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.

Mildly obnoxious

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

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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Eau De Parfum

You might’ve grasped by now that I don’t mind dropping my hard earned dollars on a big ticket item every now and then. What’s money for, if not to be blown on spontaneous, unnecessary items? I’ll give you a minute to take in the sour waft of first world brat, my natural eau de parfum.

As the years have tidal-waved by and my budget for said spontaneous, big ticket items has dwindled, as has my youthful complexion, I’ve found myself getting creative. Bargain hunting, re-working old pieces and thrifting has become the new reality and damn, it’s a ride. This caramel blazer has the look and feel of a luxury, money-stealing garment with a THREE DOLLARYDOO price tag. Cue clapping, tears and goose bumps.

Wearing: Thrifted caramel blazer similar found here, Forever 21 cap similar found here, Urban Outfitters crop tee found here and Zara leather skirt similar found here.
Photos: Anastasia Borrelli.

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La La La Bamba

Earlier this year I spent 8 long months on a soulful journey through North and Central America in search of something. Something I’d been missing for a long time and could no longer happily proceed without. While at times it was lonely, emotionally challenging and tested my resilience, I finally found what I had been looking for, for so long – the perfect summer dress.

In my usual lazy, sloth-like fashion, I opted for a browse on the net, ignoring the retail delights of New York and LA. No surprise, I struck solid 24 karat gold on an Aussie site. Three cheers for Australian fashion.

The legends over at Bamba Swim have more than provided the goods and finally put an end to my emotionally traumatic journey. Crisp white cotton with embroidered detailing and the most gorgeous tassels – it’s a sure fire summer hit. Excuse my lady boner, but my God, they know what they’re doing. Be sure to check out their brilliant silk and swim range and buy, buy, boner away.

Wearing: Bamba Swim Isla Dress as top found here, Forever 21 denim skirt similar found here, Saint Claude Social Club vintage necklace similar found here and here, Vintage straw backpack similar found here, vintage pink cat eyes similar found here.
Photography: Grid.city photos

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Sartorial Adequacy

There’s nothing like a touch of travelling to humble you. It’s an easy feat looking good, feeling good and smelling good when you have an arsenal of creature comforts to provide a cushy, body-odour-free pillow to fall your ass back on.

Managing a high level of sartorial adequacy is near impossible when your mind is occupied with tickets, visas and you know, not losing your damn passport.

A sure fire way to avoid looking like a dingus with crap taste on holiday is packing well and not making my over-packing mistakes. Turns out taking three hats, two leather jackets and 14.5 bikinis around the northern hemisphere will suck the sweet life out of you.

So boys, I’ve come up with the ultimate solution. Drop some dimes on AREYOUAMI pre-vacation and find yourself well and truly stocked up on easy, comfortable, holiday staples. Duh, don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier.

Wearing: Are You Am I ‘Kimia’ bodysuit found here, Forever 21 denim wrap skirt, similar found here,  Saint Claude Social Club vintage necklace, similar found here, Tom Ford ‘Nastasya’ sunglasses similar found here, Vintage straw backpack similar found here.
Photography: Louise Armstrong

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There is Hope

Every single life form known for gracing planet earth with its existence, has a family vacation memory that sticks to the very fibre of their being for all of the worst reasons. Whether it be that time in Kuala Lumpur, when your Dad’s wallet was pickpocketed and what can only be described as a total verbal smack down ensued or when you got defecated on, and by that, I mean totally shat on, by an unknown bird with severe gastro in Disneyland Hong Kong. Lucky to say that the Ward family’s repertoire is filled with rather-forget, painful and geographically extensive memories. Although the worst is very much yet to come. Let me take you back to the year 2000. Indonesia, Bali. A storied trip comprising of five rabies shots, a mean waterslide burn and an unfortunate incident involving cornrows, my hair and me. Although while entirely succeeding in living up to the Aussie bogans take Kuta stereotype, this is not what I am referring to. My worst family holiday memory to date, is the time my irresponsible parents decided it was a truly delightful idea to place my brothers and I in matching, incandescent three-quarter wetsuits in Bali. Three dickheads, three wetsuits and now three mentally blemished adults.

