Saturday, April 30, 2011

Lanvin!

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Vintage Lanvin felt hat - $5 op-shop

The other night I decided that what I really, really needed was one of those floppy brimmed black seventies hats. You know the ones. I have a dress to wear, and a party to wear it to, and if I have a black hat then my black shoes will work, and then I won't need to hunt down another pair of shoes, and so on (and on, and on) went my train of thought. A quick look around the online shopping world gave me a few options, but price-wise they were all a bit OTT for something that is just a fleeting fancy. Not to mention the finicky trickiness of finding a hat which fits and is flattering.

Anyway that night I had a dream, wherein I found the perfect hat, which would indicate that my subconscious is a very shallow place. However, I was quite grateful for a shallow hat-oriented dream emerging from the murky and troublesome back blocks of my brain for a change, since other recent efforts from my subconscious include:

- a dream where I had twin baby girls, one of whom was a fiend able to use a power drill for nefarious schemes from birth;

- a dream where I was crammed into a dirty mud hut with a selection of creepy sweaty clammy naked guys (especially this one gross dude with a single tear rolling down his cheek who kept staring at me in an intense stalkery way while caressing his own nipples);

- and a really, really terrible dream where I kept coming into our bathroom to find that someone had used the toilet with alarming results, and not flushed it.

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I woke up and was disappointed to find the hat was in fact a figment, but that same day (last Thursday) by chance I happened to pop into an op-shop I don't usually visit, and sitting there on a battered styrofoam hat form was the perfect floppy brimmed seventies black boho hat. And its grey felt friend here, from Lanvin. For five bucks each. And they fit me perfectly. Spooky!

Also, nice work subconscious - but please don't conjure up the clammy naked guys, or the unflushed toilets...

xx
Skye

Friday, April 29, 2011

Escapee

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Dion Lee for Cue dress - $109
Black suede clutch - Karen Millen (gift)

Flash photography does no one any favours, least of all me (that photo has more than a tinge of the J-Horrors about it), but hey, I'm out after dark! I just finished up a longish stretch of single parenting, while my husband was working in LA, which means I haven't been out beyond sunset since the first week of February. Until now.

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Spot the difference, if you can.

In actual non-flash reality this dress is a deep cobalt blue (see above) - but here it looks like I'm paying a royal blue tribute to K-Mid's engagement dress. And my bag doesn't match at all, and I felt really sexy (husband said "aggressively fashionable), but in actuality it seems I looked like a blue bag of spuds, but who cares? Not me!

I'm. Out. After. Dark. No. Child. In. Tow.

xx
Skye

Barely There


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Nineties sage washed silk top & wrap maxi skirt - $13 op-shop
Natasha tan leather sandals - $200 (cost per wear must be about 20c by now though)

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I'm not saying anything much at all about this, it's another exercise in nineties minimalism at Skylark and Son today because I'm going out with the laydeez tonite and have no time to spare...

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xx
Skye
PS. Washed silk + sunny days = a match even more perfect than Wills & Kate!

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Old School

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Red silk shirt - $2 op-shop
Denim flares - $8 op-shop
Chip Chop tote - $89 (I think, memory hazy)
Espadrilles - $50 J.Crew sale
Plaited kangaroo hide belt - $1.50 op-shop

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Today was a particularly mum sort of day - I took the little dude on an excursion to the "museleum" for our regular viewing of dinosaur bones and the pickled giant squid (and those horrifying deep sea creatures, nightmare denizens all), and then I went round to the local school and dropped off his enrolment forms for 2012. Very grown-up, very much somebody's mother, so I guess there is some kind of (slightly deranged) logic to the fact that I was dressed a bit like my own mother, circa mid-seventies, which was when I started school. Of course she was a million times more glamorous than this and, unlike me, was also able to successfully pull off both the middle part and the jaunty wearing of headscarves and giant round sunglasses.

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Muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum!

It's no kind of secret that jeans and I have a fairly rocky relationship, we're often in the throes of a trial separation, and we're always teetering on the brink of divorce. I think though, that flares are enough of a novelty/costume to overcome my psychological jeans issues, but not necessarily my physical jeans issues (congenital stumpiness, camel toe, thighs with no gap between them).
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Always ready with a peanut butter sandwich, and I'll clean the PB residue off your face with spit on my finger.

