The Euphoria You Can Only Get From The Promise of a New You

 Yes, that's right, I went to see Crazy Stupid Love with my great friend Trixie. Look above at the Commemorative Photo Tableau I especially made to celebrate my viewing using Copyright Protected Toy Story 3 Action Figures. Oh, Dear Reader, if only you knew how Copyright has Ruled My World in O so many ways over the past twenty years!
But I digress......
I would love  to launch into a full scale review of the film but I'm not sure if you would like it. Besides, I'm in Canberra sitting in my daughter's apartment waiting for her to finish making me Eggplant Parmagiana. I'm starving & I wish she would hurry up.   Plus she's got Music on which is kind of distracting me. So, I'll just make a couple of points about the film in a Stream of Consciousness style, using one Giant sentence. Here goes:
I loved the film because it used my Favourite Subject, love, to tell a  story that was both simple & complex at the same time with a genuine plot twist towards the end that I didn't see coming & featuring a wonderful ensemble cast  except for Julianne Moore who I have never forgiven since she made The Hours( & then of course there was the Inexplicably Unforgivable The Kids Are All Right which I'm sure was once a song by The Who).
Sadly, I am defeated. I could see no alternative but to insert that Full Stop after the brackets. I simply couldn't find a way to put the bit in about how I loved Steve Carell & think he's an inspired Romantic Lead for a Middleageteacher in spite of the fact that there appears to be a little too much space between his rather prominent nose & where his mouth starts in the sentence.
Oh, & Ryan Gosling, who has a Photoshopped-in-Real-Life body as well as a wonderful head. His character surely was partly based on Jerry Lewis's Mr Hydesque Buddy Love in the original version of The Nutty Professor. If you don't know what I'm talking about, click the link & see it for yourself. You won't be disappointed.
Sadly again, I  first saw The Nutty Professor just at the time when I was mentally forming my idea of  The Perfect Man. I can't tell you what horrors that led to.

Let's change the subject. Like many women, every time I want to Drastically Change My Mood, I go shopping. It works every time, but I can't exactly tell you What it changes my mood into. Perhaps  the kind of Euphoria that you can only get from the promise of A New You. Or me. Or us.
Anyway, on the first Official Day of the School Holidays, Trixie & me went to the aptly named Supacenta. Why bother using all those silly unnecessary e's & r's when there's the promise of a New Supa You as soon as you get off the escalator?
We ostensibly went to look at Beds. But that didn't last long. NO, we were far too distracted by the Window Displays. Look, above. I couldn't help but quietly take this photo of the window of a large shop I swear was called 'Dare'. I'm not sure how many Shades of Wrong this tableau is - is it the colours, or the fact that the chair looks like it's been spray painted & spray painted chairs are never inviting because they look like you'd slide off them, or is it the juxtaposition of Two Jarring Icons - the Chrysler Building & Marilyn? Why not a banana & The Chrysler Building? Or is it simply because it looks like the interior of a Brothel in Disneyland?   And let's face it, Brothel Chic is never going to take the place of Tuscan Farmhouse or Escape to Provence as a preferred decorating style.

But there was another shop that we liked. I can't tell you what it's called but it was a kind of Poor Man's Country Trader. Country Trader is a large Polished Concrete Emporium located in a previously Industrial suburb of Sydney that looks like the entire contents of a huge French Chateau have been unloaded into it. Prices start at $995.00 for a cement door stop in the shape of a frog.
Anyway, this shop in the Supacenta is a kind of Cheap Copy. Which is totally up my alley. Probably the most expensive thing in  it cost the price of the frog door stop at Country Trader.
I took this covert photo on my iPhone of one of the pictures on the wall of a wonderful bedroom display featuring Marie-Antoinette. In fact, Poor Old M-A was all over the shop - on tapestry cushions, on large Toy Alabaster Busts, on bed linen & of course Toy Paintings & Engravings. I was entranced & immediately wanted to race home & throw out everything in my bedroom including all my old rotting dolls & fill it with her.
Of course you know that she didn't make that crack about the cakes after all. And she was a Real Trouper about being carted off to the Guillotine.So, perhaps not a bad person to have on your wall. Or pillow.

This blog post seems to be about Decorating. I certainly didn't plan it that way.
Look above at a Real Million Dollar Decorator. Her name is Mary McDonald & she features on my new favourite show, Million Dollar Decorators which follows the new season of The Rachel Zoe Project on the Lifestyle Channel. It's one of those Reality TV formulas that successfully combines Disgusting Over-Consumption with Toy Tantrums & Faux Drama. I love it.
Each week when I watch it (actually I've only seen it twice) I wonder what the decorators would do with my apartment. Probably throw out the rotting dolls. But then they'd do something unexpected like suspend a Vintage Rowing Boat from the ceiling of my bedroom, just above the bed so I could spend the nite imagining it crashing on me. And throw down a huge Real Zebra skin rug featuring the skin & the tufts of ten zebras so I could feel like I'm On Safari in Beverly Hills.
Can't wait for the next episode.

