Thursday, 28 January 2010

A thousand words a second.

Today I'm feeling confident enough to share a totally embarrassing story with everyone. I laugh at silly things that I have said everyday, so what's a few more people cringing on my behalf!!?!?!




This particular story is called 'The day I plucked up enough (FREE Fashion Week Party Champagne fueled) courage to speak to THE Michelle Jank, but ended up shamelessly rambling like a fool.'











Just in case you aren't on the same page as people who know of Michelle's work here's a quick catch-you-up:



Originally from Perth - Graduated from East Sydney Tech Fashion Design in 1999 - Showed her first solo collection at Mercedes Fashion Week in Sydney also in 1999 - Now based in Paris - Her unique jewelery is stocked in stores across Europe -



























Retailing for around £400, I'm adamant that it's financially best if I leave this obsession alone until I rob a bank.






In my opinion, Michelle Jank can do no wrong. Every single piece I've seen from her has rendered me speechless.



This stunning collection (below) shown at Australian Fashion Week in Sydney (2005) was spectacular. I remember seeing photos of this in magazines/newspapers/on TV and thinking WOW, she is incredible.









A long time ago I was an impressionable teen studying at a predominantly Academic and Sporting orientated boarding school in Melbourne. I used to spend my homework time scissors in one hand, glue stick in the other with wide fashion hungry eyes. I hacked at copies of Vogue and Harper's Bazaar or whatever I could get my hands on. Many a scrap book was dedicated to endless documentation on what inspired me at that moment.



All three of these 2001 designs (below) were included in my crazy cuttings and pastings covered with the enthusiastic annotations of a mad woman. 9 years on I still adore them...



That's Emma Booth on the left with the red hair there (model turned actress).






I know the only reason you kept reading is to find out exactly what I did to embarrass myself....

I remember the night going something vaguely like this:

I was in my second week of Costume Design studies at Swinburne University (c. February 2005) and my class had been invited to help backstage at a Melbourne Fashion Week show.


Basically, we were employed to be enthusiastic shit kicking students, but that didn't deter me at all, I was SOOOOOOOOOOO excited to finally be in this environment! We steamed garments (including an incredible fire engine red Valentino gown which was the finale piece) and dressed models for what seemed like an eternity...


During rehearsals I remember seeing a beautiful blonde woman who looked quite important and I thought maybe she was the shows stylist. She was floating around backstage and adjusting garments and accessories on models. I couldn't put my finger on where I knew her from, she looked so familiar and it annoyed me all day. Hours later it dawned on me, this woman was the designer I had loved for so many years through high school who inspired me to journey down the design path.


Fortunately, I was in the know (well at least a lot more than my fellow students were) about goings on after events such as this one. Where there is smoke there is fire, and in this case where there are celebrities and fashionistas there is champagne.




Earlier that morning I had packed a pair of heels in my hand bag... Cheekily, I did the footwear swap, put some extra face on and tousled the hair a bit. I snuck out to where the fabulous beings were being fabulous. To my absolute surprise, a rather rotund beastly looking woman intercepted and congratulated me on my walk in the show and commented on how wonderful a spectacular it was. HAHAHAAHAHHAAAAAAAAA... I had just been mistaken for a catwalk model. I thought to myself, nice one, and honed in on a cute waiter carrying a tray of fluted bubbles.



Flash forward several Verves to a tipsy me fumbling around on my stilt like shoes. Like lines from a play, I worked through in my head what I was going to say to Michelle. But alas, things never come out of your mouth they way you practised them, especially after plenty of booze...



My dreadful display of badly constructed sentences can only be described as pathetic.
With one almighty exhale, the rambling sounded something like this...

'Hi Michelle, I am such a huge fan of your work and I am so glad to meet you and when I was asked at my interview for RMIT's Fashion Design degree who my favourite current designer was I said you, you are definitely my favourite designer and I never have thought I would meet you but I am so happy you were working on this show blah blah blah ramble ramble ramble gush gush gush...'

Michelle said a kind thank you and I backed away slowly so not to embarrass myself further by falling over or spilling my drink on her.

What a total idiot I must have sounded like! I am almost certain there was a lot more ridiculous content to my speech but I am struggling to recall exactly what it was.

Maybe it is better left unwritten...



siggie longlegs - famous verbal diarrhoea artist

Thursday, 7 January 2010

Once you go black, you never go back.




For all those revolting people who have minds that reside in the gutter, I'm talking about coffee!



coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee.




Black is definitely the way to go. I grew out of my 'I'll have a skinny latte' phase years ago so don't even start me on the 'soy vs dairy' debate. What a poor excuse for milk!!?!?! It tastes foul and smells even worse... I am gagging just thinking about it!



Cappuccino drinkers call it hardcore- but its just how I like it. Strong and thick and full of caffeine. The short black or espresso is an experience to behold. It takes a bit of getting used to but perseverance is the key with this one.










I have suffered through way too many horrific cups of bitter brown liquid from a place that rhymes with Car Sucks. It doesn't matter how much sugar you stir in, it still never agrees with the taste buds. Visiting this place has usually been at the point of absolute desperation for a little pick me up... It's like a hangover, I am only reminded of how bad it really is when I am in the middle of it.




North-South-East-West, I have been on the hunt for the best espresso money can buy.





Nude Espresso - 26 Hanbury St, London, E1






Starting with my favourite little East London spot for coffee (and warm choc chip cookies) is Nude Espresso. Of course it goes without saying that the treats are delicious, but what a great place to hang out! The vibe is chilled and the people are the epitome of trendy. I have been known to sit for several hours at a time perving on the cool kids cruising past.















Flat White - 17 Berwick St, London, W1

The 'flat white' I am told, like me, hails from the Antipodes.
It is prepared by pouring steamed milk from the bottom of a steaming pitcher over a single shot of espresso. Apparently it's different from a latte, but who really cares, all the awesome people drink black coffee!


This cafe I have only visited a few times, but my good friends swear by it for their morning coffee when doing the Central London hike.





Note- great art in a cafe makes for a heightened coffee experience. Tick!











Inspiral - 250 Camden High St, London, N1



This is for anyone who has wanted to turn totally hippy. A vegan cafe right in the heart of kooky Camden. Inspiral was one of my absolute favourite places to spend time when I lived up there. It's certainly provides a different vibe in comparison to the other places I have mentioned.



Definitely one to visit, even if it's just to admire the view of Camden Lock while you eat your delectable stuffed peppers!







Brew - 45 Northcote Rd, London, SW11






I discovered Brew through a fellow coffee lover from Australia whom I met in London.


Now, I have in the past been one to put Clapham and it's surrounding neighbourhoods down. No apologies there, it is what it is... But if you need a coffee to make your experience in Clapham a little less dull (and lets face it, you will need something) the Brew is the place for you.





The Breakfast Club, 33 D'arblay St, London, W1





LOVE LOVE LOVE! Apart from yellow being my second favourite colour and the 80's film being totes amazing, The Breakfast Club in Soho is never short of good looking people drinking good looking coffee. Oh and the food is to die for. YUMMMMMM!!!!!!


siggie longlegs - London coffee house slut