Fashion Week - Wednesday Day 4

So even though I was tired and a bit groggy after the night before, I was excited to get a phone call from Asia in the morning. She the one with the broken leg. I knew there was no way she was going to be able to maneuver around Fashion Week on crutches, especially since this was to be her first day vertical in over two weeks! So she was dropped off at Pete's palace and had a look around while I finished getting ready.

We got in another cab and headed up to a chemist at the top of Oxford to get her some wheels and me some new shoes. This meant that we would miss the Shakuhachi show that Samantha E was promoting or publicizing or selling or something. I don't really know anything about it, except that Karissa was wearing it head to toe the night before and it certainly got HER noticed! lol

So Asia got a nice set of black wheels - pretty hardcore looking for a manual wheelchair. My grandma and my auntie were both in wheelchairs and theirs' were not as tough looking as this one!

I had asked Asia to bring a leopard print throw but she didn't much to my dismay. Never mind, I thought I could always throw my coat over her legs for effect. Mind you I was wearing a little pink shifty petticoat thing that would have been great for a 20's party but was definitely not going to keep me warm from the cold breezes that come off the Harbour. I guess that's what all that alcohol was for!

I pushed her down the street to a shoe shop I saw in the passing taxi and scored two cute and relatively sensible pairs of shoes that would be a good combo for fashionista/nurse. I decided my charge needed some fresh air after being cooped up in houses for the last fourteen plus days, so I wheeled my Super Size Baby down to the bottom of Oxford St. I was still a bit seedy and parched so I grabbed a Powerade at the same time as we got bus tickets. You should have seen my face when I couldn't get the damn thing open properly. I thought my head was going to explode.

We took the bust down to some street with some building and went in and up for a great Yum Cha meal. I think it was called Sky Phoenix and it was a great place to eat. Asia had called ahead and they were very accommodating in regards to cripple seating.

I ordered pork belly cos I've always wanted to try a proper cooked one but I have to say, I think my version would give it a run for the money. Asia has had Yum Cha many times before and was pointing at this dish and that and making the waitresses scurry! Then she got the cranky one and I swear there was almost a fight. She was wanted her spring rolls cut and the lady wouldn't take the dish out of her hand. I finally grabbed it and put it down then the lady chopped it so hard it was flying off the plate and onto the table. Tensions were high. I think it started over a steamed bun or something.

After finishing with a mango pudding thing with condensed milk we both were ready to roll ourselves out. Alas I had to work off calories pushing my designer pram with my designer baby but it was probably a good thing, cos you can never be too skinny for fashion week!

Asia was learning all about being disabled and I was remembering heaps of my childhood as a helper to Grandma and Aunt Alice. At times it seemed that Asia had a temper similar to Alice's too, but there will still heaps of laughs.

We divided people into three categories. One group is the people who think being in a wheelchair is contagious and they don't dare look for fear of catching a limp or worse. They scurry pass, eyes averted, grateful not to have a pointing child asking them what happened to the lady's legs.

The next group is the I'M-OKAY-WITH-YOU GROUP. They are so keen to let you know that they are comfortable to talk to the leg mentals that they overcompensate with compassion, forced I UNDERSTAND YOU smiles and overly loud voices. Note: Hearing problems do not come hand in hand with leg issues. Feel free to speak in your normal voice. The final group is just the regular person who is totally fine with being an extra bit helpful, can make a few jokes, but isn't pitying or condescending. This included our bus driver, some lovely gentlemen on the street who helped with some of the tricky pushing and a lot of the Fashion Week staff. Who ever was in charge of employing people at the OPT did a bang up job for sure. Golf claps all around.

Having Asia as my partner in crime at Fashion Week was awesome. Large handbags? Small dogs? Pretty babies? Having my very own talking cripple left those fads in the dust. Everybody coveted my arm candy and I know of at least two people who tried to steal her. Luckily, I had showed her how to lock the breaks probably or who knows, the might still be in the possession of one particularly brazen gay boy!

Not only were we treated like royalty but basically we had people falling all over us with offers of help, table service for drinks and VIP entry to all the shows we saw. Plus we had started figuring out the gift bag thing and Asia's chair handles made great bag storage.

We went to see Foxton Danger, the Karen Neilsen Collection, Roopa Pemmaraju and Terri Donna. The Karen Neilsen Collection includes her cotton swimmers, from what I remember, but they were definitely in the catalogue. They are such super cute retro numbers! I haven't had a proper cotton bikini for years and have resorted to wearing cotton bras and knickers from Cotton On, but from someone who hates lycra swimmers with a passion (why pay for thrush?!?) the catalogue with the selection of cotton numbers was drool worthy. Roopa Pemmaraju does the most amazing takes on caftans I have ever seen. I so would have loved to own the caftan with the big sleeves that turned into pants at the bottom. I was so inspired, I think I would have whipped the Janome out on the bleachers if I'd had a power point and some fabric! Foxton Danger was quite bohemian but I think it was them that sent the models down barefoot, which I personally think is a mistake, but the clothes still looked like you'd feel good wearing them. Terri Donna was another swimwear designer. Her stuff was cheeky and fun, although it was very eighties and that era makes me just look like I never left high school. It was a bit Paris Hilton trashy, but I have never shied away from trash so I guess I can't really complain about it.