It seems that I'm done with decorating. Thank God.
Here's something much much closer to my Heart. Here I am with Maeflower this past Long Weekend just after we, along with Russell, her partner had shovelled in Enormous Quantities of Authentic Chinese Dumplings. No wonder we look a little flushed.
And the weather in Canberra seems to be blowing straight in from Antarctica even though it's supposed to be Spring.
Of course I'm dressed in my favourite Middleagedteacher Snow Matron outfit featuring many uncomfortable layers of synthetic fabric that did nothing to dispel the chill.

The Dreaded Rebound Effect

 Holiday Greetings.
On second thoughts, perhaps it's Slightly Smug & a little inappropriate to  wish people a holiday greeting when it's unlikely that they're on holidays themselves.  I bet you're not on holidays, are you?
I didn't think so.
So, I'll start all over again with a Greeting Guaranteed Not To Grate: 
Hello, & Welcome to My Holiday.
That's better. But as you can see from the Opening Photo, I'm not. I still appear to have hayfever. Or whatever you have when your nose is blocked & itchy & you have to blow it all the time.
How hard is it to sleep with a Blocked Nose?  Occasionally, I timidly squirt a little dainty spray of 'Sinex' up only one nostril & wait for it to clear. Rarely, if ever do I venture to spray Both Nostrils.
Why so fearful of Nasal Sprays, you may ask?
Because of the Dreaded Rebound Effect. I know we usually associate the word 'rebound' with rushing in with yet another Hugely Wrong Partner five minutes after you've just gotten rid of the last Hugely Wrong Partner. But it also applies to Nasal Sprays: if you spray too much of it up your nose, it actually causes you to block up just like if you stuffed a whole load of used boyfriends up your nose. That's gross but I kinda like it anyway.
Enough Toy Medical Facts & on with the usual  Relentless Cavalcade of recent photos taken just before & during this holiday.

 Here's me before the holiday. You may notice that I'm wearing shoes that don't match my Outfit.
So, what's new?

 Actually, they're not my shoes. They're Real Chanels that belonged to one of my student's Grandmothers.
NO, it wasn't Show & Tell.
The shoes had somehow found their way into My Student's wardrobe. Let's call her Coco.
Desperate to fund an expensive Gown for the Upcoming School Formal & knowing my great love of All Things Chanel, Coco brought the shoes to class. I had already told her that I would buy them if they fitted.
Sadly, they didn't. If you look closely at the photo above, you can see the outline of a Bunyan on each shoe.
I'm a great wearer of Other People's Shoes. That's apparently the cause of my v. own foot affliction, Corns. But I refuse to step into Bunyan Territory. I've got to draw the line somewhere.
I must, must stop talking about Ailments. First, Nasal Drip, now Corns & Bunyans. It's like I'm being funded by a Pharmacy.
Oh, but Poor Coco. Had to schlepp Granny's shoes in to school & then didn't get the money to buy her Formal Dress after all. 

 Here's another photo of the same outfit. It's taking Slightly Slutty to a whole new level. Which wasn't my intention. And it sort of looks like I've just ended the lesson with a great big snort of coke. But I wasn't. It was just the Hayfever. Yet another Medical Reference. I wonder if I can keep it up till the end?

 Here's someone above who has never been called 'Slightly Slutty. Queen Elizabeth . Trixie gave me this wonderful book of photos of her. I was thrilled. And of course I'm always trying to Channel a Queen. With varying results. I'm sure the Queen wouldn't ever wear a whole load of resin jewels from the recent 'Dinosaur Designs' warehouse sale like the ones I'm wearing.
I wonder what ailments she suffers from?

 I'm shocked that it's Nearly Midnite. This is unprecedented. And I've got so much more to Show & Tell. Like I wanted to explain why a patchwork quilt is laid out in my classroom. And who I was wearing. And what the posters on the back wall were about.   But I must must hop into bed.
That will teach me for not posting more often. I'm just going to to post again tomorrow after I go to the movies. I'm meeting Trixie at 9.30 tomorrow at the Multiplex. We don't know what's on. So, we're going to take Pot Luck. Talk about living on the wild side.

