamela Love (slightly unhealthy love affair with the talon cuff...). Ironically all-American at the same time (could you get more Stars & Stripes than the archetypical American eagle). Made entirely from reclaimed metals (so it's totally my bit for the environment...totally). An old bullet case in particular so I'm told (which makes it just that little bit more beautifully edgy...kind of like a bad boy version of bling)

Armand definitely packs a pretty punch. And is just a tad obsession-worthy (and kind of initially snooty 'devastatingly beautiful and chic and she knows it' shop girl actually concurs...it made her that little bit more human...)

And really, the more the merrier yes?

Rainbow family. It's like being the Brangelina of bling. Seriously.

Love from us all

xx

Bec

Belted

2010-08-24T17:08:00.000-07:00

After all that talk about sex - let's speak of chastity belts...
In my dream world - they come as a novelty companion to my book of smutty pictures...

Chastity or not. I do love a good belt. There's something about the way they pull everything together.
And add a certain degree of edge or polish to anything. Where would we be without that glorious strip of leather to pull in a dress that is just a teeny tiny bit too big (or to make an oversized tank top look like an actually vaguely borderline decent dress...yes yours truly is very very guilty). Or to use as an S&M style whip (for those of us who shouldn't actually be receiving devious lingerie or associated paraphernalia in the mail - yeah I really need to get my mind out of the gutter)

Sadly - the humble belt is one of those much abused items. Its utilitarian glory somewhat tarnished by the presence of tacky buckles (you really want me to stare at your crotch don't you), use of PVC (the plague of my life...aside from a certain ex boyfriend) and ye olde teeny bopper stretchy waist belts (think plague but ten times worse).

So we do a belt dance (like the rain dance but infinitely more purposeful) and thank the high sartorial powers that be for the salvation in the form of Phuong & Seb's Belt Co. My inner dandy man was immediately smitten with their simple, deliciously well crafted, 100% leather (no...I don't constantly smell mine...seriously) hand-made men's belts. Gorgeously utilitarian like belts are supposed to be. Custom made with subtly luxe hardware (what girl who grew up during the Philo reign at Chloe does not love a bit of metal). With initials and more...

It really is the belt of my chaste fantasies...

Possibly better...

And I can knot it for the whole 'I stole this old thing from my impeccably dressed non-existent boyfriend...' effect.
Who could ask for more?
Qualification: You could technically ask for an impeccably dressed piece of man-candy. I would...

Love

xx

Bec

The whole range of goodies (including the too-awesome-for-words 'Supreme') is good for the perving at:
http://phuongandsebsbeltco.com

And custom orders are taken by the e-letter (i.e. e-mail...)

Guilty As Charged

2010-08-24T16:45:00.000-07:00

Speaking of lovers.
This is kind of growing on me.
Seedy in a comic-book/graphic novel-esque sense (thank you Frank Miller)
With Evan Rachel Wood (post Marilyn Manson and ill-conceived raven tressed phase)

Thoughts?
The dirtier the better...

Enjoy

xx

Bec

L'Amour

2010-08-24T00:21:00.000-07:00

I must confess - ever the cynic - I am way over the search for romance and the perfect man.
Apparently French musicians (who come with chateaus and beach villas inclusive) may or may not only exist in Paris.

But there's alot more to be said about lovers.

Ah lovers! Those seedy chance 'encounters'! That illicit affair! And pourquoi?

Tucked away in the August-September issue of Russh (lifesaver if ever there was one) - I stumbled upon an old McGinley snap of the late Dash Snow blissfully engaged in a bit of carnal pleasuring (as many a friend of mine likes to term it). And it has me feeling both nostalgic and inspired. Ah lovers. The intimacy. The slightly shameful smiles. Staring at the floor and mumbling a response to the question, 'So, what have you two been up to?' The devious knowing conspiratorial glances across a room. The unexplained 'disappearances'. The encounters which seem permanently set to the soundtrack of 70s folk-rock (probably just me). Bed hair that is just perfect. Where there's a story behind that messed up outfit. The shared morning after coffee. The forgotten item of clothing.

Yes, I just walked out wearing your shirt.

And touche, I will pick up my bra.

It could be once. It could be forever.

Maybe later.

I'll be back for more.

Love (and I mean it)

xx

Bec

Thrifted Brilliance

2010-08-22T15:54:00.000-07:00

First things first - let's get the awkward shit out of the way - I am an op shopping retard.
Yes, while splendiferous sylphic pieces of lady candy like my gorgeous friend Sas manage to find brilliant diamonds in the rough. I have to be the sole person cursed with finding nought but grandma dresses (not worth resuscitating...there was probably a reason why they were put in the bin in the first place) and gold lurex belly dancing outfits (I feel like you get an STD just by looking at them)

After many an ill-fated attempt at grasping the concept of 'vintage chic' - I'd resigned myself to a sad fate of being a spendthrift buyer of the nouveau while staring at bitter, bitter envy at those who boast of those 'amazing $6 loafers they picked up at some godforsaken St Vinnies in the middle of nowhere...and voila...they just happen to be Charles Jourdan'. If this has happened to you...say Aye.

But 'lo and behold - a saviour for those of us unaccustomed to wading our way through mothball scented racks!

I'd heard whispers about the brilliance of the Sydney institution that is Puf'n'Stuff. About how you could walk away with an impeccable vintage outfit. Well mannered retro shoes and bag included. Without wanting to hack off your credit card bearing hand in shame. And REJOICE fellow op-shopping retards for it has landed on our grey Victorian shores! A trip was very much in order. And my oh my, is it a beauty. Adorable pre-selected shoes, boots and handbags and more...in that gloriously beaten up leather (someone has done all the hard work for you)

And the dresses. I'm a little nay...muchly obsessed with the $50 a pop reworked Japanese vintage day dresses. I snagged one. In its glorious demure button-up navy and gold and spotted resplendence. And am totally loving it's retro girly, flippy feel (oh dear Lord, please bring some warm weather our way). With my pre-loved 80s Ferragamos (still extremely proud about that score) - it's kind of making me feel like those smug experts with the op-shopping 'eye'...

'I have a pre-loved outfit...and no you can't have it too...'

Cheating has never been more fun.

Lots of love kids

xx

Bec

PS. Puf n Stuff - has landed on Gertrude St. Home of the grunge. You heard it from me. Or Three Thousand. But I like to think me...

Eat - Do Something X-Rated - Love

2010-08-21T19:20:00.000-07:00

I feel like I should do the right thing and put your pretty little hearts to rest.
No, I am not going through a massive chick-lit and/or Julia Roberts-esque soul finding phase.
Oh yes, you too would totally find yourself if you took a whirlwind trip around the world and hooked up with a suave, ruggedly handsome European complete with swoonworthy accent (I haven't actually watched the movie - that's just the plot summary I get from the trailer - I don't think it's too far off...)

But I was putting in my (probably totally unwarranted) two cents worth for a (totally museworthy) friend's creative project.
And (re)discovered these over the weekend.
And then I kind of remembered why I'm a bit obsessed with Terry Richardson.
And Vogue Paris (t'is clearly the season to be La Roitfeld)

It makes me want to indulge in junk food. And kind of reminds me of 1-dollar-ice-cream binges at 7-11 with a friend. Talking about sex. While wearing diamonds (sadly I wasn't wearing diamonds at the time...) But - given that we're in la-la-land, why stop there, maybe in a diamond tiara. And engaging in an illicit affair. Only in a five start hotel room. In amazing black lingerie. There is only one kind. Sensual. Messy. Visceral. It's ultimately about having fun. Perhaps too much of it. Living for decadence. Reckless excess. And possibly having a seedy photographer document the entire thing in all its glorious smuttiness.

Isn't that delicious?

Yum. Yum. Yum.

Love

xx

Bec

On A Rainy Day...

2010-08-20T19:31:00.000-07:00

There's something about rainy days and puddles which kind of make you obsess about the humble boot.
Maybe it's the fact that water doesn't get in (thank you useless canvas shoes)
Or childhood dreams/memories of jumping in puddles (mind you, unachieved childhood dream - because in glamorous South East Asia - puddles are probably more akin to pools of battery acid...)
Or the fact that they're just 'made for walking' (especially true on that day where featured friend and I trawled from one side of the city to the other and enjoyed a shower au naturel at the same time...only the most fabulous way to be drenched is with good, stylish company...it's something I could see Isabella Blow or Diana Vreeland agreeing with...if they weren't so impeccable...all the time)

In any event - I'm a little envious/obsessed (or demented lovechild of the two...) of my fellow drenched companion's Jeffrey Campbell vaguely nouveau cowboy style gumboot booties. Perfect for puddle jumping. With a hint of unexpected Parisian insouciance (curse you Chloe and Vanessa Bruno for making me drool over quasi-cowboy boots...).

