Scent

The other day I discovered that one of my newest friends from Sydney (originally a New Zealander, go figure) lost his sense of smell a few years ago thanks to a head injury involving a skateboard, a car dressed up as a cow in the Undie 500, too much beer and no helmet - luckily his taste wasn't affected, bar the odd herb or two.

For me this was deeply disturbing. To say that smell is important to me is a gross understatement. My sense of smell is a keen one and (excluding coffee) is one of the simplest pleasures I find in life - I find gratitude, and basically just pure happiness, in sometimes the most mundane and 'weird' (according to my boyfriend) smells in day-to-day life. I couldn't dream of losing it.

My all time favourite smells that can make me smile in a heartbeat are,

1. Hot tar when it has just rained. The smell of summer rain-showers, running and dancing around in the rain in your bikini at the ripe age of 10, with the delicate steam rising off the tar from the cooling raindrops.

2. Freshly washed sheets, dried in the sun. Nothing beats hopping into bed with crisp white sheets and that smell of laundry powder teamed with the indescribable smell that is sun-dried clothes, sheets and towels.


3. Sun-blocked skin in summer. The smell of sunblock itself I'm sure evokes fond memories in everyone, but I also love that dewy smell once it has soaked into your skin after you've baked yourself for over half an hour.

4. Freshly baked bread. Well this is more freshly baked/cooked anything, including but not limited to, bacon, toast, coffee, cookies and my all-time favourite banana cake.

5. Pledge. They say aromas most readily send us into recollections of the past - this certainly rings true of the multi-purpose spray Pledge. I spent years waking up on a Saturday morning to my mum Pledging the whole house, and now just a whiff takes me straight back to sleep-ins at her house, reading Goosebump books in bed and eating banana and honey on crumpets for breakfast.

6. Vanilla. Hands down my all time favourite smell. Candles, perfume, creme brulee, body lotion. Anything vanilla infused. Yum.

Up up and away

They remind me of childhood birthday parties; of fairy floss and carnivals; having too much fun trying to pop and squish them by jumping up, down and all around on them; trying with all your might to blow them up, losing your breath and nearly fainting in the process. For me, balloons evoke happiness, freedom, love, adventure and solitude all at the same time, but I mostly love them just because they make me smile, no matter how crap I'm feeling.

Cosy as can be

Images courtesy of The Sartorialist

It's been raining non-stop now for three days and two nights. It's freezing and I'm excited - I'm over summer (and this season they call autumn in Sydney, which is really summer all over again) already, the sweat, the humidity, the fake tan; it's finally time to bring out the winter woollies!

It's something I actually miss from the -14 degree New York winter - the fact you seriously needed to wear a beanie/beret/knitted-by-your-gran hat that covered your ears because otherwise they'd fall off (instead of just wearing one to 'accessorise'); actually needing proper, beautiful leather gloves lined with cashmere, because if they were lined with synthetic you'd have numb fingers as soon as you walked out the door; and sloshing around in gumboots because they were a basic necessity (walking to work in six-inches of snow without them is not a nice feeling), not just because they're the latest celebrity trend.

I love getting all cosy in my coats, beanies, scarves and thick woolly stockings, I can't wait until the rain stops and the chill sets in for good.

Pretty in Pink

I stumbled across this article the other day, from the San Fransisco Chronicle. It perfectly sums up why I still love pink so much, and why it will always be one of my favourite colours.

"The shyest color and the boldest, pink has soul.

It's the color of the underside of a twilight cloud. A puff of cotton candy at a summer fair. The inside of a seashell. A baby's ear. The nose of a kitten.

The rose of a shy admirer. The blush of a flirt.

So much more than merely a pale version of red, the color pink can be innocent or it can be sleazy, cheap as a street-bought carnation, precious as a damask rose. Both colors denote love, but while red is direct, hot and passionate, pink is flirtatious and romantic.

Pink is charming.

Artists will tell you that pink is one of the hardest colors to get right. Just a touch too much one way or another, and pink is nauseating where it might be soothing, artificial where it might be as natural as the dawn......

Somewhere back in time, pink became the universal color of girls, the hue of the feminine, the antithesis of blue. This led to the term "pink-collar," pertaining to jobs "traditionally" held by women.

The sweet and playful side of pink makes it a signifier of fun and kid stuff. Bubble gum and strawberry milk shakes. Pink lemonade. Hello Kitty. Half the contents of a box of Good and Plenty.