Nothing Like Tilda or Ryan or Ali

Hello & Welcome to My New Hobby.
On second thoughts, it's not exactly That New.
I've been doing it off & on now for some time.
Can you guess what it is?
To make it easy for you, I'll give you a list, below. You need to pick TWO because I've just realised that I have Two Hobbies - a Not That New Hobby & a Brand New Hobby.
Beekeeping?  Beer Making? Fruit Preserving? Quilting? Brisk Walking? Corn Removing? Scrapbooking?
I Can't think of any other Hobbies. Surely there must be some more?
Oh, Stamps. But I wonder if anyone does that anymore? In this age of Tweets & constant Status Updates, the Stamp seems a little passe. What a shame that I can't put a little accent over the 'e' & make it look like I'm really writing the word  'passe'. You know, like 'Passay'. I'll take any opportunity to show off my Franglais, .
Anyway, have you guessed yet?
That's right. The Not-So-New Hobby is Scrapbooking. Well, a form of Scrapbooking, like if a Scrapbook was a Blog Entry.
And the Brand-New Hobby is Corn Removal. Earlier this evening, I finally cracked & bought a packet of Medicated Corn Removers that Cushion as well as Kill (the corn, that is. I certainly hope that They won't kill me. Like, say the Special Corn Killing Agents ran amok in my blood stream & poisoned my whole body, not just the Rogue Corn?  Quelle Horreur!)
But back to My Scrapbooking.
I'm practising (sp?)   a Highly Specialised form of  The Art.  Here's how it works:
1. I relentlessly trawl the TV guide to see if any of my favourite movies are on. My favourites always feature actresses whose outfits & style I drool over. (e.g. Bette D in 'Now Voyager', the best makeover film of all time)
2. I  squeal with delight when I find a fave. (Sooo hard to find one amongst all the Adam Sandler & Sandra Bullock films. Have you seen  her in 'All About Steve', by any chance? Got to be one of the most insultingly annoying films of all time even though luscious Bradley Cooper is in it)
3. I watch the movie, pausing it (my cable TV package has this handy feature) to take photos of  Iconic Moments in Iconic Outfits & Accessessories. Like Tilda Swinton, above & below, signing a cheque at the Dry Cleaners in 'I Am Love' with a rather out of shape Hermes Kelly (or is it a Birkin?) bag nonchalantly sitting on the counter.

I adore Tilda. She is a Study in Graceful Gravitas.
How does she manage to be an Anglo-Scots Woman who can trace her family back to the High Middle Ages &  be in the same class as Princess Diana at school &  plays a Russian who speaks fluent Italian  in 'I Am Love'?
How does she manage to Effortlessly Cross Genders as she did in 'Orlando'? How does she manage an American accent as she did in 'Burn After Reading' & 'Michael Clayton'? And, most importantly, how the hell does she manage to have a husband & twin children who happily live down the road from her & her Other Partner, a New Zealand painter. Like Two Partners. At Once. And she's Not Cheating. Everyone's as cool as a cucumber.
I once had a New Zealand partner. But I didn't have a hubby who happily lived down the road as well.
I must, repeat Must, stop Comparing myself to Others. Particularly Glamorous film stars.
And I must, repeat Must, stop with the Rhetorical Questions. They're like a Runaway Train that no one can stop.  If one of my students inserts even the smallest of Question Marks in an essay, I almost make a hole in the paper crossing it out with my heavy leaded pencil.

Anyway, I thoroughly recommend 'I Am Love'. It was totally mesmerizing & terribly sad.
As a rule, I don't like to watch Sad Films. I've had enough Sad to last the rest of my life.  But it was a great pleasure to watch Tilda being Terribly Sad in a whole array of Hugely Chic outfits.
I must, repeat MUst start dressing like that.

And now we move on to 'Love Story'. It was on early this week.
Let me, just for a moment take you back to 1971 to when I first saw it at the movies.
It was the year after I left school. I was eighteen.
I swear to God that I remember that it was a rainy saturday nite. Maybe it was just raining in my heart. Anyway, it felt like it was raining.
I went into the city to see it with my long time school friend, Elizabeth. We were both longing for a boyfriend. At that stage I hadn't yet started going out with Bob, my first boyfriend, who I liked to call 'Blob' . Blob owned a white Panel Van which in those days was jokingly called a 'Shaggin Wagon'. My parents approved of him but were appalled by the Van. They always approved of anyone I didn't particularly like.

The problem with Blob was that he was nothing like Ryan O'Neal, which we all know now, in hindsight, is a blessing. But certainly NOt at the time.
I was desperate to meet someone called Oliver Barrett IV (Ryan's name in the film) who I would teasingly call 'Preppy' just like Ali McGraw did in the film. I would visit his hugely wealthy but dysfunctional family at their cold but impressive mansion & even though I was from the wrong side of the tracks, I would quickly win them over with my grace & charm & of course my Ali McGraw-style beauty.

