Between Two Artichokes

 Well Hello.
It seems that I was so overwhelmed by Wearing Black all Holiday that I forgot to post anything. Perhaps Persistently wearing black, leeches, or is it, drains all the creative juices out of people?
If that is true, it would certainly go a long way to explain Karl Lagerfeld.
I'd love to say that this Marvellous Post will make up for it, but sadly, I know that it won't. I'm far too tired & distracted by watching a v. young Van Johnson in a movie called, 'Between Two Women' which may as well be called, 'Between Two Artichokes.
 In it, Van plays a v. young doctor who cures  an equally v. young Gloria de Haven of 'Neuro-psychological Self-Starvation', which is what they called Anorexia at MGM in the 1940s.

I was so bedazzled by the fabulous array of sparkling white Toy Doctor & Nurses uniforms that the entire cast wore, with the exception of Gloria who was dressed as a Slightly Trampy Nite Club singer, that I had to take a photo to show you.  BTW, Young Dr. Van is on the left. Wouldn't you just love to be fussed over by that lot when you about to have say, a gallstone operation? I know I would.

 Here I am at The Seaside. You'd think that this would be a Holiday Snap.
Sadly, it isn't. Believe it or not, I was Actually Working whilst I was posing for this photo.
Pourquoi, you may inquire? A beach is not a Classroom & even if it is, where are the students?
Surely I wasn't attempting to teach passerbys? Or a rogue seagull?
Certainly not.
In fact, I was at a Spirituality Retreat that the entire staff went on just before the girls came back to school earlier this week. I was sent  down at the beach  to see if I could See God in All Things, to quote St. Ignatius Loyola.
You'll be pleased to know that I almost succeeded.
Note I'm wearing something that almost, but Not Quite, looks kind of like an Edwardian Mourning Outfit, but perhaps I  am deluded. I didn't intend for this last bit to be in large writing, but it won't stop.
Important Notice: OMg. This blog is a Complete Mess. Just then I stupidly pressed the 'enter' button which deleted the photoof me next to grafitti which should be here. Then I re-added it, but now it's at the Top of the Post. Please please scroll back & look at it.

 Have I ever told you that I love Grafitti? My friend Dark Star Maud led me to to this new Outcrop in the back streets of Newtown last week when I was legitimately on holidays. I was thrilled at the tiny stencilled girl with the Parasol. Please note the large Louis Vuitton bag. Since  I bought it last week at 'BednobsEtc' for forty bucks, I have been in a Total Lather because I convinced myself that finally this time, I had cracked a Real Louis, not a Toy Louis. The Leather Trimmings actually look & smell like Real Leather & The Hardware, as  the little brass knobs etc are called, all had 'Louis Vuitton' stamped on them.
Besides, the Bag had a Certain Air of Gravitas that no other bag I've held has ever had. I even swaggered into a 'LV" shop in Westfield with it dangling off my arm & confidently said hello to the smiling assistants, like I go in there all the time.
But over dinner at the Spirituality Retreat, my supportive colleagues started casting doubt over the bag's Parentage. To prove them wrong, I consulted Google between courses. After a short search, I found a short movie called 'How to Spot a LV Fake'. The Earnest Presenter spoke with the urgency of an expert who was informing people on how to Spot a Communist during the 1950s.
There's a whole raft of tell-tale signs, none of which MY Bag exhibited. But then, just before the end, she said that the LV initials in a Real Bag never had stitching on them or were in a crease. No, LV was sacred.
But not on My Bag.
I was crushed.

 Look below. I've wearing my best Drum Majorette Outfit to greet diners at my favourite local cafe, Zinc.

 And here I am back in the classroom after the Spirituality Retreat doing my best Tea Cozy Impersonation.
 Note I'm Partially Wearing black.
Had a great holiday. Watched 30 Rock, made Apple & Strawberry Custard Crumble for my sunday nite dinners, wondered if Kate Middleton was really too thin, swooned over Vaughn Willliam's 'Lark Descending', read 'Women in the Background', an only partially satisfying novel by Barry Humphries AKA Dame Edna, downloaded the Glee Cast version of 'Born This Way', wondered about Alec Baldwin's marital status, toyed with the idea of opening up the lid of the piano & dusting the keys before playing a tune & revelled in wearing my Toy Ugg Boots, but never outside. In fact I'm wearing them now.

