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.
My mum has a dangerous addiction. With every cleaning product infomercial our Samsung wide-inch spews out, she grabs her Amex, drops a dollar or two on shipping and handling and anxiously waits by the letterbox for the “Shamwow” to come and revolutionise her cleaning habits.
The cupboard under the kitchen sink has become a depressing gravesite for cleaning products long forgotten, replaced by the next gizmo of cleaning wizardry. She’s tried stopping, rehabbing her infomercial compulsion, but has always relapsed into old ways, that is, until recently.
After an afternoon binge of “My 600 Pound Life: Where Are They Now?” episodes, Mother dearest stumbled across an ad for some miraculous sponge/mop/vacuum hybrid that promises to clean your house, dog and life forever. As anticipated she dropped some nickels and then some more (f*cking shipping and handling) and sat by the front door eagerly. Said hybrid has since arrived and has Mum, bless her poly-tri blend socks, cleaning happily from dawn to dusk. She says she’ll never look back, hasn’t touched an infomercial since – it’s a Christmas miracle.
Like mother, like daughter. I too, have a dangerous addiction – an uncontrollable pink faux fur compulsion. As you may have previously noted, my wardrobe features a shameful five pink furs. After an emotionally trying incident of attempting to fit a bunch of new purchases into the Ikea flat-pack closet full of my pink faux fur friends, I realised my problem. Following in my Mother’s footsteps I decided to shop around for a one-stop shop fur that will put a stop once and for all to my dependence. Ladies and jellybeans, here it is…
Wearing: JCrew pink Faux fur coat similar found here, Winston Wolfe leather pant similar found here & vegan option found here, Chanel Boy Bag similar found here and here, Balenciaga boots found here.
Photography: Anastasia Borrelli
I’ve got a debilitating case of travel envy as everybody and their grannies appear to be overseas, getting cultured, packing on their Europe weight and sailing through glorious islands. I remember my first and only European summer as if it were yesterday, with one memory in Greece particularly embedding itself. It was Mykonos 2013 and I was eating my third giros of the hour. The gooey garlic sauce was gently dripping down my leg while I sat and soaked up the beautiful sunset and saturated fat. This was living people, I had it made. Now, looking back I don’t know whether it was the four beers and three giros love potion or my first independent holiday but I felt like a damn goddess. A feeling I’ve only managed to replicate on a handful of occasions. This shoot was one of those times.
It was bloody windy and I was without a giros, but alas, I had a more powerful love potion. A concoction of silk, a Grecian headpiece and some self-confidence. Putting this headpiece on is uplifting and a feeling I can only compare to having spanx on. Anybody looking to emulate it, I can direct you to the Thurley site with mounds of encouragement and a hint of garlic breath.
Disclaimer – do not attempt putting the headpiece on in windy/or rainy conditions. It’ll make you pay.
Wearing: Asos dress (worn as top), Asos flares, Thurley headpiece, Vintage Chanel bag.
Photos: Anastasia Borrelli
Trendsetters. Those scarce, few individuals who manage to maintain total originality in their style, while nonchalantly setting the standards of aesthetic excellence. Kind of like a rare Pokémon, these elusive entities are fluttering through the pages of Scott Schuman publications, street style blogs and eventually dictate the clothes and styles you might see a few years down the track in many of our generic clothing stores. With known and close genetic links to unicorns, trendsetters are nocturnal creatures whose diets mainly consist of lettuce, hairspray and second-hand bum bags. Highly sought after on the black market, trend setters can fetch anywhere between twenty and fifty thousand dollars.
For me, the average Joe, the unattainability of such sartorial superiority can be a real issue and something to consider writing to your local politician about. Despite these raw difficulties, replication of the qualities and mannerisms of these trendsetters is simply done and at times, a necessity. Today is that day. Hello bandana. Hello bandwagon. Hello me. Despite my total tardiness in arriving to the bandana party, I simply cannot imagine life any other way. In a time where scarves, neck ties and Malcolm Turnbull are ruling the land, it is imperative to be seen alongside and united with the trendsetters, defiant in the virtuous values of the old fashioned bandana. All hail the bandana.