I would work tirelessly in a variety of low-paying but worthy jobs  to support Oliver through Harvard Law School.
That was one of Blob's great flaws. He didn't go to Harvard Law School. Instead, He ran the Kitchenware Department at Grace Bros, Roselands, a suburban department store.   His family were from Norfolk Island & he was a direct descendent of John Adams who was part of the 'Mutiny on the Bounty', made famous by the Marlon Brando film.
Blob had a rather Swarthy Look. It was nothing like Ryan O'Neal's.
After about nine months, we broke up.   I went on to marry someone who went to Sydney University Law School. It was the closest thing that I could get to Harvard.
Bob eventually went back to Norfolk Island where he drove a Tourist Bus. Perhaps he's driving it now.
Luckily, unlike Ali in the movie, I appear to be still alive. Here she is is below,  bravely watching Oliver showily prance around Wolman Rink in New York's Central Park  because She's too sick to skate. 
Then they make that gut-wrenching walk in the snow to the hospital where she dies.
After watching 'Love Story' the other nite, I now blame everything on Oliver Barret IV & Ryan O'Neal.

Non-Drowsy Spring

 Hello & Welcome to Spring All Over Again If It's Fall Where You Are.
That probably doesn't make sense but neither would you if you looked & felt like me right now courtesy of Spring. 
All week I've been trying to ignore Spring Symptoms which involve Massive Watering & Uncontrollable Itchiness from  vital areas connected to my head: My Left Eye (it seems my Right Eye is above it all & has refused to join in); Both Nostrils & Both Ears. You can see the damage that Spring has done if you look closely at the Wan little figure below, taken today in front of a Plastic Container City situated in a Maths Classroom. You'd never see anything as tasteless as this in an English Classroom. No way.
Note I'm desperately clinging on to a clutch of Aloe Vera scented tissues & all my make up, particularly around my left eye has been eradicated by constant watering.
If you look below my Spring Infested Head you may just be able to spy a fab brooch of the Head of a Zebra that Darla sent me some time back. If only I had been well enough to enjoy it.

But I did enjoy assembling my Homage (pronounced 'Hom-marge') to Spring in the photo above.
Let me explain. If you've never been in my kitchen you won't know that I have a large statue of Our Lady Sans Hands sitting on a large green terrazzo bench. I usually decorate around it on a Seasonal  Basis. Sadly, the Easter Homage which featured chocolate Easter Eggs & Pipe cleaner chickens rather overstayed its welcome. I only took it down this week & Easter's been over for months & months.
Anyway, The Spring Homage is a combination of Real & Fake Flowers, which is by far my favourite way of Decorating with Flowers. It kind of sums up Life really - both Real & Fake at the same time. 
Because of course I'm practising (does that last word have a C in it rather than an S, I wonder) Abundance Through Frugality,  I only bought one bunch of Tulips that were completely closed up at time of purchase & placed each stem in a glass jar that perhaps once contained Pasta Sauce or a Slew of Artichokes.
I then covered the bottom of the Homage with the flowers from a Fake Hawaiian Garland that I bought at my fave $2 shop & then artfully placed the contents of a packet of Plastic Butterflies around the flowers.
And Hey Presto, I've made something that Martha Stewart would be Green with Envy over! Only of course she now must be busily ordering her Large Army of Worker Bees to gouge out the innards of large pumpkins in preparation for her Halloween Decorating Special.

 When I was leaving for School this Morning, Fotheringale, my building's Concierge who turns off the vacuum cleaner to  deconstruct my outfit every morning, announced that I resembled Joseph & his Technicolour Dreamcoat in my Patricia Pepe of Firenze cut-out jacket. When I got to school, Sister Anne, the only Nun still standing, strongly disagreed with this description when I told her. Sadly, I didn't wait around long enough to hear her reasons.

 Have I mentioned that I've been Uncharacteristically Baking Cakes & Puddings lately?
My daughter Maeflower told me yesterday by phone that she had never experienced this from me as long as she's known me. I think that she's relieved though because Baking Cakes in Middleage,if you haven't had a lifetime of doing it before, requires Reading Recipes & learning New skills, which of course has been clinically proven to stave off Dementia.
Clearly in my case it's working.
The picture above was taken in The Ancient Black & White Room at school yesterday. It was a  girl in my tutor group's 16th birthday & I made her a chocolate cake because I wasn't confident that anyone else would bother bringing one in for her. Perhaps I'm Overfunctioning?
Anyway, I used a recipe that my Mother left behind inside an old cook book. It involved using cocoa which I think is Old Hat these days. I think Modern Recipes use melted chocolate.
I had great plans to write the girl's name on the cake with Smarties. I tried doing it & discovered that it was almost impossible. I couldn't form A Perfect C.
Maybe I should watch back to back episodes of 'Ace of Cakes, which is constantly on The Food Channel these days.