And of course - I could never say no to a well-heeled urban hiker's well-loved companion, a fabulous Balmoral in tan (oh yes...proper terminology...golden star sticker for me)...

It sometimes makes me wish the rain didn't go away...

Momentarily of course.

Love

xx

Bec

Film Noir & Ballet

2010-08-18T23:28:00.000-07:00

When I was like five (Qualifying note: You can totally tell that I am just on the cusp of being reduced to a zimmerframe-using, Botox addicted hag with all this nostalgia) -I really wanted to be a prima ballerina (obviously that turned out really well)
I blame it on the haze of candy pink. Tulle tutus (I still love tulle...some things never die...it's like an unhealthy obsessive fantasy...admit it, you love tulle too). Topknots. And pointe shoes (once again...I swear I kind of live vicariously through my burgeoning collection of Repettos).

I'm a little past the candy pink and the actual like 'physical effort' part of ballet. But seeing the kind of effin' ah-mazing trailer for the upcoming Darren Aronofsky film, Black Swan, really brings out the inner (not-so-dead) prima ballerina in me. It's Natalie Portman in a nice return to form (I like to remember her more for Leon than the Star Wars trilogy). And it's a beautifully nightmarish ballet fantasy for little girls all grown up.

A dash psychotic. Infinitely creepy. Confusing (in a way that I think possibly beats Inception) Breathtakingly deranged yet stunning costumes (Rodarte no less...who could do insane chic better) Sexually predatory French ballet instructors (does it sound wrong to say - 'I wish I had a sexually predatory ballet instructor who looks and speaks like Vincent Cassel). And you can't go wrong with a bit of girl-on-girl action.

It's debauchery in pointe shoes.

I'm-a-gonna-get-myself-a-black-tutu-dress-now.

No really.

Really.

Love

xx

Bec

Samara

2010-08-17T23:24:00.000-07:00

Some nifty folks make you happy-shnappy just looking at them.
Like listening to a Beatles album while sipping pink lemonade.
And eating vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles.

The splendiferous Samara is one of them.
I'm more than a little envious of her ability to pull off eclectic with such aplomb.
Bold colours. Adorable accents. Zany patterned tights. Pieces that kind of elicit a tiny chuckle. And the most amazing, shiny Adidas x Jeremy Scott sneakers. Ever. Major camp footwear envy.

It's a little magpie. With a delicious sort of Marc Jacobs/Miu Miu aesthetic.
A dash eccentric globe-trotter. A bit ghetto-satirical. Which makes me think of Henry Holland and Jeremy Scott in spades. Totally fabulously mix-and-match.

The best part about it is that it's so her.
Laugh out loud hilarious (plus she laughs at my jokes...which is kind of a major point-scorer in my books). Bubbly. Full of intriguing tales and slightly mad-cap yet brilliant ideas (I am now fully inspired to embrace the idea of 'Carpe Diem' week and turning horse stables into uber-camp discos). Mega cute. And just super fun in general.

She's just kind of amazing.

Love

xx

Bec

PS. As part of her take on Carpe Diem week - the splendid Ms Samara has entered herself into the Myer Style-Off competition. So yeah...this feature kind of came a little retardedly late but you do STILL have like 24 hours to vote. And that is something worth voting for...

Baby Got Back

2010-08-15T16:23:00.000-07:00

Every girl needs that dramatic piece in her armoire.
Or multiple. Because we could all deal with a little more theatre.
Says she who was tempted to go for broke with a splurge on a Maison Michel headpiece this afternoon
Mind says yes. Debit card says no. Familiar? Surely.

Et voila, could there be a better way to scream 'Look at me' than ye humble backless leotard.
Deliciously body conscious (like I needed another excuse to go on another fad diet or promise myself that I will actually go for runs...mission for 2011 clearly). Shamelessly provocative ('Oh well hello, naked back...'). It's like the sartorial equivalent of a Justin Timberlake video (okay ONE Justin video and yes my musical tastes do sometimes veer towards the trashy...walk of shame...). This little piece of insta-sexiness (like instant coffee but better...because sex [kids don't read this] is arguably better than the humble caffeine hit...) by adorable little label Penny Anne is just the thing to put the capital M into some serious mojo.

Made-to-order and totally handmade by uber-talented Adelaide lass Danielle. In fail-safe black (because we love our fashionista black in Melbourne - plus I mean...it's slimming yes? Yes...). But with embellishments of your choice. From totally out-there feathers to chains to multi-coloured lace. Or simply go monochrome and a dash French maid like yours truly. The possibilities are endless. Talk about super fun. With a capital F.

And because I love appealing to your inner penny pinching, value-seekers. It is totally versatile. Go a bizarre take on tuxedo. Comme moi. For those winter parties that get a little bit steamy. But I'm looking forward to working it with my (new) beloved pair of (actual) vintage cut-offs for those warmer months. It's anything you want it to be. And perhaps a little bit more.

And that's plenty of reasons to love.

Love

xx

Bec

PS. Orders are taken via Facebook/e-mail/mobile. So basically the deal is - add Penny Anne on your favourite people stalking tool and go nuts. Literally. I did.

Pavement Kicks

2010-08-13T19:27:00.000-07:00

I have a love-hate relationship with the humble sneaker.
Hate because it reminds me (ever so much) about my incompetency in all things athletic.
Exercise? Moi? What about never...
And how I look tres ridiculous (never street-cool) in multi-coloured Air Force Ones.

Irrespective of my inability to pull off ghetto...
I kind of love my uber-chic compadre Sam's Miu Miu deerskin kicks.

Serious ghetto/sporty cred. Sure. But totally edgy/noir at the same time.
And with a dash of superfluous luxe. That just gets better with age.
Plus they're like the shoe versions of my beloved deerskin tote.

Definitely some sweet kicks.

Love

xx

Bec

What Those Girls Did Next...

2010-08-12T21:49:00.000-07:00

Recap (for those of us who aren't lovers yet) - I have a gold 'Koh' necklace. Which is kind of fabulous beyond words. Even if they're awesome gold and shiny letter words. And which I (and I think a fair few of you) loved loved loved.

Update - The beautiful and brilliant girls behind the bling are back again!
And in a bigger and better way! It's all about the blockbuster collaborations!
Are you feeling the excitement yet? You should be.

I'm a little obsessively excited with the Dallas & Carlos meets Anna & Boy (whose lustworthy bikinis I covet to no end...even if I am now re-suffering through extensive pilates and gym sessions to ensure I have something resembling a beach body come the summer season) collection. It's totally Madonna in her totally more glorious 'Like A Virgin' and 'Desperately Seeking Susan' (Gaultier cone-shaped bra) phase. Bold. Edgy. The kind of thing that totally puts you in the mood for a debauched 80s pool party. Boombox and heavy synth tunes included. And the shamelessly glam-tastic gold letter necklaces (which yours truly is lucky enough to possess) and kind of ah-mazing chunky word bracelets (that totally make you want to spell LOVE all over again) really put the major icing on the proverbial cake.

It's making me want to put my summer tunes on full blast (oh yeah Funkin' For Jamaica...). Work that booty into shape. And party like it's the Summer of '85.

Even if it is the middle of Winter.

Whatever.

MUCH LOVE

xx

Bec

Chapeau!

2010-08-10T16:10:00.000-07:00

I would like to start a hat cult.
I thought you should know this. Just in case.

I love dramatic head adornment. There's just something about it that really makes an ensemble 'pop'.
A sense of the theatrical sorely missing from the sartorial landscape these days. A divine eccentricity briefly revived then tragically taken away in the form of Isabella Blow. It's all about recapturing the joys of dressing up and good old fashioned feminine mystique.

The frock. The rouge lips. And the cherry on top, the chapeau.

Ah, the antiquated art of millinery. Celebrated and practiced by the legends of couture (Coco Avant Chanel - clearly you need a film-education if you haven't already watched it like ten million times). A gloriously pure form of decoration for your tete. Ornamental. Delicate. Shamelessly glamorous and pretty. The best part of the bespoke chapeau is that it's 110% about the woman who wears it.

And there's noone I would rather have adorning my head than the splendiferous, beautiful and super lovely Gigi Burris. Her droolworthy little pieces of heady happiness really do take you to another place. It's millinery for the modern girl-about-town. Dreamy, pure candy for the eyes but edgy and a little bit deviously rock at the same time. It's for today's femme fatale - As decadent an aesthete as her predecessors. Sans a corset. But definitely never without a black bra. Skyscraper heels and a skirt of perilous heights. A black sense of humour. Just a little bit madcap. Dripping in mystique.

If only I were her. But a girl can dream. And perhaps attempt (badly) to get there (you are sadly cursed with viewing a side profile of my tragically uncool mug)

Opening that cake-box like packaging with the enthusiasm of a kid in rabid search of chocolate cake. And living la vie de Blow. It's the stuff dreams are made of.

