australianfashion

Egypt, Africa

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Part two – Luxor

My dearly beloved Luxor is out of this world beautiful. A merry nine-hour train ride from Cairo, Luxor will knock your stinky, mismatched socks off. Just don’t forget to splash your cash and snag yourself a sleeper cabin. With a nifty bunk bed set up, power outlets and comfortable pillows, you’ll rest easy.

You can opt to stay on the East Bank of Luxor for a central, bustling feel, but in my not-so-humble opinion, West Bank is where it’s bloody at. With quaint, Nile-side café’s serving up hot Turkish coffee, cushy pita and drool-worthy falafel, West Bank gives you that relaxed, holiday vibe we all so regularly dream about.

Al Salam Camp, our choice of sleeping hole, is the most heavenly mud hut set up I’ve ever stumbled across. With all of the creature comforts you could need, hot showers, fans, beers and beds, Al Salam’s nightly campfires are so dang good for the soul.

Al Salam is run by the ultimate gentleman, Mr Ahmed. With a beautiful wife behind the killer cooking, a herd of gorgeous kittens, well-behaved children roaming about and an honest, easy-going nature, Ahmed is your go-to hombre of the West Bank.

We ambitiously opted to rent bikes, as organised by Ahmed, and ride over to Valley of the Kings. Usually a cruisy ride for those of us with some sense of directional intellect, we spent a few hours working on the glutes and crack sweat as we got pitifully lost – well, if you have to do it somewhere…

Paired with the joy of seeing my adult male travel companions riding children’s sized bikes with baskets and jazzy bells to boot, laying eyes on King Tut’s freshly refurbished tomb was a time to be had. Spooky, a little surreal and real damn pretty, Tut’s mask has the ultimate resting bitch face.

A handy tip – take your student ID to all of the attractions about Egypt and get half off your ticket price. As one of my counterparts shamefully found out, Aussie drivers licences don’t fool no man and will only get you a barrage of laughs and (king) tuts.

Temple Hatshepsut is an amazing assault on the eyes, worth a gander and a photo or four. The temple’s bazaar is full to the brim with tacky souvenirs (sign me up) and pushy salesmen – just beware of entering into a trance like state spurred on by some merchant’s powerful ability to sell tourists utter crap – they missed that one on Smart Traveller.

Karnak Temple should be on the top of your sites to see, with a full day’s exploration ahead of you. Get in early, avoid the crowds and make sure you take up some of those shifty tours guides up on their offers to show you some hidden spots – again, for a price, but so stinkin’ worth it.

We ended up sharing a mind-blowing spinach curry, pita and some billy-boiled tea under the gates of Karnak with its resident security guard sweetheart. Number one rule of Egyptian travel, always say yes to tea, you never know where you might end up.

If you’re staying on the West Bank make sure to take a felucca (traditional Egyptian sail boat) or motor boat back home. Your overworked cankles will thank you, or you know, motorboat you. If lunch on a yacht sailing the Nile floats your boat, Ahmed or any of the local boat babes will happily organise a luxurious, relaxin’ day on the river for you.

Our two-day stint in Luxor was nowhere near enough to scratch the surface on this divine corner of the world. I’d recommend living there forever, or a more reasonable four or so days.

Just remember my three cardinal Luxor rules, never stray too far from the closest falafel cart, pack for the cold nights and never trust boys with directions, ever.

Ghandi

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Talk about sports bras with a B cupper and your conversation will be a short lived one, but give her a crop top that doubles as a sports bra and gosh darn it, you won’t be able to shut her up – Ghandi.

Ain’t it true?! As a founding member of the Itty-Bitty-Titty committee and beneficiary of the club discounts, I have no space in my life for sports bras. For one, I don’t engage in strenuous enough exercise to require a sports bra, and B, my melons don’t need the emotional or physical support of no bra, or man at that either.

So when the full moon emerges and I opt to fire up the treadmill, my hamstrings and the exercise playlist that features far too many 2009 Taylor Swift songs for public acknowledgment, I reach for my myriad of crop tops.

