Boyfriend jeans, but no Boyfriend

So, what should I call them, hey?

I have an abundance of these bay-bees and I love them to death. In my opinion, you can't really go wrong in them. They're effortlessly stylish and they'll look good on pretty much any body type. I haven't found a pair that I've tried on and been unhappy with. We all know that unhappy state, trying to blame the store lighting, or the store mirror. No, these beauties always feel and look good. That's why I have so many pairs. This isn't even all of them, I have a bright red pair from Country Road and classic denim pair from Zara too.

From left to right, we have some River Island ones, Ruehl No.925 Denim ones, and even some Prada ones. The Prada ones I found very happily in a thrift store. I was a great day.

I use to have to search high and low for these, infiltrating thrift shops and buying mens jeans to fold and make my own boyf jeans, but now they're everywhere. So they're supa easy to find, yo'

Get summa dez studs, you'll be very happy with the purchase. 

What the ART are you doing ?

Apart from finding anything inappropriate in, and laughing at, even the most classical artworks, I feel a tad more cultured having visited the. It was a forgiving 25 degrees, so I was free to celebrate the absence of pants.

Wore the dress I made in the White light post, threw the love of my lyf -my leather jacket- from Oxford, over my shoulders to brave the still cold breeze and finished it off with some boots from Topshop. I bought those boots 3 years ago, and hated how they looked on me, until now. 

Anyway, the Art Gallery of NSW was stunning, dreadlocks and Doc Martens were abound, and I had a good laugh at a few wieners on those perfectly sculpted statues.

Since I left it too late a decision to grab some friends, I took my trusted brother along and let him shoot some of these photos. He came along partly because he had never been there before and mostly because he had nothing better to do, oh and he also joined me with his Tom Ford sunglasses and Polo Ralph Lauren jumper.
Check out the Photography Gallery if you're there in the next month, the exhibit is beautiful.


Look at this drank chick, nip slip and all. 
See? I told you I found something to laugh at in even the most classically hand-crafted pieces. 

Shhh, its a secret, with three h's.

You know what popped like fucking crazy ?

Me.

I am having a bita trouble remembering my night, but I'll give you my best shot at describing every scrumptious, drunken & cray cray moment.
So we began the night at a friends warehouse. Drank our troubles away, along with our dignity, sensible judgement and a little bit of our ability to string a sentence.
I was three Elevates deep when we made our way to the supra secret location. supra secret.
BYO. Minimal security. No police. I quickly found I had everything I needed there to create a lovely little night for myself. The only downside was there was one bathroom for 200 people, male and female, and while I had the sensibility to close and lock the door, a lot of patrons, mostly male, forgot to lock it at least, which did lead to several awkward encounters.
People were openly carrying their goon sacks, throwing them over their shoulders, and politely being asked to leave them at the door when they stepped outside for a smoke. Like a lovely coat service for your alcohol. At this point, I had smashed through the 4 Elevates and was mooching off any goon sack I could find, and maybe even some cider. I do remember having cider.
When the First lady of techno granted us with her presence, I remember lurching my head as high as I could to catch a glimpse. And then, that's it.
Seriously guys, that's it.
I know she dropped one bomb, because I woke up, fully dressed, make-up stinging my eyes, hugging my sequinned bag, with the words 'some magic, some raw nerve, surrender' ringing and ringing.
To put it simply, that night was so delicious, I want to spread it on a crumpet.
It was great. And I will definitely be at the next one, and the next one, and ERRY ONE.


The theme was black, so I didn't have much freedom. Black wet-looks, a fringed over-shirt and a high neck top. And, as always, my embroidered sequinned bag, found at the back of my childhood closet.

Overpriced t-$hirt: I'm my own Creeper

I'll leave you weeping when I tell you this shirt was $60. To be fair, I bought it in an impossibly cool thrift store in Denmark, one which you had to climb down stairs to get to, and also fight your way through disco pants, and fur collars to get to.

It was a shirt, a tight collared, long and oversized shirt, so naturally I took to it with scissors, like a true crop-top lovin' soul. I paid for it with Kroners, thinking it would be the equivalent to the average thrifted tee, but found later on it was a whole $60. But I thought nothing of it, because I loved the perfectly worn, torn, and faded feel and look of it. Someone before me, whether they were a retired rocker with a long head of hair and a balding crown, or a slim, twiggy young woman who couldn't get enough of her 'BØ rne Radio', wore this shirt to absolute death, and I'm fully thankful for that. Because no one loves those first few awkward months of a piece of clothing, its a little stiff, scuff-free and just too new. Like new white shoes. You know exactly what I'm talking about.

I'm my own Creeper. 

Neon mess: while the weather is cooling down

It was a little nippy yesterday when I headed into Sydney's very own Chinatown for a late dinner. So of course I was extremely excited to finally be able to wear my Neon yellow Zara jacket. 
The ONLY way I can stand loosing summer and entering winter is because of my extensive collection of jackets, sweaters and blazers. I actually can't stand cold weather, I really can't. 
So here I am, wearing my Soft, leather look PU pants, my shear and wool mid-drift top and my Wittner ankle boots. And of course my Neon yellow, Gold zip, ab fab Zara jacket. I also got a bit creative with my nail polish, and did a sort of reverse french tip, with the white and black.
I have lots of opportunities to get fab in my jackets now, so expect more outfit posts. 

The power of Flowers, or fake ones anyway

I am actually obsessed with making things out of fake flowers. I feel like a little disappointed in myself for not planting, growing and harvesting these flowers myself, but ain't nobody got time for dat. 

So I bought these by the colourful bunch, and made a white headpiece for my friend's Woodstock themed 21st. I have a morning wood for Woodstock themed parties, so I went all out. Assembling the headpiece was actually at a 4 year old's skill level, so I actually shouldn't brag about this too much. I also shouldn't brag about it because it is the most unoriginal idea ever. I just thought it would be an excuse to take photos with pretty flowers. Even thought they're fake. Whatever. Just ponder the fact that I may be shirtless under those flowers. 

And the illusion is shattered because I'm not, HA!

I wanna see your Pom-Poms

So I was let loose in a Forever 21 store in San Francisco, and when you are shopping overseas you feel like you should buy anything you lay your eyes on. Well I didn't think this purchase out very well, because, as you can see it looks pretty awful on me, maybe even dreadful. So after two years of it sitting in my closet, I decided to take it out, cut it up and add summa dem Pom-Poms on the bottom. The Craft store lady was really excited to see me buy them for some reason, she even gave me a discount. I'm connected in the craft community.
And I got mah weave did since my last post. Got the ends lighter, my hair looks like caramel and I'm liking it.