Love

xx

Bec

PS. Revel in your inner dramatic aesthete at www.gigiburris.com
The process is almost as delicious as the end result...Honest.

Of Magic & McGinley

2010-08-09T22:39:00.000-07:00

Ah. Ryan McGinley.
Not only is he way cooler than my identically-named younger brother.
But he's just kind of way cool in general.

Cool in the kind of way that makes you want to embrace your animalistic, hedonistic, debauched artiste/coked up supermodel side. And your inner tripped up fairy at the same time. It's that feeling of an amazing aural extravaganza. Dreamy and dirty. Those shamelessly salacious things we're secretly proud of. 'We are animals'. He did for Wrangler in the late noughties what Birkin did for it in the 70s. And that's saying something. Running around naked in a field in nothing save an old fur coat (possibly feasible if you're The Kate and in possession of aforementioned fur coat...maybe not for anyone else).

It's the kind of aesthetic accompaniment you'd love to have in the R-rated picture book of your life.

And it made me just that little bit happier and day-dreamier on a grey rainy day. Where it's been pouring non-stop since 7 AM. And was inadequately dressed for it. Men's tank top today was a poor choice (even if it was from Sweden). Where I tortured myself though a helping of Ethics without paying attention to a thing that was happening. Sans coffee or chai. Or even ye olde humble cup of green tea.

Beautiful truancy. We could all deal with a bit more of it.

Love & Mayhem this rainy rainy day my lovekins

xx

Bec

Unholy Trinity

2010-08-09T00:00:00.000-07:00

Qualifying note (just so you don't think I'm maths-retarded...)
Admittedly - I'd decided on the title after discarding 'Three In One' because it sounded too much like bad instant coffee and before realizing that there's actually more than three ways of playing with my newest piece of pretty shiny bling. And then it sounded far too cool to discard at that point...

But seriously - it's like the ultimate placebo effect to the spendthrift soul to discover that there are multiple ways to work a new purchase. So then it's like 'Well...no, I didn't pay for one necklace...I actually paid for three.' And that, I assure you, completely changes things. Really it does.

At the end of the day, I like to think I picked up this crushworthy trinket from German bling wunderkind Sabrina Dehoff in the name of sharing beauty (and living a deliciously indulgent life) and supporting the cause of aesthetically divine practicality. It's all about the noble causes my friends.

Timelessly elegant. Who could ever say no to black and gold? Not I. 110% fun. With delicate tubes and miniscule beads. It's totally like the African bead necklace I never had (curse you Phillip Crangi for being New York based). And even better - you can totally play 'Create-A-Necklace' with it (which is like every closet bling fanatic's favourite game). Boho-glam and long. Flapper and short/long. A cute little double looped necklace. And might I even be so bold to suggest - a rather effortlessly pretty bracelet.

The possibilities are endless...

Embrace your pragmatic side this fine week!

And possibly combine them with pointless 'walks' down boutique addled alleys.
It's a recipe for a salaciously indulgent adventure.

Love

xx

Bec

Magnetic

2010-08-08T17:00:00.000-07:00

The amount of dodgy cliches derived form magnets! Ain't it just grand?
Magnetic attraction...Opposites attract...Poles apart...
Yeah okay. Sad points going up. I get it.

I used to love magnets when I was little. Something about the way they make that satisfying clink when they come together. And then I did high school physics (yes...the shame still burns today) and the love affair was never quite the same again. There's something about doing stuff as a subject that really just tarnishes things for you. The little flame is kind of coming back though. Thanks to the new "bling-thing" about magnetically clasped bracelets.

A lifesaver for terribly awkward (cursed with non-existent hand eye coordination) individuals such as myself who can't deal with the humble lobster-clasped charm bracelet (yeah screw you Tiffany's). I got these leather and copper babies while on my tropical jaunt (same haunt as my beloved piece of stingray derived arm adornment). Shameless shiny factor? Hell yes. Requisite dash of ethnic? It's probably a little (correction - alot) more glittery than a much lusted over Dries Van Noten piece. But hey...shiny is fun no?

And for all you pragmatists out there - it even makes a pretty necklace that's kind of indulgently fun to make. If only for the clink factor.

Lots of love this fine Monday folks

xx

Bec

A Man & His Bag

2010-08-07T19:18:00.000-07:00

And the awkward stalker is back!
(Bit of a hiatus after a bad case of camera karma - which hopefully has ended)

After all, this dapper chap was spotted during the tres glam and ubiquitously Melbourne 'waiting for a tram that isn't packed to the rafters so I will probably suffocate and kill someone with my bag at the same time' routine. While many a sartorial thumbs up is given to the beautifully executed 'black skinnies and boots' routine (which makes me want to totally date a grungy tortured artist/muso every time I spy it...) - I was just a little more obsessed with his bag.

Ah the man-bag. A name blatantly wasted on a suitably unattractive ex (for the record - I don't think he ever came to terms with its greatness). Satchels, framed briefcases, messenger bags, backpacks. I kind of love (with a capital L) the masculine bag (and pretty much everything with a dandy boy factor actually...><...It's the garconne in me)

But a beautiful man-tote! Subtly luxe and deliciously well-made. It's like the pragmatic book (more likely retail booty) bag of my dreams. Gorgeous chocolate brown. Buttery leather. Double strap function. Minimal but kind of fabulous hardware. I may have stood there drooling for all of five minutes.

Having said that - it kind of made the tram wait worthwhile. And definitely a dash prettier.

And I have a fulfilling mission of the week! A man-bag-hunting we will go! You know what I mean...

Love

xx

Bec

Get Lucky (and Sparkly)

2010-08-06T23:21:00.001-07:00

I believe in luck. There. I said it.
But seriously...I do. And in lucky talismans to boot.
You can never have too many lucky charms.
There's my lucky horse necklace (which I wore faithfully to every exam until it got lost...or some evil person stole it from me...either way...) and then there's my lucky black tank top (which aside from being an amazing top - guarantees that some form of romantic action ensues...I kid you not) and so on...

And why would you not have more lucky charms when they come in the form of pretty little stirling silver amulets?
I first spied the whole range of these babies by Three Jewels (hip hip hurrah for handmade in Melbourne) upon my many (thrifty) trips to Arabella Ramsay (where one goes to find the odd unexpectedly beautiful/cute thing to alleviate the gloom and pain of the dreary student life...) and couldn't stop myself from grabbing at least one - an adorable little horseshoe - partially to make up for the loss of my beloved lucky horse and mostly because it's just that cute (it's the whole kid in a candy store mental condition from which I suffer...big time)

I am sadly already planning a return trip to grab some more because they are just that delicious to wear. The pretty things of Three Jewels are the lovechild (I could say brainchild, but lovechild just sounds awesome) of talented (and uber-lovely) local lass Tanya Rapattoni and it's all about aesthetically and spiritually spreading love, hope and optimism. More of which is something we could definitely all live with. Wearing that special symbol close to your heart and on your skin. It's an adornment philosophy I wish I saw more of.

Delicate, almost too pretty, simple and subdued. A companion for any ensemble. It's almost like the ultimate private indulgence. Appreciated by a more discerning eye. Perfect for those independent, free thinking, holistic, muse-worthy girls who are all about embracing life and its adventures (or for any of us attempting to be like those girls...like yours truly)

And lucky you (and me) - at under 100 bucks - it's pretty amazing bang for your buck. And they come with happy, fuzzy, feel-good cards so you can feel all positive and optimistic about life in general.

You really don't get much luckier than that. Unless of course, you're planning on getting your hot little mitts on the whole range...

Get lucky

xx

Bec

Words of wisdom (or really just information in general):
You can go drool over the rest of Tanya's beyond pretty stirling silver collection at http://www.threejewels.com and even better you can also purchase them online (and you say I don't love you) or you can do like me and get your hiney down to Arabella Ramsay and do it the manual way...

Crystal ball time:
Um...just because I really wish I had a crystal ball and could do the whole gypsy woman routine. Anyway...weird dreams aside...expect more gorgeousness from Three Jewels with its brand spankin' new and amazing Gemstones line (it's all about the healing quality of stones - and I for one am getting myself some healing...) and some bling-tastically pretty gold coming up...

I'm excited already.

No really. Okay I'll stop talking...

(Failed) Group Love

2010-08-05T01:51:00.000-07:00

Some weeks just fly by. In a bit of an awesome (fail) haze.
Like this week.
Where I learned that delinquency (even when it's all faux and try-hard) pays.
For the record, I kind of revel in the louche and 'Rebel Yell' factor even when it doesn't pay.
Which is kind of often.

What ever happened to you?
Once again - as fate's way of proving to me that I am ultimately destined to never reach the pinnacle of cool.
Yours truly has failed at the art of being a groupie.

