The Weekend

+ Grandma just admitted to hospital - good vibes welcomed.
+ Seeing Dylan Moran from my beloved Black Books tonight.
+ Two RTW collections plus a swimwear parade on Saturday.
+ Colombian charity dinner Saturday night.
+ More shows on Sunday.
+ Blind date coffee Sunday afternoon.

A Moment Of Fickleness

I feel like listing all my beauty products that make my daily face. It's my favourite look that I usually wear, sometimes with a litle more eyeshadow at night.

Bobbi Brown Concealer To Go Kit in Light Bisque or YSL Touche Eclat in #2
MAC Bronzer in Refined Golden
MAC Blush in Fleur Power
YSL Duo Expert Sourcil in #3
MAC Eyeliner in Tarnish
Guerlain Divinora 4 Shade Eyeshadow, Touche de Bronze No 280
Lucas Paw Paw Ointment on lips

Feel like listing yours? Please do!

RTW Women's Collection 3

The show featured five up-and-coming designers, two of who I quite liked, Laurence Pasquier and Luci Torres (as in, I wasn't inspired, but may pursue as some pieces really perked my interest - simple cotton cocktail dresses in black and white; tuxedo-style shirt dresses; plum silk low cut blouses with loose pants). How did I guess, but Serge was played first up (Melody Nelson, big suprise).

My camera phone which usually takes awesome photos did a crap job, but I think the shots turned out kinda interesting anyway.

Click here to see the collections of the RTW Women's Collection 3: Laurence Pasquier, Ae'lkemi, Posse, Luci Torres, One Fell Swoop.

Intro To Fashion Week

Last year was technically my first, but since all I actually attended were some private shows, this really is my first Fashion Week experience. You hop out of the taxi and the usually stark concrete concourse of the Overseas Passenger Terminal is sleek, tented in black and white and buzzing with high heeled boots and oversized sunglasses.

My goodie tote has the latest Marie Claire (can't believe I used to like this mag), MAC Lipgelee, hair wax strips, foot cushions, Ferrero Rochers and a 2-4-1 at Wagamama's. I also picked up a copy of the new The Daily Mini which is cute (if you want one, let me know).

There's a bit of confusion in the organising (ticket allocation, waiting around etc) but that's to be expected, and staff are friendly and the space looks really good. Free Red Bull and Heaven icecream, gotta love that.

I've always loved people-watching, and where could it be better than Fashion Week, especially since being bitten by The Sartorialist bug - so far no one has wowed me, apart from a woman wearing a gorgeous frill-fronted white cotton jacket who disappeared before I could swallow my pride and ask her about it. But my hopes, and Sony Ericsson 800i camera phone, are high and waiting.

Tata!

Mariana just said tata for the first time!!!!!!!!

For those playing at home, tata is the baby version of tatie, which I've decreed all my nephews/nieces will call me.

What a wonderful moment!

Mariana with Fendi handbag and mad cow.

Fashion Week Begins

Going to my first show of MAFW this afternoon. Very much looking forward to it. I feel proud that my little dreams are coming to fruition: attending fashion shows, working in fashion, working with (mostly) great designers.

Wearing: White wool mini skirt, dark navy thin wool sweater, beige Gucci heels, beige bag, Corr Blimey navy velvet jacket with cherry red silk lining if it gets chilly.

Plenty of updates (hopefully with pics) to come soon.

Three Cheese Lasagne

I've been craving lasagne for weeks now and finally made it last night. It's the definition of comfort food (ok, one serving is, two servings - which is my norm - is the definition of pain and suffering). There's nothing better than getting through the gooey layers and saving the golden crunchy corners for the end. Oh. Yum.

I made a simple bolognaise sauce with mushrooms and interspered it with fresh baby spinach leaves, and instead of bechamel I used dollops of fresh ricotta, sliced boconcini and grated Reggiano. It tasted amazing, especially with a simple salad and a few glasses of pinot noir.

There are so many great versions of lasagne - I love chicken, mushroom and ricotta, and pesto with roasted vegetables is divine. What are some of your favourites?