 Oh, I finally cracked a couple of hours ago & toddled down to the pharmacy next door to get some Non-Drowsy Anti-Histamines because the Watering & the Itching was becoming unbearable.
I'm now feeling more than normally drowsy for this time of nite. And also a  bit off-kilter, like I might be leaning a little to the Left or something. And even though the itching seems to have turned down a few notches, my left eye is still watering.  So, you'll understand that I've again put in that photo of the Chanel Window at Bondi Westfield that I already used last blog post.
Sadly, it hasn't got any more interesting than last time. It's still a grey handbag made from a Reptile. My guess that it cost about $8000 which is nothing when you compare it to an Alligator Bag by The Olsen Twins that cost $89,000 that the Panel on Fashion Police (see, I can't write a blog without mentioning it) were scathing about. Who  the hell do the Olsens think they are, Coco Chanel?  Apparently, Alligators are Hard to Catch which really bumps the price up. Who knew?
Clearly, I'm under the influence of Non-Drowsy Medication.

I'm reduced to wearing flat shoes - these ones are Completely Plastic from 'Target' .
Pourquoi, you may ask?
DON'T READ THIS NEXT BIT IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH. THIS MEANS YOU TRIXIE.
I have Unbearable Corns on both little toes. I didn't know what on earth was going on with the toes. All I knew was that Something Bad was Happening. So, when I went to the Pharmacy for Non-Drowsy Medication, I got the pharmacist to look at them. She sat me down next to the counter & got me to remove my Pumas (even though I'm suffering I still went to Boot Camp. Hope I don't come down with Pneumonia tomorrow). Immediately she diagnosed Corns which she says is caused by wearing Other People's Shoes.
I now must see a Podiatrist who will remove a tiny piece of Grizzle or is it spelt, Gristle, which forms the Nucleus of the Corn.

  I'm getting more & more drowsy. I must hop into bed. Perhaps then my Left Eye will mercifully stop watering.
So,here's me in front of the whiteboard this week. I'm wearing Spring. The outfit above has a Slight Sheriff of Nottingham feel to it or at least what the Sheriff of Not. looked like in Robin Hood, a favourite TV series of mine from the 1950s  with its studded jacket.
The one below is like the Packaging of Gwen Stefani's Perfume, or at least that's what my student's told me.
Lastly, I can't stop playing the 'Glee' version of Florence & the Machine's song, 'The Dog Days Are Over'.
In my case, that's soooo True.

Heightening My Hypervigilance

Here I Am.
It's Monday Nite, 8.48pm. I'm sitting in my Toy Ugg Boots. Actually, that's not quite true. How could I possibly be sitting in ugg boots, although I wish I could. I'm sure it would feel all Cozy & Womb Like. I'm soo dreading The End of Winter when I'll have to pack them away for yet another year. And as I keep on saying, they're not even  Real Sheepskin, but Toy Sheepskin, bought by my daughter at 'Aldi' for eight bucks.
Who knew that Toy Sheepskin could feel so good? I can't even imagine what The Real Deal would feel like.
Sheepskin Heaven perhaps?
Look at the look on my face taken today. What does it say, I wonder? I can't Decode.
The Sad Clown? After the Earthquake? The Cat that Swallowed the Canary?  On a Clear Day You Can See Forever? 
I'm not sure.
But it's not hard to tell that I'm faking a smile. An informative Guide to Detecting Faux Smiles that I once read said that one way to tell is if the eyes & the smile don't match up.
Mine clearly don't.
And the reason can be found at my feet.

 Yes, I've just finished with the School's Annual Op Shop Parade & Stall. 
I'm sure I explained all of this in my last post. If you can't remember what I wrote or didn't bother reading it, I'll give you a quick Executive Summary:
 Clothes Donations from Girls/Mothers. Some with labels still on. Some a bit off (e.g. Puky Green tee shirt with 'Bouncing Ball Basketball Camp' emblazoned on it in even Pukier Yellow). Stylists. Models. Huge Hair & Slightly Slutty Makeup.  Tears. Accusations. Clothing Stall at lunch time. Absolute mayhem.
Look at what my classroom looked like last thursday when we should have been studying 'Wuthering Heights'.

 Here I am above in Aftershock After the Parade. I'm loaded up with Faux Pearls from the Fruits de Mer section of my Jewellry Vault. I needed it for protection against Angry Student Stylists.

And here I am calmly explaining to a child that the reason why she can't wear 20cm. heels & a midriff top & butt skimming shorts & black glitter lipstick down the runway is because we're not playing 'Schoolgirl or Streetwalker?', which is a variant of the popular 'Starlet or Streetwalker?' segment in my almost favourite show, 'Fashion Police'.

 Earlier last week I was in a slightly more sedate mood when Trixie & I visited 'Abbotsleigh', a v. posh girl's school deep in the heart of the Leafy North Shore of Sydney. I was there with an entire auditorium's worth of other Middleagedteachers  to listen to Carol Dweck, a psychologist from Stanford University who wrote a book called 'Mindset'. Although I'm normally v. interested in what Carol has to say about how we can train our students to be more interested in developing a Growth Mindset, my own mindset couldn't help but fixate on what all the other Middleagedteachers were wearing:
1. A Propensity for Layering.
2 Slight Heels, although nothing Trampy which I think is a shame because  Trampiness can often Add Interest to an Otherwise Dull Outfit.
3. A desire on the part of some women to  Firmly Reclaim their Waist Even Though They Don't Have One Anymore. I admire their Determination.

