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Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Day 212: May I Make a Recommendation?

It was said to me and I pass it now to you: if you have never read Haruki Murakami then I envy you the discovery of something wonderous. Once known he is still magnificent, but it is the coming to know him that is special. But as beautiful and unusual and tight as his writing is, it is not easy. To generalise his genre would be to put it in the magic realism realm—think Salman Rushdie or Gabriel Garcia Marquez's imaginations mixed with Raymond Carver or Hemingway's economy of language. The translations are, to me, seemingly amazing, but I believe there is a level of nuance missing from the Japanese which is un-translatable. It is to do, often, with the plethora of Japanese pronouns that dictate hierarchy and relationships, and which have no equivalent in the English language. I started with Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, followed with The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and have just finished 1Q84: Books 1 and 2. There is no real order. Dive in anywhere.

List_Addict               Irene

1Q84, in Japanese is pronounced the same way as 1984, and [spoilers happen if you advance past this point; by spoiler I mean I am talking about the book and it won't be completely new and unknown to you] this is the basic premise of the story—reality splits into two alternative versions of the year 1984. Like Hard-Boiled Wonderland, the story is told from the viewpoint of two alternating narrators Tengo and Aomame, inextricably linked but apart from each other. Dead pan, and as if it is completely normal, some very strange things happen. There are links throughout the novel with splinter religious groups, but they are like a web supporting the story rather than its focus. It is hard to describe what it is about without giving too many of the pleasing little oddities away. There are 'Little People' involved, and a teenage prodigy who writes a bestseller, with Tengo as ghost writer, about them. But ultimately it is a slow convergence between Tengo and Aomame. And I am pleased to see there is a Book 3 because—how shall I say this—the ending wasn't rosy. Murakami explores loneliness in many of his novels. This is no exception. It makes them poignantly sad but his stunningly concise language is so beautiful that you are happy and sad at the same time. He is the essense of the sublime.


The Outfit
Coat: Op-shopped
Tights: Retail
Necklace: CCJJSS
Shoes: Irregular Choice


Photographer de Jour: V——


Who wore it better?

Meeting other fabulous bloggers at:



Join us! Click the Spotlight

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Day 211: The Quiet Reader

I resisted the e-book to start. It wouldn't be the same. The smell, the sound, the texture of the page turned. It can't be replicated by something with buttons and a waning energy bar. But then I got my Kindle and lots and lots and lots of books. A bookshelf in my hands. And I sort of forgot about my hesitations. A part of me still feels bad. A little part tucked away in a corner of what I reluctantly call my soul, for want of a better descriptor. I feel bad because I am part of making it harder for the physical book. Will the physicality of books become more expensive because of me? And then, when Amazon has us caught in its little evil hands, bang! Will it throw up the price of e-books as well and then all reading becomes too expensive? Hopefully there will still be libraries. But one thing my number-loving soul does rejoice in with the Kindle is that percentage-read indicator. I get to ninety percent and then all pile protocol goes out the door. Three books reached ninety-five this week, and there is one more at eighty-nine. All other books were shoved rudely aside in order for these four to be completed. With three quarters of that done, the rest of this week, I envision, will be all about book reviews. And then the exciting spine cracking moment of four new books. Oh, spine cracking doesn't work on a Kindle either.

List_Addict               Irene

So I start with Graham Greene's The Quiet American. It, along with Tatjana Soli's The Lotus Eaters and Nelson Demille's Up Country, was one of the Vietnam related texts I took with me when we travelled there earlier this year. Poor war-struck Vietnam, this novel about you, is set in the French colonial wars proceeding 'The' Vietnam War and, essentially, tells the story of two men's muted but real battle for the love of a Vietnamese woman—a metaphor for the ongoing battle for control of Indo-China. Its play on the linearity of time modernises it, but its mood is reminiscent of both Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment and Camus' The Outsider. It may be to do with that mix of sin and languid heat that emanates and turns action syrupy in all three novels. In some ways it is a simple story strung out. In others a slow ramble through colonialism. Reading it with other stories based in Vietnam, even though their time settings are all different, did sometimes confuse me a tad with the idiosyncrasies of each different war, but that is my fault, and not the fault of the book. Overall, though, I suppose it didn't grab me. It had a surprising twist but I didn't feel any real empathy with the characters. Maybe that's what makes it, as some claim, an anti-war novel. Effectively neither oppressor is acceptable and the true character—be it the Vietnamese woman Phuong, or Vietnam herself—never gets to tell her story. From that perspective it is an interesting read. I gave it three stars. As if I have the power to pluck them from heaven and allot them to fiction. I did anyway.


