Bus 380 will take you there…

Seen today in the Sydney CBD on George St: A lady with black knee-high patent leather boots.  Weather check my dear… it’s a sunny day for Sydney with a top of 29 degrees, and the humidity is rather high. Your boots will be more than acceptable on Oxford St, Darlinghurst: bus no. 380 from Martin Place will take you there…

Deep and Mother-ingful with Malaga Wine by OPI

A little trip to the nail parlor during a lunch break last Friday prompted me to step out of my comfort zone when selecting my nail varnish. Bypassing the usual suspects (OPI’s Sweetheart/Passion/Big Apple Red/Lincoln Park After Dark), the Dracula-esque blood red of OPI’s Malaga Wine sang out to me as it sat patiently on its shelf waiting to be picked.

So I will say that the name of the varnish also factors in when I’m choosing the colour that will adorn my nails for the following week. AndMalaga Wine was the winner for the weekend since my Dad lives about a half hour drive from Malaga itself on Spain’s Costa del Sol. (I’m sure normal women don’t think this much when selecting nail polish.)

The depth of the colour I thought was seductive initially, but for some reason this shade seems to age me if leave it on for more than five days. Don’t get me wrong it is a beautiful shade of red; polished, elegant and luxurious. But after a few days adorning my fingertips and especially with the hot and blinding afternoon sun seeping into my office windows showcasing all the imperfections my skin has to offer, the colour reminds me of my mother and that slowly but surely I feel as though I’m turning into her. God bless her beautiful self but our beauty routines du jour are as opposite as nuns and playboy bunnies.

Victoria Beckham for Emporio Armani

So word has it that Victoria Beckham is set to model for Emporio Armani lingerie. Following in the footsteps of husband David, Victoria has been chosen by Mr Giorgio Armani himself as spokeswoman for the house’s new lingerie line, and will debut in the company’s  forthcoming spring-summer 2009 ad campaign.

I do admire VB’s style but I couldn’t think of anything worse than seeing her half-naked whilst I flick through the latest issue of Vogue, more so with her rib cage poking out. Perhaps that is something Photoshop can take care of, but I’m not sure if Posh herself would be impressed knowing she’d been made to look a little fatter.

The night my feet gave me the middle finger and screamed a big “F*** YOU!”

“Shoes that are too tight or ill-fitting inevitably give you a tired and tortured look, which is hardly the impression an elegant woman wishes to create” – A Guide to Elegance, Genevieve Antoine Dariaux

When I was a little girl and used to visit my grandmother, I would wince every time I caught a glimpse of her feet. Wawa, as we called her, was blessed with flawless skin kudos to her Filipino genes, and when she passed away at 91, there was not one wrinkle on her beautiful face. But her feet told another story, with hideously gigantic bunions that caused her second toes to permanently place themselves on top of her big toes.

I always wondered how she managed to still don heels at her elderly age. Despite wearing low heels, the bunions that festooned her delicate and soft feet, appeared harrowing. And to think she had various operations to remove them, I cannot imagine just how much pain they caused her.

Hereditary in my family, my mother also suffers from bunions, though not yet to the extent my grandmother suffered. My mom is perhaps much more careful in her choice of footwear so as not to aggravate the protruding bone. She is so careful, it’s to the point that I am still receiving constant lectures from across the country, regarding my love for stylish shoes that are nothing short of brutal for my feet.

You see I used to think my feet were invincible. Bunions? Pfft.. Bunions to me were a thing of a very far-away future, painful and ugly deformations that I would acquire when I reached my grandmother’s twilight years. Low and behold at 22 years young, I am now quietly suffering.

My theory on ridiculously high heels in all shapes, materials and sizes is quite simple. If you choose to wear shoes that are criminal to your feet, then you suffer the consequences quietly. On a night out on the town, I don’t believe in taking your shoes off, no matter how agonizing the pain or how red-raw the blister. Removing ones heels and walking about the streets barefoot in an expensive dress is something to look down upon. A lady never takes off her shoes in public. Not until she is in the comfort of her own house. I would never even DREAM of removing my shoes until I have reached the safety of my bedroom, let alone whining loudly about the world of pain I am in. These thoughts of hell I would rather keep to myself, why let on to every Tom, Dick and Harry about how much you are suffering to look so damn good? The art of looking every bit amazing, should be effortless.

