Prep school

'Preppy' (short for 'preparatory') style originated during the 1960s from those elite New England schools of America and it's never really gone away since. Countless fashion tribes, labels and socio-economic demographic groups the world over have adopted and created their own versions, or simply subverted preppy.

When I first visited Paris almost a decade ago, I was surprised that preppy (from casual to luxe and any other degree in between) was the style of choice for most of the city's dwellers. Why was the flamboyance of the haute couture shows not reflected on the streets? When I got to know some Parisians, I began to understand that the city, where France's political and economic power lie, was, for the most part, quite conservative. But the French, even while garbed simply, express their individuality, their taste, with little flourishes - an unexpected scarf fabric, a surprisingly heeled boot, a contrasting jacket detail. Minimalism is king in Paris, but minimalism with a subtle twist.

Shortly after, I discovered Parisian brand APC and its simple, beautifully constructed pieces.

It was love at first sight.

From Autumn/Winter 2009/10:

I'm an Amish kindergarten lumberjack and I'm okay...

APC Madras Autumn/Winter 2009/10. Part Scandinavian lumberjack. Part 1970's kindergarten mum. A little bit Amish. And French insouciance all through and through. So much more lovely than Madras Spring/Summer 2009/10 which was all primary colours, monkey prints and romper suits. This season is truer to the main APC line.

Excitingly, I've discovered a lovely Melbourne store which stocks Madras. Now all I have to do is work out my budget...

biblio-

Heaven forfend, you should call me a bibliomaniac. History abounds with dastardly fiends who have stolen, been excommunicated or even wreaked war all in the name of fuelling their book fetish. The most anyone could accuse me is of accidentally absorbing people's books into my collection. And in my defence, I shall note that any number of folk have absorbed my books into their libraries!

But I do love a good book. And one with a beautifully-designed cover even more so. My 'to-be-reads' (currently numbering approximately 30) sitting in a pile by my bed never fails to give me an incredible sense of geekish comfort. And one day, I shall have a room lined with shelves from floor to ceiling and each shelf shall be filled with book upon book upon book...

Since returning to Melbourne, I have wondered how I would to fuel my bibliomaniacal book hoarding tendencies. At an average of AUD$30 per paperback, books in Australia are horrendously pricey, compared to the United Kingdom where, if you time things right, you can pick up a great read for around £7-£8. But fortunately, I recently came across this place. A glass facade and a long floor-to-ceiling window means you are not stumbling around an enclosed, airless flourescent-illuminated space so typical of the usual discount book store. Wooden shelving displays modern editions of books old and new - all with gorgeous covers (I noted many editions by Vintage). Again, quite atypical of a discount book store. And with the average paperback price of AUD$10 and friendly staff, you couldn't really ask for more. In short, a discount book store like one I have never come across before.

And so (*hands rubbing together in glee*) my dream of a library which will one day eventually conquer the world remains unchecked!

Here are a few recent biblio-themed photos.

Method to their Madness

Mad Men kills me.  The frocks.  The repression.  The surreptitious glances.  The oh-so-very-proper enunciation.  The things left unsaid.  The fabulous 1960s interiors.  How the boys of Sterling Cooper always hand whiskies to colleagues popping around for a chat.  The constant smoking.  The ambiguity of the characters - is Betty totally bonkers or just acting out?  How one can despise Don in an episode, yet cheer him on in the next?  The sometimes uncomfortable depiction of 1960s American mores.  The manly maleness of Don Draper. The little, maddening clues which creator Matthew Weiner leaves, which transform each episode beyond soap, beyond pure drama, into an intricate jigsaw puzzle of emotion and motive pulled apart each week by the ravenous hordes populating a host of Mad Men blogs.  Oh, and did I mention the frocks (and suits)?

Here are a few, taken from here.

Life Lesson #218: Don't do a Tantalus

No matter how much you covet, desire, lust after, fall in love with what you perceive as the most beauteous, the most perfect, the most glorious of footwear, if the shoes don't fit, leave them be.

In a irrational fit of longing and befuddled by the animal print, the velvety touch of pony skin, the artfully dishevelled leather bow, the delicate curves of the shoe which make the wearer feel simultaneously like a ballet dancer with tiny, delicate footsies, Audrey Hepburn and leftbank Parisian (not mutually exclusive things, admittedly), I purchased these lovelies. Which are half a size too small and give me huge blisters on my heels and my toes within an hour of traipsing about in them.

I've tried stuffing them with wet newspaper, placing plastic bags filled with water in them before putting them in the freezer and even paid for them to be professionally stretched. All for naught. Pony skin, it would seem, does not stretch like leather does.

And now they sit in my wardrobe, tantalising out of wear. As happened to Tantalus, the rather nasty ancient Greek king whose eternal punishment was to stand below vines and their bounty of grapes which receded from his grasp each time he reached towards them to quench his thirst and hunger.

I wonder if there was any way to encourage one's feet to shrink?

My Wanderin' Days

Looking for work is a necessary evil and an administrative bore, but one should not overlook the potential and the pure beauty of the state of unemployment.  Such as being able to wander around on a bright, sunny spring day, quaffing chai lattes and/or coffee and admiring the quirky kitsch aesthetic of Melbourne's inner suburbs, unharassed by the weekend hordes.

Seven years is a long time and I cannot remember whether Collingwood and Fitzroy were as full of boutiques selling all manner of lovely things then as compared to now. But who's quibbling?







[caption id="attachment_564" align="aligncenter" width="246" caption="A 'doilied' tree."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_565" align="aligncenter" width="246" caption="Flags made out of tea towels."][/caption]

Toasty Spaces

Huzzah! Toast's Autumn/Winter 2009 homewares catalogue is out!  Dare I say it?  Dare I say that the rustic, pastoral, boho interiors and dilapidated luxe furniture outglam the homewares in more than a few shots? The fish swimming up the stairwell is particularly lovely.

Mr Morris

Have nothing in your houses which you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.

- William Morris (1834-1896)

Clean.  Clear.  Declutter.  Edit.  Re-edit.  Recycle.  Amalgamate.  Store.

Spring cleans always provide a nostalgic, sometimes horrifying (I wore that?!) ride.  Even more so when the clutter dates back decades to childhood.  Mr Morris' quote sets out useful criteria for a sentimental hoarder such as myself.  Additionally, I'm holding onto the creed that your things should reflect who you are.  Things not doing so and claiming space in your home (and your life!) should be let go.

It was a stocktake that began in the months before I left London; a stressful, sometimes haphazard, frantic process to reduce seven years' of clutter to things encapsulating my time in London for shipment to Melbourne.  Interestingly, a London friend, La Finch, decluttered whenever she could.  She's a minimalist gal, and given the space constraints in her London flat, it was a necessarily constant activity.  I don't think I could ever do it on a frequent basis.  I like letting things lie, and seeing how and where my feelings for them develop.

There are a number of things I got rid off in London which I regret.  But still, precious space is a fair exchange.  Most of my current Melbourne detritus is hitting charity shops and ebay.  But a few items - long-forgotten but happily rediscovered - have made the cut.

[caption id="attachment_394" align="aligncenter" width="246" caption="An intricately beaded cardigan which belonged to my mother."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_396" align="aligncenter" width="246" caption="A Hello Kitty table mirror."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_399" align="aligncenter" width="246" caption="A set of small chinese crocheted dolls."][/caption]