Month: July 2017

Fashion spiel

I cannot account as to how long it has been since I last shopped at a direct factory outlet. I recall driving past and pausing at our local shopping centre not ten-minutes away, and usually I’ll get driven thanks to some learner pals.

So when I went today, after having returned some notes from my piggy bank, I felt far from disinterested when the sale signs launched their marketing assault. What kind of brands do I silly in?

Pfft, everything, I think to myself as I lunge after that orange box numbered “size 8”. Appalled by my brother’s holeful socks, I did not have time to deliberate. I was taken straight to the counter.

My real purpose was to buy myself a camera bag and some mints but instead, my name was screamed at a store and I was given a 50% discount by my fashionably A+ friend. Here’s my fashion rundown, Tavi Gevinson:

Peach is the new rose gold. Even if a CEO scoffs at it.

Always white shoes over black and white. Because you already have a black and white somewhere, don’t be greedy.

Slightly expensive black socks.

Coats.

It’s a must.

 

 

Overnights

Before the reception, we went to a a burger joint. I ordered a hotdog. I realised my mistake as soon as I took the first bite –  the mustard-twisted-tomato sauce with bits of onion spilled over my scarf and my mother’s expensive (I borrowed) coat. It left a stain, of course, and I still haven’t the chance to dry clean it as per her stringent specifications. I doubt I’ll miss the trouble of wearing it on said day.

To recap, my whirlwind weeks has been disastrous in non-vulgar ways, and peaceful in the cold, blistery sessions. On the eve of a Thursday, I packed some bags for an overnight photoshoot near the Great Ocean. The photoshoot lasted the usual eight hours, the night lasted long, long, long into the early hours of the morning.

The million-dollar home with a view handcrafted by the Architect was astounding to behold in the glory of the morning and the shadows of the evening. We rested at a ten-bedroom villa with a fireplace stoked by one Alexander, and the company was jolly in laughing tears.

“It’s just cold coffee,” I exclaim when I tasted my first ever espresso martini. Everyone laughs in mockery but my eyes illuminate my judgment. Not to take offence, but it’s as pretentious as it sounds. Well, for a tea-drinker anyway.

We took a drive down to Moons’ the next morning after some hustling out of bed. I am most thankful for the fact that I had a bedroom all to myself. I squeezed myself a few hours of tranquility as I readied for the two-hour drive ahead. Will it be painful? It most certainly was.

FM: You successfully captured some footage of the whole day as well, didn’t you?

H: Most definitely! I have a rough cut somewhere and the lighting is to die for.

FM: 20 seconds – what was your favourite meal?

H: Oven-roasted chicken sandwiches for lunch.

FM: Outfit you felt most confident in?

H: Tracks, Uggs, Hoodie, Ring.

FM: What made you laugh hysterically?

H: Backwards knees.

FM: If you could paint a part of your trip, what would it be?

H: SLR 0601 rusted bicycle by the mezzanine. It was blue with an extra wheel.

FM: Favourite person?

H: M-cat.

FM: Warmest hour?

H: For fifteen minutes I blistered in the heated car.

FM: Coldest?

H: Liquorice liqueur or whatever. Not bad.

FM: Resolution?

H: Always pack heavy.