The Daily 3

Should be The Bi-Weekly as it's a recap of the past few days.

Alcohol: A lot (and most of it good).
Healthy Eating: Non-existant.
Pilates: Who needs pilates when there's dancing to be had!
Cigarettes: Many.

Sale E Pepe

Sale E Pepe, 30, rue Ramey (18e): No menus, the bill of fare depends on the owner's current mood, but you always leave happy.
From H&M's Ultimate Guide to Paris. How original! But Melvil Poupaud is featured so I forgive all.

I'm so there. If you've been here, let me know.

The Power Of Skinny Jeans

So I bought a pair of Lee Supatubes and I love them so much I want to marry them.

I wore them with knee-high boots and a simple cashmere jumper on Monday night to I's party at Opera Bar and I just felt so confident. This is really my look for now. I had them shortened by mum and wore them with my patent Alessandro del'Acquas flats to the Roosters v Dragons game on Anzac Day and I just know I'm going to live in them forever. The amount of attention wearing them is welcomingly flattering too.

This Week

Reading: A Cook's Tour, Anthony Bourdain ("your first taste of Champagne on a woman's lips"...this is one book I know I'm going to love).
Listening To: Old school Madonna.
Wearing Skinny Jeans For The First Time To: I's birthday party at Opera Bar tonight.
Spending Anzac Day: Going to the Roosters vs Dragons game then two-up at the pub - can't get more Aussie than that.
Cooking: Lasagne sometime this week. I have a serious craving for gooey pasta sheets, crisped and crunchy at the edges.
Looking Forward To: Fashion week starting Thursday.

To-Do List

+ Sugaroom
+ Industrie
+ Kopitiam Malaysian Cafe
+ El Phoenician

The Weekend In Point Form

+ Friday night spent with A. Sex, drugs and electronica. It was so sexy, so happy, so dancey. Dancing and kissing at Candy's Apartment, finally a club I love. When we crashed at 4am he hugged me in bed and didn't budge, and when I reciprocated he held me closer and just stayed there. It was a really nice, long absent feeling.
+ Saturday was chilled, naturally. At mum's we looked at photos and as photos tend to do, they bring out stories of the past.
+ Sunday was a day with N: started with homemade eggs on cocotte then shopping in the city* and dinner at Grandfather's Moustache, so old school and is there a better name for a restaurant?

* I bought skinny jeans! After so much weekend eating there is no way I even want to think of trying them on.

Would It Be Wrong...

...to even consider getting a little puppy?

Last night I popped into friend-of-a-friend's place to pick up some Friday night goodies and they have the most adorable little ball of fluff, a Maltese x Shitzu. I'm more a Scottish West Highland Terrier person (as in, I idolise these dogs), but they are very cute. They pretty much convinced me these are the perfect apartment dog, because:

* They have little legs, so they don't need that much exercise.
* They don't go fruit loops being indoors like Jack Russels (my other favourite).
* They are so damn cute!

The only issue is since they would be home alone most of the day, they recommended I leave the balcony door open on the second lock. My apartment is fairly secure being elevated from the street, but I don't feel confident leaving the balcony door open all day. Any suggestions?

I met them at the dog park across the road from chez eux, and I remembered how much I loved having a dog. I loved taking her for a run in the local dog park, it's so social and the boys are gorgeous.

PS can dogs be trained to go to the litter bin like cats?

I would only get one from Monika's Doggie Rescue, she is the bestest. Of course I have the name picked out - I have all my dog names picked out. A West Highland Terrier: Peche or Anouk; Jack Russel: Perrier. Other breeds: Mijanou. I'd wait to see his/her little face before making up my mind.

Very keen to hear your thoughs/suggestions.

La Vie en Chanel

A charming article on Chanel's Paris.

The Daily 3

Pilates: 0
Cigarettes: 2
Lunch: McNuggets (I had my nephew for the morning - try and navigate a shopping centre foodhall at midday and see how fun that is)
Dinner: Baked turkey with pasta

Oops

At this point in my life, why shouldn't I accept to meet a man for a coffee, even if that man is someone my mum knows and has been trying to set me up with for a year. The idea of being set up makes my skin crawl, but my reasoning right now is: I'm open to pretty much anything else...why not this.