Basking In a Winter Wonderland

Absolutely Not Skiing.
Howdy & Welcome to My Winter Holiday.
It's rare for people to announce that they're on a 'Winter Holiday', unless of course they're going skiing. And I've never skied in my life. The very thought of it sends shivers down my spine.
Think of all the accidents. And all the lost limbs. And all that cumbersome equipment you have to buy or hire & then lug up mountains or hop on ski lifts with .
  I don't think I'd be capable of hopping on a ski lift. I'd lose my footing & catapult down the mountain & sustain serious Head Injuries. And then where would I be? In a Nursing Home.
And don't get me started on the Outfits. Nobody, not even The Duchess of Cambridge looks good in a Ski Parka.
No, I'd much rather sit at home & watch back-to-back episodes of 30 Rock. Or trot down the road to my favourite cafe, Zinc & sip lattes. That's where I was earlier this week looking a little too much like a Wannabe Middleagedteacherbikerbabe for my liking.
Note that I am Wearing Pants. This is a totally new innovation. I stopped wearing them in 1983 after thirty years of hearing My Mother tell me that pants & especially jeans made my bum look too wide. And my little legs made my bum look too close to the ground.
Anyway, I do love the pants, even though I can still hear my Mum's voice in the background as I trot down the street in them. They're thrifted 'Bettina Liano' & are a cross between a Harem Pant & a Sweat Pant.
Harem Sweats. Perhaps I've coined a new term.
And then there's the Biker's Jacket. Another thrifted item in Toy Leather.
It's a constant battle to Dress Age Appropriately. It's like solving a puzzle or or deciphering a code or worse still, slaying the Jabberwocky. I must, repeat must, keep those Baby Doll dresses out of my wardrobe. I've got to cover up The Girls & the Upper Arms. Maybe I can show a bit of leg because the leg is the last to go. And the last thing I want, is to look like I'm Trying too Hard. Heaven Forbid.


 In my last entry I announced my love of grafitti, although I was at pains to say that I am Not a Lawbreaker. Here I am in Newtown this week, after a sumptuous lunch of Corn Fritters with my friend, Dark Star Maud. Dark Star is always on the lookout for Fresh Grafitti & this one, which adorns a rundown squat had only been painted the day Before. Talk about being On the Cutting Edge!

You'll notice that I'm still wearing the Harem Sweats but thankfully without the Toy Leather Biker's Jacket. This winter, I've totally embraced the jacket. It's my desperate bid to emulate Emanuelle Alt, the editor of 'French Vogue, although I look nothing like her.
A small Accessories Point: If you double-click the image you may notice that I'm wearing Big Elephant Tusks around my neck. You may be relieved to know that No Elephants Were Killed so that I could wear their tusks. They're plastic.

 Whilst on holiday, I've had loads of time to not only walk past shops, but to stop &  covertly take photos of them with my Beloved iPhone. What a treat. And what a dreadful Spy or Undercover Cop I would make.
Romance is Born is the name of an Australian designer clothing brand specialising in V.v. colourful one-off items that perhaps are made from antique kimonos & velour cushions & old tassles maybe with a motley fur stole thrown in. You can see what I'm talking about if you scroll down a couple of photos. Their website proclaims that wearing one of their items is a 'Clothing Experience'.
Of course, my current 'Clothing Experience' is a Sea of Black & Occasional Navy. The most colourful I've got this week is to wear sequinned horizontal black & white stripes which have slight Bumble Bee overtones. Perhaps you could say that my clothing label, if I had one, would be called, 'Romance Was Dead or better still, Romance Was Dead Until I Met Someone Suitable. I bet Tina Fey would've come up with a better name than that. I must, repeat Must, stop being envious of her. And I must stop wondering about Alec Baldwin's marital status. As if.

 Talking of black, here is one of my favourite photos of Me & Maeflower. She & Russell visited this past weekend & we went to Parsley Bay, a cozy little cove nestled into the Easter shores of Sydney Harbour. Of course we weren't going swimming in those outfits. I'm wearing a rather large 'Jaegar' cardigan with gold buttons that once belonged to Aileen, the 97 year old who sadly died a few months back.

 See what I mean about Romance Was Born's, 'Clothing Experience'?

 We're now moving into The Chanel Part of the Blog.
Don't you just love this painting of Coco? I found it in a book on Chanel at Ariel Bookshop in Paddington, & of course,  whipped out my iPhone & took a photo, careful that the shop assistant didn't see me. Perhaps I would make a good Spy after all.

 And then I walked down the street & found these wonderful vintage Chanel pieces in the window of 'Harlequin Market, again in Paddington.

 I do love it when neighbours dump their unwanted furniture on the street. I nearly always want to drag whatever it is up to my apartment. This time, however, I resisted the urge. It was a complete suite of chairs. Some had neat little patches on the arms. Neil, my building's Caretaker (Oh, how I ache to call him our Concierge!) generously took the photo. Note I'm holding my Daily Second Latte.

Lastly, here are some of my earrings & rings. I'd gladly trade them all for that Chanel Necklace a couple of photos back.