At the beginning of every university holiday period I always write myself a list (I have more lists than bags) of all the things I need to buy, read, visit and eat before the fun is over and my life reverts back to chunky textbooks and far too much green tea per day.
Although I was unable to complete everything on my list (**re-watching every single ‘Friends’ episode in 3 weeks was not an achievable goal) I was able to spend the time and money necessary to make some smart red lipstick purchases. Red lipstick is all too often forgotten about in the world of beauty. Girls are too busy experimenting with the vampy look or the ‘all-natural-everything’ foundation lip colour look and red lipstick just gets put in the corner… and no one puts red-lipstick in the corner (** note: I really need to stop living vicariously through 80s/90s movies). Red lipstick is more than just a pretty lipstick colour… it is a way of life.
Red lipstick gives women a sense of poise, a sense of elegance, a sense of independence, something which you can’t get from any other regular lipstick colour. So to all women everywhere, when you are about to go out into the world, make your mark, give ‘em all you got… or something along those lines… make sure your heels are high, your hair is styled, your coffee is hot, but most importantly your lips are red.
Don’t mind my hair, I just had a fight with my straightener…
My hair and me do not get along; in fact we haven’t gotten along for years. Unfortunately I was born with the condition known as naturally curly/frizzy hair. I wake up every morning with the hope that maybe today is the day… maybe today the universe has finally realised that it made a mistake all those years ago and finally it has blessed me with the hair I so desperately deserve… I am still (ever-so-patiently) waiting for that day. I am literally one bad hair moment off investing in a wig and calling it a day.
There is something very beautiful about Copenhagen in the winter… after typing this it became all the more clear to me that I hadn’t actually seen it in the Summer, but I almost don’t even feel like I need to… The following is a collection of some photos I took whilst in Copenhagen a few months ago. Irrespective of the $8 cups of coffee, almost getting killed by cyclists on a daily basis and the fact that it was undeniably the coldest climate my poor fragile body has ever been exposed to, Copenhagen truly was a winter wonderland…
Sometimes I like to drag my whole family around with me when I am doing not-so-serious shopping (whole family being dad, mum and adult brother.) Our expeditions always start out so promising, we sit down for coffee and cake, I ramble on about the 43 new items I must buy in that day otherwise I won’t be able to leave my house ever again as I simply have nothing to wear and my family nods and laughs and pretends they are incredibly interested when really they think I am a melodramatic crazy person with far too much time on my hands.
After we have successfully filled every inch of our being with coffee and cake we begin our journey through the shopping centre. Most days the men will hang back and let the women do all the hard work, but every now and then my dad likes to play an active role in my wardrobe and feels it necessary to share his unrequested opinion. This usually involves him pulling out the most ugly dress in the store, holding it against his own torso and confidently exclaiming ‘Darling… how about this one?’ Not only do I find it completely insulting that he thinks he could even attempt to pick something out for me that I would like, he also always picks up a dress about 5 sizes too big and with patterns and colours I really would not be caught dead in. I really do love shopping with my family, in fact I love doing everything with my family but I like it better when my dad takes more of a ‘silent partner’ role in the whole shopping experience… you know what I mean; keeps his dress-sense (or lack thereof) to himself but invests money when necessary.
Whether you are a tourist travelling to Melbourne or simply bored with your current existence in Melbourne and need something to ‘spice up your life’ (credit to Spice Girls), here is how I would spend 12 hours in Melbourne’s CBD.
9.00 AM It is impossible to begin any good adventure without a strong, hot coffee, and thus I would begin with just that. Head to Degraves Streetand soak up the culture under one of the big black umbrellas, which stretch themselves over the entire street. I recommend Degraves Espresso Bar but all the cafes on this iconic street are equally fantastic….
