Chapeau!

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

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

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

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

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)

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

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