But looking amazing has started to take its toll, thanks to the help of a pair of über-hot heels in my wardrobe that are inspired by these fabulous Alexander McQueen’s:

Incredibly short space at the front of the shoe to squeeze 1/3 of your foot into.

It all started a couple of weeks back when on the night of a close friend’s birthday, I had to pike and go home early, at the silly hour of 1am.

After years of abuse and hours upon hours of non-stop dancing til six in the morning on various club floors throughout the past five years, my poor feet decided to give me the middle finger. And it was a rude shock indeed.

Believe it or not, my feet are not separate entities, they are one. Two souls in one body. They know their job, and they know the drill all too well: dance until the sunrise and the shoes come off when we get home, even if that involves walking home. But for the first time ever, they couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the drill. They gave me the middle finger and screamed a big ‘FUCK YOU’ to boot.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I could no longer appear cool, calm and collected. When the clock struck midnight I turned into one of those girls I promised myself to never become. Those females that whinge and whine about the immense discomfort caused by their poor choice of footwear. You know the ones. After almost another hour, I just couldn’t stay out anymore. My bed was calling me, and it was getting louder and louder by the second.

When I got home that night, it was then that I accepted defeat. A competitive and feisty young lady, I do not like to lose in any situation. But that night (11th October 2008 to be precise) I sadly lost and will happily admit it.

Although a few weeks have gone by since then, I assumed my feet would return to their normal selves. There is nothing worse then embarking on a fabulous night out, knowing there is the potential for your feet to misbehave at any given moment. Especially on a date.

Unfortunately however, it seems to me that the parts at the very end of my body have clearly had enough. And I knew it was serious when running on the treadmill at the gym the other day (in sneakers, of course…) and the bunion on my right foot started to ache.

So what’s a girl to do? Stress? No, that causes skin break-outs. Cry? No, waste of Diorshow mascara. Slap her butt down on the couch on a Saturday night to give her feet a rest and blog about it? Probably so.

I don’t believe in quitting, it’s not ingrained in my genes to quit. Quitting equals failure and I don’t believe in failure. Failure is unattractive and hardly fabulous. So yes, I will continue to be stupid and wear stupidly hot and fabulous heels. An operation is inevitable anyway, and I’m only 22 for Pete’s sake. Still young, carefree and frivolous. Besides, there is a whole season of sculptural heels waiting to be discovered…

Bitch, puh-lease… How hard is it?

I find it somewhat intriguing as to how some females leave their house and embark on their day looking disheveled and filthy. I am unsure as to whether this may be their objective or not, but really, it’s unappealing and hardly attractive. Crimes against looking half-decent include the following:

• CHAPPED & FLAKY LIPS

Unless you are stuck in the middle of Antarctica without so much of a chance of making it back to civilization, there really is no excuse for chapped, flaky lips. With the amount of lip balms out there screaming ‘TRY ME! BUY ME!’ chapped lips are a definite no-no. Furthermore, applying lip gloss or lipstick to dry lips is a lost cause and a waste of product. The solution for this is simple. Go and buy a pot of Carmex.

Neither Blistex nor Chapstick are as effective as Carmex, and certainly not LUCAS PAW PAW either, which merely glosses your lips like Vaseline. Carmex on the other hand, hydrates seriously dry and chapped lips with its active ingredients of camphor, menthol and phenol. Put some balm on before you sleep at night, and in the morning you’ll awake to super soft and luscious lips. So simple, you wonder why women seem to get it so wrong.

• LONG TOENAILS
  

Talons on your feet? Trying to resemble a vulture? Vultures are ugly creatures (see below), as are ostriches and emus: other creatures with talons.

Also disgusting really, when you consider the dirt and bacteria that accumulate underneath the toenail itself when you’re wearing open-toed shoes or thongs.

• CHIPPED NAIL POLISH

Whether this be on your toes or fingers, chipped nail polish, and with black varnish at that- is something to be left for the likes of Marilyn Manson, Courtney Love (another lost cause) and Britney Spears on a bad day. Inappropriate and cheap-looking, it takes two minutes tops, to get some nail polish remover and bring your nails back to their natural state. So simple really, unless you’re aiming for that trashy look. Sorry to say but I don’t think looking trashy has ever been cast as a fashion trend.