Wearing flares and managing to not look like Bill Oddie in the Goodies, or an extra from That Seventies Show, is a delicate art, indeed. Did I manage it? I have no idea.

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Sensible!

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Surprise!

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Somebody get that woman a sandwich!

xx
Skye
PS. Gross Pickled Giant Squid. The eyeball is looking at you...

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Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Sweet Chilli & Sour Cream

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P.A.M. dress - $15 Camberwell markets
Nineties tan suede wedge sandals - $4 op-shop

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For about the last year or so, I've been drawn to pairs of circa 1997 knock-off Prada wedges in my op-shop travels. I've found navy suede ones (way too big), and burgundy velvet ones (just a touch too big) and black patent ones (too sharp and bitey), and a pair of really knock-offy ones that looked much like these:

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Those ones were in really terrible condition, and I don't know that I could have worked them into my wardrobe anyway - but at least they did fit me. The only pair of wedges I've managed to come up with which are even in the same family as the Prada ones, and fit me, and are in wearable condition, and are actually workable in a 2011 wardrobe, are these suede ones:

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They're more like the second cousin twice removed of the Pradas, or maybe even just the ex-girlfriend of the brother of the former neighbour of the friend of the second cousin twice removed, but they have been good little beasts all summer for me (and let me feel like I've been just that wee bit ahead of the curve on the whole "flatform" trend). I'd still like another pair for winter, navy velvet would do the trick I think, so hopefully the op-shop gods are listening...

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I've had a few P.A.M. bits and pieces over the years, but since it is a label which seems quintessentially Melvinian to me, this dress feels somehow perfectly at home in this city, more than most of the things I wear. Just look at it up there, in amongst the graffiti and cobblestones!

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Platform not flatform, but gosh I want these wedges from Shag.


xx
Skye
PS. fringe trim time again, have started looking eeeeeeevil from certain angles, due to eyes disappearing into hairy void:
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Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Mostly Armless


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Sass & Bide pvc Black Rats - $10 warehouse sale
Grey marle top - $30 Sportsgirl sale rack
Nine West leather biker boots - $20 (new) op-shop
Peruvian alpaca poncho - $15 op-shop
Ring - $5 Aldo sale rack

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The only thing I bought on Rodeo Drive, apart from Playmobil.

This is my post-apocalyptic look, part Road Warrior/part Road - prepared for the potential end times approaching, as President Trump presides over an economically extinct world of boiling tsunami-stewed seas, radioactive clouds billowing from fault lines and newly sprouted volcanoes, antibiotic-immune superbugs cavorting merrily across the Great Pacific Garbage Patch , and whatever the hell is going on in the Middle East continuing to, well, go on.

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Pull on a poncho, and some pvc pants, and it's going to be me and the cockroaches partying on into the sunset of human civilisation together, plutonium cocktail in hand...

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Look Ma, two hands!

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xx
Skye
PS. My friend's long-haired Burmese cat thinks this poncho is a member of his own species. I'm always afraid that if I leave it lying around their house I'll come back to find he's dragged it up a tree in the backyard, so the two of them can live happily ever after.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Admin

As part of my ongoing blog overhaul, I just did a bit of a blog roll cull - any link which seemed like it was dead in the water for longer than about six months has been dispensed with. My blog roll has always been a bit of a random land - a collection of links I stuck on there when I first started, some of my old favourites, and lots of reciprocal links from the faded glory days of Skylark and Son. Anyway, I think I will re-stock it in the next little while with anyone or anything that takes my fancy, but if you have already linked me and think I should be linking you, or you have a new link for me then please let me know.

xx
Skye

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Elephant's Graveyard

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Blush/tan washed silk top - $20 Witchery outlet
Khaki washed silk pants - $10 Portmans outlet
Leather clogs - $50 Wittner sale
Amethyst necklace - $10 Peeptoe warehouse sale

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This outfit is a showcase for my limited ironing skills, and a veritable treasure trove of defunct trends:

1. Drop crotch pants
2. Strong shoulders (which I have managed to deflate now, more or less)
3. Washed silk
4. Clogs
5. Long dangly pendants
6. Crystals

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This sort of trend-graveyard situation is a common side effect of shopping in outlets and warehouse sales. Outlet malls being the places that trends go to die - hoping for some peace, a merciful release into landfill, only to be sent once more into action on the back of whichever sucker was willing to fork over twenty bucks for the hot look of two years ago.