The Outfit
Coat: Op-shopped
Tights: Retail
Shoes: Irregular Choice


Photographer de Jour: V——


Who wore it better?

Linking up today with:

Monday, July 29, 2013

Day 210: Fearing and Fasting

Week two of fasting didn't go as well as week one. But it is a learning process and what I learned was that fasting on a day off doesn't work. If I am trapped by the confines of work where accessing anything but what you have brought in involves either the easily avoidable vending machines or a fair-to-middling walk in a limited time allotment, and where my time is filled with having to work instead of choosing to, then forgetting about food is much simpler. On my attempt to do this on a day off I got to one a.m. and just. had. to. have. something. NOW! I ended up with pie. And real coffee. And then I didn't eat for another twenty four hours. So in a way I both did it and didn't do it. As of last monday (today, in blog land, but it is almost a week ago—don't ask me? Time is a strange and allusive concept) I had lost a kilo, but this week I don't feel that it is working. It would be better if I could actually eat 'normally' on the rest of the days. The normal days are the harder challenge for me as normality and shift work are not condusive. The best man in the universe has left me blogging while he does my grocery shopping. What would I do without him? My new jelly-bean shoes would still be at the post office holding warehouse, the local cafes would be one breakfast short of profit, and I would be living on double-yolk eggs (which frankly freak me out a little) and sponge finger biscuits. But with some groceries in the fridge, maybe I can attempt a semblence of regularity in the food department this week.

Irene               List_Addict

It was daylight but I was still in bed (broken record, but think night shift) and I hear 'knock, knock' somewhere behind the headboard of my bed. A little pause and then another knock. The Warrens—Ed and Lorraine—say, in The Conjuring, which we watched, me through the gaps between my fingers, at the cinema a couple of days ago, that demons like to knock three times as it is a mockery of the holy trinity. Um. No knocking in my house after that movie please. A person at work was nervous to see it. I said, all blasé and all, just remember it's not real. Someone else put in their two cents: 'It's based on a true story.' [Possible Spoiler Alerts] OMG! Can I possibly recommend not seeing this movie in Gold Class. While you do have the benefit of being able to lie in a foetal position to make it all feel a bit better, and there is even the option of getting a blankey which you can hold while you rock in fear, or just hide under, the sudden appearance of ever-so-quiet staff members with your mid-movie latte is enough to send you to an institution. I'm just glad V—— was on the side where they did their thing as I may have screamed and flayed my arms in a latte-disasterous way if they had suddenly apparated next to me. (And yes, that is a word in the Harry Potter dictionary.) And who, in their right mind, starts a movie with a demonic doll! It's all downhill from there as far as I am concerned. I can't do the Chucky franchise. The others I can do for the love of that feeling of 'alive' that hair standing up on the back of your neck gives. There are three stages of demonic possesion: infestation, oppression and possession. By the time I got through watching the first two I was so infused with fear that watching the third was easy. They have set it up for the sequel with that little music box, which is always a little annoying, but for a good scare and some great seventies clothing, I would have to recommend The Conjuring. Just don't stay in bed if you aren't asleep for about a week afterwards.


The (Petrified Because I'm on a Plinth Half Naked) Outfit
Coat: Op-shopped, Vintage
Tights: Gifted
Necklace: CCJJSS
Shoes: Irregular Choice


Photographer de Jour: V——


Who wore it better?

Making friends today with:

Suburbs Mama's What We Wore #7


Sunday, July 28, 2013

Day 209: Cool for Coats

It's winter for us down here under the equator. So while everyone is sweaty and sticky above I am starting Coat Week. Seemed a good idea to make it all about coats and shoes on paper, but a little more awkward when that's all I took 'on location' to Williamstown and surrounds, and some of those coats don't really fit all the way around. Keep that in mind when you see my look of fear on Monday's shoot. In the mean time, here is Coat One and Sunday Social.