Not only do they provide me with great sartorial satisfaction on my 10-minute powerwalk on every second Tuesday of the month, but they emulate the fine work of sports bras for the larger bust.

Once such crop top is this Bamba Swim number, ideal for the small breasted power walker or lover of clothes. I recommend as much as I recommend a fictional Ghandi quote.

Wearing: Bamba Swim crop similar here, Jbrand jeans similar here and Photobomber Cat found here.

Mildly obnoxious

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I have gently touched upon the art of diversion previously, but very much feel the need to do so again. You see, I am a 5 foot 11 tomboy with bad ankles and the clumsy gene marinating in my genetic makeup. It won’t come as a huge surprise when I say this little giraffe can’t walk in heels to save her or her ankles lives.

So when it comes to purchasing heels, I employ one tactic and one tactic only – make ‘em colourful enough to distract your audience. Hence the bright green, mildly obnoxious boots I have gone for here.

Shine them in direct sunlight and they’re enough to blind even your most critical enemy. Make ‘em bright and bold enough to avert the eye from your rod-up-the-ass walking technique and Viola! Mission accomplished.

Wearing: Thrifted blazer similar found here, Asos boots, Vintage scarf similar found here.

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Good Juju

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There is only one thing I like more than being a materialistic, fashion consumer and that is animals. I grew up with two dogs, two cats and two older brothers, so we always had a house full of smelly, halitosis suffering creatures – all of whom I adored wholeheartedly.

Fast forward a decade and while I don’t share living quarters with as many brothers, the animal count is still up there and healthy. I like my pets more than most people I know and in an attempt to bring some good juju to my family, I recently dropped by an RSPCA thrifty to find some threads.

I left with an armful of clothes, jewels and the good juju I had been so desperately searching for. Helping critters like my own find homes and health care, while replenishing my not-so-empty clothing stores, who could say no that?

Wearing: Thrifted tee, shorts and blazer, Lucy Folk clutch found here.

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Amicable breakup

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I want to celebrate my brief, but non-the-less loving union with this Gucci backpack before I send it, well, packing. You see, as much as I L.O.V.E dropping a dollarydoo on a fancy-pants piece of fashun, I have champagne taste on a beer budget. My solution is reselling.

While it served me a great deal of purpose to have this glorious backpack in my arsenal of wallet carrying vessels, it is time to move on.

A bit like an amicable breakup, I am sadly bidding farewell to this masterful piece of cowhide and gold.  I’ll never forget you Gucci, the first backpack I’ve loved since my year four Spider Man number – what an honour it has been.

Wearing: Understated Leather jacket similar here, Abrand jeans, Asos crop similar here and Gucci backpack.

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Life-giver

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I’ve recently experienced a number of life-changing experiences that have completely blown my enormous brain to bits – all courtesy of my life-giver, and the individual responsible for my crass sense of ‘umour, Ma. With such a powerful force of all-encompassing knowledge behind me, it seems only fair to pass on my newly-established wisdom on such worldly matters, so, grasshoppers, listen the hell up.

Last Wednesday, said life-giver and avid lover of cream of the ice variety, bought home a Wagon-Wheel icecream sambo. Yes, yep it was better than you could ever have dreamt of – truly life altering even.

Rolling with her momentum, Mother decided to drop another figurative bomb in the form of a dog pram. My 6-year-old pupperino, entirely healthy aside from his prominent position on the spectrum, was unable to walk around the block without the help of a pram, according to Mother. If you’ve ever experienced such an event you too, can attest to the cocktail of excitement, confusion and revelation it can leave you with. Again, truly life alerting.

Last and certainly not least, Mama bear, the woman who wears nothing but clacky mules, polka dots and colours named after vegetables, taught me a bloody lesson about fashion. The woman, the myth, the legend herself bought me a dress that didn’t result in a rash or a trip to the Vinnie’s charity bin. The revelation, as well as the dress itself, has blown my understanding of my mother’s capabilities and worldly knowledge – the old gurl still got it.

Dress featured in images below, Wagon-Wheel can be seen protruding from under dress and dog pram incident to be released to the public at my own discretion.

