I had the most insane weekend. I finished work at 9pm then went to my friends house and got massively drunk. Nothing unusual there.
After that we went to John. It's a monthly fag party in Chinatown. Nothing unusual there either.

So I was staggering about the place and my friend was chatting to this guy and who did I see swanning past? Bryanboy, Manila's reigning queen of style.
I was standing between my friend and this other guy and just cut off their conversation and pointed across the room. Is that Bryanboy? The guy who was talking to my friend turned and told me yes, it was his friend Bryan and that he'll introduce me. SQUEAL!
Anyway, he was very gracious to have a faggy fan bugging him. I remember slurring why come to Melbourne? His response? It's not that bad.

Werq it


Got the Sept issue of Vogue UK thanks to a friend in Europe who said it was a good issue. Thanks Janey!
Saw the Lady Dior campaign with Marion Cotillard, looked at that ugly bag then noticed there was a book in it. It's obscured but I'm presuming it's The Catcher In The Rye by JD Salinger. It's near imposible to see in this image so if you've got Vogue then take a look.
I was wondering why it's in the shoot. Is it the New York reference in the top right hand corner? Is Marion Cotillard an anti-hero like Holden Caulfield?
I remember reading The Catcher in the Rye at high school. I hated it. So depressing.


I was flicking through Style.com and they had a trend report type thing on felt.
At first glance I thought this bag was Chanel, which made me think of the gorgeous Russian Czarina collection from unkie Karl.

It's actually Christian Louboutin. Net A Porter has it for approx 979.24 Pounds.
If this all seems terribly overpriced you could join the Canterbury Crusaders rugby team in New Zealand like this guy.

Cheer up love


This man is the definition of ugly hot. The horse face, the Patrick Bateman hair and those forest glade eyebrows. My mind says run but my heart says punish my ass.


That's the only explanation I have for this French fuckery. I adore Uma but what in b-movie fragrance hell is she doing?


Will it be a classic or just end up in the scent dumpster with the hundreds of other fragrances released each year? The market is over-saturated. Nice picture though. Kate's still got it in my biased opinion. Thanks photoshop.


German brand Escada is going, going gone. After 31 years in business they’ve decided to close shop after failing to pony up 200 million Euros from investors.
Quite frankly I think everything went wrong when they stopped doing what they excelled at: Eurotrash.
If you do an E-bay search you’ll chance upon some truly horrendous pieces from the 80’s. And when I say horrendous I clearly mean A-MA-ZING. In my opinion they practically invented the jewelled/sequined angora sweater.
They really should’ve dug into their extensive archive and brought out some of their best-sellers from the 80’s or reinterpret them. They would’ve given Balmain a run for their money for trashy, sparkly, overpriced shit.


Love this campaign. I wonder who shot it.


Balenciaga dress with mink applique: au$14,309. This is some couture-level s**t. A bit 70’s DFV wrap given an elegant French touch. The shoes, designed by long-time collaborator Pierre Hardy were as per usual, to die for. According to Harpers they run for au$3478. Gimme.


Louis Vuitton lace overlay shoes, conical heel with pearl detail and ankle straps with ribbons. Fail.
Prada waders in red. Hot.

Prada heels in muddy pink bubbled leather with studded fringe.

Just wrong. Trust Muiccia Prada to make waders sexy. The little leather straps that bind the thigh to hold them up is hot.


Vera Wang Rock Princess. This looks like something a champagne-bar stripper would wear in the hopes of banking on her day shift. Presuming she’s fresh out of Thierry Mugler’s Angel, Rock Princess would be her back-up. It just betrays the brand in my opinion.

I get off at six

There’s just something trashy about fragrances using the word rock. Other examples would be Vivienne Westwood’s Let it Rock, Valentino’s Rock n Rose and John Varvatos’ Rock.


Is there anything Swarovski won't shit their beautiful crystals over? Guess not. Clearly they've taken inspiration from the 80's make-up toys Sweet Secrets. My best friend's sister had one and I wanted to snatch it off her scrawny neck every time I saw it.