In my closet currently live approximately 75 different handbagsthat I have collected during my time on this earth. Over time I have been able to accumulate a wide variety of handbags all with equal importance and necessity in my wardrobe. Some I may have picked up on sale at shops like Sportsgirl for $10 whilst others caused me to get into debt… well with myself anyway… but that’s a whole different story…
One of my favourite past-times is waking up approximately 9.00am spending 30 minutes formulating the perfect brunch-dress attire (usually involves a tight-jean, big chunky knit, high boot, fedora-situation) and then heading over to one of my favourite brunch place. Brunch is the perfect combination of happiness. With the perfectly smashed avo on toast, the roasted Italian coffee beans used to make my latte-art and the atmosphere of people confabulating in a casual carefree manner, it is here where my faith in humanity is so hopelessly restored. I don’t often meet a brunch spot I don’t like but if you are travelling through Melbourne, or perhaps you live in Melbourne and need some new brunch spot inspirations here is a list of my favourites.
ONE: Top Paddock – 658 Church St, Richmond VIC 3121
There is a reason why this is one of the most talked about cafes in Melbourne. It is simply the best. It is spacious, modern, the décor is divine and the food isn’t bad either! I recommend the ricotta hot cake with fresh berries or the eggs benedict…
I love shopping. Wait let me rephrase that… I live for shopping; literally! Well perhaps not literally, but you catch my drift. And as a University student my bracket of available funds to spend on retail therapy (or any therapy for that matter) is rather limited. However, like most women in this world (and some fabulous men), I have a need to express myself through fashion, to explore my style; my features and most importantly appear trendy and fashion forward to the people around me. But how could I possibly do this with the few dollars I have left in my wallet after a full week of wasting money on coffee, parking, lunch, public transport fare, that totally green totally healthy-clean eating smoothie I bought last week, magazines that I do not need to own and other pointless miscellaneous items…? Well the answer is simple. I, my dear friends, am a bargain hunter…
What is it about Melbournians and their obsession for coffee? If my research and general understanding succeeds me, I realise that people have been drinking all types of coffee for years now all over the world. With this knowledge in tact, I cannot for the life of me understand why people living in Melbourne seem to be under the impression that their coffee drinking abilities, their cafés and their ‘instagram flics of their latest brew’ are far more fascinating and important than all the cities in the world. Being a tall, strong, hot skinny caramel latte drinker myself I guess it is hard for me to judge the general population as I too have succumbed to this ‘coffee-drinking phenomenon’ however some tiny small inch of my being can still see the light… and the light is telling me… coffee is coffee! When did coffee become so complicated?
I guess in a city where we are continuously experiencing four seasons per day, where the possibility of ‘dressing for the weather’ or having a ‘good hair day’ is simply out of the question, the only thing left to a Melbournians control is the quality of their morning brew. And so they control just that. A Melbournian would never enter a café and ask simply for ‘just coffee’; in fact an intellectual barista would not even allow it. Melbournians are too busy ordering soy chai lattes with extra honey and cinnamon or white chocolate mocha Frappuccino’s with double whipped cream and an extra shot of espresso.
Is it the hustle and bustle of the city, the stress of our office jobs or the lack of functioning public transportation in Melbourne that makes coffee drinking so much more desirable than in other countries? I guess we will never really know. But what we do know is that since coffee took over our society, Melbournians will forever be judged for the cafes they frequent and for the type of coffee they drink. I guess we will never be able to pin point the exact moment where the prestige of becoming a barista outweighed that of a barrister… well at least not in todays rant anyways.
Travelling for High Maintenance, Low Tolerance People
Recently I spent time travelling during the European Winter with one of my girlfriends. Being a self-proclaimed high maintenance, low tolerance, relatively broke individual, it was important that my travel plans adhered to these somewhat limiting implications. If you are the kind of person who can book a one-way ticket to Europe taking with you a 30kilogram rucksack filled with only your essentials, then this post is definitely not for you. In fact it is unlikely that any aspect of my blog is at all for you, because the expression ‘back-packing through (*insert any European and/or exotic country here)’ and the word traveling should never ever be used in the same sentence. Unless that is you are referring to Julia Roberts’ role in ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ in which case, I really am glad all that getting in touch with nature and finding herself situation worked out for her… but it is simply not for me. Moving forward, even though I cannot stand this new craze which has recently hit the internet… where every second person feels as though their opinion will only be recognised or heard if they put their numerous opinions in number form and title their opinions ’12 Ways to Wear your Little Black Dress’ or ’15 Signs he is not the one’, I feel as though it is impossible for me to move forward without some chronological pattern to my rant. In which case…