One thing I have to say is that Aussie designers sure can do resort and swimwear. I know it's part of the lifestyle here, but it's amazing to see all these amazing swimmers and bikinis that are so well cut, well made, creative and above all wearable. You could sip champagne by the pool as you admired the young fella cleaning it or you could hop on your surfboard and go play with the dolphins. Personally I'd be eyeing up the cabana boy as I slowly got pissed under the hot sun, but to each his own.

While getting our Fashion Week champers hit at the bar, I was lucky enough to be offered an armful of goody bags by the guy standing in front of me. We ended up chatting a while later on the sunny deck and he was a really nice guy. His name was Ranui and he was Chinese and his ex-girlfriend was doing the Terri Donna show. He was also doing the after party for the final show on Friday at the Beach Haus and offered to put us on the door. Stoked!

We also met a lovely young actress named Natasha Cunningham who Asia recognized from Underbelly. Now wasn't that a funny coincidence considering my night the evening before! I just noticed on her IMDB page that she was also in Bogan Pride, a show that I really enjoyed. And you should check it out cos you would probably enjoy it too. Yes, I'm talking to you Gregory H! I know you love your Aussie comedy and this one is pretty damn funny!

Natasha was at the show with one of the girls that had competed in the Aussie version of Project Runway. I love all forms of Project Runway - I've even watched the Filipino version and half of it is in Tagalog! Her name was Amber, but I didn't really know who she was until the last day but I'll have to rewatch the show to see what she was like on the show compared to "real life". You can read one person's opinion here. I'm going to say she had on a gorgeous frock.

Asia and I were knocking back free champagne quicker than you can say "drunk" so we decided it would be wise to leave before it got really dark and we'd have to figure out our lift home in an even worse condition.

Luckily for us, Heidi offered to come and pick us up, but then she got stuck in traffic, so Hamish and Kristy came and picked up the gimp. The wheelchair wouldn't fit in the boot of their wee red car, so I offered to take it back to Pete's Palace on the train.

I was huffing and puffing and regretting my decision as I dragged it up the tenth set of stairs at Museum Station while trying to answer Heidi's phone call, but at least the damn thing was empty! Heidi was pissing herself laughing as she drove up to meet me at Liverpool and Oxford and saw me crossing the intersection like some leopard print wearing gold digger who's lost her sugar daddy and doesn't know where to find him.

I folded the chair shut with a kick to the wheels and we zipped back to my room so I could change before we went to catch another show. I slipped into a little grey skirt with ruching up the front and back, a light grey t shirt, a black blazer and a pair of grey heels. The skirt fit like a sausage skin and I had to do some crazy steps to actually get up the stairs but neither that nor the crap traffic would stop us from getting to the start of the Alice McCall show.

I was pretty excited to see the Alice McCall show cos she was one of the few designers who I had heard of before going to Fashion Week. Her clothing was really like and pretty like a summer afternoon garden party. Not flashy or wild, but there is really nothing like cucumber and watercress sandwiches served with a Pimm's cocktail. Delicate with a hint of spice, the collection left me feeling pink cheeked and happy.

Heidi and I managed to score a goody bag each although someone stole the one off her seat just before we were about to jump rows as the lights dimmed. She grabbed the one on my seat and I asked a lady who had two for one of hers (how could she say no?!?) and Heidi and I both went home happy that we had each bagged a couple boxes of Veet Strips. Nothing says fashion like a hairless crotch.

We decided to head up to King's Cross to Cafe Roma as Heids had a penchant for pizza and we managed to convince the ailing Megan to join us. We ordered a pizza and a bottle of red and scored some cosy seats under a heater. The gossip flowed under the watchful eye of the owner. I say that with a bit of sarcasm because I think he was slightly cross eyed. But at least one of them was on us the whole time and he kept smiling/leering any time I caught one of his blinkers. We complimented him on his establishment as he passed and Heidi told him to take our finished plates. He must not have been insulted because he returned a few moments later with a shot of limoncello for each of us. I love limoncello. When we left we thanked him again and he repaid our compliment by kissing his way up my arm. Being the object of an aging crossed eyed cafe owner was no more enticing than being the token lesbian the night before, and it makes me feel grateful for not being single.

