Starting Summer.

Celebrating the little things, like:
- Hand washing
- Un-mown grass
- Falafel sandwiches
- 'The Grey Scale' album by Horrowshow.


Me: Jeans, Nudie High Kai's in black black. Tee, RVCA. Watch, Chanel J12.

Just for Now.

"You can stop blubbing your goodbyes - Skye, you are staying at our house tonight".

Little Dumpling graduated from Big School today. And my Lord, I swear I was prouder than my parents.

Celebrations ensued all around as Mumere found her excuse to step down as P&F President and Dad rejoiced in leaving his position as Netball umpire/bus driver man. I was more than happy reliving the memories of my last days of school, and to my merriment, so were my former teachers. Our Year Twelve Concert it is now known has gone down in Grammar history as the most successful, the funniest, the most inappropriate and still the greatest leaving show. Possibly it was our Grade song of Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go by Wham! Or maybe it was Ackroyd dressing up as Spider-Man to sing Kryptonite and ripping his undies off. I don't know, nudity and bad 80's hits were a predominant feature of my grade...

But today I got to see it from the other end, the nice end. The end that gets to waltz in and out of the grounds of the school the whole day. I could 'pop' into the House meeting but there was no detention if I didn't stay. The end that gets to stand at the end of the Guard of Honour, allowing for best position to watch the Year Twelve water slide. And to return to Grammar as an Alumni beats being a smart-arse student any day of the week.

It was a priveledge on such a beautiful day to watch such a beautiful girl grow up and start to take her first steps into the Big Wide World, readily equipped with an Aggy-esque hair cut (thank you Charlotte) and a plethora of quotes about the Guomindang and the CCP. Real knowledge and Real style.

Me: Top, Stretsis 'Raindrop Bow Blouse' (later changed to Ksubi woolen lace knit). Jeans, Nudie 'High Kai'. Sunglasses, Ray Ban Wayfarers. Bag, Chanel 2.55.
Mum: Jacket, Zara. Jeans, Joe's Jeans. Sunglasses, limited edition Escada. Bag, Chloe Edith.

This Doesn't Happen to Me.

Death.

Nothing happens to your friendship circle, you keep everyone close and nothing shall ever go wrong. I was woken up Monday morning by my frantic Mumere checking who I knew at the snow over the weekend, and drowsily I replied that I knew of no one. I was passed out, flat on my back and could not care less as to other people's movements at 6.30am.
At 9.15am I woke again to the sound of my phone vibrating itself stupid on my floor. Checking it, I had the grand total of six missed called from one of my closet girlfriends. So I rang her back and I've regretted it ever since.

I did have a friend at the snow last weekend, Thomas Carr-Boyd was tragically killed after falling off an ice cornice near Blue Lake, a beautiful wild area of back country also known for it's danger.

Whilst Tom was much older than I, and also left school before I began we forged our friendship at parties, rugby matches and general run-amok nights in North Sydney. He was one of the special few that I mentioned in the post entitled 'I said Yeah, Yeah, Yeah' and kept me entertained often at the Carrington where he consistently forgot where the bathrooms were.

It's a tragic fact that good people die way to young, but I never for a second thought that one of those people would be mine. Looking at the newspapers, the television coverage, the radio annoucements. They are not talking about my friend, my friend is different to what they say. My friend is the one I remember with a rugby ball or jokingly teasing his Mum. Not the boy who 'took a stupid risk' or 'played the fool'.

If this week has taught me anything it is that I cannot live without my family, especially my sister. Tom's older brother was there to watch him fall last weekend, with extensive coverage and attention paid to his valiant efforts to ski near-vertical to save his brother. I was lucky enough on Monday to still have my girl around, to hold my hand as I called my best friend to break the news and their to make me strong cups of tea. She even brushed my hair and finished my sentences when I lost the abilty to talk.

And on Monday she'll drive me to say goodbye, and then she'll drive me home again. She'll pass me the Kleenex and make excuses for my red eyes.

So, what doesn't happen to people you know has now happened to us. And I've learnt to hug that little tighter, kiss the cheek a little more meaningfully, smile a little brighter when I say goodbye.

Vale, Tom. x

A New Phase.

I want to be a Voguette style blogger toooooo!

I regulary peruse the style blogs created by Voguettes and seeth with jealousy at the quality of the content in blogs belonging to Babygirl, Modern Day Marilyn, Peace and Love, Rachel Girl...I want to be just like them! So, here is my first (real) attempt at posting my outfits.

Soundtrack: I'm Free by The Rolling Stones (Hot Chip remix).

I have loved this jacket since birth, my Mum has a fantastic collection of baby photo's featuring me wrapped up in all the rabbit-furry goodness with my baby sister sprawled alongside on my Grandmother's full length version. It's so beautifully made I could gush about it all day. They were originally commissioned only for the New Zealand ski team but after some convincing from G-ma they made an extra two which have now become family heirlooms.

I wore it out the other day for dinner with the girls, coupled with my Sass & Bide 'Can't Escape You' tights, definately one of my best winter purchases. I wear them everywhere and being made of a thick knitted bamboo they go as pants with a long top or look equally as cute under chunky knit dresses.

