For close to a decade now I have been struggling with the reality that is the crazy, ridiculously curly frizz that lives on top of my head (… known to some, as my hair). Some time in my pre-teen years I discovered the world of GHD (fun fact #1: acronym for Good Hair Day), and well, my ‘hair’ and I, haven’t really looked back since. So much so, that on an alarming regular basis, people who think they know me through and through don’t even know the truth about my ‘hair’. With a never-ending desire to create the perfect beach-wave/I-woke-up-like-this/al-natural/effortless/careless/maybe-she’s-born-with-it, hair situation it became apparent very early on that no excessive amount of ‘beach spray’ or ‘texture hair gel’ was going to give me my desired look. My GHD and I have been in a long-term, committed relationship ever since.
Ahh… Melbourne Spring Fashion Week, seven whole days of nothing but nonstop outfit changes, running from event to event, eating (or sometimes not eating) at the strangest of times, and unintentionally collecting an alarming amount of identical goodie bags… Although demanding, extravagant and ridiculously draining, it was easily the best week of my entire year and as such, I kind of wouldn’t have had it any other way (#VAMFF I am totally ready for you).
En route to the world’s most luxurious hotel, the Burj Al Arab in Dubai, we had no idea that a one-hour cab ride would have us experiencing such beauty. With elevators made entirely of gold, never ending ceilings that continuously change colour, unexpected aquariums, and some of the most magical, photogenic sunsets I have ever seen, (Melbourne you better lift your game otherwise I may never come home) we were in all sorts of foody/hotel/life-is-totally-great heaven. We dined at Japanese restaurant Junsui inside Burj Al Arab, which was covered entirely with Swarovski crystals and acted as the perfect backdrop for the ridiculous sunset/palm-tree-appreciation views. It really was a ‘Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas any more’ moment.
As I write this post, pool bound with not a worry, textbook or scheduled commitment in sight, I can’t help but continue to reflect on the beauty that was the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque. Whether it was the ridiculously hot climate or the possibility of experiencing some kind of magical self-induced mirage, either way, I was in total awe not only of its physical beauty, but the calming effect it was having on its observers. With almost every woman in black and every man in white, the beauty of the building was free from human distractions, and spoke entirely for itself. With the Arabian sun shining strong onto the Mosque, reflections bounced around, glistening and sparkling like nothing I had ever seen before. No photograph, well-constructed sentence or video could ever entirely explain the magic, tranquility or serenity, I, and I am sure many others have experienced at The Grand Mosque, this is simply something you MUST see with your own eyes. AND so please let the following images be nothing more than a visual reminder of a place you must one day visit, if ever given the opportunity.
After flying more than half way to Europe, seated next to the cutest, crying devil baby, which made me question my entire 10-year life plan (…babies – maybe they are not for me?), having eaten minimal plane food (cheese and crackers don’t count) and having experienced minimal plane sleep (honestly felt like I had more limbs than the average person on that 14 hour flight…), it was safe to say – I was MORE than ready to land in the Arabian desert that is ABU DHABI. Unfortunately my entrance was slightly less graceful than the Sex and the City Girls. Having entered into one of their monthly sand storms, I was covered from the toes up in sand, fatigued and over-heated in clothes, but it didn’t take long to transform my sleepy self into the glamorous, high-maintenance traveller I know I am. A good 14-hour sleep, my beloved straightener and multiple meals at the breakfast buffet had me feeling good as new. I was ready to take on this incredibly city.
WHAT A WEEK! #VAMFF Fashion Week has well and truly taken off, with only a couple of days remaining, I thought I best drop a few lines over here to keep you all sufficiently informed. Between more outfit changes, more bubblies & more canapé-sized mushroom risotto meals in the last two days than I’ve experienced in my entire life, it’s no surprise that the only things keeping me remotely sane are the stunningly flawless outfits making their way through the runway and onto the streets. All the late nights, early mornings, emergency shopping escapades, and milk-less coffee moments are so worth it for that designer fash-un fix. Below I’ve included some details of the runway shows I’ve seen so far, as well as what I wore (because, Melbourne. Street. Style) so have a little scroll, and let me know which outfit you preferred below! For real-time runway footage head to my INSTAGRAM or @WestfieldDoncaster Instagram page (as last night I took over their account!)
GoOoOD early EVENING everybody! Apologies for my somewhat unintentional hiatus this last week, I have somehow managed to already fall eight [class] hours behind at University and it is only week one, so as you can see, I am off to a flying start. Smashing goals even. Etcetera. Etcetera. But moving along to far more important things like this Parisian-inspired-sailor-feel-funky-little-look courtesy of That Online Boutique. I don’t usually wear tops that are overly figure-hugging because I don’t think it really suits me as much as tops with more movement (possibly due to my lack of lady lumps…) but there was something really appealing about this matching stripe-y duo which caught my fancy and made for the perfect outfit for a night on the town with my lovely ladies.
SO I really just cannot even with the fact that not only is it already March (?!?!) BUT my fourth year of University starts in T-minus two days and I could not be less physically/emotionally/spiritually but mainly just psychologically prepared for this years academic expectations… But before I begin attempting to navigate my way around textbooks heavier than me, I plan to enjoy my last few days of freedom in the only way I know how – frolicking around the Melbourne coffee scene without a problem/textbook/academic-expectation in sight! AND so yesterday I did just that… The fact that I got to wear my new white-wash/denim-fringed Camixa Shirt and literal mom-jeans (as in, they are quite literally my mums jeans) was simply just a bonus. As much as I am all about things that are different/unique/individual/usually-vintage – every now and then, you just need to return to them basics – this shirt sort of fits both of those categories. It is the simplicity of a clean white shirt, but the denim fringe detail + crinkled material kind of just makes it amazing, so yet again I have fallen in love with a shirt. It is the best kind of love if you ask me.
Dressing with my mood is something I have done for as long as I can remember. A type of dressing, where weather, location or even common etiquette are all completely irrelevant, and all that is left is my raw need to wear what I wan-na wear at this exact moment. The. End. It is actually somewhat of a rebellious sense of fashion, where I see no geographical limits and am convinced the weather, simply – does not apply to me.
Here is somewhat of a delayed photo-guide of Noosa-life… I was supposed to post this a couple of days ago but since being back in the real world I’ve been bombarded with nothing but work commitments, compulsory shopping excursions & fashion events (… or really just event… watch this space…). And so a few days late, but none-the-less entertaining, here is a little run down of what you should do, eat, ride (yes ride…) and look at whilst visiting Noosa (…quite possibly the best holiday destination in Australia… just saying).