my lonely 14D/36D heart

I wish I were a Lonely Girl. Preferably Georgia. 'Cause look at her! Or maybe Seon. Yeah, Seon. OH whoamikidding. Of course, Seon. If I were her, I'd buy all the O-check stationery available 'cause that's Korean and it's super awesome, have a very big burger, and burn it off by dancing around in my Lonely Lingerie all day long. Since she's 19 (estimate), I'd have to figure out how to fit in studying into my busy timetable as well. Which is a drag. But has to be done. 

Georgia from New York. Just posin' in a dingy backyard with some cherry blossoms. In her bra. No biggy.

Seon. In hot pink and and carefully arranged bedhead.

Unfortunately for me, only a handful of the Lonely bras go up to a size 14 and the biggest cup size is 14C. Cool cool cool. I get it, Lonely. You guys want the bad girls in the Rihanna navy. Not the good grown woman from the Bey-Hive. Whatevs.

off the cyclone path

Being near the path of a cyclone produced once-in-a-lifetime monsoon-like weather. It was so humid, you felt like you were wearing another layer of sticky, hot air. The clouds purged themselves of torrential rain but, like a child throwing a tantrum, the downpour was over in a few minutes.

During the weekend, we huddled in various low-lit restaurants, keeping warm, eating well, and peering out the windows at the darkening sky. I had oysters, natural, then drowned in lemon juice and mignonette sauce. I couldn't stop thinking about them for the rest of the night.

Anthony Bourdain claims he had his life changed by eating oysters.

"It tasted of seawater... of brine and flesh... and, somehow... of the future. I had had an adventure, tasted the forbidden fruit, and everything that followed in my life- the food, the long and often stupid and self-destructive chase for the next thing, whether it was drugs, sex, or some other new sensation- would all stem from this moment."

{ x o x o }

the kids are alright

I read somewhere once that being an adult was all about dirt. It meant plunging your hands into a variety of disgusting holes, drains, pipes, and crevices to fish out fetid, horrible, drippy things. We're talking about clogged drains, clumps of hair, bin juice, and the mystery lumps of food that block your kitchen sink. Being an adult meant facing those things. 

More and more people I know are getting engaged or married, buying houses, creating trusts and wills and designing complicated insurance packages. They're climbing corporate ladders, spending bonuses, and flashing business cards and the latest Apple product.

Only a decade ago, I remember them, rolling the waistbands of their school skirts to get the hem up over their knees, lolling around on scratchy grass fields at lunch, licking ice-blocks in summer, and ogling the school P.E. teacher. So tell me, what do we lose when we get older? And what do we gain by not getting younger?

♥ Photos by Rob and me on 35mm film and digital ♥

ephemera

I'm thinking of a life without things; or at the very least, without clutter. Oliver Burkeman, a columnist from The Guardian, recently wrote about getting rid of memory boxes, and how the time and thought spent collecting souvenirs of life is disproportionate to the amount of time spent revisiting those memories. I've written previously about the bleakness I find with according so much sentiment to objects. After all, we are the ones who impose meanings to the things, not the other way around.

It's been years since I've sat down to look at what was inside those boxes.

♥ Photos by me on Yashica 35 GSN Electro and Kodak Ektar ♥

♥ All photos except shoes are of Small Acorns, Cnr of Blair & Wakefield St. One of my favourite stores! ♥

what the scanner saw

Today, I felt an urge to write a "to-do" list of all the things I wanted to accomplish this weekend. I changed my mind when I realised that the only other time I write "to do" lists are for grocery shopping, frantic work days, and sorting out Christmas gifts. Weekends are so short, I feel I can't relax until I do all the things that are supposed to relax me. So thinking about all the relaxing things I'm supposed to be doing (but haven't been) makes me stress out even more. This reminds me of a friend with whom I've lost touch; she used to recount how when she focused too much on how she was walking, she started walking funny, and sometimes became so self-conscious of how she walked, she had to stop and sit down. These are anxious times, folks. 

♥ Photos by Rob D on an Olympus Mju II with Fuji Pro 800Z ♥

♥ Scans from Wikimedia Commons (click on the picture for source) ♥

♥ Blazer from Zara ♥ Blouse from Karen Walker ♥ Skirt from Dotti ♥ Flats from Witchery

vines and capes

I often forget I live in Middle Earth until an Easter drive along a deserted road with a view so expansive, epic, and heartbreaking that you forget to breathe. There were peppermint seas hung with curtains of clouds, damp vines with drooping yellow leaves, woolly sheep grazing in green paddocks dotted with decrepit wooden outbuildings, and immense, towering slabs of rock the colour of soot. I stumbled, giggling, down a pitch black country road on the way to dinner, a torch my only defence against the gloom. I think you should come visit. You'll like it here. We'll ride bikes with baskets at the front, drink free vino at wine tastings, play hide and seek in  the vines, inspect the diggers for sale at Ngawi, and climb 250 steps to a candy striped lighthouse.

P.S. We're in Martinborough and Cape Palliser 

♥ Photos by Rob D on a Leica M4 with Kodak Tri X and Fuji Provia film ♥ 

♥ Purple top from Jeans West ♥ Cardigan from Glassons ♥ Dress from Witchery ♥ Sneakers from Cotton On ♥

♥ Photos by me on a Yashica Electro 35GSN with Fuji NPS and Kodak Portra NC ♥