I return his call last night and leave a voicemail message.
"Hi ---- this is Julia, just returning your call, give me a call back, I'll be home tonight" *think I'm hanging up, stupid driver causes me to have massive road rage, I slam my fist on the horn and scream "you fucking idiot!" realise phone is still on and message still recording*

The Daily 2

Cigarettes: 0
Pilates: 0
Amazing shopping haul while looking for yoga pants: 1
Confirmation via SMS that shopping = sport: 1
Lunch: Healthy
Dinner: Leftover pizza
Massive house clean I justify as sport: 1

In Bed Last Night

Realising how skewed your view was. His eyes sparkled when he spoke about Vietnam; he never spoke about Europe; he never held my hand.

And tonight I think of Europe. Of the night of 13-14 juillet; of that look I gave him at the door to the hotel, that long look in the dark, me, crying, the same as with Jean-Luc 7 years earlier.

Fashion Week

Fashion Week starts next week and I have a handful of shows to attend. From the previews I've been sent there are a couple of labels I'm interested in speaking to, and some pieces I want for myself (what's new). But I'm completely uninspired by clothes at the moment - everything feels the same, y'know? - and I need to look fabulous.

Prima Donna

I haven't done ballet in oh, say 14 years, but these flats have me pirouetting with serious lemmings:


Marc by Marc Jacobs Glitter Ballerina Slipper at Bergdorf Goodman.
NB: I would cut the straps off.
I saw a girl wearing these with a simple white cotton dress, hair back in a ponytail - I was smitten.


Marc Jacobs Ribbon Flats, on eBay.

The Daily

One of the epiphanies I had over the Easter break is that I want to get back into pilates and eat better. It's all about excess at the moment and it's not the place I want to be in. It's the first time I've craved to do exercise instead of just having to go. The other focus is eating healthy and drinking less. The constant indulgence is all very well and lovely in small doses, becomes ho-hum when it's all the time. Champers during the week and weekend, which will give into red wine as the cooler weather settles in, just isn't good for the waist or wallet. I remember meeting people for coffee, what an outdated concept that seems now...

Last week an old school friend emailed me with details of the charity walk she did on the Great Wall, raising money for MS. It sounds absolutely amazing and here I am too lazy to cross the road for lunch. Her challenge has inspired me to challenge myself.

So in the style of Bridget Jones, a movie I've never seen (or maybe I have but I fell into a coma watching it), I'm going to do a daily stocktake of where I'm at.

Pilates: 0 (went to get ready and I can't find my yoga pants. Must've thrown them out when I moved. The one time I don't want any excuses!)
Cigarettes: 1
Lunch: Healthy sandwich
Dinner: Pizza. God I felt bad, even though it was so delicious.

The Vagabond

Driving up the coast this Easter break, I listened to one of my favourite ever songs, one of those definitive songs you sometimes hear that you always had written in your mind.

It's such a traveller's song, a song for that long drive, a song to enjoy with a cigarette and the wind in your hair and between your fingers.

The Vagabond, Air with Beck

Golden waves in all directions
I could lose my soul right here
Colour lights on the runway
Makes a stranger feel unchained
I'm running after time and I miss the sunshine
Summer days will come happiness will be mine
I'm lost in my words I don't know where I'm going
I do the best I can not to worry about things
I feel loose
I feel haggard
Don't know what I'm looking for
Something true

Something lovely
That will make me feel alive
I'm running after time and I miss the sunshine
Summer days will come happiness will be mine
I'm lost in my words I don't know where I'm going
I do the best I can not to worry about things
(Like a vagabond through the distance
Looking for a song to sing
A song that lasts all night
And for the rest of our lifes)
I'm lost in my words I don't know where I'm going
I do the best I can not to worry about things
I'm running after time and I miss the sunshine
Summer days will come happiness will be mine
I'm lost in my words I don't know where I'm going
I do the best I can not to worry about things
I'm running after time and I miss the sunshine
Summer days will come happiness will be mine

The Easter Break

I/we actually had a great time. I went to sleep every night with a smile. It was a very pleasant surprise.