Did you ever want to be a groupie?
Um. Well duh. Didn't you want to do like Anita, Bebe and Patti and walk around in nothing but fur and gumboots? Even if fur and nudity don't suit you (like if you're a prude or an anti-fur person in general) - don't you secretly dream of 'finding emotional and sexual intimacy' with debauched musicians (Definition seriously comes from Wikipedia)?

If so - Don't do like Bec and mistake two members of Broken Social Scene for poverty stricken American (correction...Canadian) backpackers who were playing gigs for travel money. Have a lovely polite conversation with them about the merits of vintage leather jackets and my general befuddlement over where to eat on the grunge central that is Gertrude Street. Get number. Express general geographic retardation. ('Um...so where's the Corner?'...'Somewhere in Melbourne') And then decline aforementioned indie royalty's invitation to eat with them.

Because if this does ever happen to you. You will most likely get the following reactions:
Ear piercing screams.
General dismay.
'What is wrong with you?'
'Why do things like this always happen to you?'

I don't know. Clearly I do not deserve it.
However - I can totally revel in the kind of amazing video. My almost-famous-groupie moment. And a rather fabulous vintage day dress. That made me miss my chance at cool-dom.

Peace

xx

Bec

Peek-A-Boo

2010-08-01T16:10:00.000-07:00

Well-worn wisdom tells me - 'It's the little things that count.'
And how right they were! Despite the fact that my cliche-o-meter is going off the chart.
That and a friend of mine is telling me that aforementioned phrase actually applies to matters of the heart.

Um. Liar.

Equal application to matters of dress. Duh.
The dapper guy in an apparently corporate suit - if you didn't notice his amazing knuckleduster arrangement
The folky lass - with a fluttery shirt cuff that literally took my breath away and a cute hat made all the more incredible with the unexpected addition of a sole feather.
You get it now? Yes? Yes.

Which is why I am just a little in love with the newest addition to my mother's bag collection (Word to the wise - you can get away with 'careful' borrowing...). It's really the little things that make my heart melt.

Ah. The Fendi Peek-A-Boo.

The way it's not quite brown, grey or black. But rather all three.
The fact that it appeals to my inner bag-hag schizophrenic. By having that completely label-tastic interior.
Either for your eyes only or left effortlessly open for the world to see.
The kind of vaguely addictive twist-and-lock clasp. It is seriously addictive for the record. Just you try...
I should probably stop fiddling with it though. I think people stare. And probably not out of envy.
The classic ladies-who-lunch, Hermes Birkin-esque aesthetic.
But with enough surprises to keep it interesting.

It's the type of peek-a-boo which makes us grown-up gals scream with delight (unless it's...okay...no gutter brain will not ruin this moment...)

But really. Better than sex.

Love & Surprises

xx

Bec

Riviera

2010-07-30T23:47:00.001-07:00

Apparently it's going to hail tomorrow.
Winter weather. Bleak, miserable, gloomy. Cold with a capital C. All-round-yuck in general.
It's got me California' dreamin' (and there she goes, breaking out into 60s minstrel mode). Or rather stuck in un reve de St Tropez. A pair of K. Jacques (next on the *spend*thrifty purchase list). Carefree denim cut-offs. Tank tops. And just running around bare-legged and carefree. As you do (when you're playing beautiful muse)

All this pining for summer and balmy weather. I totally blame it on my new olfactory obsession which makes me smell like iced peach teas, vanilla sundaes, a guilty whiff of a clandestine Gauloise and tropical evenings (it is that yummy). It makes me just a tad obsessed with my newest find at the temple of all things girly-grunge and perfect, Arabella Ramsay (I have never successfully walked in and out without finding something to spend more money on...with the subsequent crushing guilt feeling making me dishonestly promise never to walk in again).

It's the perfect effortless throw-on. A re-worked Riviera inspired blazer courtesy of What Goes Around Comes Around (Come summer - I will probably be crushing on their customized punk-ass flannel shirts) A bit 1950s Monaco gentleman. Perhaps a little louche Miami Vice. Comfy and adorable as hell. It's totally perfect thrown over a little dress for that la garconne feel. Or with a tank and those much-desired-for beat up Levi's cut-offs (story about those later...arising from the death of a previous much loved pair of shorts in rather unsavoury circumstances)

I've found my new lover for all seasons.

Lots o' love on the boardwalk this weekend kids

xx

Bec

Blazer - What Goes Around Comes Around
Tank - Vanessa Bruno
Bling - Stolen from Grandma (literally...that's not a label...)
Shorts - Vintage Levi's (from Arabella Ramsay)

The Eye of Daniel Weiss

2010-07-30T19:09:00.000-07:00

This month, my bible of all things avant-garde and oh-so-Parisienne-cool-girl, Jalouse had a Redhead issue.
Um yes, you read that correctly, a celebration of all things and people flame-haired and fabulous.
It almost made me wish I was part of that genetic minority (this, of course, would be a genetic impossibility - the Asian dominant gene clearly has made its mark on me) - at least the cool part of that minority. Which would include people like my brilliantly, gorgeous and ab-fab companion in all things camp and awesome Sas. And the people in that issue. Who aren't quite my friends yet. But they totally are in my head.

And voila - one of these people would be Daniel Weiss.
He who casts a rather bleak, edgy eye over the streets of New Yawk.

There's a touch of noir. A bit of the boy-factor (the best collection of retro cars ever...). And a lot of subversive humour (cue once again - old cars with even more awesome number plates - OLD SCL anyone?). His images aren't of anyone particularly stylish or beautiful. Everyday people. Now there's a concept. But like everyday people in New Yawk of course. Which are kind of just a tad cooler (alternative term - bizarre) than everyday people here.

It almost makes me want to photostalk the homeless people on Swanston St. Or those skater boys who always attempt to kill me every time I want to catch a tram to escape the boredom of class. Or the countless mothers and daughters having retail-induced tiffs on Bourke St (familiar?) Or even just my beyond beautiful posse of amigos. Who really should be a lot more photo-whorey anyway...

Here's to embracing the everyday.

Love

xx

Bec

PS. The rest of Daniel's photography is available for the admirin' at: http://www.danielericweiss.com
There's also a blog...but I've kind of forgotten what it's called...
Point is...check it out

Spin The Bottle

2010-07-30T02:23:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wish I was old enough to fully grasp how cool the early nineties were.

Johnny D hadn't settled with Vanessa P in France and was still wrecking hotel rooms.
Winona had cropped hair and was the very essence of pale, alterna-chic cool.
Kate Moss wasn't designing stuff for Topshop and was instead embodying drug-addled beauty.

Alternative was actually what it was and not some kids with emo hair singing about cutting themselves.
Worse yet, Miley Cyrus grabbing an electric guitar and purporting to connect with her tortured 'artiste' side while grinding on a pole
(For the record - I have nothing against pole dancers, in fact, I'd totally take up pole dancing as an alternative to yoga should anyone want to join me...Anyone? I'd also like a pair of pole dancer shoes. Trust me, they look pretty damn amazing and are apparently more comfortable than their perilous heights would seem to suggest)

But we can all appreciate the highlights of a bygone era. And then up our faux-cool factor by sprouting out words like 'Dope' and 'Whack'. Screw a healthy tan. It's all about embracing our winter-induced pale-skinned introvert. Be bitter. There's nothing like sprouting a bit of Reality Bites and My So Called Life angst every now and again. And muse about that one-sided romance in days gone past. Five minutes in a closet with you...

It makes me want to reinstate 'Spin The Bottle' as a party game all over again.

In hopes that it may alleviate my life from the following line:
'Love is when you look into someone's eyes and suddenly you go all the way inside, to their soul, and you both know instantly. I always imagined I'd fall in love nursing a blind soldier who was wounded in battle. Or maybe while rescuing someone in the middle of a blizzard, seconds before the avalanche hits. I thought at least by the age of 15 I'd have a love life, but I don't even have a like life'

Mmhmm.

Like - Love - You know what I mean.

xx

Bec

Theatrical

2010-07-29T04:50:00.001-07:00

'You're such a drama queen'
Yes, well while I would dearly love to think so, a number of failed auditions in high school convinced me otherwise.
I think the person responsible for the above remark may have been simply referring to my unhealthy penchant for exagguration and general extreme (and probably unwanted) dramatic flair in everyday (cue normal people) activities.
It should be noted that above quote is usually accompanied by a sharp hit to the shoulder and a disapproving glare -
'People are now staring at us.'

But there's something distinctly alluring about the theatrical. The whimsical. The out of the ordinary. Something that makes me take a second look at the overly dandy guy who obviously put considerable effort into styling his mustache to an almost comical extent. Or the retro goddess at Seven Seeds who comes dressed head-to-toe in gorgeous vintage dresses from the forties with jet black femme fatale curls and Dita Von Teese-esque red lips. It's a little odd. But it definitely turns heads.