Heidi had to drive home but Meegs and I got a bottle of red and headed to her amazing little pad right beside El Alamein Fountain. It's a beautiful fountain in a seedy area and because you can hear it from inside Megan's apartment, so you always kinda feel like you need to pee.

We polished off our bottle of vino and were going through Meg's rack of designer clothes. She has exquisite taste and it was like going into a private boutique. I'm not sure if it was the booze talking but Megan offered to lend me a pretty silk Manning Cartel dress for the shows the next day.

Because we were out of booze and the shops were shut, we decided we should go back to Pete's and see what we could dig up there. Megan packed her Louis Vuitton overnight case and we headed down the street. Whoever designed that bag should be shot cos the thing rattled and rocked and wouldn't roll in a straight line and we both decided we hated the person who gave it to her for making our journey so laborious.

We were just crossing William Street to do our final two blocks up Bourke when disaster struck. My box, my little wooden box that I love, the little wooden box with the Chinese writing, my little wooden box so cute it makes the gays want to touch a box for the first time in their life BROKE! IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET. There I am, standing in the middle of traffic, handle in one hand, wonky Louis Vuitton in the other as I watch tampons roll under car wheels.

We finally got everything gathered up and trotted up the hill home. Of course we were back on the hooker end of Bourke St. and I was making pleasantries with the ladies without thinking.

"Lovely night for it!"

Christ, sometimes I just know it's a good thing I live in the country.

So Megs and I laid into the rest of the Stoneys and a sour tasting half bottle of red that had been sitting in a dark cupboard for far too long. We gossiped a bit more, solved all the world's problems and most of our own and then at about four in the morning called it a day and hit the sack.

Fashion Week - Tuesday Day 3

Hump day of my holiday started late again. I had gotten up in the middle of the night to scrounge for food, not realising that Pete's downstairs living area was separated from the kitchen dining area by a two inch lip and kick the shit out of the knuckle of my big toe. This injury would prove to make heel wearing even more painful than it usually is. It was all purple and had a little cut which matched the one I acquired a few days earlier kicking my suitcase in my hunt for late night snacks. Either I need a flashlight or I have to start eating more for dinner. Or putting snacks beside my bed. Again please feel free to send me chili corn nuts.

So I was a little bummed today because no one I knew was available to go to Fashion Week and I knew I would prefer to go with a wingman. Heidi was working, Pete was working, Suzi was working, Kylie was working, Megan was still bedridden with her cold and Asia had one more day horizontal with her broken ankle.

Because my only pair of flats had all but disintegrated, I had to tread carefully as I left the flat in search of sustenance. It all became too much and on the way home I desperately stopped in at the first shop that sold shoes to get a new pair. It was the Salvos. For fifteen bucks I got a pair of men's style lace up leather shoes that I thought were really cute in an old world convent school kind of way. Unfortunately, no one else saw me skipping down the streets like a middle aged Amelie. They just saw a frazzled looking drag queen mixing her leopard print with menswear. If you want to see what you would look like as a frazzled middle age looking drag queen, just load a shitty photo of yourself and go here.

Because I got up late, did a bit of shopping and spent quite some time trying to find someone to go with me, I ended up missing Little Joe Woman which I would have loved to see. I met the beautiful Gail Elliot years ago on the way out of the first MTV awards down under. I was drunkenly squealing with excitement at meeting the supermodel and dragged Joe over to meet her.

"Look it's Yasmin le Bon!"

Faaaark. She was super sweet and explained she was Gail Elliot but that she and Yasmin (wife of Duran Duran front man Simon le Bon) were very close friends. Which was obviously true because apparently Yasmin modeled for her. Best friends indeed!

Anyway, Joe had no idea what either of us were going on about, not having had much interest in models of my youth, although he did get the Duran Duran reference and thought the name of Gail's label was cool.

So I went to Fashion Week solo, which Asia assured me is heaps of fun for people watching. I think that's easy to say when you have lived half your life in Sydney and are bound to run into someone you know from somewhere at some point, but I certainly didn't see anyone I knew. Actually, that's not true. There was some filmmaker dude that I met once at my brother in law Luke's place, but he was a bit of a dick. He only friended Joe on facebook and not his obnoxious wife, which is always a faux pas in my book. He probably would have brushed me off if I said hi anyway...

I saw a group show which included Bless'ed Are The Meek, Guanabana Designs, None the Richer, and Wonders cease.

It was all a bit of a blur but I remember Wonders cease had an amazing intro on the screens on the back wall and None the Richer had an amazing finale dress. The skirt was made of fabric that was laser cut into skulls. I would have loved to see it as a cocktail skirt in black or red for myself, but seeing as I was not shopping I would still recommend it to all the rock and roll princess out there thinking of locking the ball and chain on their muso's ankle. It was a great twist on a traditional wedding dress!