Q: If you could eat only one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?
A: I would go mad. If there is anything I can't do it's eat the same thing over and over. Whatever I love would become unloveable if it was the only thing. This is a question I am incapable of answering.

Q: What's your guilty pleasure/comfort food?
A: In the predominant absence of cake, biscuits. Chocolate teddy bear biscuits with coffee sucked through them, Dark chocolate royals. Sponge fingers—the large ones. Even ginger snaps. I love biscuits. A lot. Damn you biscuits.

Q: What's the wildest/craziest thing you've ever eaten?
A: In a tuk-tuk in Siem Reap I asked the driver whether he ever ate the crickets they sell in piles on the side of the road. No, he said. Phew! Then he continued: I only eat them when my wife makes them. She apparently cleans them better before deep frying them. I always have this image is crickets being washed in a colander under a stream of water from a kitchen tap, like it is the most normal thing in the world. I didn't eat them in Cambodia, but I did sample some in Mexico. Crunchy, chilli flavoured little things. But visions of tiny legs stopped me from eating too many.

List_Addict               Irene

Q: What foods do you avoid at all costs?
A: I can understand if you had an allergy. To nuts or shellfish maybe. But otherwise this question doesn't make sense. There are foods to be avoided? At all costs? I suppose I am not a fan of eggplant, or osso buco, or most offals. I can also only do that all-yellow feast better known as fish and chips one or two times a year.

Q: What meal reminds you of your childhood?
A: BBQ, or, how we used to call it in South Africa, braai. We had boerevors, these amazing curried shish-kebabs, twice-cooked baked potatoes, cold corn and beetroot and baked beans and salad. Yum. Yum, yum, yum. Maybe I could live on that forever. But would my dad be willing to cook it forever?

Q: Share one of your favourite recipes and the story behind it.
A: What, me cook? I don't cook or have recipes. I throw items at pots and hope for the best. I used to do this thing that was close to cooking where I would make mashed potatoes with cheese in them, then I would cover a chicken breast with cajun spice and lemon juice and put it in the oven. After a time, judged by hunch not actual minutes, I would spoon the mash on top and return it to the oven for another indeterminable hunch amount of time. I would boil some broccoli. Then, at some point I would put it on a plate, There would be some cajun-y, lemon-y juice in the chicken pan and I would pour that on top. That was a special dinner for me at a time when I ate really badly and a more typical dinner was Maggi pasta and canned sausages. Now I eat better but I don't have an easy-to-use oven so this would be a very special occasion meal now. I may not even be able to hunch it anymore.


The Outfit
Trench: Op-shopped
Necklace: Gifted
Socks: Target (on sale, this pair cost seventy cents!)
Bridge: West Gate
Shoes: Irregular Choice


Photographer de Jour: V——


Who wore it better?

Sharing the love with:



Style Elixir's "Friday's Fab Favourites"


Sunday Social

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Day 208: Why Speak Plain When You Can Speak Beauty

Part of my routine, especially after long nights of dealing with the [insert inappropriate words about the general public], is to listen to that most old-fashioned of devices on my walk home—the i-Pod (everyone listens to their smart phone now, don't they?) I'm a word freak. The music can be daggy, twee or just plain odd, but if the words are right, I'm all yours. I was thinking about it this morning as I came home and listened to two of my favourite songs: 'The Table' by The Beautiful South and Randy Travis' 'Where Can I Surrender?'. What I call 'fine lyrics' are those which, essentially, use metaphor (as such) to create imagery. It may be, as in the former song, a thing of beauty, or, as in the latter, a thing of wit. If there is anything more satisfying that coming up with new and exciting ways to twist language in writing, to stretch its boundaries and make it do things that banality and the everyday can't foresee, then I haven't found it. I am paranoid, but when I started a writing degree at university as an (annoying!) mature age student a few years ago, and, on one of the first days, was asked for an example of my favourite writing, I sensed a judgement regarding my response of Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things. But it is all about the language. Why say 'She was scared because she sensed fear in him', when you can say 'He folded his fear into a perfect rose. He held it out in the palm of his hand. She took it from him and put it in her hair.' Why say "He stood with his arms tightly crossed', when you can say 'Comrade Pillai's arms were crossed over his chest, and he clasped his own armpits possessively, as though someone had asked to borrow them and he had just refused.'

