You Can Judge a Book by It's Cover

I just love book covers, particularly vintage crime novel & fifties children's book covers. I even love reading what's inside. Here's a few of my favourites from the Massive Collection of my colleague Nancy Belden.

Roma

Mr Middleaged is in Rome attending a series of business meetings with hot-headed & overfed Europeans. I'm quite miffed that I didn't go too but I have to stay here Sweating Over a Hot Whiteboard. One good thing is that I'll have plenty of time for blogging. Meanwhile, he'll stuff himself with rich Italian food, gain five kilos & come home unable to sleep for a least a week until his body clock adjusts. I have no pity.

One Day I Knew I'd Have a 'Lifestyle'.

I was born with the Magazine Gene. Ever since I was very small I couldn't walk past a newstand without begging my mother to buy me something. She would often refuse, but I'd always throw a Giant Tanty & eventually get My Way. It began with British Schoolgirl Magazines, which had serialized stories about Hideous Bullying at ivy-covered boarding schools; then it was Pop magazines, full of pictures of The Beatles & Marianne Faithfull & Hayley Mills who I was convinced that I looked like; then 'Seventeen' magazine & finally 'Vogue', which I'm still reading.
For a few years during the late sixties, I was totally obsessed with 'Seventeen'. I remember reading an article in it one day & seeing for the first time the word, 'Lifestyle'. I didn't exactly know what it meant, but I decided then & there that one day I'd have one.
I adored the clothes, the Models & the Real Life Models who had names like Jamee & Kimberly. For a little girl from Daggy Sydney, America looked so new & shiny. Every teenage girl had a pink phone in her bedroom & a closet full of crisp mix & match separates in startling colours & bold prints.
Lately I've been noticing that my wardrobe choices seem to be harking back to my 'Seventeen' days. I'm not sure if it's a good thing. I know that My Mother, if she was still around would be saying, 'Someone of your age shouldn't be wearing horizontal stripes! And what about those spotted tights that have no feet in them? I've never seen anything so ridiculous! Act your age for once!'
Sorry Mum.

The Sincere Library

Our staffroom at school is full of strange items, like fake fur stoles & bottles of evil-tasting sweet liquors hidden in filing cabinets. It's a regular little Pandora's Box, which is not surprising considering the people who work in there. Last week, while chatting on the phone I spied a large collection of little pulp romance novels , made in the sixties by The Sincere Library. I immediately pounced on them, photographed the covers & then hauled them off to class for Year 9 to read. They liked the covers more than the stories.

Gushing All Over the Stars

On Saturday night, Mr. Middleaged & I atttended a charity art auction dinner at The Art Gallery. Famous old rock stars were going to be there, including my perhaps, all time favourite, Neil Finn. On the way in the car, I mentioned my plans to have a photo taken with Neil & he replied, 'Whatever you do, don't GUSH all over him'. For the remainder of the trip I sat there seething, rehearsing the gushiest things I could think of to say.
Having a slight argument before attending a function rarely sets you up well for a night out, but somehow we managed to get over it before we entered the building. Must be our Middleagedness, because in times past it would have been a disaster.
I'm always disappointed when I see what people wear to these things. I want everyone to dress up like it's the Academy Awards, 1958.
This time it was the usual Sea of Black, interspersed with a few quirky types dressed for an Eighties Night or maybe Casual Friday. Actually, I know I'm mean, probably a leftover from being told not to be gushy. The photos tell a different story. Here's me, probably looking more like a Tarot Card Reader than I'd like to look, wearing a range of plums & caramels & muppets. I'm with a fab Merchandising Girl, Clare, who also works at my school. Then, I'm gushing all over Aussie rock legend, Jimmy Barnes. Many misguided years ago, I tried to be a groupie for his band, 'Cold Chisel'. Fortunately, I failed.
The Organiser of the event, Jenny Morris, is another Aussie/NZ rock legend. I loved her short but not skanky cocktail dress with the high shoes, which in my view, is MiddleagedRockStar Deluxe.
The Auctioneer from Sothebys who dispatched the Art in record time was a knockout. So amazing to see this Majestic Young Woman who'd be perfect for Prince William, seamlessly working the room like she was an Upmarket Policeman directing traffic at a busy intersection. After she finished someone said they'd like her to be their Life Coach. I felt the same. I was in awe of her Uber Power Ball Mini Dress, with it's slightly Military Gold Buttons references.
I spent most of the night trying to take candid photos of people, which I'm sure irritated the hell out of those around me. Someone mentioned Identity Theft, or is it, Image Theft, but I'm unapolegetic. I like this shot of the pearl & ribbon necklace. Interesting.
Oh, by the way, I told Neil Finn that I had every one of his songs from the past thirty years on my iPod, which is a lie.

Me & Bars & Fashion Parades

Last week, there was a fashion parade to promote my favourite charity thrift shop, 'Beatniks & Bohemians'. It was a nighttime event at a local bar organised by a well-meaning customer anxious to get into philanthropy. I decided to go alone so I could concentrate on taking photos.
Going to bars alone makes me feel anxious. What do you do? Sit there nursing a gin & tonic looking expectant, self-absorbed, content, happy, nonchalant? I always try to look all these things but it never works. For me, it's just another one of those 'Back to the Playground' experiences, where I'm again sitting alone sadly eating my soggy apple sandwiches while everyone around me happily plays together. I'm sure this happened to me, as it's happened to most of us, but I've managed to turn it into one of the Defining Moments of My Life.
Anyway, back to The Parade. After what seemed like an age sitting alone, it finally began. A number of Colourful Local Identities were enlisted to model an outfit that they'd bought from the shop. It was an eclectic group - A Drag Queen, Expectant Mother, Elderly Lady, A Man with his Dog in a Carrybag, an Edgy Architect amongst others. Here's some photos of a few, including my favourite - Elizabeth wearing a yellow sixties number. She actually wore something that I might buy. Just about everyone else looked like they were in Fancy Dress, which is not what thrift shopping is all about, although I'm sure many people quietly think that I often look like I'm off to a Eighties Night or maybe a Halloween Party.

I'm Turning Japanese, Or a Part of Me Would Like To Think So

I've always had a slight fascination for Japanese culture & fashion. I devoured the 'Fruits' books when they came out & harboured a secret desire to become a 'Harujuku' girl, or perhaps a 'Harujuku' Elderly Woman. That won't happen until I completely lose all my Inhibitions, which is unlikely unless I get Tourettes. But maybe that'd just mean that I'd inappropriately swear a lot. But in the meantime, I'll try & emulate stylish Women of a Certain Age featured in The Sartorialist like this wonderful, perhaps Japanese lady photographed selling clothes in the street.
I'm standing outside an exhibition my friend Deb & I attended last night at the New South Wales Art Gallery. 'Taisho Chic' showcased wonderful art & houshold items from the Art Deco period in Japan. I didn't really think that Japan did Art Deco. But they did. As part of my bid to become Japanese, I'm wearing a mini-Obi made from Authentic Kimono Fabric.