Wearing: Asos bandana, Atmosandhere top – The Iconic exclusive, Asos pants, Balenciaga heels, Chanel Boy Bag
The ol’ party shirt – an institution as old as time itself. My family in particular, places great value on our collection of shirts, handed down from generation to generation with great prestige, family history and a faint whiff of body odour. Forget Great Auntie Maude’s fur and pearls – her gnarly assortment of party shirts are the real prize. The uglier the print, the more respect.
Having been born with ‘youngest child syndrome’, an often cruel ailment that comes with a lifetime guarantee of beat downs and torment, I have been pipped at the post by my older brothers in the race to inherit our family’s shirts. Eldest son and all that jazz, so I have been forced to dive into the taboo world of party shirts all by my very hesitant, lonesome self – bit of a punch in the throat really.
Turns out, I didn’t have to look far. The legends down at Ksubi have created some pretty badass stuff for all of the deprived, youngest children out there. This superb example of a shirt puts Aunt Maude’s to utter shame plus it comes sans food stains and sweat marks, you ripper. Despite my raw deal, I learnt a few really meaningful things along the way. Turns out that you don’t have to have any chilled bird tattoos, a chilled beard or a chilled Instagram feed to wear a party shirt, who would’ve guessed?
Wearing: Ksubi ‘Paradise’ shirt, Aje ‘Catara’ skirt, Chanel Boy bag, Asos bralet
Photos: Anastasia Borrelli
This glorious Josh Goot corset with all of its boning and feminine structure has me feeling very hot and flustered. It’s difficult to weld together ‘easy & wearable’ to ‘fancy & smancey’ but this number has very much managed to do so. Believe it or not, this baby aint’ all that bad to wear, comfortable and covered, there is no stressing about falling out or slips. With a waist-cinching peplum silhouette, this garment has taught my simple mind that a corset can be much more than a medieval instrument of torture or a budget bride’s goldmine. You can actually, dare I say it, wear this with jeans and flats and not look like a wealthy socialite with too much money. Yes, I know you are all waiting for my far too regular metaphor so here goes nothing; I feel like a less athletic, far less badass but way better dressed Charlies Angel (Dylan #1).
If you are in fact alive and vaguely interested in fashion, chances are you would have stumbled across a Josh Goot corset. Buy it asap. Lastly, my subconscious and heart cannot let me finish this post without mentioning that Natalie & Alex was also gnarly, I am just so conflicted.
Wearing: Josh Goot ‘Flowerbomb’ corset, Dior ‘So Real’ sunglasses, Chanel Le Boy bag, Winston Wolfe Jack Rabbit leather pants, Balenciaga Blade boots
Photos: Anastasia Borrelli
Life can be troublesome. Bad hair days, less than 10 hours of sleep days, unshaven leg days. The list goes on. Today exhibited all of the above qualities. Being innately lazy can be hard, especially when it comes to dressing well or just, even functioning. Everybody needs a quick, easy go-to outfit that you can slap on and look like Beyoncé when you’re really feeling more like Mariah Carey. Keep in mind basic is best, it’s always best. On days like today when the war has been lost but the battle is still raging on, keep it simple stupid. Chuck those jeans on, (as if it were that easy to slide on some skinnies, no anti-social leg/body movements needed here), grab your favourite top and as I’ve said before, accessorise humans.
This beaut vintage Chanel bag was a gift to my Mum but as any good daughter does, I stole it for the day. There is nothing that says ‘life together’ or ‘winning’ more than a bit of Chanel so although I may be a total fraud, looking in, nobody would know I skipped the underarm razor this am. RESULT! Despite these lifesaving qualities, this bag is also just really good looking. Beautiful on the inside and out, just like me (quote – my Mother, until she found out I stole her bag). To be honest I think this is what life is, pretending you have it together when really you haven’t washed your hair in 6 days and you’ve never known a pimple to grow so big. Clothing is key, but so is shampoo.
Wearing: Bassike Detailed T-back tank, Asos jeans, Celine choker, Karen Walker sunglasses, Vintage Chanel bag, Chloe Susannah Boots.
Photos: Anastasia Borrelli