Bad Looks and Bum Washing

You said it

No no no no no

I forgot to mention last time around that the "scrunchie" was back in town. Those things are everywhere. Particularly at American Apparel where they have a different coloured scrunchie for everyday of the year. I first noticed it's prominence the last time I was in Japan. And unfortunately I kind of admired it. The Japanese can make anything look good. But how on earth did it cross the barrier between being fashion vomit and fashion must have? As many of us slightly tragic types remember, it was basically a scrunchie that broke up Carrie and Berger. He may have not dumped her with a post-it that episode, but it was the beginning of the end. We all knew it.

I decided to further investigate. Apparently (it is argued) that good old Hilary Clinton brought it back into the spotlight, and turned it from euggggghhh to oooooohhhh.  Naturally Hilary wasn't being adventurous with her fashion choices.  She would have just discovered one of Chelsea's old ones when she was in her bedroom trying to break the lock on her teenage diary (Chealsea looks like the kind of chick who kept a diary right through). Mum's are allowed to read diaries by the way. It's for the child's own good. Except for mine - she better keep her scraggy hands off glitter pink is all I can say.   Little did Hilly know, but her attempt to smear back those old wilting locks was spotted by Mary Kate Olsen, who was all over that look faster than a former vegetarian at a bacon fry off. Sienna Miller jumped on board, and before the world knew it. The srunch was on round 2. Back in '86, a woman called Rommy Revson was credited for it's discovery (not exactly E = mc2 though is it Rommy?), amidst claims that she named it after her poodle. Indeed she did patent it (and has become extremely wealthy by suing everyone who ripped it off), but apparently it was really invented by Philip E. Meyers for a family bearing the name “ Scrunci” in 1963.....old Phil was just a bit late off the mark....

Making the srunch all hers

She's covered in crap but all I see is boobs and vagines

I'm sickened to admit it, but with images of that Japanese chick adjusting hers around her top knot in the toilets at the train station, I bought 2. One bleached out denim, and one satin pink.. They look like crap. There's a few things that come back around that look just all kinds of fucked up. I find myself kind of hating the 80s/early 90 revival items. Shoulder pads look ridiculous, bubble skirts unflattering, and acid wash still looks in my eyes like it is worn by a chick called Shazza, who works at Coles and drives a dented Datsun.





Maybe the era in which you grew up just offers little redeeming features when recycled. My Mum always hated 70s style revival and my Granny loathed 50s fashion. I wonder what my Great Grandmother would have said to see that 20s fashion was making another claim for attention. In this instance she can point the finger at The Great Gatsby. I haven't seen it yet, but by god I can't wait. I love the book (it's in my top 10 for sure), but that kind of sentiment that reads so beautifully in written form, just doesn't make the same impact on film. Has anyone ever seen the 70s version with Robert Redford and Mia Farrow. It's unwatchable pus.

This just says it all really

This was the only one salvageable

But I do love all things 20s, so maybe the spectacular-ness of it all will be enough. Give a shit or not,  the 20s are once again back. All the copied-from-New-York style speakeasies that have opened in Melbourne hammer this home. I can't wait to go and enter them through bookcases and tap on secret doors (really truly), and order whiskey in a teacup.  Actually I hate whiskey so make that absinthe. I once went to a warehouse party in Brooklyn with my friend Harriet that was a secret "speakeasy" type of set-up her then flatmate had organised. You had to dress in 1920s, and the party itself was extremely difficult to find. But finally we spotted a dude in a hat and long white scarf. He showed us the entrance, and once we pushed aside the red velvet curtain we were transported almost 90 years back in time. There was a 20s band (everyone dancing 20s style), burlesque dancers hanging from ropes, and a fire show. There was a lot of champagne and plenty of absinthe too. The presence of the green fairy herself, explains the fact that we were one of the last to leave, and more than a bit messy - I tripped and fell across some tables while I was trying to thank Harriets flatmate for putting on a great shindig, if I remember rightly. I have no excuse. But let me try...... it was my first time off the breastfeeding leash, having left that world behind when the girls were 8 months old. Convince anybody?  The photos are damning. I'd show you more, but I'm saving them up to blackmail my best friend - of course photo shopping myself out first. I'll give you a hint - she struggled to take her headband off (think of a pushed up nose coupled with a expression of frustration and pain) and I had the camera handy at the time.......

Way, WAY before my retina's became burnt out

I also went to a particularly enjoyable 1920s style 40th birthday up in Byron. Another first - on this occasion, it was the first time ever we had left our 18 month old girls behind for 2 nights, to fly interstate to get messy. Who doesn't love knowing that your little scum bags are separated by Bass Strait? And who doesn't love a dress up (well, Chalky hates them, but what does he matter?). Although, it was a little hard to work out who everyone was in the dark come to think of it. Two memories really stand out here. One, I had a leach stuck in the palm of my hand which was extremely difficult to get out, and slightly freaky considering the circumstances. The second, involved a couple of rather ill timed trips to the toilet. The first time the bathroom was lit up badly by candles and I almost pulled down my pants and sat on some dude hunched over the toilet. I bolted quickly, gave him 10 mins grace, and then burst back in the door. Again with the poorly lit atmosphere (you wouldn't have been wanted to reapply make up). Anyway I was almost to the toilet once more, when I spotted him again......or was it someone else? It was hard to tell - this time whoever it was had one foot was up on the side of the bath and he was actually washing out his arse with the detachable shower head. I was close enough to see the look on his face - incidentally it was one of complete horror mixed with shame. I turned and bolted. From then on I did my wee in the bushes outside - losing a vintage earring in the process. I told a few people people about the candlelit anal wash down. One of my friends replied "Was he trying to make it romantic for himself?" Luckily for him it was dark enough, and I was suitably blurry eyed not to determine who it actually was, despite the eye contact and the look of desperation. I probably didn't know him anyway.......

Not long after - see the squint

Anyway, as you can tell, this is a blog about nothing. Really I am trying to avoiding telling everyone that I am back in the Caribbean, sitting outside and watching the puffy clouds float through skies of purple and pink. We've been here two and a half weeks. I just couldn't bear to tell you all, considering that my mother informed me that it was reading 2 degrees in my homelands the other morning. That's ugly. Oh well, I'll be back there myself before too long bitching with the rest of you. But in the meantime, I want to assure that all my friends and family will still be talking to me. Therefore, I will resisting posting too many photos of me in my bathers holding aloft a pina colada - why do people always hold their drinks up proudly in holiday photos? It's like "Hi everyone look I'm drinking a wine - this time in Greece.....Woooo Hoooo, I'm out an of control international booze hound!!!!". Anyway, rest assured that I am currently being eaten alive by mosquitoes, my sandals are moldy, and I'm about to go and check my rice for weevils before cooking dinner.....somethings never change - especially life in the far east Caribbean.

Forgive me.......