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Elizabeth and James | Spring Ready to Wear 13
“Structured suiting and draped silks” – Ashley and Mary-Kate Olsen
| Minimal | Crisp | Elongated | as expected, oversized| Simple |
| Cuffed | Bronze | Draped | Silk | Natural |
| Structured | Ivory | Polished | Cropped| Worldly | Relaxed | most importantly, Magenta |
This is how I’d like to look when the weather starts warming up.
That airy robe is what I’d like to wear while I’m Hugh Hefnering about in my mansion.
I met a lady in a cosmetic store. Or more truthfully, a lady met me.
‘What’re you buying?’ she asked as she peered into my basket.
‘I just love looking at what every one gets’ she continued.
‘That’s interesting’ I replied. I imagined her doing this to every stranger in each store she visited. I summed up her mental capacity as I wondered about how you could keep such a time consuming habit.
Her next statement proved that even If I had hand picked the strangest feminine hygiene product that cosmetic store had to offer, she still would have wanted to talk to me.
‘I’m trying to find this wax to do my upper lip’.
She hadn’t mistaken me for a shop assistant. For her, this was an appropriate opener for a conversation between herself and myself.
I looked at the girl in front of me, who had been included by overwhelming eye contact from my new friend.
I tried not to make any type of look at either of the strangers. I just nodded and said ‘oh, yeah’, as I inspected the space between her lip and nose.
I was confused. To be honest, I couldn’t see a single hair.
As my eyes wandered to her chin, she began to tell me how the store no longer sold her preferred brand of wax. It wasn’t on its regular shelf.
She planned on calling the company and just to prove this she produced a torn off piece of paper with a phone number.
She started waxing her lip after her father died. She was worried her sister would notice her moustache at his funeral.
She’d just arrived home from a holiday. She prefers day flights as it reduces jetlag. She travels frequently with her husband, and I suppose, tells strangers she meets in stores. Like she did me…
“Did you have to get those glasses, or were they just given to you?”
I wanted to respond something about her having to have that face? But, before I had an adult version of what was in front of me to deal with, I reminded myself that I was not five and I needed to grow up.
This might seem odd, but I’m not often confronted by anyone and until recently I was less commonly beleaguered by children.
On a more recent occasion, I was walking mindlessly into a shopping centre when I noticed a small boy slightly to the left of my path. I continued to walk towards him, which meant that for a brief second in time we were standing side by side.
At that very moment another child demanded my attention, by shouting, laughing and pointing her paint stained finger. At me.
“Ha ha! Is that your girlfriend?”
I laughed to myself and kept on my way, wondering if this was my hero moment to stand up to bullies and drop her on her head. I could never do that to her though, basically, I have scrawny/no arm muscles.
I’m sure less honest and outspoken people have been compelled to shout the very same thing upon sighting me.
Thankfully, for them, most other boys put in the same situation have had the good sense to run. Fast.
I don’t know whether her outburst was directed as an insult to the boy or a personal attack of my tender feelings. I took it as a backhanded compliment. He should be so lucky if we were dating, and technically I should be a paedophile. Which I am not, so I’ll end this before it gets weird(er).
I was minding my own business and clearly they were too. This is where I’ll incorporate a quote from RuPaul, “What other people think of me is none of my damn business”. (Werk!)
What children think of me is the least of my concern. According to these two, they don’t think very much at all anyway.
Words Tennille Paterson
There is a party going on in the house behind mine.
It has lasted almost four days.
Sometimes it sounds like a pool party. Other times it sounds like a family reunion. At 2am it sounds like over excited school girls. At around four in the morning, it sounds like dying cats playing karaoke. At times, the street is crowded with cars. On few occasions, it is a much more exclusive affair. Sometimes it is only adults chatting to the sounds of breaking glass. Other times children are invited.
In the late afternoon of the second day, a curious voice yelled out a question. “Mum!” I heard. “Why are there undies on the roof?” The voice that responded seemed more angry than interested and less surprised than disappointed. “Well how the hell did they get up there?” was the response. I too waited for an explanation.
That party has since ended. The next afternoon another one started.
As far as I know, the undergarments remain on the roof.
strange vending machine picture – we heart it
Just that one today?
It wasn’t the sentence alone that killed my shopping experience. (Read – chain store, overcrowded, slippery tiled shopping centre experience.) The simple string of words when pronounced politely and properly can really be quite nice. No, it wasn’t the sentence. It was the attitude and arrogance behind it that left me rolling my eyes and despising what now stood in front of me behind the counter.
After abruptly repeating the ‘sales approach’ in order to snap me out of my day dream, a quick hand snatched the item from me and strutted around to the better side of the register.
It was obvious that I was in the wrong here. How dare I walk into a store and try to purchase something. What on God’s green earth gave me the assumption that I had the right to give someone my money in exchange for some piece of shit that was for sale in a shop, of all places?
It left me wondering when places like this had become too cool. The entire surroundings seemed the same as the last time I had entered, but this time there was no friendly ‘hey how you going?’
No, this time I was welcomed with a forceful glare from the tip of each hair follicle to the last freckle on my disgusting little toe.
Not to give the wrong opinion here, I’m not one for a chatty Chelsea shadowing me around. Nor am I enlightened by the ten sales steps that most chain stores use these days. I generally don’t even want/need assistance. I’m simply not one to cruise into a store and be looked at as if someone might ask me “Do you wanna take this outside?’.