Wearing: Verge girl dress found here, Amber Sceats headpiece, vintage necklaces.
Photos: Anastasia Borrelli

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The Wardrobe Tours

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Victoria Alexiou, Adelaide – A1daily

A 21 year old architecture whizz and the biggest damn sweetheart you’ll ever meet, Alexiou boasts quite the back catalogue already. With the likes of Kendall Jenner, Hailey Baldwin and Emily Ratajkowski following her every move on Instagram, the creator of A1daily has one eye on celebrity farshun ‘n style at all times – someone’s gotta do it, right?

“I got most of my style ideas from celebrities. Now, instead of scrolling through hundreds of different pages like I used to, my followers can find it all in one spot”.24989655_10215632436951043_1551072689_n
With a loyal army of over 200,000 avid interwebbers, Victoria’s style icons include Olivia Palermo, Hailey Baldwin and Kendall Jenner – all of who, selfishly hog A1daily’s feed.

“It was a total thrill when the women I look up to and post so much on A1, began following me. It kind of validated the vision i had for the page”.

With a deep love and appreciation of Aussie fashion and designers, Alexiou is a die-hard, frothing at the mouth fan girl of the talents of Zimmermann, Saboskirt and Bec & Bridge –  crap taste, clearly.
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Looking to the future, Victoria is enrolled into her Masters of Architecture and intends on incorporating more of her own style photos to A1daily. With her lil’ sis Leah by her side, the mind behind @thecurvyfashionista_, the girl’s joint vision of a future in fashion design and production seems as bright as Rihanna’s diamonds – pretty bright aye.

Watch this space and just try peelin’ your eyes away from this face.

Victoria wearing: Mink Pink top, Veronique Boutique choker and Zara jeans.
Camera work: Anastasia Borrelli

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Strawberry Dip n Dunk

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I was a jealous kid, a real nasty piece of work. I once stole a fellow year three’s Tiny Teddies out of his lunchbox and ate them in front of him – savage to say the least. Aside from my parent’s ineptitude at providing me a decent bloody recess, they did, for the most part, manage to punish the evil, lunchbox-raiding ways out of me. My green eyed monster has since lived a reclusive life, wasting away without the sustenance of strawberry Dip n Dunk Tiny Teddies, that us, until recently.

Let me set the scene. I was meandering through a bustling H&M store stateside, sniffing out the cheapest deal I could get my grubby hands on, when I saw it – glistening in all of its sale rack goodness.

A shining light in a sea of synthetic materials and sweaty shoppers, green, silky and sexy. I had to have it. In hindsight I blame the holiday weight, but I was simply too slow. Another savvy shopper with equally as wonderful taste as I, managed to swoop in and grab my prize.

Out comes my green eyed monster, Tiny Teddy’s or not. I grappled with the idea of punching her in the crotch, grabbing the dress and making a run for it, but I fought the temptation of my old habits and did the right thing. I stalked her throughout the store, waited for her to try it on and eventually put it back on the rack – testament to hard work truly paying off.

It was at that moment, i noticed in my peripherals, the tucked-away rack that housed 17 dresses of the same variety. Call me a moron, call me a drongo, call me whatever you please, but you sure as hell can’t call me a green eyed monster.

Wearing: H & M slip similar found here, Amber Sceats bracelets found here and here, vintage signet ring similar found here, Nasty gal belt similar found here.
Photography: Gridcity.photo

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Spillage

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My entire life I’ve had a complicated relationship with the crop top. Feelin’ a lil ripped off with the material yardage vs. price tag, it has taken me years to accept the crop as a legitimate item of clothing. Logistically speaking, the crop is about as useless as a regular tampon, okay for the most part but there’s always spillage.  Back fat or menstrual matter, it’s never pretty. While it’s taken a while to come to terms with it, my tolerance for crop tops, women with light periods and my own back flab has slightly increased.

I enthusiastically urge all of you badasses to follow suit.

Wearing: Dior crop from Vestiaire, Josh Goot Flowerbomb skirt similar found here, Celine Cowboy slides from Vestiaire, Cult Gaia bag found here, Celine ID necklace from Vestiaire.
Photos: Anastasia Borrelli.

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