The resort was lovely, on a huge property hugging the huge lake. There was a kookabura chilling on a balcony as I drove in, and eucalyptus trees scenting the air. We barbecued and the boys went fishing, and I even joined them one (late) morning to drop my reel in and watch the little fish eat the bait off the hook. The weather was truly glorious - what a gift to get some colour on your skin in mid-April.

There was amazing fish and chips by the water, melting seafood under the crunchy and golden batter. After a gorgeous hot stone massage/facial/foot massage, we had dinner at the resort's restaurant, which looked very nice, with an interesting tapas menu. The food was lovely (especially the pork spring rolls; lime and ginger brulee) but the kitchen was badly run and everything took forever. It's such a pet peeve. The coffees came out with paddle pop sticks as the spoons were being used by the wedding next door. Yet we were unlucky enough to have an even worse dining experience. Our last day we headed to the Hunter Valley and decided to treat ourselves (ok, when do we not) to lunch at Terroir, which Gourmet Traveller and others call the best restaurant in the Hunter. After one of the most superb meals ever at Robert's in January, I was looking forward to surpassing that experience. The menu is very enticing, and I order the gnochhi with duck rillette, green tomato puree and macadamia pesto (mum orders the same as an entree size and when they arrive ours are the same entree size). The 'rillette' is just big pieces of duck, the puree was bitter bordering on tasteless and full of pips, the dollop of macadamia pesto harsh and completely wrong, and the gnochhi is simply raw dough, turning the dish into inedible mush. While others enjoy their meal (and Kath's pork belly was beautiful), we complain to the waitress, something I never do (because I've rarely had to), and fortunately they remove it from the bill. Desserts never arrive. The waitresses have no idea what they are doing, nay, they are hopeless. The bill is all wrong. Even when they fix it up they bring out the wrong receipt for me to sign. The best hey?


Perfect fish and chips.


I joined the boys fishing on this jetty. Beautiful spot.


The resort at sunset.


Lots of yummy tapas to share at the resort's restaurant.


On the jetty.

I arrived back at lunch time and headed to the races with N. Because we're just so fabulous, we're kindly given members tickets from a dear old gentleman and kick the afternoon back with sparkling wine and a few fun flutters (Bentley Biscuit came in third).

Easter

A family holiday up north, on the water. Being together on holiday for the first time in years and years. Driving up by myself, with music and the windows down. Soundtrack: Air, Gainsbourg, Motley Crue, Machine Gun Fellatio. I am really looking forward to it, to a few days of calm and nice food and an afternoon of spa bliss and fishing and DVDs.

Happy chocolate bunny eating everybody.

The Return Of One Of Life's Little Pleasures

$6 steak or schnitzel and bottle of red at the Robin Hood.

J'en

Ai

Marre

Fuckity Fuck

I hate not smoking.

Dinner

Pizzas on large thin pita bread.

One with tomato salsa, basil and Reggiano.
One with sauteed spinach, field mushrooms, crispy bacon, grape tomatoes, goat's cheese and Reggiano.
Two with creme fraiche, smoked salmon, sliced baby red onion and goat's cheese.

From get home to sit down and eat in 20 minutes.

Bistro Moore

Bistro Moore is one of those restaurants that I fall in love with as soon as I step through the doors. I love the warm unforced greeting from the waitress, the brown and white interior that's cosy without being too intimate, so it's perfect a couple's dinner or for a big table of girl friends, both of which we see tonight, the enormous vintage posters of Bally and Orangina on the wall that make it feel like a bistro but like the waitress, it's unforced and unpretentious.