I was encased in a  Sea of  Brown.

1. Real Calvin Klein dress.

2. A Slightly Creased Scanlan & Theodore Car Coat (one of my Mother's favourite terms) which sadly I don't have the Ability or the Facility to Iron.

3. A v.v. good Louis Vuitton fake bag.

4. A scarf featuring a combination of Fake Hermes Motifs & Wild Animal Print.

5. Toy Gold Jewellry which gave a slight Sharon Stone in 'Casino' feel to the outfit.

 Here's some photos I secretly took of the windows at Chanel at Bondi Westfield. I arrived at the Mall mistakenly way before the shops opened last Saturday & raced to Chanel to photograph it. Sadly, even though no one was around, a big Burly Black-Suited with a Matching Headset Security Person who looked like something out of 'Men in Black' was already in position waiting to tell me that I can't take photographs. Perhaps he has to stay there all nite & guard all the Magnificent Quilted Bags.
I would soo love that black one in the picture above & would not say no to the one below even though it may be made of alligator or perhaps a Venomous Snake.

 And here's me also last week Before the Rot Set In wearing items from the A-List Section of my Wardrobe:
1. a felt Real Valentino cropped Jacket with sleeves with Pirate Overtones. Somehow I've convinced myself that my arms don't look too much like Legs'O Mutton in them.
2. a vintage 'Lanvin' silk dress. It's always stressful wearing it because the button at the front keeps on popping. This heightens my Hypervigilance.

 Oh, here we are Back to the Op Shop. If you look closely, you can see that one of my students is hiding under all those clothes. I am not really standing on her. If I did, it would be a Duty of Care Issue. And we can't have that.
I'm wearing a Real Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress which always feels a Little Too Age Appropriate for my tastes.

 Talking of taste, here's me at last sunday nite's Dinner trying to hack my way through a Pear & Chocolate Tart that I made. As they say in America, I made the shortcrust pastry from 'scratch' & dutifully followed the recipe that I got from Taste.com, my Recipe Bible, & baked it 'Blind' for a few minutes. (To the uninitiated this means baking the pastry without the filling). Even though I was using a v.v. sharp knife, I could barely cut through it which I totally blame on the Blind Baking not on the fact that I may have Overkneaded the Dough. As if.
In case you were wondering, I'm holding up the carefully folded baking paper that I used on the side of the baking tin in a failed big to emulate my current Cooking Crush, Donna Hay.
I can't believe that I'm wearing an oversized Abercrombie & Fitch tee shirt left by The Previous Regime. 

Lastly, what can I say about Kim's Wedding? Nothing much really. I'll just leave that to Joan Rivers who said that she'd seen 'More tasteful headgear on a Pony'.

Love Hurts

Hello & Welcome to the Inside of a Bag of Slightly Used Clothes.
Yes, that's where I feel I am speaking to you from this late winter's evening.
You see, it's Op Shop Time of Year again.
But, you may ask, isn't it normally Op Shop Time Every Day of the Year for you, Della?
For me personally, yes. But Certainly Not for The School.
For the past few years in late August, I've been organising a Fundraising Op Shop Parade & Stall at the school. I'm not entirely sure why I do this because I'm not known for my organisational skills & I rarely if ever make lists which is what I think most Splendid Organisers do.  I also have had a strong belief that I am bad at getting people to do things because I was once sacked from a job in a boutique  because I didn't sell one thing in a whole entire day. Also, I have been spectacularly unsuccessful over many years at getting students to do their homework. And they never even bother trotting out an excuse like the dog ate it. Occasionally, though someone might say they left it at Dad's House in a bid to make me feel sorry for them. Which I don't.
So, in spite of the fact that I'm a Lousy Organiser & I can't get anyone to do anything, I'm running this Big Fundraiser.
First, I had to cajole students to bring in Donations of  clothes to showcase in the parade & then ti sell the next day. I did this by getting the Principal to agree for the Op Shop Parade Day to be a Mufti Day, which in case you don't know, means NO School Uniform. The word 'Mufti' is a Sacred Word at my school & it's spoken in hushed tones. As if a whole boring day schlepping from one draughty classroom to the next is going to be Magically Transformed because you're allowed to wear your own Ugg Boots & jeans while you're doing it.
(BTW, as I type, my poor little feet that have been punished all week by my slavish insistence on wearing high heels are luxuriating in  Toy Ugg Boots. If Feet Could Purr, they'd be doing it right now )
Anyway, The Principal said to the Entire Student Body at Assembly, 'No Donations. No Mufti'.
'No Mufti?' echoed through the crowd. Quelle Horreur! You'd think that she'd announced that Lunch was cancelled for the rest of the year.
The next day, the Donations began to pour in.