I hit the Rosemount Bar again where they were serving champagne and a variety of Rosemount Botanicals. I don't normally drink white wine, but these aromatic whites were actually really nice. And not just cos they were free, bitches! The Chardonnay was infused with apple and cucumber flavour and quite crisp. It definitely tasted like a Granny Smith, but without the crunch. The Pinot Grigio was very sweet and infused with blood orange and rosewater. Probably a bit too sweet for me, but one glass was nice. I probably would have enjoyed it if I had a bag of chips or some chili corn nuts to take the edge off! The Sauvignon Blanc was probably my favourite with the twist of lemon and spicy elderberry, but hey after that many glasses who could tell! Plus they were all served up by a very friendly bar staff with cute citrus coloured bowties - a much sought after souvenir of the week!

I was going to stay for another show but by now the stupid booties that I decided to wear were totally killing me and I was sick of the outfit I had chosen. It was a vintage 1940's sheer dress with a matching belt that was made by a local seamstress in Woopi and picked up at her estate sale. I wish I had gotten there earlier and had bought all of her stuff because the fabric was quality and the sewing was perfect. But with the wind coming of Sydney Harbour sending a chill through both dress and petticoat, I thought it was time to take my limping legs and head back home to change into something a little more comfortable. Like a parka and some Ugg boots.

Back at Pete's Palace, I quickly scanned my facebook. I found out three things. Joe was still missing me, OBL was dead (whatever that meant!) and Karissa Fanning was in town.

Karissa is a beautiful person inside and out. She is married to two times world champion surfer Mick Fanning. I met her after she got Grinspoon to play at Mick's first homecoming party as World Champion. Joe and Mick hit it off like a house on fire (or at least one that had been liberally doused in alcohol) and have been merry mates ever since. Joe invited them both to the Big Day Out which is where I met them. They graciously invited us to their wedding even after I shoved peanuts up Mick's wrist cast that night, something we both forgot the next morning due to inebriation. His doctor was very surprised when he cut the cast off.

(Daniel Johns, Karissa, Mick and Joe backstage at the BDO)

Karissa and Mick put on the most spectacular wedding I have ever seen. It was beautiful and fun at the same time. I've never been so awestruck while pissing myself laughing! Karissa organised the whole event and has since created a website to share her wedding styles and inspirations with other brides to be. Be sure to check out The Lane. It's a must read for all bridezillas in need of direction and soothing inspiration.

I remembered the great wedding dress that I saw earlier and texted K-Dog to see what she was up to later in the day. She and her friend Lori were working (aka shopping up a storm) in Paddington, but were planning to head out later in the evening for an after party in King's Cross.

I lazed around and contemplated going back to another show or going out. My feet felt like blistered mangled stumps of a second row ballerina who spent the whole show en pointe. My only choice were my catholic girl school shoes. Good enough.

For some reason I thought I would go my version of casual rock chic. I wore a pair of jeans, a black top, my leopard print coat, messy curly hair and of course my stumpy men's shoes. The effect was like a butch vintage Liz Taylor. And not necessarily in the good way.

I was going to make the last show, but Karissa rang and said she and Lori were just heading to the after party so I decided I would walk up to the Cross cos my feet hadn't had enough punishment. I had no clue where I was going but that it was called the Beach Haus and it was on Roslyn Street somewhere in the Cross.

Luckily Joe is an Oporto fan and there is one conveniently located on Roslyn Street. After that all I had to due is look for some fashionistas with clip boards and even more queued up trying to look like they don't want to get in even though the are exuding the scent of people who desperately do.

Karissa and Lori pulled up in a cab and my heart immediately sank. While I was going for casual chic or dressy bull dyke, these two girls were going for all out glamour! I'm generally the odd one out with my fashion choices and tonight was no exception. Mind you, having these two pretty young things with me guaranteed an easy access to pretty much anywhere I wanted to go. I just decided I would pretend I was the duenna for some rich Eurotarts!

The Beach Haus was a bit boring as there was hardly anyone there and the music was thumping. It reminded me of a highschool dance before the hormones take over with everyone sitting around the edge of the dance floor, hugging the walls and trying to not look uncomfortable. Conversation was difficult so I concentrated on gulping down a few complimentary beers to loosen the tension.

The girls decided this place was boring and we should try to cross the road and get into the Backroom where the Bec and Bridge after party was being held. I had tried all day to get us on the guest list to no avail, although I think we were on the Beach Haus one three times - not that the door dude even looked at his sheet after checking out my hot company.

Karissa, Lori and I were formulating a plan of attack on how to brazen our way through the velvet rope. I was visualising someone coming to our rescue when suddenly, round the corner, comes Kumar! Kumar is a lovely man and the founder of AM Eyewear, a brand that I adore. I have a few pairs of their sunnies and I always feel like a million bucks wearing them. Mind you I have also been trying to convince Kumar to name a pair after me cos I think that would be the peak of chic! I have as many pairs of sunnies as I do shoes and AM's are some of the best.

