On the fringe.

To fringe or not to fringe....that is the question.

Well that is the question for me at the moment anyway.

I vacillate between desperately wanting to sport a cute as hell little fringe like these be fringed beauties.....

From top left in a clockwise direction

Sweetheart of the Rodeo.

Twila Jean,

Rockabilly Ruby,

The Dainty Squid.

 

Miss Tallulah Porkchop,

Katie Louise Ford,

Yesterday Girl.

Alternatively Lovely

 

.....and having long hair that can be styled into a kick ass victory roll.

OK, I am not being completely honest here.

Let me tell you the truth.

I have some rather horrific fears of trying new hairdressers and as my last mistress of the coif left to follow other dreams I am without a cutter. I admit, when it comes to my locks I have some trust issues.

My hair is super fine and kind of frizzy and likes to fly away and I when I have one, I am VERY particular about my fringe. (I sound like a dream customer don't I?)

My last hairdresser (I miss you Kat!) was superb and knew exactly how to handle my tricky tresses.

I'm pretty sure that my fears stem from an experience about 12 years ago when I saved up all my lolly for a super duper expensive trim from a well known salon.

I sat with the stylist and as I was explaining about the bob I wanted in walked the rather famous hairstylist that owned the salon and had a bit of a hair care empire.

 (I should name and shame but I won't.)

The famous hair fella breezed in and began regaling all and sundry with tales of the Rolling Stones concert he had gone to the night before.

The fella was pretty excited. He was pretty hyped.

He was buzzing.

Eyes bulging, hands madly gesturing, talking a mile a minute.

I'll be blunt. If there weren't still some top notch drugs coursing through that mans body then I vow to never buy another handbag.

And then he made a beeline for me.

And he began to do that thing that hair stylists do. Combing their fingers through your hair, picking up a strand, weighing it between their fingers with their head cocked, and eyes squinted.

He asked what I had in mind.

I said a Louise Brooks style bob.

He nodded like he knew exactly what I meant, like he was going to fulfil my dream of having a sleek little swishy bob.

And he began snipping. And snipping. And snipping.

As more and more brown tendrils fell so did my hopes.

He talked at me non stop.

He dropped things. Scissors, combs. And still he talked. And still he cut.

When I dared look at myself in the mirror it was not Louise Brooks' visage that I met with.

 

Image found here

Nope, nothing like this.

Image found here

More like this. I had a Mrs Brady do.

It was hideous. It was really short and choppy on top with long wispy strands hanging from my poor savaged head.

I left the salon and walked down a bust and trendy Melbourne street in floods of tears, knowing not only that I looked wretched, but that I was an idiot as well.

For I had paid the man for butchering me!

I went home, continued to sob and boo hoo for a while, tried to come to terms with the new cut. Then gave up and went to a local salon to get it all evened out and made even shorter.

But I learnt some lessons that day.

(a) Don't go to coked up uber hair stylists.

(b) If someone massacres your hair, abstain from grabbing the scissors and stabbing them, but make it very clear that you will not be fecking paying for it!

(c) Hair does eventually grow but when growing out a terrible cut it seems to take forever.

So with all of this weighing in to the fringe debate I must decide.

I do want a lovely little side swept number.

So do I dare? Do I?

If anyone lives in Melbourne and has any recommendations for a good non coke fiend hairstylist I would love to know.

Does anyone else have any hair horror stories?

 



King Kong

 

My son has a toy monkey that used to travel everywhere with him.

Monkey (for that is his very original name) would have amazing adventures and many a time we have been regaled by tales of his shenanigans and wild exploits .

Monkey apparently used to sneak my son in to a pub to see bands.

Monkey even has a punk song written about him.

So when we went to watch the musical production of King Kong, it was only fitting that my son  brought along Monkey to catch up with his primate cousin on stage.

 

 

This is monkey enjoying a pre show snack.

I had pretty high expectations of the production but even those were exceeded and I was absolutely blown away by the sheer brilliance  of the show.

We were all delighted by the costumes, song and dance numbers, entranced by the psychedelic light displays and mesmerised by the casts amazing voices.

And then there was the beast, King Kong!

 

 

Images found here

 

I can't even describe the moment we first saw the beast on stage and how amazingly realistic it looked. Although it is only an enormous puppet we were  petrified, enraged, and heartbroken in turns through out the production.

When he roared we all huddled and shook in our seats.

When he fought for his lady love we all cheered.

 And when he was shot down we all shed a tear for the beast and cursed the barbaric nature of us humans. (OK it may have just been me shedding a tear, but it was very sad!)

The show was just spectacular and will stay with me forever!

 

 

My son (and Monkey) also thought the production was amazing and I am so glad I got to share that with my son. There was a moment though when King Kong bellowed and I thought I was going to lose my son under the seat!

 

 

Even with just my phone camera the beauty of the Regent Theatre is breathtaking.

 

 

 

After the show, Monkey went a little crazy and decided to get up to some primate tomfoolery.

 

 

Whilst we decided a Lindt chocolate platter was more in order.

 

 

 Mmmmmmmmmmmmm!

A theatre show of such magnitude deserved an equally eye catching frock so I wore my stunning 50's frock with the most dramatic collar that ever was.

 

 

It is such a hard colour to photograph, but you can see it more here.

 

 

 

Gorgeous black gloves with scalloped edges and the sweetest little embroidered flowers made the outfit.

 

 

And a lady has to have bows on her seamed tights!

 

 

What has everyone else been up to this weekend?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

here

I'm dreaming of glasses and hats.

 

How is it that I just have to put on glasses and I feel more intelligent?

I'm sure my vocabulary increased just peering through these specs.

