I need to give my brain a moment to dump its current thoughts and swirlings down unknown portals and rabbit holes.
All I dream of right now is getting out of the city, in a van ( with built-in bed, preferably of the Kombi variety ), driving along the coast with no phone reception. No need for TV, or even a laptop. We would stop off at almost every little town to explore, find the best pies, sourdough and coffee. The bikes might come out for a ride, only stopping to capture some memories and admire the old country architecture, dwell in the history and peace.
We would visit all the beaches and immediately run to the water for a swimming / snorkelling / attempt-to-surf session. Sandy and salty hair required, showers not necessary, freckles abounding. Outfits made up of swimwear always ( one-piece on the more conservative days, bikini every other day ), easy jeans, white white white, with a touch of boho and a practical sun-shelterer, otherwise known as a plain old hat.
Then we’d find a little spot for the night to pause, with s sea view, bring out the bottle of wine and fire up the gas stove to create some new, satisfyingly fresh meal with the day’s finds. Snuggling, whispering, and watching the moon until falling asleep to the sound of the waves, before waking up early to repeat. Over and over again.
Truly this has been my dream since Year 8 – it is even visually recorded in my graphic design workbook for future proof. Maybe I could even find a way to set up a little sewing station, or a collage workspace, ready for me to unleash the pent up inspiration with boundless time. Yup, that’s what she wants, it’s what she’s always wanted.
(Images from 1, 2, 3, 4)
In the last few weeks I’ve started giving my daily outfits little names, just to add to the creativity and encourage some lesser-worn combinations. Outfits of note have included :
– ‘Sexy working mom’ ( which has to be said with an American twang, or it just doesn’t work ) – a jeans and print on print concoction, complete with bling belt.
– ‘Cowgirl moves to the big smoke’ – taking the Texan girl out of the ranch and making her werk werk werk in that office with some bandanna and denim meets black skirt and blazer.
– ‘Sailor Moon vs. Gossip Girl’ – a Harajuku-ish, sailor-ish, preppy Upper East side appearance, complete with the houndstooth print and silk scarf.
I have a fresh persona every day, even if the clothing I wear is regularly recycled and re-mingled. Who really am I?
If I were a model though, I imagine my wardrobe would contain even more strange concoctions and distinct pieces, with a true mix of quirky vintage and richy rich designer. So very jealous of Georgian-native Nini Nebieridze’s closet right now, because it is just that. Designers en masse – from the likes of Loewe, Vetements and Acne Studios. Polished with the vintage touch, including some glitzy pants and frills of your dreams. Reliving the teenage dream, the me I wish I was while also battling braces – we have a killer babe showing off her orthodontics in the fashion world.
(Images from here)
I give myself decision fatigue every morning as I consider which amazing cafe to visit for my darling coffee. Options are a real struggle. First I have to make the decision of going to one of my two loyals and favourites ( although I can hardly call myself loyal can I, when I am frequently torn between more than one ). If that’s a no, then I have to decide which place from my extensive list will be the lucky winner of my $4 that day.
Yes, decision fatigue is such a first world invented, trivial problem, but it is real. Hence why so many of the most successful people a la Obama and Mark Zuckerburg wear a self-invented uniform each day, as a way of reducing the number of decisions needed to make.
Unfortunately for me, or fortunately depending how you look at it, a uniform is not an option. The joy and mini burst of creativity I find when compiling my day’s outfit far outweighs the burden of the decision, although it is often a tumultuous and drawn-out process ( one of the reasons why I find it so handy to lay out the night before – more sleep time, less early morning stress time ). I need to reduce my decisions in other ways instead.
The only decision-making saviour I have found so far is through Well Made Clothes, where I know that whatever I pick to purchase is sustainable in some aspect. Whether it’s ethical manufacturing or sustainable fabrics or locally made, I know I’m safe in my choosing.