For the rest of us ordinary folks - there's no harm in a dash of sartorial whimsy to make one's life significantly more interesting. Which is why my inner drama queen absolutely died (a fake stage death of course...drawn out for maximum attention-whoring) upon seeing these adorably dramatic babies by wham-bang-ab-fab Finnish designer Minna Parikka (even saying the name makes you feel all fuzzy and cute on the inside)

A tad sensible 40s retro pump (ah yes the sensible court shoe for the serious professional climber in all of us). With a dash of the cartoon universe (hello Mick Jagger on those smacking red lip shoes).

It's theatre at it's very best.

Lots of love. Take a bow for me tonight. Or a curtsey.

xx

Bec

PS. Yes - these were kind of vaguely tragically spied in Asia. And in a somewhat sadder turn of events - are (alas...swoon of distress) not stocked in the Antipodes! But be a good theatre buff and perve on the rest of these delectable shoe babies at:
http://www.minnaparikka.com
There's even an online shop...
And you say I don't love you...
Tsk...

Happy Camp

2010-07-27T16:22:00.001-07:00

Some places are just meant to make you smile (and quite possibly spend copious amounts of money in a spendthrift haze)

Musa is one of those places.

Gloriously camp. It's like the grown-up, glittery Barbie Fantasy House of every girl's dreams (Seriously, you didn't?). Covetable pink couches. Showgirl lights in the change rooms. Bubble features. And all things shiny and fabulous. A rhinestone studded shoe phone. One of the best rainbow brogues I've ever seen in my life. Kanye sunglasses (now all I need is the mega fur coat). Shameless bling. Super-happy clothes with polka dots. And colour. Lots of colour. Happy Socks. A live runway show playing on the wall. Like a bogan sports bar except ten trillion times better. Faux-grass and oversized fantasy rocking chairs outside. With really lovely friendly people inside. And yummy Pan-Asian nosh to boot. So basically you can get takeaways of both the edible AND non-edible type.

What more could you ask for really?

Maybe Malibu Ken would seal the deal...
But really a girl can't complain...

Especially with good takeaway

Love

xx

Bec

Catchin' Some Rays

2010-07-26T22:17:00.001-07:00

So you can totally blame my beloved future-evil-world-dictator friend for the catchy pun in the title.
Rays of sunshine and stingrays...okay...no you probably get it. And I most likely don't need to spell out the more than evident 'dad joke' element of the line. A weak moment for one whose American Psycho tendencies come with usually rapier-sharp wit. And a penchant for nearly poking out people's eyes with cocktail toothpicks.

This is by far one of my favourite little finds from the tropics.
Ba-da-bing-and-boom
My stingray bracelet. Um...no not of the happy kind of 'we drew a picture of a stingray and put it on a bangle' as part of a paltry attempt to educate little girls on the variety of wildlife on our planet. But rather more of the brutal 'I killed a stingray and...voila...made a pretty piece of wrist adornment out of it' (My personal uber-bitch Anna-Wintour preference)

Before you throw your RSPCA picket sticks at me - I am totally not a fan of animal violence. I love animals. In fact - I totally wanted to become a vet when I was younger then realized I wasn't cut out for the job when my two wrongly named hamsters (I got the genders mixed up) died in my care.

But there's something about leather (and no...not PVC...no love for the fake things in life) that's just so beautiful (For the record- I totally fell into the same trap with my beloved Yves Saint Laurent deerskin tote). Stingray leather. It's just that extra little bit more esoteric and special. First spied on a Balenciaga 'Lego' belt I could barely afford. Then on a pair of Givenchy heels I still dream about to today. It's a pretty cool feeling having something just a tad 'alien-esque' on your wrist. Especially when they're the limited-by-the-piece, hand-made babies of a Malay ex-supermodel (now happily married to some gorgeous European with two disgustingly cute Eurasian babies...yeah...the type of people who make you want to kill yourself).

It's a little subtle. Loving the Melbourne grey? Just a bit facetiously glam. Definitely odd (I've had questions ranging from 'Is that a mosaic?' to plain 'Um...what the hell?'. And one of my favourite things for the season. Perhaps a little ray of happiness in my rather gloomy-shloomy semester of boredom.

Sing it with me now...'You are my sunshine...my only sunshine...'

Okay maybe not.

Curse you, lame pun friend.

Love & Sunshine

xx

Bec

Stiletto

2010-07-25T16:14:00.000-07:00

As the ever-chic and sublimely wise Giovanna Battaglia (yes she of the impeccable outfits and 'rumoured to be dating Vladimir Restoin-Roitfeld' fame) says - 'The lower I feel, the higher the heel!'

And good Lord, rarely have words rung truer.
There is nothing like a pair of skyscraper heels and abbreviated skirts to make you feel all happy (and like you actually have desirable legs...)

Bad-ass platforms, wedges, chunky, artistic, bizarre...the bigger the better and I love them all (and secretly you do too...no really...you do...especially when they raise you to above average height...it's your inner 'I not-so-secretly fantasize about being a supermodel and not waking up for less than 10000 bucks a day' girl...)

And then there's the stiletto.
Could there be a better symbol for glamour and seedy illicit affairs?
Clearly my mind is far too often in the gutter.

Yes - they do make for some awkward 'teeter-totter' moments (and even worse disasters when caught in drains when drunk)
And point taken - they are rather 'delicate' hence the occasional 'tear-inducing-heart-breaking' heel breakage incident
On the flip - I'm sure they'd be an effective weapon for causing some pain. Have you tried jabbing someone in the foot with a stiletto heel? Highly amusing. But perhaps not on the receiving end.

But nothing beats a pair of black, metallic-heeled (sadly non-vintage but really one can't complain) Ferragamo stilettos. A mini LBD. A lychee martini in hand. And lounging around in a hilariously facetious bar with a pool feature (yes...a pool feature). For making you feel like a whole new woman. Or a faux-fantasy-supermodel at least.

Lots of love & glam

xx

Bec

Hobes Is Where The Heart Is...

2010-07-23T21:48:00.000-07:00

First things first -
(a) Yes I am well aware that it actually is 'Home is where the heart is...'
(b) No I am not cliche-retarded. And who wants that hackneyed expression cross-stitched into many a well-abused welcome mat?
(c) While I am very fond of homes and a warm bed in general - my heart tends to float towards a good pair of shoes...

Especially 'running around the city' shoes. And no, not running in a marathon sense (kudos to you kids who did that but just...no) Say 'aye' with me if you too have suffered from shoes that have given you the mother of all blisters. Not fun. Or have broken apart on you (yes you stupid grey brogues from Fat...). Or have Asian mothers who attempt to force a pair of unsightly orthopedic 'comfort' shoes upon you ('Just no...mum...no...')

As we suffer through tres unromantic, disgusting bleak wintery days - my heart is very much set a-flutter by a good pair of Hobes.

The relatively spankin'-new brainchild of the talented (and might I add - lovely) Georgia (you Age-addicted sartorially talented law students may have already spied them in the paper)- these babies are the all-round 'looking-adorably-chic-while-running-around-on-an-urban-adventure' shoe.

Born out of every girl's quest to find the perfect shoe (now seriously, who hasn't thought that...) and inspired by the classic primary school (and it seems current trad/preppy/Americana dandy man) staple desert boot. Timeless style (so yes, it won't be like those gladiator sandals you're totally regretting buying after seeing some trashy teenager wear them with her lycra piece of material from Supre...) Deliciously comfy (and may I add foldable - I think that totally adds an extra element of thrill for me...it makes me think I have 'jet-setting' shoes...even if I don't really jet-set all that often). Totally hand-made with sublime Italian suede (and canvas) in god-sent neutral colours (there is a fascinating back story involving a traditional Italian shoe-maker)

Impeccable quality and totally high unisex androgynous cute factor - and for the price of 150 bucks a pop (yes I feel your inner tight-ass Asians screaming for joy). There's all too much to love.

And you wondered why my heart now belongs to a pair of Hobes...

Feel the love today. And run with it.

Love

xx

Bec

PS. Buy a pair (nay even more) on Georgia's beautiful site - www.hobes.com.au
In different materials and colours! Are you screaming YAY yet?

PPS. But if you believe in being manual and boring like me - they are also available for the tryin' and buyin' at Gorman and Obus stores around Australia

Mi Casa

2010-07-22T19:10:00.000-07:00

As Dorothy said - 'There's no place like home'

And indeed she was right.

Nothing really compares to lazy days in the tropics. Childhood homes filled with memories of idyllic evenings. First kisses. Tragic awkward teenage moments. Spending everyday in the pool with your 'like totally cool' posse. Home made iced lemon tea. Slightly insane relatives. Family ghosts. Eight course banquet dinners. Getting a decent tan. Putting your feet up. The fish fountain. The faux-cave and the rather salacious action within. Mahogany benches and sunsets. Adventures of a rather well-travelled bag. It's a little bit jungle. But tamed of course. Letting the afternoon sun dry up droplets of pool water on your skin. It's a little bit insane. They call it 'going troppo.' But it's a beautiful eccentricity.