Irene               List_Addict

In 'The Table' it is (huge word alert) more a matter of anthropomorphisation rather than metaphor—the table becomes a member of the family, but in doing so is a conduit to telling what type of a family owns it. Who woulda thunk a song about a family's table could be so beautiful? Probably just me. When I grow up I want to have a job that somehow relates to the study of dreams (study, but not interpretation). After that I would like to make shoes. And when that loses its appeal I want to be a lyricist because of songs like this. I may fail because, try as I might today, I am having difficulty picturing in words why it is I like this song so much. Maybe it is merely that it is accessible poetry.

On the other hand, which, ironically, is the title of another Randy Travis lyric, 'Where Can I Surrender?' is possibly easier to explain. Like a lot of country music, it more wholly embraces a slightly tacky metaphor or imagery to tell its story. It is borderline comical, although I am not sure if it is meant to be, or if that is why people often dismiss country as silly. Personally I love the crime/police analogy. 'I'm guilty of entering and breaking hearts so dear/Guilty of unlawful flight and failing to appear/I've committed all the crimes of love—every felony/Now I have but one defense—to plead insanity'. Okay, yeah. It is just silly. Good for coming down off night shift though. Can we ask more?


The Outfit
Top: Op-shopped
Singlet: Target
Skirt: Op-shopped
Clutch: Op-shopped (for a girl who doesn't 'do' bags, I love this clutch. Of course, I don't 'do' anything with it, just show it in photos. It has a copy of The Mill on the Floss in it to make it look used.)
Earrings: Old and faded
Shoes: Urban Soul


Photographer de Jour: Moi


Who wore it better?

Making friends today with:

Lena B, Actually




Friday, July 26, 2013

Day 207: Random Samplings of an Unstill Mind

Normally it is milk. I use a long life lactose-free one. The boy doesn't like to see anything less than a crate of them in reserve on my shelf in the kitchen. They get snuck in when I am not there. At the moment though, it is toilet paper being snuck. I now have fifty-four rolls. 'In case', he said. Maybe there will be a world-wide shortage. Or some sort of a toilet-paper-deficit apocalypse. Overnight another two rolls appeared. It is tantamount to an OCD. I worry slightly about that boy.

Friday night equals SYTYCD. For the first night of competition the choreographers did not hold back. The standard is insane. Christopher Scott is the new 'bomb' choreographer! And he always looks like he is going to cry at the end of his protégée's performances. There was no shortage of props for day one, including a couple who danced with blindfolds. They must have been able to see through them. Otherwise it was incredible trust and knowledge of each other's presence. Cat did a sort of jig on the stage. That girl is gorgeous, but she dances like my boy and that is saying something. Sorry V——.

Irene               List_Addict

I accidentally ordered five new pairs of shoes. The accident metaphor would be easier to believe if it had been in one transaction, but it was more that I accidentally ordered one pair and then I accidentally ordered four more pairs. Both from different websites. I am accidentally eager for them to arrive. It will probably happen as soon as I go to sleep today for night shift. Don't care. Wake me up Mr Postman!

I have received my first piece of sample lint. So hilarious. At first glance it does appear to be different from my own. But I need to dry out a piece of mine as I only ever really see it wet. I'm waiting on other volunteers. Email me.


The Outfit
Dress: Op-shopped
Jacket: Op-shopped
Leg-warmers: Sock Dreams
Shoes: Op-shopped


Photographer de Jour: Moi


Who wore it better?

Getting linky today with:
stillbeingmolly


STYLELIXIR Style Sessions






Thursday, July 25, 2013

Day 206: A Matter of Perspective

For Meet Me At Mikes' fifty-two lists project this week I am looking at 'Things I Do Everyday'. I'm splitting it into two lists: things I actually do everyday, and things I have exagerrated and poeticised in order for them to sound like much more exciting things to do everyday.