• SCALY SKIN

Unattractive. In one word, that sums up what scaly skin on a female body looks like. Unless you’re addicted to ice or are simply scratching your skin to the bone to pass time, there is no excuse for this. A great selection of loofahs and exfoliating mitts are available from The Body Shop, and there is a whole word of body moisturisers out there waiting to be discovered. Not all of us can afford La Mer so our friends at Nivea should do in the meantime. Moisturising your skin prior to leaving the bathroom after your morning shower should be second nature! C’mon! It shouldn’t be such a mission to look after your body… who knows, you might need to earn money from it one day.

• EYELINER THAT COVERS YOUR ENTIRE EYELID

In case you haven’t been reading the latest trashy celebrity magazines every week, Amy Winehouse is a lost cause. Shame really considering she has such a great voice. Her beauty routine though, is also a lost cause:

I don’t care what anyone says (seeing as though this is my blog), but her eyeliner application is effing appalling… horrific to say the least! Therefore attempts to look like Miss Winehouse should be left for a costume party, if that. It looks:

a.) trashy

b.) like you have NO idea how to put on basic make up

c.) trashy

d.) plain silly

e.) trashy

Either learn how to apply liquid eyeliner properly or spare yourself from looking like the above and don’t bother at all! If you do bother however, you might want to wait for your eyeliner to dry for a minute or so. I’ve seen way too many cases of liquid eyeliner that’s dried itself near one’s eyebrow. Not attractive much.

• BODY ODOR

Pure filth. Refer to my post regarding this issue right here.

In the words of Coco Chanel, “A girl must be two things: classy and fabulous”. Commit any of the above sins and feel free to fall seriously short of being either of these things, let alone half decent. Mademoiselle Chanel would have a fit if she knew the state of personal grooming these days.

In Pursuit of Perfection: When It’s Just Not Enough.

He was like something out of a movie. Prince Charming almost. For most girls, he would have been a dream come true. But for me, his faultlessness became annoyingly boring and I started to despise him.

Mr X was lovely. Yes, lovely. A term I would rather not use for a male, but he was indeed lovely. A true gentleman and one of a kind. He would open the car door for me, helping me out. He would ask me a few days, even a week in advance to go out together, so he could make a booking at whichever restaurant I wanted to go to. I liked that. He was organised and well-mannered.

He would dress elegantly and impeccably. When we went out together it was like we were a celebrity couple or something. Heads would turn whenever we walked into a café or restaurant. We looked good together and we both loved to schmooze. It was almost sickening how we were so into each other every time we went out in public. It was like we were the perfect couple. He did everything for me and doted on me so much.

He would always pick me up, and was always on time. If he was running late he’d call or text me. He would always reply to my messages and answer his phone when I called, even if he was preoccupied at the time. When he rang and I didn’t pick up, he’d leave me voice mail messages. He would always tell me where he was, what he was doing and who he was with.

He’d listen to my whinging and whining about the stupidest of things. He was always there without fail when I needed to rant and just wanted someone to listen. He cared and he showed it.

He loved everything about me and told me all the time. He made me feel like a princess and treated me like one too. He loved every bit of me that I hated. Not just every now and then, but consistently. He was faultless.

But it became annoying and sometimes sickening. It seemed like he thought the sun shined out of my ass and all I wanted him to do was disagree with me occasionally and challenge me. When I asked him if he thought I had attitude, he told me it was ’spunk’. I’d say the most stupid and silly things because I knew I could and I didn’t have to impress him. Things so silly that would make me look even more silly, but I only did it to get a reaction. I was a little bitch and he seemed to only like me even more.

In truth he was everything I wanted in a guy. His perfect and warm persona not to mention handsomely good looks made him a great catch. He was very attractive, with almost perfect features, but not cocky whatsoever. A true gentleman. On a superficial level he would have made the best husband, were I at that stage of my life.

But as a selfish bitch currently embracing hedonism in all its glory, I need something more than all this perfection and organisation which I languished for, for such a long time.  I want excitement and fun; spontaneity and impulsiveness. A challenge and not a walk-over.

Mr X is seeing someone else now and I am happy for him. I hope he finds someone that can appreciate and embrace the amazing qualities he possesses and that are so rare to find these days. He ticked all the boxes, yet sadly, for me that just wasn’t enough.

Green Nail Varnish is FUGLY with a capital F. DON’T DO IT.

Is this the look you're aiming for?

Green is the colour of weeds, those annoying and ugly things you pull out of your garden. It is the colour of marijuana, disgusting, dirty and also ugly. It is the hue of the fungi/mold that grows on rotten food. Foul. Green is the skin tone of Oscar the Grouch, not your favourite Sesame Street character. It is related to jealousy and envy, also describing people who look rather ill.