I'm on the hunt for some new glasses so have been searching on the web and in shops for some pretty cats eye styles. I have seen some gorgeous vintage lovelies but am not sure about the whole getting new lenses in old frames dilemma.

Any recommendations?

I was also feeling a 50's college vibe today with my toasty warm red (and recently thrifted) cardi, plaid skirt and my adorable oxford style heels.

 

 

Whenever I wear red I  realise how much I adore the vibrant shade and vow to never stop wearing the colour.  Red is just so versatile, so rich and always gives me a lift.

 

 

 

As well as faffing about with glasses imagining myself to be a mid century university student  I have been having a grand old time playing with some flowers and ribbons and attempting to create some vintage style hats.

 

 

 

It was lucky the flowers were red because I'm pretty sure I added more than a little blood with all of my finger pricking!

 

 

 

I found a great tutorial for a vintage style headband in the always inspiring Mollie Makes magazine and have been whipping up heaps of these ribbon rosettes in an array of hues.

 

 

I went on a hot glue frenzy and made this crazy number for a Mad Hatters Tea party at work.

I probably won't be wearing this one out!

(What is funny is that people were complimenting me on how pretty the hat was but as I am deathly afraid of butterflies all I could think of was that I had those revolting creatures hovering

around me. Uuuugggghhh!)

One day I will fulfil a dream by completing a millinery course and will actually learn how to make vintage hats. And I will wear a different hat every day!

Until then I can have fun playing with pretty flowers and trying not to give myself third degree burns with the hot glue gun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Zombies! Zombies! Zombies!

Some weekends start of so normally, full of the loved and the everyday.

Freezing cold mornings at my sons football game.

Feeding ducks.

Playing in the park.

Laundry. Cleaning. Cooking.

You know...the usual.

And then the weekend takes a little detour and.... KABAM!

ZOMBIES!

I am trying to seize every opportunity that comes my way and create some amazing memories so when a chance to be in a music video came up I quickly signed myself, my husband and my son up.

 Oh and did I mention we would be zombies.

Yeahhhhh!

 

Getting all gory and revolting  by professional make-up artists was a real hoot.

Every person  (I mean zombie) had a different look as if a different horrible death had befallen them.

 

 

My husband had some particularly nasty looking wounds. It looked like someone had taken some good bites out of him!

 

 

And the little fella was pretty happy with his scary countenance.

 

 

Eeeeeep!

He had the whole undead thing down pat.

He was so convincing that the director featured him in a few scenes.

 

 

I just looked like I had had a really big Saturday night. Actually I think in the old days I may have looked a sight worse than this as I stumbled out of the clubs at dawn.

 

 

 

There were some genuinely petrifying zombies.

We certainly created a stir when we were filming the alley and car park scenes.

We had such a wonderful experience and were all fascinated by the creative make up artists and the intricacies of filming a video clip.

I can't wait to see the clip when it has been edited and polished and will  fill everyone in when it is all completed and ready to be viewed.

So not the usual Sunday but we thoroughly enjoyed  our day of zombie shenanigans!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Help a lady out and buy some stuff!

 I am not sure about all of you, but I know that I am not a wealthy, mansion owning kind of gal.

As much as I wish I did, I do not have unlimited funds nor unlimited space to fill with my collections of frippery and furbelow's.

My current wardrobe situation is a crime against clothing with my lovelies hanging two, or even three to a hanger, crowded and suffocating in their dark little cell. I'm pretty sure I can hear them screaming and writhing in agony in the night.

The horror! Oh the horror!

So a purge had to happen.

And some of my pretties have to go to new homes with new mothers to love and care for them, and give them a whole new life.

(I'm not crying, I just have allergies.)

So if anyone is interested in adopting a lovely, please check out my ebay listings and click on the link.

 

Let me introduce you to.....

 

See how sad I am. Can't even crack a smile!

Not when I have to say farewell to this chocolate and pink pussy-bow number.

 

Deliciously green maxi.

 

This frock is so fun and bright and cheerful!

 

Yes it is a maternity frock, but it is awesome and sooo comfortable.

 

Cool leather jacket.

 

The softest and most supple long leather jacket that ever was.

 

Super plush vintage faux fur.

 

Everyone needs a little black faux fur jacket.

 

The great thing about delving into the hidden corners of my wardrobe was I unearthed a couple of stunners that I just couldn't bear to part with.

 

Like this Pucci style print tunic top .

 

And this amazing home made frock of the prettiest blues and greens.

 But I am hoping that these forgotten beauties will eventually be able to hang comfortably in the wardrobe, not piggy backing on others or jostling with their neighbours.

Happy weekend!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Do not look directly at my boobs

 

It looks like a perfectly unassuming dress doesn't it?

I've featured it before on this blog here and did not encounter anything odd.

But I wore it today and was happily admiring how much hot pink I was able to throw on with my grey and white 60's frock and so had a bit of a photo shoot after a long day of errands and odd jobs.

And then I noticed something.

(Actually several things. Like how did my hair go so frizzy? Wassup with that? Just look at all those weird fly away bits that appear to be trying to float away from my scalp.)

I observed an odd optical illusion around my chest region.

 

Its starting to morph here....

and here...

I'm a little concerned that all day I have been traipsing around my local area unaware that I have a strange hypnotic pattern dancing on my boobs.

So I'm just warning you all. Avert your eyes people!

 For your own safety, do not look directly at my boobs!

On another note, I am in the process of doing a HUGE wardrobe purge and am listing lots of vintage, and retro clothing so will do another post tomorrow with some pics of the lovelies that have to leave my overcrowded nest and links so if anyone is interested, stay tuned.

 

Stand down hair, damn you!