Having permanently scarred any hope I had for a normal life and future, I now make it my mission to help sufferers of the same fate. I have spent many years since, choosing only to wear impeccably tasteful swimsuits, except for those times in year 8 and 9, 11 and last week. Behold, this bad to the bone one-piece exhibiting all of the right things for a victim of swimsuit abuse. Although the thick neoprene is providing me with serious and distressing flashbacks, I have nothing to feel but love and light. Thanks to Lisa Marie Fernandez and sleeping pills for accelerating my recovery, I can safely say I am now a totally fulfilled, joyous being.

Wearing: Lisa Marie Fernandez swimsuit, vintage head scarf and Dior ‘So Real’ sunglasses
Photos: Anastasia Borrelli

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Holiday Stupor

My favourite part of the any given year is the small, blissful window of time between the hectic Christmas and New Year’s festivities. This period, a true gift from the gods, is where the seemingly random scattering of useless public holidays and celebrations see no end and the onslaught of inactivity, laziness and extensive food consumption is more than encouraged. This time of liberation and freedom comes as a welcome reward for my due diligence in cooking, wrapping, buying, cleaning, decorating and ‘appearing’ to be achieving all of the above, while really, leaving the all the heavy lifting to the big dogs. It is hard, torturous work and I deserve that break.

As many of my friends spent their days of free will down at the beach or enjoying a regular, active and healthy lifestyle (losers), I set myself a challenge. A journey only the mentally resilient can survive, a trial for the ages. I sat down and watched episode by episode, hour by hour, the entirety of the ‘Here Comes Honey Boo Boo’ series. I was well and truly absorbed into another world, a land where chicken nuggets and tatter tots reign supreme in the gold mine of nutritional value and ‘redneck’ is a badge of honour, designed to be worn with immense pride. After I completed my 146 hour, quest for television series excellence, I felt a deep need to spruce my existence up, cue this outfit.

Hiding my deep desires for mudslinging and lard laden delicacies, this ensemble is seeing me into the new year in a wonderful fashion. With nothing more brilliant than a blazer, belt combination, this get up has me feeling fresh and rejuvenated after my intense holiday stupor. I can wear my denim cut-offs with total confidence after definitively earning my stripes as an honorary member of the Deep South and slapping on this beautiful belt has not only polished the outfit, but also my tarnished soul after hours of ‘viewing pleasure’.

Wearing: Vintage shorts, Asos black crop, Ellery blazer, Ancient Greek Sandals shoes, B-low the Belt belt and Celine clutch
Photos: Anastasia Borrelli

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F*cking Marvellous

Having just recently and by that I mean three short years ago (still 18 at heart), began to vote, I have come to appreciate what it means to understand politics. While the important stuff like same-sex marriage and equality are highly publicised and talked about, there is a less politically motivated campaign of total irrelevance but equal importance (definitely not equal importance), that being, the fight for the flare. The comeback of this timeless, revolutionary trouser has rocked the boat seeing fat ankles everywhere cry a big sigh of relief.  Initially the idea of departing from my regular skinny jean had me sweating bullets, so I tested the water and ended up diving straight on in.

They’re flattering, freeing and ooze individualism like a giant pimple. Having the pleb like body proportions of a regular, 50% torso, 50% legs, human, the elongation that flares provide is immeasurably useful. Pairing them with a short black tuxedo dress and slicked back hair is fulfilling all of my power-hungry feminist dreams. Flares are f**king marvellous, do every cool 2000’s chick a favour and jump on it.

Wearing: Asos flares, Kora Rae ‘Ana’ dress, Acne Studios clutch, Asos heels, vintage necklace
Photos: Anastasia Borrelli

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