Like Limb – with seriously sexy looking jumpsuits and snap skirts. All made in locally in Melbourne by a couple of clever girls with a dream of wearable classics. Definitely achieved. Definitely a guilt-free, non-decision ( because there is no decision-making required when it all looks this good + feels good for the planet ).
(Images from here)
I’m not sure why, but initially I attempted to hate Miss Margot so bad. I tried to think of her as an awful person, or a whore of sorts, because someone who looks that damn good literally all of the time cannot also be nice or funny or personable. But life just isn’t fair, because it seems she is. Margot is one of those girls who seems to have the best of everything, and be insanely lucky / clever in the paths she has taken.
She’s proven me wrong, and maybe made me a slightly nicer person in the process. It’s a big fat whopping lesson in not judging a book by it’s cover ( not that I personally know her, except in dreams ), but every interview paints an image of someone so down to earth and free from the ugly grasp of Hollywood. My heart has flipped so much that I don’t even want to find flaws in her now, she can rest as an angel forever in my head.
We aren’t all opposite either, Margot and I. She has the same busyness, crazy life issues as me, as do most of us. The desire to have some time alone, away from the hype. But as soon as we are gifted this space, we need someone around, immediately, something to do, some occupation. I get her mind. And I love it.
As I also immediately love any film she features in, or just about any outfit she takes to the carpet in. That beautiful face and piercing eyes. Her shoot from the latest issue of Oyster is one of my eternal favourites now – I just have to push to the side any pangs of jealousy arising from that perfect body too. The Miu Miu sheer dress and gingham shirt combo has been featured in just about every magazine, on every model, but undoubtedly trumps on Margot. The naughty but nice combo, so Harley Quinn.
(Images from here)
Every morning when I go to the gym ( every morning is a loosely held term right here, but #goals ) my bag is quite literally filled to the brim with outfit and face things. Like, it’s a real struggle to close. And that’s without including the required towel or skipping rope at times.
The zipper has reached the near-broken stage, and I am praying it doesn’t decide to give way as I bustle my way through the city one day, or in the middle of a crowded public transport commute. I just fill it with a full outfit, sometimes options, because you never know – life and my mind are often unpredictable. It’s so full and chunky that often once I make the walk to the gym and unload my junk, I’m left with red rubbed shoulders. All that baggage, in all senses of the word.
I am a self-confessed bag lady. The one who doubles her size and requires much more walking and sitting space than expected. Don’t let me start on the handbag sitch, because that is equally as dire, but. once again, filled with only the necessary. I swear.
While I ponder my baggage and all the extra useful muscles I am building ( via crossed fingers ), I also dream about the world and the adventures to be had. The places to see and immerse myself in, the people to meet and understand even through a difficult language barrier. It’s an instant massage for my weary shoulders. Could be that it’s reassuring my daily incidental weights practice will lead to easier travels in the long run ( lugging a pack around the world has never been my forte ), or just the immediate peace that comes from looking at a dreamy photo and being whisked away to another land far far away from the kilos pressing on my back.
Claudia Corrent’s photography is taking me to that dreamland currently. Her Insulae collection is sending me mentally across the waters, where instead of sitting in a fake-air office right now, I am sipping an espresso in a square in Venice before stretching my legs to walk alongside the canals for hours, until I’m too sore to go any further. Followed by a good dose of wine and a carby, yet simplistic, meal, inducing the perfect slumber. I could equally get lost in Greece and Morocco through Claudia’s eyes. The whole world is waiting.
(Images from here)
I think I would probably have enough content (read: millions of saved pins, liked Instagram posts, bookmarked street style collections, etc. etc. ), to establish a post just dedicated to denim every month. The textile that surpasses all genres, genders and age. My absolute favourite.
It’s rare that I spend a day without denim – the necessary under-layer to allow for daily jazzing and experimenting, applying to all seasons. Almost everything goes, and I’m yet to find a denim jacket I don’t love ( particularly of the vintage kind ). So, a little tribute.
(Images from 1, 2, 3, 4)