Parties are fantastic. They're the best excuse to get dressed. Getting dressed everyday can be a chore, but a party? It's fun. What am I going to wear? Accesories?
You glide into the bar, cocktail in hand, head kicks back at a witty comment your friend makes about that girl at 12 o-clock wearing the beaded bandanna. Perhaps you quip it's very Mischa Barton, I don't know, but what I do know is you turn to your left and there before you is someone wearing the same top as you.
Shit, shit, shit. Kill me now. Actually, lets draw this one out. Douse me in petrol and burn me at the stake. Only fire could rid me of this fash-travesty.
I was clutching onto my jacket at the time of the incident and foolishly pulled it up to my chest trying to disguise this fashion faux pas. The jig was up, my doppelganger's friends gave me fashion daggers as clearly, I was the offender. In the greater scheme of life it's not a big fuckifng deal but at the time it was. I was wearing a black Fred Perry t-shirt with the emblem printed on the front in grey. The other guy wasn't wearing the exact same t-shirt but they were pretty fuckin close.

Pretty fuckin close y'all

It really is a faux pas. The problem is, it's out of your hands. Nothing can make it better. You can't lighten up the situation with a joke. I mean, how funny is this:
Q:Two women walk into a bar. They're both wearing Balmain military jackets. That's it. The joke ends there.
Depressing. Oh things could be worse you say? I'm being ridiculous? Overreacting? Fuck you. It's probably not such a big deal when you're at the Mcdonalds drive thru and you notice the woman in the car behind you is wearing the same jewelled Vogue sunglasses. Whatever you Centrelink Mum.

Centrelink mum


Found these images stashed away on my computer for several months. Australian designer Magdalena Velevska is definitely one to watch.
Only debuting this year at RAFW she presented a very self-assured collection.
She's actually been head designer at Nicola Finetti and Lisa Ho so she knows what she's doing.


So there’s this book written by some fashion hack (not me by the way) who thinks you can tell a lot about someone’s personality by what type of bag they have.
Is there any truth in this? Let’s find out. With my snap judgements, totally unfounded opinions and savage wit I’ll take a stab.
The book suggested for example that if you own a fringed bag then you seek out artistic types for potential bf material. Forget the fact that fringed bags might be in at the moment (they’re not, bar Jil Sander’s gorgeous fringed clutch two seasons ago) and a fistful of other possibilities as to why you own the bag you do.

Jil Sander Fringe bag, 312.50 Euros @ Luisaviaroma.com

Take me. I used to have a bunk-ass Country Road duffel with a busted zipper and sun-bleached canvas. It used to be black then turned into an orange mess. Perhaps it suited me. I am a mess after all. Maybe a big bag suggests I’m ready for anything and prepared for all occasions. My friends would laugh at that statement but I was prepared. Once. I went to Parklife and brought four plastic rain ponchos. They were labeled as Emergency Rain Ponchos.

They certainly weren’t ‘fashion emergency’ ponchos though, because I got the memo on sheer dressing for summer but it didn’t make mention of bin liners being du jour. I and my friends resembled a Puerto Rican couch sale on crack.

I also bought a pack of cleansing wipes and was promptly told by one of my friends that that was the gayest thing he’d ever seen. I hadn’t even shown him my cooling under-eye gel at that stage.
So that was the one time I was truly prepared because it just so happened that a down-pour occurred at the end of the night and indie kids were begging for them. One even managed to hibernate under mine for a full 20 minutes like a possum hiding in a tree until I realized she was there. I swiftly kicked her out into the pouring rain, tan in a can and all.

The cleansing wipes were a godsend by nightfall. The eye gel didn’t catch on though I’m not sure why, I mean, I was the only one there who had visibly reduced lines and puffiness by up to 70%, I can tell you that.