List One:
Make coffee as soon as physically possible after rising; check my phone for messages—I like to see how many strangers and companies have loved me overnight; check my Blogger stats—again looking for the love; work, if I have to; do blog stuff (decisions, consultations with Irene, photos, editing, writing, editing, reading other blogs, link-ups); play Candy Crush Saga instead of doing anything else useful; squeeze in as much reading as possible—which is usually stolen moments; self-depricate at some stage of the day; actively, and if necessary, grumpily, avoid all forms of news; wish for and often fulfil dreams of cakes and biscuits and then self-depricate some more; tell myself to go to bed and listen at least fours later; make coffee to take to bed with me.

List_Addict               Irene

List Two:
Wrestle with the alarm clock for the domination of time; wrestle with the alarm on my phone for the domination of time (usually the alarm clock and the alarm on the phone win, even if it is in a passive-aggressive way); make coffee as soon as physically possible after rising; smell Lollii, preferably head or belly smells and inflict numerous unwanted kisses and strokes on her person; appreciate the clouds; stimulate my creativity and brain functioning by coming up with things to write about on the blog that are pithy, witty and poignant (gfaph! sorry, just choked on the humility stuck in my gullet there!); analyse advertising—it makes me feel like a literary student again but takes up a lot less time, and I find it endlessly entertaining (and then I buy things); keep an eye out for the poetic in life; make coffee to take to bed with me.


The (Odd) Outfit
Dress: Op-shopped
Vest: Op-shopped
Armies: Somewhere in Mexico
Necklace: ModCloth
Shoes: Irregular Choice


Photographer de Jour: Moi


Who wore it better?

Getting linky today with:
Thrifters Anonymous


Join us! Click the Spotlight


Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Day 205: A Bedside Manner

According to a Sunday magazine I was reading today, circular skirts are in (they accentuate the waist), and Dr Google is out. Aawh! Dr Google is my go-to doctor. Apparently, and this is just a rumour, but apparently he is not a hundred percent reliable. I dislike doctors. Humungous generalisations follow, but I find them to generally be disinterested and disassociated idiots with only money and time on their minds and an over-riding dislike of women. It may be bad luck with who I have come across. It started with the doctor who, in my early teens and on one of my first solo forays into the consulting room, didn't feel it was necessary to advise a teenager that glands, which apparently needed checking, are situated in your groin, before plunging in. I avoided them for the most part after that. Recently, and only because I needed a certificate, I went to one. I thought 'while I'm here' and proceeded to ask about poly-cystic ovarian syndrome. A relative had it, and I thought it maybe explained why I find it so hard to lose weight. He googled it! The cockroach had no idea. I decided that if it was good enough for the 'professionals', then an Honours student researcher could surely do it too.

Irene               List_Addict

As a result I have to tell you that I have gallstones. I had to leave work part way through yesterday with what I thought was gastro or a really bad reaction to either milk or instant coffee. After the longest home-bound trip ever, I was in bed and the pain started. I've had this before so I knew what was coming. It is quite an experience. I mean, I am bad with pain, but this is pain on another level. I was trying the buddhist approach of entering it rather than fighting it, but it just meant it was more like hallucinating. I ain't birthed no babies, but I think I birthed some gallstones and I think I now speak with experience. Yes. Before you all rush to tell me I should really see a moron with a fifty percent pass rate and a BMW and an inablility to feel empathy real doctor, the less virtual people in my lives have spent all day trying that line out already. It's easier to stay away from greasy foods. Although ... I didn't really have any to start with. Must have been the goji berries.


The Outfit
Dress: Op-shopped
Shirt: Op-shopped
Jacket: Op-shopped
Necklace: Gifted
Shoes: Scooter, Op-shopped


Photographer de Jour: Moi


Who wore it better?

Getting linky today with:

pleated poppy


>

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Day 204: The Sky Brooded, The Colour of Lint

It is winter and lots of black creeps in. It is also Melbourne. We are known for our propensity to wear black. Well, we know. I am not sure how internationally aware people are if this Melburnian trait. The trend for colour in the last couple of years has done a little to sway us from our tradition, but, through winter particularly, it is waves of dark clothing that predominate any crowd. No-one really knows why? I think our collective consciousness channels a combination of beat-generation Audrey, Coco Chanel on a dark day, and Lisbeth Salander. Some people blame it on the weather which some comedian over here described in a 'weather report' as "Morning spring, possible winters clearing, followed by brief patches of summer before a partly autumn afternoon. A top of thirteen and twenty-one and nineteen degrees'. Which would be slightly funny, if it wasn't true.