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I like all these bits and pieces though, so will keep wearing them, regardless of looking a bit dated. Is that a sign that I've set foot on the same slippery slope that kept my grandma wearing her crimplene flared pantsuits thirty years past their day in the fashion sun? Or was that just because crimplene polymers have a half-life of 40,000 years, so never wear out, and also don't require ironing to stay looking "smart"?

xx
Skye

Bad Bunny

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xx
Skye
PS. Bad Bunny's ears courtesy of the Likkle Girl.

Hungover Owl

“Man, I can’t…I can’t deal with this right now.”

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Courtesy of Hungover Owls (and Beatrix Potter)

I'm with these guys today, so see you tomorrow.
xx
Skye

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Liberty!

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Liberty of London "Bauhaus" tote $1 op-shop

So it's Good Friday, which means many hot cross buns, and going to other people's houses to eat them (along with the dumplings, and brie, and sicilian olives, and smoked salmon, and lots of lovely, lovely wine). It also means I'm just going to let this tote bag (op-shopped yesterday) speak for itself...

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xx
Skye

Magic Hour vs Happy Hour

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Silk/wool pashmina - $6 op-shop
Stripey black/beige dress - $12 H&M (LA)
Nine West leather biker boots - $20 (new) op-shop
Black ponyhair pumps (below) - $35 (reduced from $140) Sportsgirl

Above - What I Wore Today
Below - What I'd Wear Tonight (if I was going out, which I'm not)

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This reminds me of one of the many magazine articles I pored over in my youth, all about how you can miraculously morph from deskbound drudgery to drunken divinity by simply swapping out a couple of "key pieces".

Of course they never mention the bit about lugging a bulging plastic bag of "key pieces" to work with you on the bus, or the bit where you have to try and get changed in a toilet cubicle at your office without dropping any of the "key pieces" balanced on the cistern into the loo, or the sad state of the "key pieces" after they spent the weekend stuffed in the bottom drawer of your desk. Or what about the even sadder bit, where you had to drag the bulging plastic bag to the bar with you, and then some nightclub, where it was either left under a table and forgotten, or vomited into in a taxi on the way home...

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Why so sad? Oh yeah, that cute new guy from the design department just left with his hot girlfriend. Bummer.

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Nothing a few dozen vodka lemonades and a random swedish backpacker with abs of steel can't fix.

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Hey Sven, come and get it, baby.

Enjoy your super-long weekend everyone! Here in Underemployed Housewife Land we don't have long weekends, every day is like a holiday (hahahaha, cue ironic laughter), so for all of you hitting after work drinks tonight, have a few vodka lemonades for me (and a Sven too, if you're so inclined). You can keep the hangover and the vomit-stained plastic bag though...

xx
Skye
PS. Here's our street in all its mellow Melvinian magic hour autumnal loveliness (just to prove I don't live in a permanent back-alley-photograph vacuum):

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Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Like a Motorway

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Grey marle top - $5 Cotton On sale
Sportsgirl cargo pants - $15 (new) op-shop
Aztec-y/Navajo-y wool scarf - $2 op-shop
Windsor Smith leather wedge boot things - $35-ish Myer January sale

Today was one of those mummy/housewife days - in the words of Saint Etienne, "Like a motorway, dull, grey & long." Rainy, but not enough to be interesting, and the little dude has a bit of a low grade chest infection, so our one outing of the day was to the doctor's surgery. This is the sort of rainy day, vaguely Nicole Ritchie-ish slouchy outfit that my husband always approves of, although I do think these shoes have a lot to do with his general approbation:

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The housewife's friend: high enough to be sexy, low enough to walk through the waterlogged streets with a reluctant four year old.

I'm a fiend for a cargo pant, I'm sure I shouldn't be, but they have been a staple for me for decades now. I feel about them the way that most people feel about their jeans, I think. If, for some unexplained OCD reason, I had kept a record of everything I have ever worn to a party, or in a bar or a club, then shamefully I think it would be cargos for the win. For some bizarre reason I am much more likely to glam up for a trip to the post office, and throw on the combats for a night on the razz. I wore these ones to dinner at Chateau Marmont, for god's sake (where my husband had to stop me going and telling Steve Coogan about how my waters broke after watching one of his movies, but that's a whole other story).

