Hobes Is Where The Heart Is...

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

The Bad Factor

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

'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...

All Tied Up

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

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

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

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

Love & Laces

xx

Bec

Those Brogues

Brogues...
Winkle-poppers...
Dandy man shoes...
Derbies...
Richelieus...


They go by many names but the unmistakeable cool factor remains the same.
Whatever you call them, there's nothing more chic than teaming a pair of brogues with an outfit to give it that 'borrowed from the boys...but I can wear it infinitely better than you' edge.

Note: Many items fall into this category I've noticed...namely...the oversized tuxedo shirt, suspenders, cuffed shorts, trousers, grandpa cardigans, oversized Rolexes, cologne...I could go on and on (But do feel free to add to the list of power)

There is a factor of overwhelming sexiness and empowerment about making a masculine item yours.
Which is one of the many reasons why I fell in love with these brogues from the moment I saw them.

On the one hand, they remind me of my beloved classic patent black Repettos purchased in Paris (like the ones Serge Gainsbourg wore except not quite in the pimp white colour) but with cut out panels that just made me flip over and gasp in that oh-so-familiar mix of envy and awe. It's like tradition but twisted on its head and given that extra little bit of sexiness.

Of course like all amazing things they were purchased in some random little store that has since faded from memory...

But it inspires me to make a whole new look: 'Borrowed from an edgy boy'

Love

xo

Bec

A Tale of Prettiness, Picket Fences & Those Boots

Sometime after first week, I decided that I had far better things to do with my time than sit in class and pretend to learn about the law. And so began the great tradition of field tripping (yes the wheels on the bus do go round and round...)
Last week's adventure with my enigmatic friend (because I tend to have a bad history of taking trains in the wrong direction and having near death experiences with trucks) was to the little hamlet of Hawksburn

Wittily described as: 'Where hawks go to burn...' but more akin to 'overly loaded yummy mummy' capital of Melbourne.
I felt like I should be pushing some 'Pimp My Ride' pram just to fit in with the crowd.

But oh my god...prettiness. Picket fences and old little cottages. And the things inside!
I think I seriously did the 'sigh and die' thing a couple of times...

Especially when I saw these babies...




Custom made Willow boots (so I learned upon being told by the very well dressed and snooty shop assistant that I'd have to pay a 50% deposit to try out my size)

So super whorey (like the love child of YSL Tribs and Nicholas Kirkwoods), architectural and minimalistic. It's pure sex (and rock and roll) in a shoe. Say it with me now...SIGH AND DIE...
Alternatively, take them home and live in a bubble of pure happiness and coolness for the rest of your life (or at least the month)...

Love

Bec

xo

Old School Luxury

I love seeing people who make an effort to wear something beautiful to a rather boring place like uni every day.
That's one of the things I love most about Sam, there's always something about the outfits he puts together that makes me want to drool...whether it be a piece of McQueen jewellery, a really well cut shirt...or some really classic luxe Tod's loafers that totally combine the comfort of sublime materials and craftsmanship with style that never really goes out of fashion.

The quietly luxe piece for your own enjoyment...meant to be appreciated by a well-trained eye.

A classy man after my own heart.

Love

xo

Bec