So now that I've sucked arse for a bit can you design a pair just for me, Kumar? lol

Kumar offered to try to get us in on his guest list, but just as we were all jumping with excitement, his mates came out and were ready to head off. Kumar offered to take us to the Oxford Arts Factory for another after party, but Karissa and Lori were keen to try our luck so we stayed in the Cross.

I was feeling pretty doubtful about our chances at getting in as The Backroom after party as it had just opened a few days earlier and was packed out. There were not one, but two door girls and they were thoroughly going through their list. But never underestimate the power of two well dressed girls. Karissa kept her cool and let the first door girl try to find her name. When she got to the end of the C's without finding Karissa, Karissa suggested she look under K.

The line up was getting impatient and the second door bitch came down the stairs to see what the hold up was.

"Who are you here with?" she asked.

"We are on Nadine's guest list," said Karissa sweetly.

"That's fine, just go in."

Karissa, the sneaky bitch, had overheard the person ahead of us and recognising the name, just added us to the list. Apparently she knew the girl well enough to ring her if there was a problem, but it was nice work regardless!

So we were in the exclusive backroom. It was crowded, dark, cosy and obviously the place to be. We inched closer to the bar and I spotted John Ibrahim in the dark. I didn't know he owned the club, but I've seen him heaps on the news and in the papers. Karissa and Lori had no idea who he was til I mentioned the last season of Underbelly but we all felt it was kinda cool to see the controversial figure in real life.

We got our drinks and then made our way to the back of the bar where there was a bit of standing room and the DJ booth. There were a few couches right beside the booth and my tootsies were coveting a sit down. As soon as the older lady with the turban and her escort vacated, I looked around hoping it was cool to snag the tush cushions. A flashlight shone from the DJ booth and gestured to the seats. We were cool to sit.

I realised after we had made ourselves comfy that the person inviting us to sit down was the owner Ibrahim himself. That was pretty cool! At least we knew we weren't going to get kicked out!

Us girls launched into a big discussion about The Lane and what Karissa was planning to do to expand the site. It has been getting heaps of feedback and she seems ready to take it to a new level with more written content and expanding on the types of celebrations people do when they are in love. I think her site will really go far and it was fun to brainstorm for ideas. Giddy with excitement we decided it was time to do some tequila shots at the little bar near us.

I asked a bloke near the DJ booth to mind our stuff and suddenly John Ibrahim is joking about with us about stealing our stuff.

"Well, you'll probably look better than me in leopard print!" I say, thinking that if he did nick my vintage jacket I'd be pissed but too chicken to do anything about it.

The tequila bar didn't take credit cards so Karissa and I sat back down after Lori volunteered to get drinks at the other bar. The dude who offered to mind our jackets suddenly showed up with a couple of champagnes. I thought he was being a gentleman and carrying them for Lori but they were drinks bought for us. I'm sure he was spewing that I wasn't at the bar so he could get them for the cute young ones. And I'm sure Lori was spewing cos she probably would have been happier sipping free champagne than standing in line for three paid for ones!

Lori got back after a while, looking rather confused as to why we were already imbibing, but we all had a giggle and started knocking back our table of drinks.

Then the dude comes back.

"Us guys are going to a different bar and you girls should come with us."

Without hesitation both girls got up. I'm not sure if I made the whole Underbelly thing quite clear to them, but I am happy to go along for the ride. I'm not a twenty something willowy former model, so I'm pretty sure it's not me they are going to be hitting on, so off we go.

John walks ahead of us chatting to Karissa fronted by body guards. Lori and the guy in the denim jacket follow them with me tagging along. The body guards behind us are like moving Easter Island rocks. Big, solid and sombre.

We strolled up the stairs to the Piano Bar like regulars. Through the main room, to the VIP room to the next VIP room till we were way at the back of the venue near a small door beside the bar. Ibrahim stood with his back to the wall, which is probably a good move considering the family history of being shot. They shouted us round after round of champagne and vodka redbulls. At one point I was out the VIP back room where the bins are, smoking ciggies with Brian McFadden. He is really tall with a big pumpkin sized head. He looked really rough and was talking about having had three Xanax to go to sleep the night before and almost missing his flight, all while eyeing up Karissa and Lori. I'm starting to guess there might have a been a few reasons behind his split with Delta. I think she might be just a wee bit more clean cut than him!

All the guys were busy chatting up the girls giving me plenty of time to contemplate the fact that this will be the last time I go out in Sydney without dressing up. I looked like a complete dickhead and I was easily the shortest person in the room. At least I made John Ibrahim comfortable because he was only slightly taller than me.

At some point in the evening she told him that I was married to the bass player from Grinspoon and he came over putting his arm around my shoulders like a long lost friend. It seemed that he was a Grinspoon fan and had seen them years ago when they were a support for someone.