To round off the outfit I threw on a tailor made black tee shirt dress (made in Dubai, a present from a lovely friend) and my Miu Miu black patent lattice flats. Purse was a black Miu Miu coin purse and hair was messy, as usual.
Just a tip, never wear fur if you're eating vegetarian.

Me: jacket, Vintage. tights, Sass & Bide. dress, custom. accessories, Miu Miu.

Pronunciation.

"It isn't 'Channel' you moron- it's 'Chanel'."

"Ooooh, but Charlotte! Chanel doesn't rhyme with flannel. My tee shirt has to rhyme."

We're going on a Bear Hunt.

"You know, it wouldn't have run off if you didn't stand in plain sight with a boulder".

Living in Bushland is renowned amongst teenagers as being a pain in the arse. A royal one at that. No real cinema, definately no clubs (and the only pubs are outfitted wih resident flannelette wearing bogans) and general lack of similar aged people means once you hit your late teens you are usually moving out of home much earlier than financially viable or making the longgg drive to Bondi three times a week.

I have always forgotten what lies about a half hour drive to my West, down Victoria Pass and along the Bells Line of Road. Clarence Dam has always been the lazy go-to, or the point of call for a local thrill-seeking adventure. As a Uni destress we collected a picnic together, 'borrowed' the Paj. and set off for a day of rock jumping and bush bashing. Having not made the trek for years I thought my Echo would also make the journey and was offended to say the least when someone refused to let me drive it. The anger quickly subsided when I realised that the road has decreased to such a state that four-wheel drives would probably be a pre-requisite.

If only they didn't bolt and chain the gates to the Dam entrance.

Gates have never stopped the masses moving to Clarence on a hot Summer day. And luckily, we weren't the ones using the bolt cutters. Literally, a 100 people greeted us in the winding Valley, everyone geared up with Eskys, pool chairs, climbing ropes, LiLo's and hats. Real 'West' boys used their over-sized wheel utes to bump their way down the hillside, narrowly avoiding flipping cars on fellow Clarence'rs.

We spent hours at Clarence, soaking up the sun and drinking cool Pina Colada's thanks to our ingenious idea to float most of our non-perishables in the freezing water. We avoided food-disaster, saving our Esky from sinking as we floated it across to the Island rock yet missed our oppurtunity to rescue our dry clothing which was soaked three dog paddle steps in (imagine someone dog-paddling, with a fist full of clothes reaching above their heads). We watched the abseilers compete with the rock jumpers for prime position before laying in the last of our Clarence rays and making the trek home.

You'd think that a day like this would serve as the perfect reminder as to why I still live in the wonderful place I do. I have the amazing oppurtunity to live in a World Heritage listed zone, a quiet community based around the diverse value systems of its members. It's a place where you can celebrate Winter with a mixture of hippies, pirates and young children wrapped up in gauzy fabrics.

It only got better once we arrived back at Funny Farm, farm because obviously it is a farm and funny because we were once left in charge (and if you know me, I do not do farm - nor rampant ducks). We had a few hours of sun left so we retired to laze by the pool, soaking up rays and learning how to pogo jump on a stick quite obviously not made for pogo jumping. This however quickly went down the toilet - we had a kangaroo in the backyard.

Tom, and Tom, thinking they were Steve Irwin's replacements quickly scaled the fence. One Tom not-so quickly, he got stuck on the top before promptly falling into the horse trough, but he lives in Paddington now so his scaling days are somewhat over.
Hiding behind a large pile of twigs and leaf matter, the boys plotted their next move. Whilst Buchanaman Tom thought a slow, steady approach was best, Horse Trough Tom had better ideas. That was to grab the closet object, a large boulder and stand right in the middle of the paddock. So while the Real Bushman was slithering through the grass, the other had undone about 10 minutes of careful preparation by trying to catch the wallaby by surprise, upright and in the middle of nowhere with a rock above his head.

After a charge from Pony towards the Toms (and yet another failed fence jumping attempt), we retired.

The Mountains have never been so good.


Me: Swimmers, Bonds. Hat, Goorin. Sunnies, RayBan.

Chanel: Do not try this at home.

CURRENT BAG: Chanel Reissue in metallic black.
Where was it purchased? Hong Kong, Christmas 2007.
Where is it now? On my floor, not my brightest storage area.

Contents:
- Mimco cream and gold studded couch/pouch
- Ray Ban vintage cut Wayfarers in black
- Samsung slide-y phone
- enough P1 plates to stick on about 8 cars
- oversized keychain, made up of large gold and diamonte heart with lots of little hanging gold and crystal hearts, a true trash piece
- Mimco cream bow headband
- Hong Kong travel guide
- 2 invoices from Maximillia.com
- toothbrush and dental floss
- half a packet of Nurofen
- large amount of candy including a bag of Clouds, two Crunch bars and two packets of Extra White
- YSL Everlong mascara, Chanel lipgloss, Lucas PawPaw tube, weird organic Japanese illuminating powder compact + brush
- 13 hair ties, 46 bobby pins
- 7 train tickets

I'd like to think I treated my cheaper bags worse.


Me: tee, Tom's old and grotty Spanish bull tee.
Story: At the Old House, a winter's day with the central heating on 30 degrees. Thomas made me grilled swordfish for lunch and took photo's of me lazing in his tee which has now become adopted into my wardrobe. A standout memory from our Love Affair.