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I vividly remember, with great affection, a pair of khaki snowboarding pants (North Face?) which I wore possibly 6 days out of 7 during the years 95-98. They had a satisfying selection of drawstrings, zips and extraneous pouches, and the bum part was sewn in the shape of a target. Usually teamed with a little knit tank (or ubiquitous chinese brocade top), a chunky plastic knock-off Casio G Shock watch from down the markets, a pair of white sports socks, and red rubber shower sandals from Chinatown (anyone remember that whole Mi Vida Loca shower sandal thing, where we all thought we were cholas? I guess it went with the thin eyebrows and dark matte lipstick), or maybe a pair of lurid fluro green trainers (also from Chinatown) which said "Attack Force" on them in cheesy red lettering. I thought those trainers were marvellously ironic!

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I can remember trying to replicate this exact outfit. 1995.

With trusty black nylon messenger bag slung over it all, I was ready for any utterly predictable Gen X night out - watching an ironic 70s blaxsploitation/kung-fu double bill in a run-down former porno cinema, while dodging the awkward moves of some X-Large-clad wannabe Tarantino, followed by sitting on the floor at a drum n bass night in a dank smoke-filled basement (trying desperately to look disinterested), and then finally winding up drinking cheap margaritas at the 5-6am "happy" hour of the depressing mexican restaurant round the corner and pashing the face off a boy wearing the same snowboarding pants as me. Youth is indeed wasted on the young!

xx
Skye
PS. I was utterly in love with St Etienne for the whole nineties, regardless of whatever else I was pretending disinterest over at any given moment. I don't feel the love much at all anymore though, unless am in very sentimental mood. I mean, it's not awful or anything, but I used to absolutely ADORE their music, and now I'm not really sure why. Does anyone else have a lost musical love like that?

Monday, April 18, 2011

Killer Filler(s)

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Dress - $12 H&M (LA)
Funkis Two Strap natural leather clogs - $81 (on sale ages ago, they are even cheaper now, but not many sizes left)

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Trusty little workhorses.

I never had much of a knack with the camera - I was not really designed to be photographed - but during my blogging hiatus, even the tiny scrap of aptitude I had has been almost entirely lost. It just faded away from disuse, leaving nothing but my goofy grin, Cheshire Cat-style.

Which explains why I was in the bathroom this morning trying to work out how to photograph myself to the best possible advantage. Mostly the process just revealed to me why I shouldn't photograph myself at all, and also provided some fantastic documentation of my various crinkles and furrows, and the fact that the two sides of my face could quite easily come from two entirely different people. I'm not prepared to show you the evidence for that last one, but trust me, it's true.

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That's the two sides of my face living in the sort of harmony also found on the West Bank.

I don't know that I made any progress on the photography front, but it was an interesting State of the Nation investigation (with the Nation being my face, and the State of it being, well, a couple of years older than the last time I had a close look). A topographical survey, if you will.

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Hmm, shall I have my bum fat sucked out and injected into my lips? Mmmm, yummy!

I'm turning 40 this year, and have the sun damage to show for living most of my life no more than a stone's throw from a series of beaches on the east coast of Australia. We breed 'em leathery here, and only good genetic luck has prevented my face from having a similar texture to my weatherbeaten clogs. I've still got plenty of laugh lines though, and smile lines and just plain line lines, which don't particularly bother me, I just brush my fringe down Goldie-Hawn-style, grin goofily and hope for the best. I have no affection for those two little frown lines between my eyes, but since new research suggests that botox injected into the forehead can somehow insidiously affect control of the rectal muscles, I guess I'll just have to learn to love the little fuckers.

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Wouldn't you risk fecal incontinence for this look?

Years ago I had a boyfriend, who had a brother, who had an overbearing and loudmouthed girlfriend called Ruth. Ruth had plucked her eyebrows so thin and high arched that she had a permanent look of surprise on her face. So we called her Struth, and thought we were hilarious. I think only Australians are going to get that joke.
xx
Skye
PS. No real point to any of that, but cheerful shade of tomato/tangerine dress keeping me young, anyway.
PPS. Won't comment on Cate Blanchett calling wrinkles "songlines" because have already used up bitchiness quota on poor old Struth.