The next thing I had to do was to cajole girls to be Models. You'd think that in these days of  'Australia's Next Top Model' & all those other reality shows, that everyone would be totally gagging to strut down a Toy Catwalk to the tune of Lady Gaga's 'Born This Way'. (Actually I'm planning to use The Glee Cast version. It's just that tiny bit tamer).
Absolutely Not. All they want to do is Hair & Makeup.Or be a Stylist. No one wants to Model because everyone is going to laugh at them because they're Stupid Looking or their Bum's Too Big or both.
(BTW, if you want a good My Bum's Too Big in Jeans story, read Reader Rita's own true story in the comments of my last entry. Not only is it entertaining, but instructive)
Again The Principal was wheeled out At Assembly to say, 'No Models. No Mufti'.
The next day sixty girls signed up.
The Parade is on next thursday & the following day we're selling the donations during lunch time. Last year, we made over a thousand bucks in about twenty minutes. Beats the hell out of a Sausage Sizzle.
Hopefully after then I may return to normal. Or should I say, Normal For Me.
If you're at all wondering what that might be, take a look at this v. brief video I took (or is it 'made'?) today in the Clothes Sorting Room at BednobsEtc, a room I'm not normally allowed to venture into because a Disgruntled Customer complained that I was going in there & getting Preferential Treatment by seeing the clothes before they came out into the shop.
I wasn't. But I'm  still barred from it.
Anyway, in the video, a small Plush Toy Dog is singing 'Love Hurts' which is a more or less accurate enactment of My Normal Internal State.

I hope you bothered to watch it.

 I'm getting v. sleepy & am desperate to hop into bed. And it just might be cold enough for me to wear my Toy Ugg Boots to bed. What a treat if it is!
You can see that I'm angling to finish up & not bother walking you through what I'm wearing in the photos. I'm sure you can work it out for yourselves, although I'll point out what appears to me to be The Bleeding Obvious:
1. A Persistent Black & White Theme.
2. Persistent Pearls.
3. Everything either given to me or thrifted at Bednobs.
4. Bangles with text on them. One of them says 'Hope'.
5. A plastic pin in the shape of a red mouth.

 Some quick points before I go:
*Found it hard to eat the capsicum I paid $4.32 for. In fact, it spent over a week languishing in the fridge before I could bring myself to eat it.
*In spite of bananas being $14.99 a kilo, I still bought one that I used to make little Banana Butterscotch Puddings for my Sunday Nite dinner. Hunter, one of my Regular Guests said that he didn't agree with another guest who claimed that Expensive Bananas were contributing to The Current Inflation Rate. Because he loved & appreciated the smooth taste of a banana, Hunter gladly pays $2.00 or more for the privilege of eating one. I applauded.
* I have Definite Proof that European Style Kissing -i.e.  kissing on both cheeks, is not only Annoying but Dangerous. This evening as I was going up the escalator from Harris Farm Market, a local friend saw me & jumped on the escalator. I turned around & he kissed me on one cheek & then unexpectedly went for the Other Cheek. I was so Unprepared & Put Off by having to quickly snap into gear with this that I suddenly fell backwards & landed on my butt at the top of the escalator. All the staff came running. I promptly assured them that I wasn't going to sue the shop. They went back to their jobs. I limped home.

Before I go, here's The Ex-School Nurse & me taken last saturday at BednobsEtc. Until I saw this photo I thought that I looked fab in the thrifted 'Morrissey' oversized cashmere sweater. Sadly, it looks Slightly Potato Sackesque. E-SN looks very sporty in what she originally thought was a jockey's cap. It wasn't. But it looks great anyway.

Comfort Over Morality

O

 OMG Twice.
First, because I'm still having trouble Typing this blog. For proof that I'm not just Whining, look no further than that Rogue Underlined 'O' that is peeking out from the photo of the back of me above. Every time I tried to type, it DID THAT. Why why why??????
Second, because I've just seen the World's Roundest Butt worn by a reality star called Coco on this week's edition of 'Fashion Police'. Coco is the instigator of 'Thong Thursday', a movement on Twitter dedicated to inciting Women of all walks of Life to join together in Solidarity every thursday by wearing a G-String.
Thankfully, my butt was Safely Tucked Away inside a thrifted black 'Armani' skirt in the Behind Shot, above. Even though that this is supposed to be a G-Rated Blog (in the slim chance that one of my students might read it), I can't help but mention that I would Never Knowingly Wear a Thong.
Double Yuck with Nuts sprinkled on the Top. To me, it's like being sawn in half by Elasticised Nylon.
So it's not a Morality Issue, it's a Comfort One, although to me there is something Slightly Discomforting about being dressed like a Porn Star underneath my Middleagedteacher Outfit.

