Fashion Moi

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I went to a fairly fancy restaurant on Christmas Eve and sitting at a table nearby was a lady dressed in what I can only describe as a naughty Santa outfit, complete with knee high boots, a red velvet coat and fur cuffs large enough to be mistaken for small animals. Whilst this was a spectacle in itself due to the outfit’s inappropriateness for it’s surrounds, it also drew my attention because it was a totally literal interpretation of festive fashion. And I wondered how many other people were thinking Ho, Ho, Ho….

To me, festive fashion is all about fabulous dresses, glamour and going all out for holiday parties and events. At Christmas, people tend to not just want to dress up, they tend to expect it. But clearly some people’s definitions of dressing up for the festivities are very different to others. For me, making the most of holiday fashion is one of the best things about Christmas time. The new year is of course already upon us, but for those of us in the southern hemisphere, summer has hit (well, except in Sydney of course where winter appears to be visiting yet again) and that means the festivities are set to continue for a little while yet. And that means more fabulous opportunities to dress up! Hoorah!

Festive fashion for we females tends to lean towards fabulously strappy, high shoes, and great accessories. And due to the likes of Sydney having completely unpredictable weather, thank the fashion lords that the maxi dress is still in. It has been a saving grace for me at outdoor parties where the chilly wind has kicked in and resulted in my little legs bristling. Another saving grace being that said legs are still lily white, also thanks to our fabulous city’s lack of summer so far this year.

And of course if a fancy dress event is on your festive agenda, then maybe dressing up like Santa’s little helper is on the cards. I still however don’t really understand why so many females read a fancy dress code as “please look like as much of a prostitute as possible” (in theme of course) but hey, it’s Christmas so each to their own. And I have to admit, the three men dining with the naughty Santa’s helper last week looked like they were feeling very festive indeed!

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Fashion free pursuits

November 23rd 2009 23:17

Is there ever a time where fashion doesn’t matter? I have pondered this before, and I have to say I have changed my mind. I used to think yes, and now I think I am leaning towards a no. I recently read that the ability to change your mind is a sign of intelligence, so I am quite happy with my about face. (And by changing your mind, this article cited altering long held beliefs; we’re not talking suddenly choosing pasta when you previously thought you wanted a sandwich for lunch.)

I used to think there were certain situations in life where you should just put fashion to one side and concentrate on the real matter at hand. Granted, there were few I could come up with but the one that springs to mind was the gym. I possibly had this delusion due to the lack of time I spent in a gym myself, and now that I have discovered the joys of exercise, I have most certainly changed my mind. I look hideous at the gym. I am not one of those girls that can get through a body combat class barely breaking a sweat and leaving looking relaxed and with a subtle glow. I morph into beetroot woman, complete with crazy hair and I hate to say it, on occasion, sweat patches. Now my exercise-loving buddies assure me that this is a fabulous sign of how hard I’m working and what a great workout I’ve just had, and I thank them for their unwavering support and lack of judgment on my exceedingly rosy complexion, but this less than desirable physical state has made me realize something. I look even more hideous if I’m in terrible gym gear. Call me conceited, call me vain, but if I have to look like a rapidly wilting tomato, I’d rather be wilting in designer gym gear. That way at least some of me can look acceptable.

And this got me thinking about other situations where previously I would have pooh-poohed the notion that appearance shouldn’t come into play. Like being sick. This year I was struck down with a turbo flu unlike anything I have experienced previously. I looked like an extra on Shaun of the Dead for the best part of a week, regardless of how much sleep I got, and how many Lemsips I sipped. Being the kind man that he is, my other half insisted on me spending my week with the lurgy at his house so he could look after me, but I was acutely aware of how disgusting I looked. He kindly tried to hide his horror, but I could see the rosy glow of romance dissipating as he looked into my red rimmed eyes and struggled to be heard over me blowing my nose. What is there to do in such a situation other than to turn all attention to your ensemble? Granted, you still need to be comfy, but I would much rather at least be seen on my deathbed in a comfortable designer than matching my atrocious physical state with an equally horrendous outfit.

And so I stand corrected. There is always a place for fashion, and I believe that those situations where you may start thinking there isn’t demand it even more. On that note, do Prada do workout wear?

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Summer's Best and Worst Accessory

November 22nd 2009 21:20

This weekend’s weather in Sydney proved that summer is truly upon us, and with it comes one of the best and the worst fashion accessories – the fake tan.