And all too perfect for me.

I miss it already.

Love & Sun

xx

Bec

Hip-Hop-Smoking

2010-07-21T18:28:00.000-07:00

I love procrastinating. Especially when it involves finding pretty things to look at.

I really like this little piece of musical film. It's not new. But it is pretty gosh-darn amazing. I am rather fond of a good musical. It started with Joseph and culminated in many-a-guilty-snigger at the West Side Story in music classes.

I am also a little in love with Janelle Monae. I like to think I'd totally be like her if I had actual nouveau jazz/ghetto cool factor and was African American. It's a bit Outkast. And totally Yves Saint Laurent (Le Smoking anyone?) And maybe a little bit apocalyptic with its vision of android auctions. But if I had to choose any version of a bleak destructive future to live in - I'd totally dig this one.

And seriously, screw the robot next time I burn up the dance floor.
It's all about the android.

Love

xx

Bec

The Newest Arrival...

2010-07-21T16:29:00.000-07:00

And here it is - my new baby.
The newest addition to my 'on-the-verge-of-exploding' wardrobe. I know. The solution is to 'minimize' rather than add in more superfluous but totally ab-fab pieces...but...but...

It can always accommodate another bag. End of story.

Bags hold a special place in my usually small consumer-whorish heart.
I am a proud member of multiple groups which proudly scream 'My bag is worth more than your life'
Because most of the time it is. Well, at least definitely in the case of my ex. Awkward? Okay. Yeah.

Ah, and a Chloe tote makes for the perfect travel-adventure companion in the tropics.
Buttery soft goat-skin leather. That trademark gold hardware we all know and love (who doesn't love a bit of hardware...and not of the nuts-and-bolts sort). Big enough to carry all the essentials of life. And a bit more. Multiple pockets to subtly hide the sins of the past week. And a big strap for that 'I'm trying to desperately emulate Alexa Chung's preppy androgynous schoolboy aesthetic' (It's the satchel factor). So really that makes it more like two bags for the price of one. At least that's how it totally won me over. Swoon.

Elegant. Tasteful. Simple. Pragmatic. And might I say, rather huggable.

And who said you needed actual human arm candy?

Love

xx

Bec

Tiger Tiger!

2010-07-19T02:14:00.000-07:00

I love bling. Shamelessly. Preferably the bigger, the better.
Call it the pragmatist within me...Finger adornment and self-defence instrument. At the same time.
Nothing short of brilliant.
And especially when it has to do with big cats.
Like tigers. I love tigers. They're like lions but without the 'do and with a way cooler coat.

Which is why I'm particularly obsessed with this baby.
I got this off my favourite jeweller/taxidermist/all round majorly cool person at Shag (Vintage Ferragamo man - if you've been following the epic sartorial soap opera that is my life...and if so...lots of love)
His pack of boulderdusters were packing a particular punch that afternoon.
And in a slight stroke of insanity, I had a feeble - 'Oh my god, can I be as cool as you?' - moment.
And while the rest of the pretty little things on his fingers were sadly not available for my dorky imitation.
Alas, the tiger ring was!

Being ever the uber-sweetheart, he even appealed to my inner Asian tight-ass (which is dying...a slow and painful death thanks to this little piece of work) and emphasized the VALUE of the ring (aha...every accountant's favourite term - bang for your buck - and not necessarily a reference to sex for money)

Because really it's like fricken' massive. And therefore counts more as three rings as opposed to one.
So really - it's like 'Three for One' day.
That's a concept any Asian parent would love.

Spendthrift me? I'm just enjoying once again basking in my title of 'Lord of the Boulderdusters' (yes a challenge was made - and if you'd like to duel with me, you know where to find me) and embracing my total scary obsession with all things shiny and big. I like to think I'm also totally getting in touch with my inner predator.

But maybe that'd be a little creepy.

In any case - it's the law of the jungle this fine afternoon. Revel in it.

Rawr

xx

Bec

Blog-porn: TOURIST

2010-07-16T22:12:00.000-07:00

Ah yes, she's spamming the inter-webs like a whore on crack.
But I've missed you all so much.

No seriously. Some things are so good they deserve to be shared.
Like new blog-sessions.

Et voila. Benevolent soul that I am. I'd like you to meet my favourite type of TOURIST.

Oui! Tourists. I really haven't gone that mental and embraced my shameless budget tourist side. Mm-hmm. No matter where you're from, you know who I'm talking about. They walk around in packs. Usually with tiny digi-cameras in tow. Loud conversations in their own language. Usually led by an incredibly conspicuous pack leader carrying a coloured flag?

Psh! Ye of little faith.

This is like the tourist you wish you were. With the visual diary you'd love to keep. Chock-a-block full of the cool hip kids you'd love to hang out with. Short stories from the new glitterati literati. Conceptual photography. Where the image = dialogue. Perceptive? I know. The new arty-shmarty thing in town. No wait, in the towns you'd love to live in. There are 'issues' yes. But you don't really need to follow it in any particular order. It's just a pleasure getting lost in a spell of clicking. And that's the best kind of travel isn't it? Even if you are stuck in a travel lounge. Or worse yet, your own living room.

And worry not, it doesn't come with a handy pack leader (with or without a coloured flag)

Get lost. Now. You know what I mean.

Check it: http://www.touristmagazine.co.uk/

Love

xx

Bec

A Touch of Hermes

2010-07-16T19:26:00.001-07:00

Slightly superfluous background note - I was originally hoping to greet you with some nice happy snaps of my home away from home (possibly also so you can secretly go 'I hate you' and then I can smugly smile and say 'Well...yes...naturally...I was actually warm for a change...') but then Blogger decided to be a bitch and not process the photos. Maybe it's out of computer envy. Possibly. In short, story for another time.

But the tropics would not be the tropics without the requisite South-East Asian indulgence of retail therapy. Never has the Visa been worked so hard in its life. Actually no that's a lie. But anyway. And there's nothing like a bit of Hermes and tea. I'd like to take both at the same time. But I can't actually afford the tea cups even if Elle Macpherson (yes she of the bras and The Body) tells me that I should. I couldn't resist taking a little piece of the fantasy home with me. The fantasy involving me and a Birkin bag. And not much else.

Possibly a few decadent silk scarves that I could turn into a dress. Luxurious nonchalance.

Like the Twilly. Kind of ridiculously pointless. I mean, it probably doesn't even constitute an actual real scarf. But deliciously pretty in a kind of classic, traditional spoilt princess kind of way. She who owned a pony at the age of five when the rest of us dreamed. And eventually morphs into the type of woman who 'lunches', has an affair with the Costa Rican pool boy and owns a wardrobe full of Hermes bags (the Kelly, the Birkin...god forbid...also the Constance). This is disturbingly starting to sound like my own twisted fantasy. But we can all dream.

And even if all that never happens. And we end up stuck in libraries in very gray wintery conditions. Getting lost in Le Monde d'Hermes. Playing with that Twilly. With an old broken cup of tea. And the scent of Annick Goutal's Petite Cherie in the air. It comes pretty close.

Keep it dreamy and pretty today my loves!

Love (from she who is depressingly back in Melbourne)

xx

Bec

The Bad Factor

2010-07-09T01:23:00.000-07:00

I totally believe that secretly (or not so secretly) everyone totally wants to be bad.
With a capital B. Like bad-ass. Like that MJ song that is currently stuck in my head.
If only I could moonwalk. But no.
Because it is totally cool just to be that little bit delinquent.
Even if it only happens in my head.

Thank the high stylistic powers that be (I'm convinced The Wintour is totally God of that group) - for those little things that enhance that sense of 'imaginary' bad...
'Imaginary' bad (for those of us who don't speak Bec) = You have some form of very conservative degree nicely tucked under your belt but are totally fooling the world by dressing like you're on the fast lane to dying at the age of 27 of some form of substance abuse and/or choking on a sandwich

Those ripped denim shorts (mine being ripped past the bad level and into unwearable level...I get all misty eyed at the thought), anything involving black leather and...THESE BABIES.

I must admit to having an obsession with these Illex Kinni platforms for some time now. I went so far as to stalk pretty much every Fat store in Melbourne trying to track them down to no avail. And was most downcast and sad when I had to abandon my task. But a late night internet shop-scapade (where one too many Red Bulls makes you remember things somewhat long forgotten) led me to the blessed discovery of their online store!

Et voila...

The 'imaginary' bad factor has automatically been ramped up to a whole new BAD level.
There are so many many many things I love about these boots. Where does one start?

