Bought about by my slow decline over the hill and my steady approach to an imminent quarter life crisis, I have been doing some serious searching of the soul lately. Journeying on as deep of a trail of self-discovery as my encumbered soul can muster, I have come to one important realisation.

My favourite colour is no longer yellow.

Having only just come to terms with this calibre of bombshell (measuring -1 on the bombshell metre, a bit like me), I am still finding it difficult to discuss openly. I am however, choosing to push through my fiery inner turmoil and break down the stigma, in the desperate hopes that my words help anyone else in a similar position.

I have spent the last 23 cushy years of my existence believing yellow, in all of its kind, warm hues was my numero uno – oh how wrong I was. I am now, after much internal assessment, announcing my allegiance with green and I encourage y’all to do the same.

If my laborious, overly-detailed and mildly-waffled explanation was not evidence enough, I bring before the court, my smoking gun – this Georgia Alice dress.

Ladies, gentlemen and our gender fluid friends, I rest my case.

Wearing: Georgia Alice dress found here, Celine necklace found here and jerky grin.

historically unstylish

They say all good things come in pairs –  boobs, twin-sized Mars bars, Hilary and Hailey Duff. Now, while these of these wonderful pairings ring true and blue, this deeply philosophical theory can also be applied to garms. Winter garms, summer garms, the whole nine yards – you name it! The not-so-wise, deeply vein and historically unstylish woman captured in the snooty images below says so, so it must be 100% tried and tested.

The far wiser and historically stylish duo behind Zimmermann certainly got the memo and are helping their adoring sisters out everywhere. This floral-lovers wet dream has me praising the lords up above with my now stylish mind, body and spirit.

Thank you, Zimmermann, thank you.

Wearing: Zimmermann Sunny Smocked top & skirt.


As you can tell, I’m a devout minimalist. With the help of Confucius, Socrates and of course, Ikea, I have transformed my cluttered, chaotic life into an austere and restrained existence. No longer do I indulge in the practices of materialism, exhibiting the finer qualities of the Minimalistic lifestyle, and it is just that, a lifestyle.

This emotional upheaval is a change that has transcended into my sartorial choices, with my clothing now representing the discreet nature of my minimalistic life. As you can see, my garmets adhere to a strict black, white and grey palate, and serving merely as practical, functional items of apparel.

If you two are looking to simplify your life and your fashion choices, feel free to contact me for tips, tricks and words of wisdom (bullshit).

Wearing: Rat and Boa dress & Josh Goot corset, similar here.

faint whiff

I have impressively crap hair, I say it like you haven’t already noticed, but woe really is me.  I blame my poor genetic makeup for being particularly inconsiderate and choosing me last for the good hair team – what a bastard.

Thin, ratty and causing me the same psychological repercussions experienced by 50% of the male population suffering from premature baldness, my hair sucks.

Despite several wildly unsuccessful attempts at stimulating hair growth, attempts that left me with nothing more than the faint whiff of desperation, I have finally come to accept my misfortune.

My thin, mullet-esque mane can always do with a little helping hat and thanks to the good dudes at Lack of Color, my rats tail is now happily and rather fashionably disguised – hoorah.

Wearing – Winston Wolfe leather pants, similar found here & affordable faux leather leggings here, Asos blouse, similar found here and here, Lack of Color boater, similar found here.







Dirty, stinkin’ toes

I have one rule I thought was never to be broken – if I’m wearing a jumpsuit and it’s not giving me a camel toe, it ain’t no jumpsuit of mine. You’d be as startled as me to find that this denim number has broken my cardinal rule, gasps. No camels or their dirty, stinkn’ toes in sight, who would’ve thunk it?!

In high school I was permanently settled up the asses of all of my teachers and was never a preacher of the ‘rules are meant to be broken’ passage, but as it turns out, not all jumpsuits give you camel toe – miraculous, hey?

Cotton On has me singing happy tunes of elation in this stretchy, denim onesie and boy does it feel good. Total comfort and all without a hefty price tag, you beauty.

Wearing: Cotton on jumpsuit, similar found here and here, vintage Chanel belt, similar found here and here, with affordable version here.

Amicable breakup

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.


Like only animal print can

As a cold blooded creature and maybe even a medical step behind in the evolutionary process – see jawbone for reference –  I am at one with the animals.  Big, little, flea infested and all, I clearly have Bindi Irwin blood pumping through my icy veins.

Harnessing my innate animalistic spirit, I have translated my love for the animal kingdom into my sartorial choices – this Rat and Boa leopard number meeting all of the requirements. It’s glorious silky goodness is warming my snake-like heart like only animal print can.

Do yourself and Bindi a favour and get your greasy grubbers on this bad boy ASAP.

Wearing: Rat and Boa ‘Valentina’ dress & Balenciaga earring.




Denim Erotica

Attempting to create an interesting dialogue on the joys denim can bring into our solemn lives, is like writing on the joys of crinkle-cut chips – bloody obvious. It doesn’t take me, or captain obvious (also me) to deliver a number of reasons why you should be donning double denim for the rest of your days – you already know it.

What I can provide, besides the blaring obvious (seemingly a specialty of mine), is a denim love story. A storied tale of romance, love and denim – all of the makings of a great erotic novel, am I right? For a depiction of said fairytale love story, find images below (no erotica i promise, your eyes are safe).

Wearing: The Fifth Label ‘Sentiment’ dress found here, The Incoming ‘Astro’ necklace, similar found here, Acne Studios leather clutch, similar found here and Le Specs ‘Last Lolita’ sunglasses found here.
Photography: Anastasia Borrelli 26175322_10155566280344130_518764065_n26135154_10155566279819130_2023034728_n26134990_10155566280284130_55587293_n26176086_10155566280129130_1858876078_n


Strawberry Dip n Dunk

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.

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