Irene               List_Addict

But the reason I am clapping on about black is because there is something I do not understand. And maybe some of you sciencey people out there can explain. Why, if, like in Melbourne people wear lots of black, whereas, in other places, like Sydney, they don't (because too much black on all that fake tan makes for a rather tigerish appearance), is everybody's washing machine lint the same colour. That slightly blue-grey colour. If it's the combined colour of all colours in the universe that end up in a washing machine, how, with everyone's wardrobe being different, can it always be the same. I have friends in high places. I am talking about friends with spectophotometers (machines they use to colour match things and make them into paint formulas). Contact me by email and I will give you my address (if you promise you aren't strange) and you can send me a sample of the lint in your washing machine (belly-button lint not accepted). When I have a good sampling, I will visit my friend and colour match the samples to see if they all come to the same formula. And then we can put this whole question to bed. Because it is bugging me.


The Outfit
Dress: Op-shopped
Jacket/Cape: Op-shopped
Belt: Op-shopped
Shoes: Irregular Choice (they started the outfit as inspiration for both Trend Spin's 'Bow' theme, and Spy Girl's 52 Pick-Me-Up: Shoes First theme)


Photographer de Jour: Moi


Who wore it better?

Putting a link on with:



Style Elixir's Friday Fab Favourites


button


Spy Girl's 52 Pick-Me-Up


Monday, July 22, 2013

Day 203: Taking Another Wagon

The twenty-five for twenty- five is back on. I am that Pinterest pin that says 'If you don't like starting over, don't quit'. I am it in the bad way. I quit. And then I reluctantly, or even sometimes eagerly, start over again. The good thing though is that although I'm starting again, it is not at the beginning. Of the twenty-five kilos I want to lose, I have only twenty-three to go. And maybe in my number based goal (25 F(or)25), a symmetrically numbered method (let's call it the 2:5 Diet) will prove to be a success and I won't quit. Again.

List_Addict               Irene

I had my first 'fast' days on Monday and Tuesday of this week. The (by me) newly re-ratio-ed 2:5 Diet (or Fast Diet) involves eating normally five days a week and then for two (preferably, but not essentially, consecutive) days having only a quarter of the calorie allowance (five hundred for women, six hundred for men). It went exceptionally well. I divided the calories into two meals. For breakfast a weetbick (is that the singular noun for a weetbix?), milk, and a boiled egg (I even donated the second yolk in one of them to the dog-bowl to stay in the count). For dinner a Thai beef salad and one passion fruit. And, all day, water and black coffee with no sugar. There was a hour-and-a-half working stint where I couldn't remember a single thing I had done or not done (eek) and I had dinner after that. And the one a.m. coffee-runners forgot and got me a latte (which I drank). But all in all, I think I will do it again next week and there is no reason at all to quit at this stage!


The Outfit
Top: Op-shopped
Cardigan: Op-shopped
Skirt: Sook, a little, but awfully cute, shop in the main street of Kuta, Bali
Shoes: Irregular Choice


Photographer de Jour: Moi


Who wore it better?

Making friends today with:

stillbeingmolly


DCinStyle

Life in a Break Down


Sunday, July 21, 2013

Day 202: Forget the Food! Champagne!

Despite some rather dodgy tactics during the bulk of the Tour, some shoving and pushing and general seeming ungentlemanliness, the last stage always pulls together a semblance of camaraderie and politeness with it's ambling champagne start and the way the first part of the race involves people getting together for a chat on their final strolling ride through the French countryside. It all changes to a Romanesque battle on the Champs Élysées though. Of course, as I said yesterday, I accidently forgot to watch it. But I am sure that is the way it went. It always does.

In the spirit of the socialising Tour participants on their last day's riding, join me in Ashley and Neely's Social Sunday:

Q: What was your favourite show as a kid?
A: A while ago I was talking about how, being a South African, I didn't really watch an awful lot of TV as a kid. So I will go for a couple of things I used to love as a young teenager: Doctor Who (I had the long scarf doctor, Tom Baker), The Kenny Everett Show and a show that I would love to see again as an adult because I think I will be shocked, The Goodies.