I’ve been on the other side of the counter. I’ve personally dealt with the hierarchy of consumers. I may not have always been cheery and bubbly, but ever since then, I’m always polite to the sales assistants.
I’m not asking for much here. Basically, please don’t lean your heinous little body over the till, roll your eyes and repeat the lyrics ‘nobody likes the records that I play’ over and over at me while you unwillingly run through my sale as though your controlling my air supply.
No. Nobody likes the records that you play. No one cares that you have memorised the one line lyrics to the song. You aren’t a DJ. You’re not even responsible for the music blaring through the speakers into the store. No one is impressed. Not even your drunken Saturday night alter- ego.
I thought this picture would be appropriate. I’m going to hang this in my store. That way people would get the drift as soon as they entered. I’m just kidding…I don’t own a store.
Words by Tennille Paterson
The Pixies have been rocking out since before I was born. This is clear when they play. They make it very obvious that they know what they are doing.
Countless bands credit the influence The Pixies have had on them and their music. At Splendour over the weekend, they played a very tight set indeed.
Kim Deal’s harmonization and backing vocals are beautiful. However, her between song banter was unappreciated by the crowd.
If you don’t know anything about the gig you are playing, please don’t make useless comments to show us that. If you know little about the country you are in, don’t offend us by showing your own ignorance. And please, don’t ask us if we need to go to school tomorrow.
If I am sitting on a grass amphitheatre around 12am in a remote town, surrounded by thousands of others doing exactly the same, the chances of me having to attend school the next morning are very unlikely.
Another question, why is Deal never shown on the big screen while performing?
We were freezing cold, so we walked away from the stage as the final songs were played. As we left, “Where is my mind” pounded into the air. Now I’ll show my ignorance and admit that was the one song I wanted to hear. A lot of people were walking away in front of us. We all stopped and danced for a moment and then continued on our way. We left before the end because although it wasn’t a school night for me, I do have a 1am curfew.
This actually happened. At the grocery store. Like last week.
I was innocently wandering the aisles of my local supermarket the other day with my mum. Now, it should be known that she is a general magnet for picking up creeps and having weirdo’s befriend her. Nothing unusual, just a lucky trait I guess.
I, like most others who know her, understand this fact. Yet, I was still left a little surprised when a stranger interrupted us in the organic food section.
I was in the middle of reading a label when a toothless man wearing a blue shirt shouted a very friendly “hello” at us. This clever tactic caught us off guard and tricked us into thinking we should have known him, when simply, we just should have known better. How would I not remember knowing a toothless man who accessorizes stubbies with a beer gut belt?
He then announced how lovely it was to see a mother and daughter shopping and asked confirmation that we were, in fact, mother and daughter.
After we bewilderingly answered his question, he asked another.
“Are you the same height?” We both muttered answers and tried to move on, but screwball stranger persisted. “I know”, he said. “Why don’t you stand back to back?”
Taken aback, I laughed in disbelief and secretly looked for a hidden camera. After that I frowned and walked away very confused with the situation.
If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not stand back to back and measure my height in the middle of Woolworths. Thanks very much for asking.
Sir, do you stop strangers all the time and ask them all types of nonsense? More importantly, does anyone actually comply with your dim requests?
I don’t know who you are, but I appreciate the aisle four freak show. However, because of it I may never visit that supermarket again.
Polite party banter – Honestly, I probably couldn’t make this shit up. Well, I could but I probably just wouldn’t.
“We are going to bring the word radical back”.
I overheard this as I was introduced to some people at a party. No, this was not like J.T and his ultimate goal to re-sexy the common universe. This attempt had not only a plan, but a strategic method. Details of which were proudly shared amongst the inner circle, as I blinked and tilted my head like a confused puppy.
So, where exactly did the word radical go? Surely not Ibiza? Did he take his little brother ‘Rad’ with him? Or was the word ‘Rad’ simply not ‘uncool’ enough to be salvaged yet?
As these thoughts filtered through my mind, it seemed strange that I hadn’t received the memo. (You know the one that goes around informing you when words go out and shit). Not only had I been using the word ‘radical’ and half abusing the word ‘rad’ since I can remember, but I never realised it had gracefully exited the building.
After listening to a conversation at the intellect level of a bunch of 5 year olds for about ten minutes, I realised that these girls were bringing back a whole lot more than just the word radical. Half of which comes from inhaling spray tan and the rest is just wrapped in pink. Nothing wrong with either of those but you can do the leg work.
It was at this point I was saved by a friend who brought an even more welcome companion. Not knowing what I was soon to unleash, I blurted out the word ‘Rad’ as I gratefully accepted the liquid distraction.
A harmonised cry of ‘AW- MA- GAWD’ was heard in Mumbai as a stampede of pink (and streaky orange heh petty) turned to appreciate my vocabulary. ‘Aw, that’s so cute, she actually uses it”, said one. ‘Oh that’s so cool, I mean, radical”, sympathised another.
Yes. It is true. I have been tormented with the radical-usage curse for many years now. The little bastard just won’t leave me alone I thought as I pictured a swarm of Africanised killer bees entering the windpipes of the surprisingly still shocked groupies.
Personal interests aside, if I was going to attempt at bringing something back, it surely wouldn’t be a word that hasn’t gone anywhere.
It’d be something decent…like Elvis.