With all this ugliness stemming from this primary colour, I question WHY women can be so blind as to embellish their nails with such a horrific shade. Green toenails, darling, looks like you have fungi growing off your feet. So why do it to yourself? WHY? It’s unacceptable not imaginative and artsy. Your body isn’t a Pablo Picasso canvas.  Certainly, it is not cool, and far from chic. Puh-lease.

My picks for fabulous nails, that work best with my olive complexion involve the following colours. In no particular order, these shades have worked well for me over the past 12 months throughout the seasons. Some, like M.A.C’s Kid Orange and O.P.I’s Coney Island Cotton Candy have adorned my beauty shelves for years. All of these hues, are indeed, reliably glam. No need for second thoughts. In the words of our friends at Nike, JUST DO IT.

1. Essie Mademoiselle – An icy-chic and super-sophisticated shade of pink, perfect on its own or as part of a French manicure. Every time I wear this I receive compliments left, right and center.

2. M.A.C Kid Orange – Effing HOT. Effing Cool. GO BUY IT.

3. O.P.I Coney Island Cotton Candy – After discovering this shade in an old issue of Vanity Fair, CICC has been a long time favourite nude.

Coney Island Cotton Candy

4. O.P.I Sweetheart – Similar to Essie’s Mademoiselle but an O.P.I version and easier to come by in nail salons.

5. Chanel Rouge Noir A cult classic and weapon of mass seduction. Need I say more?

6. O.P.I  Nicole Alberti A sexy coral/tangerine twist

7. O.P.I Lincoln Park After Dark A nice shade of black with a touch of violet, mystery and sex.

Lincoln Park After Dark

8. O.P.I Passion A very girly pink; natural and feminine.

9. O.P.I Big Apple Red Puts the Vs in Va-va-va-Voom! A staple, hot red. Sex at your fingertips.

10. Creative Nail Design Burn Two words: HOT TAMALE. Save it for summertime, and wrapping your fingers around a delicious cocktail with a sultry evening sunset in the background.

Back on the bandwagon with the Goddess Mission

After six weeks of overdosing on sangria, jamon and gazpacho, not to mention crazily delicious pastries and sweets, my holiday on the Costa del Sol is over. Back to Sydney, reality, and three cups of coffee a day. Or four?

Since arriving home I’ve been blessed with a smaller appetite than I left to go on holiday with, thankfully. This in turn has spurred me on with my Goddess Mission, which I unintentionally abandoned not long after starting it back in July. It was smack-bang in the middle of winter, and I was cursed with a voracious enthusiasm to consume the evils of all evils: pasta, rice, and bread at all hours of the day and night.

It’s human nature to get side tracked every now and then, but with summer just around the corner, my anti-cellulite crusade needs to launch into full swing. And better to start now than never.

The part that causes me to stray from total goddess-ness is my diet. A sucker for anything super sweet and cavity-causing, my taste buds are like mini-magnets that attract substances seriously high in sugar, such as lollies and more lollies.

So after searching high and low within the realms of the internet, I have come across an inspirational slide show regarding ‘Fitness Foods’ from Women’s Health Magazine online. I use the word ‘inspirational’ as any adjustments to my diet that will prove beneficial to my waistline, is inspiring for me. Rather than bookmark this slide show, to make it easier I’m going to list WHM’s list of 17 Best Fitness Foods for Women right here:

1. Avocadoes: Contain cholesterol-lowing, monounsaturated fat which keeps our bodies strong and pain-free.

2. Whole Grain Bagels: A form of complex carbohydrates in their natural form (whole grains), low in GI

3. Bananas: An energizing carbohydrate, high in potassium which can reduce the risk of high blood pressure.

4. Berries: Rich in anti-oxidants and protect muscles from free radical damage.

5. Carrots: Complex carbs for energy, and also a form of potassium.

6. Whole-grain cereal: 3/4 cup with skim milk, 60 minutes before working out will boost your endurance whilst exercising.

7. Chicken thighs: Great source of iron and zinc, essential for energy.

8. Chocolate Milk: New studies confirm that milk with a touch of cocoa is just as powerful at replenishing and repairing muscles.