I have to confess to being quite partial to a bit of faking it myself. As a naturally translucent member of society, being able to add a hint of colour to my Day-Glo limbs is a blessing, especially for special events or if I want to wear white. But I have to admit that every time I go into a spray booth or strip in front of a tanning technician, there is fear in my heart that I will end up channelling the complexion of an Oompa Loompa. Due to this fear, my visits are incredibly infrequent and I instead more often than not rely on my moisturiser/tanning solution which, while making me smell like corn chips if I apply on a hot day, seems to be much less fraught with danger, if not a longer process.

Before heading to a little racing soiree in Melbourne recently, I made the decision not to tan up despite wearing a black dress and white gloves, which of course only made my little white limbs appear even more see-through. After momentarily losing my other half in a crowd of race-goers as we got to Flemington, we met up again and he told me he’d been caught behind “the orange brigade.” I was suddenly incredibly happy being see-through.

From much discussion and observation I have come to a couple of conclusions about those who do end up looking like tandoori chickens and how this happens. How they don’t notice it themselves is still a point I grapple with without success, but I at least figure if I know how this terrible affliction occurs I can avoid being part of it.

Firstly, I hate to say it, but I think many a tanner is not up to scratch. I have found a booth is a much safer option if you’re trying for a natural look. Yes, there are some fabulous technicians out there but the number of people I see with patchy feet, streaky hands, or worse, the clear tan line around the jaw, leaves me slightly perturbed. And incredibly hesitant to get my gear off in front of someone armed with a spray gun.

Secondly, I think the prospect of an instant tan makes people so incredibly overzealous that they forget about the whole “gradual” aspect of tanning and go straight for the darkest tan possible. Remember poor Ross in Friends when he got the timing all wrong and ended up looking like he’d rolled around in the soot for a while? I have a friend whose boss recently ended up not dissimilar in colour when she opted for the darkest tan possible before a night out. Sadly her natural colouring is just as pale as mine, so for her to show up looking like Tyra Banks wasn’t really the natural glow any of her colleagues was expecting. Interestingly she apparently failed to see any issue with her new skin tone. Her co-workers however, were acutely aware, and beyond amused.

My tanning moisturiser may take a bit of time and effort, but I have to say it’s still looking like the best option to me!

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Racing Fashion

November 19th 2009 08:28

The height of the spring racing season may be behind us, but the remnants of the best and the worst of it remain. We are still being bombarded with photographic evidence online of those who looked the best, and those who looked the worst, and tragically those who look the worst are what many of us tend to think of when we think of racing fashion.

For the sport of kings, there seems to be a disproportionately high number of race goers who dress and act like they're at the other end of the spectrum. Arriving at Flemington before midday on one of the key race days, I was witness to many a filly (and not the four legged kind) already in varying stages of undress, some already carrying thier shoes and not really acting like royalty. In fact, one girl was already shoeless and rolling about on the grass

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La Di Da Fashion

September 24th 2009 23:28

There are some situations where fashion is subject to a dress code. I posted about this yesterday (those of you who read this blog avidly know that…you are out there, right?) and how there have been a couple of situations of late where a dress code has been prescribed for somewhat formal events, and yet somehow the resulting fashion got muddled none the less.

The first example of this was when my partner was invited to dine with some rather important people who were in town on business from Canada. It was all very formal and posh and I was required to attend a dinner as the other half and pretend like I had been brought up on the very right side of the tracks. I have to admit I felt a bit Pretty Woman, but thanks to that fabulous piece of cinematic history I at least knew which order to use my cutlery in. The prescribed dress standard was cocktail. Brilliant. Out came the very lovely and very cocktail 50s inspired black Wayne Cooper dress with collared halter, full skirt and belted waist. Only, no-one else was in cocktail. In fact, they weren’t even remotely close. Everyone else had clearly interpreted the dress code to mean work-wear or plain old frumpy. Enter overdressed me. Granted, my dress was fabulous but I’m not the kind of person who would strut about happy in the knowledge I was better dressed than the other people there (unlike the friend of mine I spoke of yesterday) so I was left feeling kind of awkward and not really wanting to take my trench coat off. Odd for a venue where staff opened the door and then were positioned at the ready with trays of drinks – you would think glam would be the go. I learnt that was not the case the hard way

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Too Dressed Up

September 24th 2009 00:08

Is there such a thing as too dressed up? The obvious answer is yes, but what if the other option is not dressed up enough? Which is actually worse? I have been pondering this question for quite a while now, and most recently due to a couple of work related outings at which the dress code didn’t end up matching the ensembles of those in attendance.