Q: What is your current favourite TV show?
A: What, do you mean right this second? As I sit here watching SYTYCD? I'd be tempted to say SYTYCD. Everyone knows the acronym don't they? But there is a lot of good television these days. I have to watch the following from whoa-to-go again because shift work messes up every type of schedule ever: Hannibal (stunning, stunning marcarbeness), Elementary (damn thing grew on me) and The Following (turns out episode twelve wasn't, as we thought, the finale—lucky, in a way, because it was strangely anti-climatic).

Q: What reality show would you NEVER do?
A: There are many I really wouldn't watch, but I would never do any of the 'love' ones. No Bachelorette, no Dating in the Dark, no Farmer wants a Wife.

List_Addict               Irene

Q: What reality show would you LOVE to do?
A: It never did that well here, but I would have loved to do The Renovators. Otherwise, always and for ever, The Amazing Race.

Q: What is the TV personality/character that you feel is most like you?
A: I'd like to say Carrie Bradshaw, but I think I am confusing the question with which character I would most like to be. Mmmm? Who is socially inept, slightly boring—okay, not slightly—erratic, obsessed, short-termed, chocolate biscuit craving, and ordinary? I don't think they make TV shows with characters like that.

Q: What TV character would you want to date?
A: Firstly, apologies to my boy, but you have Nigella. Sam from Supernatural, even though he is very intense. Ryan Hardy from The Following, because he is Kevin Bacon. Brenda Leigh Johnson from The Closer, we can share chocolate together. And, lastly, 'coz I never just pick one, Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer because he is the perfect combination of good and bad, of tender and funny and he fulfills the Billy Idol fantasy without the drugs.


The Outfit
Jumper: Op-shopped
Kaftan: Op-shopped (normally I wouldn't wear a piece so close to it's last appearance, but I'm loving this, and according so some fashion 'experts' it is so en trend. Another example of my so-far-behindness, I'm-in-frontness. Watch put for boxing shoes, I predicted them and Prada (or someone) already had them on a recent show!)
Shorts: Target
Tights: Macy's, New York
Boots: Irregular Choice


Photographer de Jour: Moi


Who wore it better?

Linky today with:

Sunday Social






Lena B, Actually

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Day 201:Cucumber and Smoked Trout Terrine

It is the last day of the yellow tutu. Very sad. It also means tomorrow (which is, at the time of writing, last Sunday) is the last night of the Tour. Turned out I watched a movie (Taken 2, which Liam said he would never make—if I was an Albanian thug I would gladly die at the hands of Liam Neeson) and completely forgot to watch the last stage of the race. It was a foregone conclusion that Froome would win. The Brits are all 'successful and stuff' at the moment: cycling, cricket, rugby, tennis, heirs to the throne. How would I sum up this year's tour? It was probably a little like Taken 2 actually. There were lots of shady happenings: shoulder nudges, deliberate forcing of other riders into the crowd, sly bending of the no food/no drink rules, hanging onto team cars. There was also lots and lots of collateral damage. I wish a little more of it happened to the crowd. Did I say that? It did appear to be like an action-style car chase at times. And then there were always the pretty girls to kiss at the end. Yep, just like Taken 2.

Irene               List_Addict

My sister tells me Gabriel Gaté—the chef in Taste Le Tour, the pre-broadcast segment which highlights the produce of the region the tour is visiting that day and which has given my blog it's title for the last three weeks, based on the recipe of the day—is not French. Whaaa? He was born there. He lived there until he was twenty-two and has been in Australia since seventy-seven. The question is, instead, my lovely Sis, is he putting on the accent? There is every chance. If your thing is to sell French cuisine to an audience, then a French accent is probably an asset. If he goes home after work and speaks in a broad Aussie accent, then he is possibly a fake. Otherwise he is just a bit entrepreneurial. Either way he is a Tour staple and I have certainly developed a soft spot for him. See you and the Tour next year Gabriel!


The Outfit
Dress: Op-shopped
Cardigan: Op-shopped
Tutu: Modcloth
Shoes: Irregular Choice


Photographer de Jour: V——


Who wore it better?

Making friends today with:

Life in a Break Down


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