9. Low-fat cottage cheese: High in protein.

10. Cranberries: Prevent and fight urinary tract infections.

11. Eggs: Excellent form of protein.

12. Ground flaxseed: Fibre to help keep you regular.

13. Hummus: Complex carbs, unsaturated fats and protein all in one. Great source of energy.

14. Oranges: Full of vitamin C, key for producing collagen that helps to keep bones strong.

15.  Peanuts: The extra fat contained here within may help improve endurance levels.

16. Potatoes: Apparently, a small baked potato is an excellent recipe for electrolyte replacement.

17. Salmon: Rich in protein and promotes cardiovascular health, as well as being an excellent source of omega-3 fats.

I refuse to diet simply because life is too short to be pedantic with food, and there are too many restaurants in this city, let alone the world, that I have yet to try. But I figure that if I can at least incorporate certain foods into my diet that are more beneficial than others, then that’s a start.

Un-fabulous and really absolutely ridiculous

If I had one dollar for every item of make-up lost on nights out, I wouldn’t have to work for the rest of my life. Recent losses in the last month include YSL’s Gloss Repulpant Shiny Lip Plumper (Glossy Nude), 1x M.A.C  Lip liner (Spice), 1x M.A.C Eyeliner (Tarnish) and 1x M.A.C Lip gloss (Florabundance). Absolute joke!

In truth I am quite careful with my maquillage, thus I don’t know how I manage to come home sans my latest purchases. Seemingly contradictory I know, as if I were so careful then I wouldn’t lose anything in the first place. Just how they manage to fall out my handbag/clutch is beyond me, and just who they end up with is also beyond me.

The worst bit? They aren’t items I use on the rare occassion, they are staples to my everyday beauty routine. It’s like walking out of the house without your keys and purse. Absolutely essential. Sigh.

petit déjeuner á Lumière

I am a spoilt little bitch. I will admit it and glady scream it at the top of my lungs for one and all to hear. I AM A SPOILT LITTLE BITCH!!! You see I live in Surry Hills, Sydney, an inner city suburb scattered with coffee shops, cafés, restaurants, bars and pubs. And as a self-proclaimed wining and dining whore, Surry Hills is perfect.

This ugly and miserable Sunday morning, I moseyed down to Lumière on Bourke St, the Taylor Square end. A contemporary café where the flavour c’est cool. Schibello coffee on my table within three minutes of my sitting down and placing my order, and within the next eight to ten minutes, a fluffy and filling omelette of chorizo, field mushrooms and fresh dill. Add two pieces of toasted sourdough and you have some seriously delicious breakfast to get through.

Look I am normally a machine and while I do like to savour the flavours of the foods I am ingesting, I find it difficult to eat slowly. This morning however, it surprisingly took me a while to eat my breakfast. I am not sure if I could attribute this to my still being in holiday-mode or perhaps the impressive October issue of UK Vogue that I was rather engrossed in, but it did take me a good 15 minutes or so to eat my omelette.

The field mushrooms really do add to the flavour in this meal and after having spent the last six weeks in sunny Spain, the land famed for their jamon varieties, the chorizo in my omelette was pretty damn good and the taste spot-on.

Had I not eaten the toast I probably would not be as bloated now but nevertheless it was indeed delicious.

Most times I usually eat the fruit salad for breakfast. Most places that serve fruit salad offer paltry sizes but Lumiére’s is rather ample and comes with yoghurt and passionfruit.

What I love about Lumière is that the place is so cool they can play different genres of music where a whole lot of doof-doof is incorporated and it seems to not bother you at eight in the morning. Rather, the beats  transport you to the chic delights of the French Riviera and the azure waters of the Mediterranean (well that was this morning anyway). Before you know it, one sip of your coffee and you are in a world of your own. Unless you have an annoying kid near you running around like a headless chook in a dirty GAP jumper and gumboots in some horrible shade of blue that is like fire to your eyes. Don’t some mothers know how to control their children in public? Clearly not.

A frequent visitor at Lumière, I can definitely say the staff are spot on with their service. Prompt and pleasant.  Noticing I am eating my toast, a waiter asks if I would like jam and another coffee. My plate is immediately cleared after I finish my food. They are reasonably friendly and polite though not warm. No, they are too cool to be too friendly.

Despite this, which is usually a pet-hate of mine, Lumière will always remain a first-pick for breakfast. But not if I want to have bircher museli. They don’t serve bircher.

Lumiére: Shop 13, 417 Bourke Street, Surry Hills.

Fruit Salad