"I said at the time that I thought those guys would go far and look at them now!"

I told him if he like them, then next time they were playing in the city, I'd get his name on the door. Like he'd need it.

Anyway, not long after that, they found out that both Karissa and Lori, like me, were happily married. Ibrahim thought this was hilarious and told the girls to keep stringing his mate Brian (Denim Brian, not Irish Brian) along but he must have been told by Lori cos he wasn't pleased. During a smoke break I tried to console him about picking up a group of married women. He seemed shocked at his bad odds, but I just thought it was kinda funny.

He bought us another round of drinks and then disappeared and not long after so did we. The girls were starving and I was tired even though I was buzzed from about four cans of Red Bull. Whoever thought of mixing Vodka Red Bulls needs to be whipped.

I put the girls in a cab waving goodbye as we made drunken promises to meet up in the morning knowing full well that there was no way anyone of us was going to be up in time to meet for breakfast before noon!

Fashion Week - Monday Day 2

Like any good holiday, the first full day of mine began at about 12.30 in the arvo after a great sleep in on a comfy bed without any little feet (or big feet) kicking me in the back and stealing my blankets.

I headed up Bourke St. to Oxford and straight down to the Sushi Train which is located in the same strip mall where you can buy my fave chilli corn nuts! I grabbed a magazine and sat down to feast. I had seared salmon, ebi fry and eel. I eyed up a few others like the takoyaki and agedashi tofu but for some reason I was full after three plates. It must have been the excitement of seeing more than one car on the road and those weird tri colour light things they had all over the place. Must be some Christmas decorations they forgot to take down. Not to worry, I knew I still had plenty of sushi eating days ahead of me.

My next stop was some glamour shopping at Big Bargain Clearance, which is a crappy looking little discount shop at the bottom of Oxford St. It is not glamorous and nothing in the shop is over twenty bucks. Most items are selling for ten bucks. I love it cos my pocket book and lifestyle force me to be a quantity vs. quality girl when it comes to most material things in my life. I don't have the energy or ability to really look after anything expensive, I live in a village of two hundred people most of whom are well past the age of retirement and I only get to dress up for Red Carpet Events that Joe invites me to. Besides, now I have lots of pretty things that I can eventually give to my lucky nieces in Canada or bequeath to the possible girl children or baby drag queens my two boys might have in the future. I'll get buried in the few bits of really good stuff!

Anyway, I bought a massive bag of frothy, shiny items and felt totally satisfied for a mere sixty bucks. Mind you by the end of the week, my habit had probably cost me about two hundred bucks and I had to get a new carry case to bring all my new frocks home!

I was supposed to have lunch with a friend but she canceled earlier in the day which kind of sucked. City girls are busy girls and all of mine were either working or laid up in bed due to illnesses. Finally I was able to hook up with Suzi who was getting off work late and was happy to meet me for the first Fashion Show I was able to go to.

(photo from another visit)

I love going out with Suzi cos Suzi always makes me laugh. Well, actually I make jokes about her all the time and she laughs at them for some reason. Maybe she's a masochist. Also, I love going out with Suzi cos at five foot four I tower over her. Even in heels Suzi would be lucky to reach my belly button, so she makes me feel really lithe and leggy. Plus she's always complaining about her fat arse, her crap job and her lack of boyfriend which makes me feel good about...well, I DO have a husband!

While I was getting ready, leggy blonde Heidi, with her new car, fab clothes and great job promotion, rang up. Thank god she's not married or I would not have answered. Heids was heading home for work and was keen to catch up for a few drinks, which suited my timeline perfectly! She met me at Pete's place and we headed down to the East Village Hotel, which was now my new local. It took us much longer than the night before because I had ventured out in high heels and I was well out of practise from my Toronto days or even my Byron Bay days. Since moving to Red Rock, I've been wearing thongs/flip flops for almost every day of the 3.6.5 that a year includes. Except when I dress up and then I slide into a pair of dress thongs which basically means they are clean or new or maybe bedazzled. I did have a couple pairs of high heeled thongs a few years ago which I thought were the perfect answer but were ridiculed by my Gaynadians.

(photo from the Big Day Out)

Anyway, my black hair was coiffed into a 1950's Liz Taylor style and my dress was a babydoll with a lot of boob action and my jacket was leopard print so I felt quite dolled up for someone from a town of 300 people. Unfortunately, most of the 3 million people in Sydney thought I looked like an aging drag queen.

Heidi and I had sipped on our wines and gossiped until it was time to head off. I explained to Heidi that was really appreciative of the lift cos I had been planning to take the train back to the airport to the Overseas Passenger Terminal where the fashion show was being held. Heidi started laughing at me like I told the best joke in the world and only stopped when she saw my blank look.