It has a chef's hat because it's about real Italian food - the love of my life. There's olives and luminous green olive oil on the table, with rolls and crostini. The menu is short, maybe five options for each, which I'm a big fan of. It looks like intelligent rustic food, not modern or wanky or with a twist of something it's not. We have prosecco and a bottle of nice Margaret River red (super wine list). I choose the special of egg fettucine with parmesan cream and sliced black truffle (all pasta is homemade, maybe there is a god?) and N the beautifully spiced vongole. The pasta is pure delight - the cream just textures the fettucine and there's just the perfect amount of earthy truffle. Our mains are seared calf's liver with peas, sauteed onion and cos lettuce, and crispy pancetta, and parmessan and bottarga crusted fish on zucchini puree. Mine is superb, albeit lukewarm (the only minus to the whole evening) - the waves of crispy pancetta contrasting with the creamy pink liver. We are in such a good mood (and getting tipsy with the first red wine of the year), and order dessert: affogato for N and semifreddo with butterscotch pistachios for me. They are faultless.

This is a place I want to come back to many more times.


Egg fettucine with parmesan cream and truffle


Vongole with white wine, chili, garlic and herbs


Calf's liver with peas, sauteed onion and lettuce and crispy pancetta

We also tried Dragonfly and Sapphire Blue afterwards, both non places IMO and can easily be ticked off the list.

The Weekend Checklist

+ Bistro Moore on Friday night was fantabulous (see above).
+ The last Italian class was great and yes I can now ask for anything in my size. Then mum and I went to the Archibald but weren't very impressed. Stayed home Saturday night and watched massive amounts of Six Feet Under.
+ Watched more SFU then met N at a waste-of-time sale, coffee then we went up to VHS for the school reunion part two. The school is closing this week so it was a day for everyone from 1960 onwards. It was a trip walking around the school, the classrooms that we learnt nothing in, the library we gossiped in, the big stairs where we sat and ate our choc chip muffins. We bought Class Captain pins for $2 (being the so not class captain types) and downloaded porn in the computer rooms and I had a strong desire to fuck a hot guy in one of the isolated classrooms. There were none, so we all enjoyed a sausage sizzle and Passiona and just had a really good time.


My old math room. We threw a duster into the fan for old times' sake.


We signed the commemorative book. Yes, we did mention 'fisting' and 'spliffs'.

+ Afterwards, N, M, J and I went and had a few drinks and a great catch-up at the Royal Oak, then hopped over to Una's for dinner where I bumped into I and C. Then we took to the boys to a strip club that was very average.
+ Didn't shop for glasses.
+ Stopped smoking.

The Weekend

Currently Obsessed With: Watching Six Feet Under from the beginning.
Tonight: Dinner and drinks with N at Bistro Moore, and I can't wait. Please give me real Italian food, I beg you.
Saturday: Last Italian class; glasses shopping (I'm determined to wear glasses more often - if you have ideas or pics please let me know).
Sunday: Another school reunion, this time with everybody who ever attended at the actual school as the site shuts on Monday (prime real estate). I don't want to go, but will pop in after a sale (please let the Sales Gods be shining on me, I love this designer's summerwear). And there'll be a sausage sizzle, hard to pass up.

Have a good weekend everybody!
Pic from Cute Overload

C'e Un Bar Al'Angolo

It's the last Italian class tomorrow. Two weeks ago our adored teacher was replaced by one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen. He is so beautiful, I actually thought I would not be able to attend any more classes for fear of not being able to concentrate. Being teacher's pet, I always sit up the front, so it was impossible not to fixate my eyes on his eyes, hair, face, arms, Armani tshirt, shoes that only a European could get away with (like uber cool Keds).

Ok, despite this amazingly gorgeous man, who mum and I both said we would do, who loves Russian women, and who yes has a girlfriend he is in love with, I've realised that I have not learnt that much. I took Italian For Beginners (one of my favourite movies, coincidentally) because I'd done an Italian travellers class three years ago and got by quite well, and this time I wanted to learn Italian from the ground up, grammer and all. And despite having the best teacher ever, who is pure Fellini and gorgeous and fun and you can't help but get right into it, the class was just another travellers language course. We learnt andiamo before andare, as in andiamo prendere un cafe...c'e un bar al'angolo . I have learnt some great Sicilian swear words, but I don't yet know how to say what I do, or ask if there are any rooms available*. We have perfected giving directions to Villa Borghese when in fact who is ever going to ask a local for directions, and even if you do, you'll never understand a word they've said because no doubt your hotel/public toilets/Gucci is not simply "alla seconda traversa deve girare a destra".