Grown-ups learned to have fun with pink, too, in the form of sweet cocktails like Cosmopolitans or sloe gin fizzes, Pink Squirrel and Pink Ladies (gin, grenadine and egg white, shaken and strained before serving), pink champagne and rose wine.

Of course, too many of any of the above will have you seeing pink elephants, the traditional hallucinations of inebriates, whatever the color of their drink of choice.

Pink can be an adult color, with its sexual connotations, whispering of the secret places of both a man and a woman.

In the language of flowers, pink roses mean perfect happiness, "please believe me," joy, grace and poetic romance, whereas a pink carnation means "I'll never forget you." - Joe Brown

Twinkle twinkle

I love coming home to our magical room with fairy lights delicately draped over paintings and photographs on our long white wall. Like little tea candles placed on shelves, dressing tables and desks, fairy lights add a girly, timeless and beautiful touch - making even the most mundane rooms look like a fairy tale.

Help

Moving to a new city, while fun, can be extremely difficult and frustrating. You've left your favourite hairdresser behind, your trusted waxer, your family doctor. When you have a toothache and urgently need a dentist, how the hell are you supposed to know who to go to?

This problem was never an issue for me in New York thanks to an excellent website that acted like my best friend, mother and personal tour guide all at once.

nymag.com would tell me at the click of a button whether a certain beauty salon was in-fact worth going to, it told me which hairdresser to try out on a budget and still walk out looking a million bucks. Which cafe in Soho does the best bloody mary? Easy. What mobile phone provider is cheapest for international calling? Simple. Need a dentist? No problem, type in which borough you live in and voila, a trusted dentist reviewed, tried and tested with their prices, location, hours and even pictures all laid out for you.

Magazines can only help so far (we all know most of what's reviewed is to 'please' the advertiser), and sure friends can point you to their favourite manicurist, gym, ballet studio - but it's always nice to have options to pick from, with all the comparables set out nicely for your comparing.

Please someone start up a Sydney version.

Kaleidoscope eyes

Our roof. A Bolex camera. A kaleidoscope. A seven-year-old niece. Our flatmate Charlotte. Her filming, my photography, Joel's set design, lots of chocolate and patience - the beginning of a music video is born (it seems we live in a bit of a creative household).

All images are copyright of the photographer.

Dusk

Here's a bit of a peek at a shoot my boyfriend and I collaborated on - a couple of unused photographs.

Photography: Bruce Raubenheimer. Styling/Art Direction: Olivia Fleming. Model: Greta from Chadwick Models.

All images are copyright of the photographer.

Get high

Prada Fall 09

Claudia, the very lovely fashion director at Harper's Bazaar sauntered into work the other day wearing tiny denim cut-offs and some very enviable thigh-high black suede boots. Stevie, the fashion editor at Russh, wore her thigh-highs throughout RAFW. Then of course there's Prada, Rodarte and those Margiela thigh-highs on Carine Roitfeld.

I've always thought of thigh-high boots as a bit trashy, a bit prostitute chic, a bit of a no-go really. Clearly there is something I'm missing.

I guess this thigh-highness does inspire me to start a 100-squats-a-day routine immediately, but it also leaves me wondering; how do you look less Julia Roberts in Pretty Women and more Barberella? Jeans are key, steer clear of anything resembling a patent leather finish and let suede (à la Marc Jacobs) be your new best friend.

Update (27/5/09): We just got the Prada thigh-high gumboots (above) into to work and I have no words. I'm also rendered speechless thanks to the thigh-high Hermes suede numbers staring at me, and the fact they are situated next to a black Birkin doesn't help matters. I have major boot envy.

Marc Jacobs Fall 09

Rodarte Fall 09

Photos courtesy of Garance Dore

Show your stripes

Chanel Cruise 2010

They might be unforgiving at times, but thanks to Chanel's Cruise 2010 collection I'm dreaming of bold sailor stripes, the French Riviera and effortlessly chic Parisian girls sipping espresso in the springtime.

In fear of resembling Where's Wally or possibly a Zebra, I'm not sure I could go all out with head-to-toe stripe mixing, but whether it's a striped tee poking out from under a jacket or a sailor girl-inspired cosy cream and navy knit, I'll definitely be wearing a touch of this updated classic through winter.