What I actually wore #0018

Serial #: 0018
Date: 16/01/2009
Weather: 21.5°
Time Allowed: 5 minutes

This outfit is all about the blouse. I love that word: it is so old-fashioned, but really fits because of the enormous frill cascading down the front. I feel like a flamboyant native parrot, proudly puffing out its chest.

I came across it whilst browsing in Shag one lunchtime. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but that’s when you find the best things, isn’t it? The racks there are bursting with colourful goodies like a lolly shop, but the vivid turquoise – my favourite colour – caught my eye. I tried it on immediately and just as quickly decided I had to own it. Although it is over thirty years old, its puffed and pleated sleeves instantly modernise it, bringing it in line with the volume seen in recent seasons.

I feel like a flamboyant native parrot, proudly puffing out its chest.

Another favourite colour of mine is burnt orange. It isn’t often in fashion so whenever I see it, I snap up an item, such as this silk skirt from Hannii. The plain A-line shape complements the complicated blouse, which, let’s face it, could be something Penelope Keith’s character Margot in The Good Life would wear while swanning about. This dangerous potential for prissiness necessitated an antidote: my stomping black heels. I love a bit of contradiction in life – it keeps one from being predictable.

Items:

Blouse: Edith Hart, vintage
Skirt: Hannii
Shoes: Zoe Wittner
Earrings: vintage
Watch: Kenneth Cole
Rings: Roun

Get thee to a Runway!

Alright, so I know I am really behind the times, but last week I watched the entire first series of Project Runway for the very first time. I think I’d never caught it before because a) Australian commercial tv is so behind the times, and b) I’m hopeless at watching series tv – remembering when it’s on etc. And if I miss an episode, I get very distraught. (That’s why I still have not seen any of Six Feet Under: I missed the very first episode, and that was it; all over for me.)

So finally Project Runway comes my way and I watched it all almost in one sitting; I found it that addictive. The tears! The drama! The gowns!

Actually, the most fascinating aspect for me was the creative process behind each finished product. They didn’t show enough of that for my liking, particularly the initial conceptual work.

…I watched it all almost in one sitting; I found it that addictive. The tears! The drama! The gowns!

Kara Saun did have the Midas touch (I really loved those shoes of hers that were disqualified.) I adored Jay McCarroll’s brutal candour immediately, and was rooting for him almost from the starting box. My favourite personality though had to be Austin Scarlett (pictured above) – what a great name that is. Every time he came on screen I thought of Cecil Beaton. And as for Wendy Pepper! Words fail me. I am sure enough was said at the time about her pedestrian work and abrasive personality so that I need not wax lyrical here.

I also thought all the judges were great (I adore Michael Kors’ column in US Glamour), and Tim Gunn, the mentor from Parson’s was excellent. And as the show’s presenter, Heidi Klum was hilarious. She uses her eyebrows to great effect.

If you haven’t seen the show, I suggest you hop online right now and buy it, or get thee to thy nearest video store immediately!

Pearls beyond price

Can you imagine a tiara constructed of real South Sea pearls? Queen Elizabeth wouldn’t be able to afford them. My twin pearl swans didn’t cost that much but they are priceless indeed.

For days I walked past the cabinet containing these works of art, giggling to myself every time. There were cute little pigs, puppy dogs with floppy ears, and lonesome swans, but I was all eyes for this conjoined pair. They were brash and bold and fake; so kitsch that I had to have them.

They were brash and bold and fake; so kitsch that I had to have them.

But what on earth would I do with them? I had to ask myself, puzzled. Should they sit on a shelf at home madly gathering dust until one day I try – and fail – to fob it off onto one of my nieces (none of them are young enough anymore)? But then a brilliant inspiration seized me… By rights, they ought to feature on these pages in some incarnation or other, and that was when I suddenly struck on their true raison d’être: a tiara!

So here they are, immortalised.

Bags might fly

The prodigal princess has returned from her jaunterings abroad at last, excess baggage in tow as usual!

Owing to the mad rush in which I organised this trip, I spent at least two days too many in Saigon, as I was unable to alter my itinerary. After a tangential trip to the Mekong Delta and various Saigon city tours, what to do? Shop, naturally.

The result can be seen in this new bag stuffed with all sorts of Vietnamese goodies: a silk brocade kimono; a custom-tailored ao dai; fanciful beaded slippers; an armful of jade and wooden bangles and sundry rings; five silk cushion covers; an antique, ceramic water smoking pipe; two bags of coffee; a number of hand-embroidered and other ethnic garments (must support those rural cottage industries); a Dr Seuss hat, silk belt and necklace from Hang Nga Crazy House in Dalat; and presents galore. You might say I went a bit crazy myself.

Two days before I was due to leave I thought I should check if everything would fit into my bag.

It couldn’t possibly.

After a tangential trip to the Mekong Delta and various Saigon city tours, what to do? Shop, naturally.

The last straw was an adorable round cushion made of lilac, pink and olive shades of woven silk that I simply had to buy. Not a cushion cover, you understand. An actual cushion. What was I thinking?

I decided the only thing to do was to make one more purchase: another bag. I would stuff it full with all my shopping and carry it on the plane. (The round cushion was jammed into my checked baggage and made the bag look rather plump, but at least I was under my weight limit.)

I felt a little conspicuous on board – until I saw one Frenchwoman blithely disembarking with an enormous lightfitting dangling from one hand. At least that’s what it looked like, with coloured cylinders poking out of paper packaging. I can't imagine how she fit it into the overhead baggage compartments.

I had to laugh. I thought then I’d never worry about excess baggage again: all you need to carry it off is an air of insouciance.

Sit like a lady!

This was always one of my mum’s favourite admonitions when I was growing up. (What this says about my apparent propensity for lounging vulgarly I do not like to mention.) “Sit like a lady!” she would exclaim whenever she saw me lolling on a couch – or at the table, heaven forbid. She was particularly horrified if I was wearing a skirt or dress, and my legs were spread wide.

Unsurprisingly, it was my own comfort that was of paramount importance in my mind. It was merely an expression of the utter relaxation one felt upon returning home from school; or from completing some other exhausting task, such as watering the garden, or ironing dad’s boxer shorts. There was no-one around to observe my inelegance.

…sitting straight with one’s shoulders back – chin up – will always bestow elegance.

Except my mum of course. (My next-oldest sister hardly counted – she had no qualms against photographing one exiting the toilet, so she certainly held no pretentions to elegance herself). There were other crimes of manners to which my mother objected vociferously, such as guffawing so much one could see one’s fillings, or picking at food with one’s fingers at the dinner table. One risked a whack on the fingers with a serving spoon if caught doing that, and a homily on the traditional use of cutlery. (That was my sister; naturally I never behaved like a peasant at the dining table.)

Now I’m quite grown-up I see the benefit of sitting up straight. Not only is good posture actually good for one, but sitting straight with one’s shoulders back – chin up – will always bestow elegance. One may not be wearing the most expensive clothing, or designer sunglasses, but an elegant carriage will always catch an admiring eye. And it costs nothing except a little effort.

I do recall once when I was a teenager an acquaintance of mine watching me with a sneer as I disposed myself comfortably into an armchair, tucking my feet carefully under me so there was no hint of knickers showing. She spitefully accused me of trying to be posh. It makes me smile now; if only she’d known that I owed it all to my mother’s constant harangues!

These days I hardly ever sprawl in company… and never in a skirt. Thanks, mum.

Happy Mother’s Day.