Apparently the Overseas Passenger Terminal is not the same as the International Departure Lounge, the latter being at Mascot in the outskirts of Sydney and the former is at Sydney Harbour across from the Opera House. Who's to know?!?

Heidi flashed her media pass and drove me right up to the door of the OPT, where I further embarassed myself by telling Bec I was right out the front of Wildflower. Soon Bec was rushing Suzi and I into the venue to watch one of her favorite designers, Gail Soronda.

We had to race in because the show was minutes from starting. The room was all dark except for a shiny white runway cutting through the middle of the room. The risers on both sides of the runway were packed with well dressed fashionistas, the luckiest of whom sat in the first two rows where each seat had a much coveted goody bag full of something it seemed everyone wanted.

At one end was the photographers pit, which was amazing because when a dress came out that would make a good image in a mag the combined clicks of the cameras sounded like thousands of birds taking flight. It was beautiful and possibly addictive. I found it incredibly soothing and you see what celebs like Lindsay, Paris and Britney are willing to do to get some! Unlike at the Arias, none of the cameras were pointed my way, possibly cos I wasn't there with my girl band. Next time.

We tried to do some who's who spotting but I guess there aren't that many famous actresses or singers in Australia at the moment. I did spot Kate Waterhouse, who I had met years ago in the VIP section of the Big Day Out. After the show I said hi to her and she pretended to remember me even though it was obvious she didn't, even though I was there when she and her football playing boyfriend Luke Ricketson were smuggled her backstage to watch silverchair. Anyway, as insincere as she was, she had on a great frock and amazing shoes. She probably took one look at me and thought that my cheap fabric might be catching and just wanted to step away from the possibly contagious poverty.

After the show Suzi and I went for a few drinks at a bar near the OPT because the free bar at the show was already shut, dabnagit! Because we are as povo as we are, we could only afford two before walking up the street in our stupid shoes, which is now what I'm going to call high heels even if it makes me sound like a bloke.

We had delicious late night meal and stopped by the bottle-o to get something nice to share at home. Suzi couldn't have a really late night cos she had to work in the morning so somewhere not long after midnight she decided to head home. Too cheap to pay the two dollar booking fee, she decided to go wait up at the corner of Bourke and Liverpool to catch a cab. I warned her that there was plenty of hookers on the street and she might get mistaken for one. She didn't believe me until the same drive did his third blockie and was calling out the window to talk to her. She rang me on her mobile even though I could see her cos I was sitting on the steps of Pete's Palace to make sure she was okay, although I was distracted by the cops in the other direction that were taking apart a car.

Suzi was decided to it was safer to trot down to me instead of making enough money to get cab fare, silly girl. She so was outraged at the insult of being mistaken for a lady of the night, I didn't have the heart to tell her that not only did the john think she was a whore, he also thought she had a penis as all the prostitutes in the area were trannies.

The cops were now leaving the areas so I flagged them down and asked he he would give Suzi a lift up to Oxford Street where she might have an easier and safer time getting a cab. She jumped in the back only to call me five minutes later full of gleeful excitement. I wasn't sure if it was cos the cop was a hottie or it was cos she was saving money getting home. Perhaps it was a combo.

Feeling great that if my friend was going to get laid that night it was going to be by a sexy policeman who knew she was a woman, rather than some creepy dude cruising for a cock in a frock.

I went back into Pete's and ate corn chips and read magazines till the restavit kicked in. Ready for day 3!

Fashion Week - Sunday Day 1

I have never spent more than a few days away from my boys. Ever. And that's basically fourteen years if you include the time while True was in the womb.

About a month ago, we went up to Bangalow for Pat's birthday and I met this great chick named Bec. We hit it off immediately, bonding over my bright red MAC lipstick that won't come off. She has a lovely little daughter, I have to crazy ass boys. We both have long suffering husbands (haha). And we are both gorgeous hot babes!




After the party they ended up at our holiday house and the drinks flowed. Bec suggested that I come down for Fashion Week. She works for IMG that put it on as Designer Relations Manager and offered to hook me up with a bunch of shows. Of course I said yes!

I booked my tickets with Virgin Australia not only cos I got a good deal but I love the rock and roll style of the airline and the fact that I am in Sydney in an hour. I only have time to read one magazine before we are off the tarmac in Coffs and on the tarmac in Sydney. Love that! It used to be Virgin Blue but they changed the name sometime from when I booked the ticket to now. Have no idea why, but I do like the new uniforms.

I was freaking out about what to take down, cos I knew it was going to be a very stylish event and my basic wardrobe at home is sundresses, t shirts, jeans and thongs. And dress thongs if I'm going to the club. I read my fave clothing blog, The Glamourai, for inspiration. I certainly don't have her budget or her designer wardrobe, but I love the way she mixes all her colours and patterns and throws them together so casually but still manages to look chic. Probably helps that she has a really cute face and is probably really tall and skinny, but at least it gave me some mental direction.