Alert Alert! Quelle Horreur! What am I doing wrong? Suddenly, the photo of the Front of Me which was sitting here suddenly deleted itself . I have re-uploaded it & of course it is now totally Out of Order at the beginning of the Entry. I do hope you can follow.
All I can say, Fellow Bloggers, is Beware of Pressing 'Enter'.

 And here's the Front View. I'm kind of Crowing because I bought the jacket last friday morning when I made a Mad Dash into 'BednobsEtc' before making a late start for school.
It was v. cheap. In fact, soo cheap I can't say. And...... it's an Italian designer label that nobody I bragged to about it had heard of.  And clearly, the people who price the stuff at 'BednobsETc' hadn't heard of  it either.
It's called Byblos. I wonder if you know it? Perhaps you've got a whole wardrobe of Byblos outfits.
Anyway, I just did a Google search on it. Gianni Versace once designed for it which cheered me up No End.
I'm also wearing black patent leather Nun's shoes. Patent leather is totally my Preferred Shoe Material. They always remind me of Frank Sinatra who  wore them on stage with his dinner suit.
George, one of my  students, told me this morning that she can always hear me trotting along the crowded corridors because my Heels make such a loud noise. I took it as a compliment.

And now we come to Lunch.
It's been almost a year since Me & Trixie began bringing our lunch to school every day. And I'm pleased to report  that so far, we haven't missed a beat. In fact, I'm such a Dedicated Lunch Bringer that this morning I forgot mine & trudged back home at recess to get it.
You may wonder why I bring my lunch:
1. Oprah always brought her Own Lunch to work. But I guess she got her Special Chef to make it for her. I am my Own Special Chef.
2. I enjoy the Illusion of Control that only Bringing YOur Own Lunch can Create. I am   Mistress of my own Lunchtime.
3. It saves time. Although I still have to go & buy My Regulation Two Lattes each day from 'Zinc'.
4. It is supposed to save me money. But I'm not entirely sure that it does. For instance, look closely at my lunch in the photo, above. Note that it has some Red Food Items in it. Tomatoes & capsicum. That capsicum cost me $4.32 at 'Woolworths'. That's $14.99 a kilo. Again, why why why? Is it the GFC? Global Warming? Greedy Food People? All three?
A Commitment.
From now on, I'm only going to buy vegetables that are no more than $2.99 a kilo. I hope to hell that doesn't mean only eating Swedes & Parsnips. Not that there's anything wrong with them, particularly parsnips, which can have a Slightly Nutty flavour if your taste buds are Highly Sharpened.
5. I like putting food into plastic containers. It creates a sorely needed Illusion of Control.

 Here's another item from the Dead Drag Queen's Wardrobe of Entertaining Outfits that I couldn't help but photograph whilst yet again  trawling the racks at 'Bednobs' on saturday morning. Note the matching gloves.  Can't you just imagine those gloves gesticulating to the audience during a rousing performance of 'Memories' or 'Big Spender' or perhaps 'Streetlife', Randy Crawford's Big Hit?
As a twelve or perhaps thirteen year old, I did a rousing rendition of 'Big Spender' myself, which included Synchronised Butt Movements that I learned from watching Shirley Bassey on TV. It seems that this blog entry has a mind of its own & is determined to keep coming back to Butts. Left to my own devices I would never mention them, except to say that I don't wear jeans because my Mum said that my Bum Looked too Big in them. But I've told you that story more than once.

 What is it with Eiffel Towers & Me? Everywhere I go (and I'm certainly NOT in Paris), I see it. Maybe Eiffel Towers have taken the place of Fish as the most Reproduced Image in the World & I'm merely seeing them because in fact, they are everywhere. 
AJ has just returned from three months in Europe.  Here she is below, looking a little Jet Lagged on saturday. I hope she won't be Too Cross at Me for publishing this photo. I just couldn't help myself. And she knows how I've got Low Impulse Control.
The Weary Traveller is sitting on the floor of my lounge room with gifts that all featured Le Tour Eiffel laid out before me. I was thrilled to pieces.
Table Napkins, miniature papier mache Eiffels & Eiffel Glasses.
Hmm,.....I wonder what the Tower might symbolise? I must ask my Senior Class.

Abundance Through Frugality
.Let me leave you with a Small Food Related Snippet. My daughter Maeflower is keen to help me with my Food Economy Drive. Today she sent me her week's Nitely Dinner Plan which gave me some much needed Food for Thought as to how I can best maximise my Food Dollar. Certainly Not by buying any more four dollar Capsicums. Upon waking tomorrow morning, I will make my own plan, which will be mercifully lacking Swedes & Turnips.