(1) They look like the lovechild of 70s drag queen platforms and a very well heeled dandy man boot. Complete with side-laces and that very debonaire buckle at the back. And I do love cross-breedings that are so wrong, they're right.
(2) They're huge. I mean seriously...they raise me to an un-Asian height. Win. Win. Win.
(3) They are fantastic for stumbling around the city post-midnight on a very alcohol-fuelled bender. And apparently getting home alive.
(4) They just look effin' fantastic.

Sing it with me now...I'm bad...so bad...yep...

Keep it bad kids

xx

Bec

Oh Captain, My Captain

2010-07-06T01:09:00.000-07:00

'O Captain! My Captain! Rise up and hear the bells...' - Whitman

Point noted. Too many watchings of Dead Poets Society.
And I totally would have attended that school had I been the right gender for it. Preppy male chauvinistic goodness.
And yes this is another one of my trademark 'If only I were a dandy man' rants. Which probably happen far too often for my own good. Resulting in the following introduction: 'Hey, this is Rebecca, she's a transvestite in disguise.' Awkward. Shall we move on? Yes. We shall.

But there's something inherently fascinating about the gentlemen of a bygone era. The sartorial element. The paraphernalia. Gin and bourbon. Because you have to drink like a man. None of that retarded alco-pop shit. Cuban cigars. Pipe smoking. Tuxedos. Bowties. Initialled handkerchiefs (something I am proud to say my father still does). Going to an old school barber. Retro jazz. Neat haircuts. Courting as opposed to dating. Button down shirts. Perfectly tailored suits. The idea of bespoke. It's very Take Ivy. And somewhat of an unhealthy obsession.

And so you can imagine the happiness level upon stumbling into Captains of Industry. Stumbling is probably the wrong way to put it. Honestly, I stalked it. As you do. Because clearly we're all normal people here. And nothing (not even my retarded geographic skills) could stop me. And it was my first port of call after the trauma that was exams. My inner dandy man (yes you know him very well...you and I both...) nearly died of happiness. Because he'd totally live here. Even if there were genuine dandy men (of the actual right gender) giving him kind of weird looks. 'Um...why is there some dorky Asian girl drooling on our floor and like totally invading our space?' With it's kind of grungy, very arty-urban 'oh-so-hidden-in-an-alley-and-up-a-rickety-flight-of-stairs' aesthetic. Instant cred. And the glorious loft space with sunlight streaming in through the windows. Vintage typewriters. Retro lamps. Travel trunks. Old magazines. Empty spirit bottles. It's enough to make a retro gentleman swoon.

And why wouldn't you live here? Retro barber. Check. Bespoke suiting service. Check.

Oh...oh...and wait for this...Handmade shoes. Yes. Because inner dandy man and I had a conversation. And we decided (yeah it was totally his fault) that wrong gender or not, you can never go wrong with a pair of totally made to order dandy man shoes by the lovely J.S. Roberts. Hand-dyed and made to your specifications (I kind of possibly spastically drooled through the whole process. Literally) In all their classic, old school Anglophilic glory. There is currently I believe a massive four month waiting list for these babies. But totally worth the wait. Oh and the sad thrill of seeing your name go up the list. Because I'm cool like that really.

In any case, whether you're actually a boy in search of that much-needed retro sartorial goodness or a girl with an inner-dandy-man problem or something in between (like a tranny in disguise) - the noble Captains do serve a mean coffee and apparently some very yummy nosh.

Lunch date anyone? Like...I kind of need a valid excuse to re-stalk the place. Really.

Lots o' dandy love

xx

Bec

Do yourselves a favour and pop into Captains at Level 1, 2 Somerset Place, Melbourne (Handy hint for the geographically retarded of us...it's ridiculously near the GPO)

Or perve at the website: http://captainsofindustry.com.au

PS. And thus begins the saga of the hand-made jodphur boot! But you can drool and swoon at the rest of James' creations at his lovely website: http://jsroberts.com.au
Even better - have a chat to the man himself, because he really is lovely with a capital L and talented with a capital T...

Off To The Tropics!

2010-07-05T04:00:00.000-07:00

Ohhh...blessed Internet...I have spent far too long away from thee!
No seriously, until yesterday I was reduced to the DIAL UP Internet available in my childhood home which basically amounts to no Internet at all (if you've had the misfortune of being reduced to dial up...ever)

GREETINGS FROM THE TROPICS!

My trip so far. Retail therapy-whoring like there's no tomorrow. Being spendthrift with paternal approval. And feeling vaguely normal doing it. Because do as the Romans do yes? And no points for guessing the Asian sport. Balmy tropical weather. Afternoons in the pool. A new haircut. Regular salon visits. A new jewellery obsession. Divalicious boys and girls. Iced tea in a hammock. Actually getting a decent tan. THAT Danish guy in the gym. A ten year reunion round the corner. And ukuleles all round. Okay no I don't have a ukulele handy. But I so would if I could.

You know that...

Keep it cool (but not freezing a la Melbourne)

Love & Coconuts

xx

Bec

Harry - The Poet

2010-06-28T01:01:00.001-07:00

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

2010-06-27T06:58:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-06-24T20:30:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-23T19:39:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-22T23:15:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-22T01:54:00.001-07:00

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

2010-06-19T08:20:00.001-07:00

'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

2010-06-15T23:34:00.001-07:00

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

2010-06-12T21:17:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-12T20:21:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-11T01:38:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-09T09:41:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-07T01:16:00.001-07:00

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!

2010-06-05T18:58:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-03T07:53:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-02T08:27:00.001-07:00

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...

2010-06-01T21:35:00.000-07:00

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

Boulderama

2010-05-31T22:18:00.000-07:00

So apparently I have a new nickname: Lord of the Rings.
Which makes me feel either very masculine or elfin or both...

Slight problem with aforementioned nickname - For God's sake, I can't decide on 'one ring to rule them all'
I mean seriously...Frodo clearly was not a knuckleduster addict. Or a believer in 'the more the merrier' or 'you can never have too much hand adornment'...which by the way is very true. It makes you feel very powerful and editrix-like when you type.

Seriously.

My newest baby may not rule them all but it definitely is a candidate for 'one ring which screams - Say hello to my good friend, pain' (okay...bad A-Team reference there...*face palm*) Looking at its seriously hefty boulder-esque goodness (some people can't actually decide what it is...it's a boulder by the way or at least that's what the lookbook told me) - it could pack a serious punch. And it manages to look ever so awesome at the same time.

And you thought you needed to take self-defence classes.

Take a cue from Mr T and bling it up seriously instead.

Word.

Love

xo

Bec

Return To The Classics

2010-05-30T19:18:00.000-07:00

There is nothing better than a good, time old classic.
Something that doesn't go out of style.
Something that has been a timeless symbol of feminine elegance for decades.
Something that you can convince your Asian father is an 'investment' (Oh, it's not for me...it's for my future daughter)

Say 'hello' to my baby (i.e. my early 21st birthday present)
It was adopted in Hong Kong. In all its exciting black and white boxed glory.
I was tempted to go the path of the black and gold...but then realized that I have about five bags in that colour (I can't help it if it just looks that damn good...)

But instead went the path of 'ladies who lunch' camel.
I think of it as my first step on a path of pearls, cashmere twinsets, cucumber sandwiches and Hermes scarves.

And perhaps a very rich husband would be very much in order...

Oh the classics, how you threaten to bankrupt me so!

Love & Diamonds

xo

Bec

Brown Backpack & Leather

2010-05-29T06:27:00.001-07:00

I've been told several times that I practically live at Seven Seeds. This is probably sadly true. To the point where I have one-sided love affairs with the 'far too well-dressed and beautiful...and good Lord do they know it' staff...I even have nicknames! There's Awesome Tattoo Lady, Cute Gay Guy, Grey Shirt Boy, Retro Lady, Intellectual Llama Boy...the list goes on really. But we don't need to hear about that. I mean...Bec's not a stalker right? Other point to note - Seven Seeds also has a whole host of ridiculously stylish patrons.

This gentleman was certainly no exception to the rule.

I would steal this ensemble if I could really. It's so simple and appropriate for the trans-seasonal madness that is Melbourne (oh hello...it's miserable and rainy...oh no wait...the sun is out and I am currently burning up in my 50 bazillion layers of wool...okay stop bitching) I'm just loving all the colours and the not-too-busy layering. The buttery soft leather jacket in the perfect worn shade of brown is just absolutely lustworthy.

And the backpack!

Oh-my-Lord...did I have quite the *swoon* moment when I set eyes on it! In fact - truth be told, it was the first thing I saw. My mother keeps telling me I should buy a backpack as apart to my usual 'chuck everything into it' tote and I've always ignored that advice. Mostly because backpacks remind me of evil days in school with hideously coloured nylon bags. Either that or my failed hiking days. Both memories - Bad. Bad. Bad.

Having said that - I sadly note that the tote and duffel are becoming just a little bit ubiquitous these days (yes curse you Country Road duffels and your teeny bopper, side ponytailed following) and have had my heart set on a chic knapsack with two straps that I can effortlessly swing across my back as I hike through the urban jungle a la Alexander Wang muses.