I also had been wanting to dye my hair for ages but had put it off. I was spending hours on the Instyle Hair Generator thing. I was looking for a new hair colour and cut.

So after humming and hawing on what days to go (all of 'em!), what clothes to bring (everything chic and five pairs of shoes!) and what hair to have (black!), I flew down for a Sunday to Saturday holiday. My main wingman was to be Asia, who had also been there that fateful night in Bangalow and shared the hangovers the next day. Unfortunately, in the meantime, Asia had broken her ankle so severely that she was bedridden for over two weeks. It happened on the way home from a wedding reception in the Hunter Valley. The car she was in got bogged so she made a run for it to get to the rescue car so she wouldn't get wet in the rain. While wearing platform D and G's in the mud. I don't even own designer shoes, but if I did they would have at least been in my hands not stepping into the mud so I think in a way she deserved it. But it did put a wrench in my week of girlie fun.

Asia was still recuperating at a friend's house as there was no way for her to get up the four flights of stairs to her cute little bachelorette across the street from Bondi Beach. I was going to stay there but her dumbass brother and his girlfriend lobbed in before me on their way home from Tahiti and then decided to stay an extra day, so I had to ring my gorgeous friend Big Gay Pete (no he's not really big, just tall, but yes he is gay and his name is Pete) and see if I could crash at his place.

Pete gave me his spare bedroom on the main floor which was perfect. I immediately set up camp with frocks and shoes multiplying out of my suitcase to cover the entire floor.

We'd had a few drinks at the East Village Hotel which is just around the corner from Pete's Bourke St. mansion. Full of giddy excitement I got dressed for our next event which was dinner with the loverly loverly loverly Matthew and Darren. They organised for us to meet and have dinner at Zushi cos they know I love sushi!

I hadn't seen the boys in ages and it was great to catch up. They have two cute lil maltese puppies, Sammy and Molly. Well, they are grown up dogs but so tiny! Poor Sammy has had cancer and had part of his tongue cut out and a bad reaction to the chemo that they are giving him so it's been quite a stressful time for the family. Luckily, it appears that he is on the right track now and on the road to recovery.

The food was amazing and I think we had some crazy drinks too cos I remember feeling like I probably needed a nap after that meal. Instead Pete and I crossed the road and went to Stonewall, Sydney's oldest and self proclaimed Premier Gay Venue. They have a really boring looking webpage, but the bar is heaps of fun and even has a Male Box where you can send mail to hot guys and see if they respond. Anyway, on this night they had a drag show with a funny hostess and three ladies vying for the spotlight of the night. There was one with red hair that was so bad it was funny. She looked like she'd be more at home giving ten dollar wristies in the back alley, but she was so excited to be there it made up for her lack of style or talent. But really, a shiny shift dress says Year Ten Formal or Bad Katy Perry rip off, rather than over the top extravaganza. Meh.

I was exhausted early from a large shot of pure homo energy after months without and had to retire early. My darling Pete walked me safely to his place around midnight or one, tucking me in and telling me a quick bedtime story before heading out to make sure that dawn light broke with companionship.

I fell into a deep sleep in my big soft pillow filled bed, dreaming of what to wear the next day to my first day of Fashion Week!

Lemon Salsa Picante Goodness!

I'm not sure about other people, but if I'm doing mindless munching I have to be crunching. Not to say I haven't enjoyed a bowl of cheap chocolate ice cream sprinkled with dutch cinnamon, but my fave nibblies are savory, salty, spicy and CRUNCHY! Give me popcorn, give me chips, give me nachos - I'll eat em all!

But my fave fave fave since I first ate them when I was eighteen and a freshie in Toronto is the Corn Nut. And the best corn nut in the world is the Chilli Corn Nut. Corn nuts were a rarity when I first moved to Australia but then about ten years ago they started popping up. Most of them were brittle versions that I suspect were deep fried or something cos they just weren't right. Yes I'm that picky.

Every now and then I find the RIGHT version. Not BBQ, not plain, not Cheddar Cheese, but Chilli...mmm. A slight tang of lemon, a little hit of chilli... suck suck suck, crunch crunch crunch. I even found some in a fruit and veggie shop on Orlando Street in Coffs Harbour and bought them regularly until they (gasp) replaced them with a crap brand. Now I boycott the shop altogether.

The latest bag of perfection comes to me via Surry Hills. Someone out there must know the IGA located in that mall at the bottom of Oxford Street. When you go in, parallel to the entry is an aisle with all the nuts and dried fruit. Go get the EGE Fine Foods Toasted Corn Chilli Nuts. Then get another bag. And another. You will be addicted.

Then go get them in bulk and send me half. I will pay for delivery.