Two of my friends both have mini duffel rolls. One is printed tartan with extra long straps by Schwipe, the other is black faux-patent by American Apparel. What the hell does this mean apart from the obvious that they’re both gay? They’re both skinny nimble fuckers my friends so I think the size is relative to their bodies. They’d look ridiculous lugging my parachute sized bag around town. Plus they’re cooler than me, they’d never dare shop at Country Road. I have a theory that if they were to step foot into a CR store they’d burn to ash like Kirsten Dunst in Interview With The Vampire. Much like how my skin starts to bubble and smoke when I walk past a Fat store. I just don’t belong.
Hell, maybe this woman has a sound theory. My apologies for the hack insult, I’m projecting again.

NOTE: Since writing this article I’ve gotten myself a Raf Simons/Eastpak bag. Trust Raf to drag you out of bag purgatory.


Everyone’s heard the saying don’t judge a book by it’s cover. But why not?

I’m aware that sounds horrible especially as we all know what it’s like to get fashion daggers from some snooty bitch at a cocktail party. It’s that brief moment when you meet someone and they slash their way disdainfully through your outfit in a split second leaving you wounded, wishing you could leap across and slap them.
That's all

They make their pleasantries and politely excuse themselves out of earshot so they can ridicule your outfit. Oh the tragedy of it all.
You’ve probably also heard the story about the scruffy man that walks into the department store but leaves empty handed because the staff refuse to serve him. That’s right, it turns out he’s a multi-millionaire and was willing to spend, spend, spend. Who cares?
Big mistake

Why not judge someone by how they choose to present themselves to the world? It’s instinctual. The word ‘judge’ has a negative quality to it in these situations when all you’re really doing is forming an opinion on someone. It’s one of the less amiable things we do when sizing someone up. Other things I guess would include verbal communication or looking at body language. Judging someone is often thought of as snide and bitchy even when it’s not. Of course if you gleefully tell you’re friends about what you've just seen then yes, you’re a snide bitch. But wear your glee with pride.

It’s not something that’s going to go away and everyone’s guilty of doing it regardless of race, gender or more importantly how well dressed people are. Everyone does it, it’s normal. Normal doesn’t make it okay, but it’s still normal.
Think about how far you take this. On what scale and how seriously do you judge people by their appearance? Say socks with Crocs…interesting.

Easy target really and such a common occurrence in suburban strip-malls that you mightn’t even bat an eye-lid. On an extreme scale now. How about YSL Tributes? Sorry, it’s all about the cage boot right now. Get away from me peasant.
YSL Tributes

YSL Cage Boots

So why do we have to be so nasty about our observations? Maybe I’m just too witty. Maybe I’m just a shallow, bitter person who needs to mock others to feel better about myself. A little from column A, a little from column B.
In an ideal world being scrubbed up with clean hair and a neat, tidy appearance should suffice. In an ideal world I wouldn’t have to go to the gym.


Here's an image from the latest Balenciaga campaign featuring Jennifer Connolly whom I adore. Ever since she did Requiem for a Dream back in 2000 I've loved her.
I'll have to compile a Style Dossier on her soon.


I was browsing the H&M site yesterday and came by this hilarious virtual dressing room. You can check it out here.
I did my best to create two day-shift hookers and my ideal boyfriend.

Hastily leaving the hotel after a 'business meeting'

Which stripper shoe should I get?

My boyfriend. His name is Tyrone

This is Tyrone after I get him hooked on bongs and fried chicken. It's at about this point that he leaves me.

The virtual dressing room reminded me of 90's hit movie Clueless where Cher selects her outfit for the day on her computer. God I loved that movie, like totally. Here's the trailer.


I previously noted that Vogue Australia's 50th anniversary edition might be worth getting and I think I'm sold. Some images by Greg Kadel of Catherine McNeil and Abbey Lee Kershaw have been doing the rounds for a couple of days now. They're very pretty. I'll have to go to Magnation on Wednesday when it hits the stands.