This one should totally rid your mind of any bad backpack nightmares with its gorgeous (and utilitarian might I add) deep brown colour and nondescript (but existent) hardware.

Might I add - he was absolutely adorable (and far far far too sweet) and told me where I could buy it (and it was affordable to boot) but I've completely forgotten the name of the shop (so PLEASE COMMENT IF YOU SEE THIS! Okay too bold...bah...whatever I'm desperate) plus we totally bonded over hailing from the same capital city (Kuala Lumpur if you were ever wondering)

Apparently he hangs out at Seven Seeds all the time...new stalking friend much?

Love

xo

Bec

An Adorable Man-Eater

2010-05-27T21:48:00.000-07:00

The thrill of the chase.
The hunt is on.
She's on the prowl.
Then she gets eaten.

Okay that's the slightly noir humour of the video...which maybe only I found hilarious.

Back in the day, yours truly was known as a bit of a man-eater (and no...not of the scantily clad Nelly Furtado video type...damn that was an annoying and yet surprisingly catchy tune)

Note - The present day situation is less man-eater and more...let's not go there (I have already been told several times that I wallow in 'dateless and bitter' territory far too often...it makes for a good laugh after experimental cocktails though)

I'm a bit in love with this Neko Case video. If only because it really takes the mickey out of man-eating and adorable little she-predators. Plus it's just a really cute video with girls with really big heads and pleated skirts. Don't you just want to frame it?

Or um...eat it?

Love

xx

Bec

Fruit Loops

2010-05-27T00:48:00.000-07:00

The kids at Lenko are so beautiful and stalkable (not that I go there repeatedly to acquire more somewhat left-of-centre adornment for my fingers) and Sam was certainly no exception to the rule.

Aside from being preternaturally pretty (all tousled black hair and doe eyes) - her outfit is literally TOO adorable!
There is of course your beautifully executed Melbourne black (cute tiered dress and to-die-for booties...dear Lord I do love a good pair of booties...but I doubt anyone needs to hear me wax rhapsodic about that)

But my absolute favourite thing here is (go figure) - THE BLING
Qualifying note: Can one really use the term bling when...it really isn't all that shiny at all?

Her giant rainbow fruit bowl necklace reminds me of happy mornings with Fruit Loops (which deluded me into thinking all fruit was rainbow coloured and tasted pretty much like 100% artificial food colourings with scary chemical names and sugar) It may literally be the happiest piece of neck adornment I have ever seen.

Be happy & healthy!

But possibly not with Fruit Loops (although I must confess to being more of a Coco Pops fan myself...)

Love

xo

Bec

A Bit of Press Love

2010-05-27T00:01:00.000-07:00

So there is a quote from me.
In enlarged, black, bold font.
In actual (it will paper cut you) paper.

Which really makes me look more important and intelligent than I really am. Seriously.
It happens to be included in the really lovely, insightful and humorous article about the wonderful world of blogging and style stalking (although it is far more eloquently put than that) by my favourite dapper editor of style Tarang.

Apart from the fact that I am slightly excited about the press love.
It really just is a beautiful magazine (I give it a major A+ for aesthetics...I mean that's half the battle isn't it?)
And I guess more importantly...it's a really good read. Whether you like politically flavoured ice-creams, poems about Macbooks, a bit of a short story or just learning how to behave like a proper law student (or fake it...)

What are you waiting for? Indulge your inner legal eagle...

http://www.mulss.com/sites/default/files/users/20/PurelyDictaEditionOne2010StandardResolution.pdf

Love

xo

Bec

PS. If you're morbidly curious about my press rep - I am on page 24...or maybe slightly after that. But read the whole damn thing anyway because it's pretty brilliant.

An Old Watch & A Pair of Wings

2010-05-23T17:59:00.000-07:00

After a couple of sleepless nights and (bad, bad, BAD) indulging in chocolate cake and 60s inspired motown pop about heartbreak...it's now official that I will probably spend the rest of my life wallowing in academic failure.

But if all else fails, I will be a beautifully adorned failure in all things meant for the intellectual and bookish (and I don't mean of the picture book) kind. I'm a little in love with this trinket I found in Hunter/Gatherer a couple of weeks ago (oh how I long for the days when it was just a simple case of finding a good style stalk without the 'looming Doomsday' feel of exams totally cramping my mojo)

It's one of those brilliant little pieces where you can say - 'Ah, it's new...but it's old at the same time' (because if you stick an old, broken watch face and a pair of vintage war wings together - it becomes something altogether different no?)

So while I may have no brains or aptitude for anything involving a more complicated word than 'Sale' (although this word I know in multiple languages...Soldes anyone?)...I do have a necklace which makes me feel like a somewhat ingenious kooky turn-of-the-century industrial inventor. Et voila...why try when you can simply look the part of the eccentric genius?

Academia at its best.

Love

xo

Bec

Haskins & Retro Cowboys

2010-05-22T00:53:00.001-07:00

Retro photographic (Translation - borderline pornographic) coffee table books make me really happy.
I mean not only do they make you look really classy ('Look at me! I have artistic books on my table') but they really are my favourite type of book to read (maybe because I find words too challenging for my academia-challenged brain)

While I am currently rotting away in the sad pitiful four walls of my house (has anyone ever counted their walls and realized that there are probably more than four?) thanks to the wonderful people of a certain law faculty which shall not be named, an inadvertent stumbling upon the late Sam Haskins' quasi erotic Western fairytale 'Cowboy Kate & Other Stories' really made my day.

It's a book of cheeky paradoxes. Topless women posing with a bust of Voltaire. A classic spaghetti Western storyline written by Haskins' then eight year old son. Muses of the 60s shot in noir by one of my favourite photographers of all time. It makes me wish I was born in a bygone era where nudity and erotica was less about surgical enhancements and more about au naturel beauty and about creating an artform.

So while I should probably be manically typing up some form of legalese at the moment, I am instead taking the time to have a cup of therapeutic tea and procrastinating with pure retro prettiness at its best.

I suggest you do the same.

Love & Kisses

Bec

xo

The Future Mogul

2010-05-19T21:06:00.000-07:00

Some people are just so awesome (with a capital A...my friend and I actually have a dorky hand signal for this) that they get their very own teaser posts featuring their very own beyond fabulous boots.

Bectionary definition of Capital A-Awesome people: Persons who are just so cool that you end up staring at them creepily for half an hour before doing the 'walk of shame' to explain that:
(a) You are just a bit obsessed with their footwear
(b) You're a socially awkward style-obsessed dork (but harmless enough to not merit a restraining order or anything involving the police really)
(c) Their coolness vibes are hitting at beyond head-exploding levels

Paul is a Capital A-Awesome person.
And I suppose you and I could emulate aforementioned capital A-awesomeness using the following step-by-step manual:

(1) Be a dandy man about town (thereby making your significantly less cool interviewer feel like she is an absolute loner in comparison)

(2) Have impeccable taste/style philosophy
I think I may have had an 'Oh my Lord, you and I were destined to be insta-friends because your awesome levels have just reached quasi-god like levels' when discussing style in general over coffee. Simplicity - Check. Basics you can't live without - Check. That one signature item (like a killer pair of shoes or some absolutely crushworthy bling) - Check. Perfect tailoring - Check. I rest my case.

(3) Be a swashbuckling pioneer in the name of art and bacchanalia!
Okay I really didn't have to use the word 'swashbuckling' but...it's so much fun...
The best thing about capital A-awesome people is that they're always doing something that they love and bigger and better things related to that. I may or may not secretly lust/party crush over the 'Ooh here is our exciting oh-so-French social life' photos at the back of Jalouse with Theodora Richards rolling around pretty much naked save a fur coat. Now - could something as trashy/cool ever take place in the Antipodes? One wonders.

Well if Paul has anything to do with it - voyeuristic photography sessions, international musical acts and beautiful people rolling around quasi-naked in faux or real fur could very well be happening in our own backyards. Or at least I hope mine.

(4) Attract thy opposite!
If all else fails and you don't have killer shoes or fur coats - do check out Paul's absolutely drop-dead-please-shoot-me amazing blog 'Opposites Attract' to unleash your inner edgy It-Girl/Boy with a vengeance. Not your average drab events blog - it comes with droolworthy photography and pretty sick tunes to tap away your 'I'm an absolute loser and sit inside my house cursing [insert subject here] exam' woes (not that I'm in that situation at the moment...)

It has duly been added to my 'List of All Things Inspirational' so GO GO GO my children and have a good ole perve.

And what can I say after all this?

To the beautiful powers above that be - please put more capital A-awesome stalkworthy people like Paul...preferably in Thousand Pound Bend...pretty please...

Much love kiddos

xx

Bec