Being over dressed or under dressed is a concern that plagues many of us, particularly when an “occasion” arises, and particularly when said occasion provides a somewhat ambiguous dress code. Actually, even when there’s no dress code stated, a day and a venue is enough to imply one and sometimes even that can end up with people flummoxed

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Suffering for fashion

August 27th 2009 05:32

Why it is that when it comes to working out, getting fit, or the nation’s fascination with the biggest loser, the adage ‘no pain no gain’ is not only accepted but whole heartedly embraced? We’re encouraged to practically torture ourselves in the name of getting fit, often can’t move for days at a time afterwards, and are told sore muscles are a good thing. So why then when it comes to fashion does everyone get up in arms about those of us who embrace the same no pain no gain mentality?

The saying goes that we suffer for our fashion, and I believe it’s in the same way as those of us who exercise suffer for our physiques. Both are self inflicted pain in order to look good, and often the pain is similar – sore muscles, trouble breathing – so what a ridiculous idea it is that stilettos and clothes that stifle your breathing just a little should be outlawed in favour of comfort? That’s like saying, “skip the gym and go have a pie.” Sure it might feel better, but it’s not going to give you the outcome you want, is it

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I find my shoes more interesting than some people...

August 18th 2009 06:49

Recently at a social gathering I found myself amidst a group of people I didn’t know particularly well and I noticed something that possibly makes me sound like the world’s most shallow person. I found my shoes more interesting than most of the people there. Now before you cast judgment, please hear me out.

Firstly, based on past posts, it’s fairly obvious I have a slight fetish for footwear. This already means I am very inclined to think many positive things about shoes, and it also means that when I do attend social outings, I pay careful attention to what goes on my feet. This means that any shoes I am wearing on a night out are (in my mind anyway) pretty fabulous, and are therefore worthy of lots of glances. Or in the case of the social event I’m discussing, more lingering looks

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Working Fashion

August 6th 2009 07:18

I went to a media launch for a charity event yesterday and there were a few interesting outfits on display. The one that intrigued me the most turned out to belong to a TV producer. She was wearing a jaunty beret and a fur coat while the kids running around were dressed as Santas. I couldn’t decide who seemed more out of place. But her crazy ensemble made me ponder the notion of to what extent your occupation dictates your outfits. I know that a lot of people’s place of residence is affected significantly by where they work, so could the same be true of fashion?

In scouting around the city for evidence of my thoughts, I had to acknowledge that of course there are those occupations where what you wear every day is 100% determined by your job. Nurses, bank tellers and airline stewards for example. But when a uniform isn’t part of the equation, I wonder how many people’s jobs you could successfully guess based on what they’re wearing. There are a lot of stereotypes associated with occupations, and if they’re anything to go by, you’d be able to determine someone’s trade fairly easily I’d say. Or maybe people who have a certainly type of style are a certain type of personality and so are attracted to certain roles

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Lost clothes

August 5th 2009 07:59

I have lived through the strange phenomenon of disappearing clothes several times, and I was relieved this week to learn I am not alone. When I first told my boyfriend I had managed to somehow lose a little black dress (the victim of the most recent incident, and the disappearance of which I am devastated about), he got all suspicious and asked where I could have possibly left such an item. That’s just the problem - I have no idea. I went for it in my wardrobe, and it just wasn’t there. This is a most upsetting and perplexing predicament. How can clothes just vanish?

This week, a colleague of mine mentioned that she’s lost her best winter jacket. I would say a coat is possibly even more difficult to lose than a relatively small dress, but it’s left both of us baffled. Dresses and coats are things you tend to remember taking off and putting down, and yet neither of us have the foggiest where said items have ended up. You do tend to have flashbacks of leaving a jacket like that on the train, or in a cab, usually once the freezing wind rips right through your now inadequate attire. The problem with the dress however, is that I would have had to have ended up pretty close to naked after having taken it off, and since I’m not in the habit of heading home in just my knickers, you’d think there’s not that many places I could have actually left it behind

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January 2010

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