And I still haven't learnt how to ask for a shoe in a 39.5.

* To be honest, I haven't done a single hour's worth of practise at home, or listened to the weekly CDs. We could be up to translating Dante, for all I know.

Queen Of Contradiction

I'm the Queen of Contradiction.

Everything about me is about complete contrasts.

Every night this week, I've been getting out of the shower and feeling deeply sad. I've even taken to having a cigarette on the balcony before stepping in the shower to cushion the sadness I'll feel 15 minutes later. I miss the idea of walking out and seeing a man on the lounge watching TV, or in bed reading, looking up as I walk in (another illusion; relationships are so nonchalant I don't remember anyone looking up as I walk in to the room). Yet as soon as that image settles in my mind, I am so bored with that idea that I know that's not what I want. That I love living by myself and couldn't have it any other way. Even the idea of sharing the bed more than once a week makes me antsy.

I am wrapped in contradictions like a scratchy mohair blanket - comforting and irritating at the same time.

The Perfect Fried Egg

I just cooked The Perfect Fried Egg.

I'd been hankering for it all afternoon (no thanks to ordering Eggs, by Michel Roux, on Amazon). I used the method I've read about lately: cracking the egg onto a clean plate and sliding it into a frypan. The cookbook authors unanimously say it gives the cleanest, purest taste, so I was keen to put it to the test. I also used very little butter, working on the idea that pancakes are best with just a little butter to grease the pan.

It's true. It was The Perfect Fried Egg.

The white had a wonderful clean texture and taste, the yolks gorgeously kept their shape and yielded their runny goodness at the first firm bite. I did not take a photo as I scoffed both down - one on bread with mayonnaise, one on plain bread - in about 20 seconds flat.

Damn You Amazon

This should keep me busy for a while:

A Cook's Tour, Anthony Bourdain
The Dirt: Confessions of the World's Most Notorious Rock Band, Motley Crue
The Pursuit of Love and Love in a Cold Climate: Two Novels, Nancy Mitford
Eggs, Michel Roux
Lords And New Creatures, Jim Morrison
Tropic of Cancer, Henry Miller
Drinking, Smoking and Screwing : Great Writers on Good Times, Sara Nickles
Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books, Azar Nafisi
I'm with the Band : Confessions of a Groupie, Pamela Des Barres
Contempt, Alberto Moravia
Louis Prima - His Greatest Hits, Louis Prima (for dad)
I'm Your Fan, Various Artists (for Kath)
Two Women, Sophia Loren
Funny Face, Audrey Hepburn
The Audrey Hepburn DVD Collection (Roman Holiday / Sabrina / Breakfast at Tiffany's)

The Heart Still Beats For This Crush

Anthony Bourdain.

I mean, I just love seeing/saying his name.

Anthony Bourdain.

It's soft porn, for chrissakes.

Please watch these clips of him talking about his favourite music/books/food. "It's really an outrage in this world how many people...insist on ruining pasta". Yes, baby, yes.

I'm not the only one to fancy the pants off this man, but I like to think I'm first in the queue.

Nate And David

My favourite show ever, alongside Seinfeld, is Six Feet Under. Channel 9 has finally started showing the last season, bunch of arseholes. Kath has been catching up to it on DVD thanks to Jules' boxed set from China.

We were discussing it today and it hit us like a brick wall that she is David, and I am Nate. Plain as vanilla. I understand Nate so much, whereas he annoys Kath. I love David, but it's his anal, anxious and compassionate ways that parallel Kath to a T.

The It Girl

Marianna said her first word with me on Saturday night.

"Baby".

Gush, gush and more gush!


In mid-clap.

Nothing Gets You To Work On Time As

...an eBay auction ending at 8.00am on the dot.

Je vous presente:



Dolce E Gabbana.
Leather (alas, not the fur version I recently lusted after).
Leopard print with brown bow.
Very good price.