Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Monday, March 29, 2010

Quelqu’un m’a dit (Carla Bruni) – translation « Nichita Stanescu

Quelqu’un m’a dit (Carla Bruni) – translation « Nichita Stanescu:

"I’m told that our lives aren’t worth much,
They pass like an instant, like wilting roses.
I’m told that time slipping by is a bastard
Making its coat of our sorrows.
Yet someone told me…
That you still loved me
Someone told me…

That you still loved me.
Well ? Could that be possible?
I’m told that fate makes fun of us,
That it gives us nothing and promises everything,
When happiness seems to be within our reach,
We reach out and find ourselves like fools.
Yet someone told me…

That you still loved me
Someone told me…
That you still loved me.
Well ? Could that be possible?
Well ? Could that be possible?

So who said that you still loved me?
I don’t remember any more, it was late at night,
I can still hear the voice, but I can no longer see the face,
“He loves you, it’s secret, don’t tell him I told you.”
You see, someone told me

That you still loved me
Did someone really tell me?
That you still loved me
Well, could that be possible?

I’m told that our lives aren’t worth much,
Passing in an instant, like wilting roses,
I’m told that time slipping by is a bastard,
Making its coat of our sadnesses.

That you still loved me
Someone told me…
That you still loved me.
Well ? Could that be possible?"

Attack of the Prophits




Vogue Nippon..

Vogue Nippon








Daria Frolicking in the Golden Field..


Ralphie....



Sunday, March 28, 2010

Kurt Geiger


What I would do to have these on my feet....
Ralphie...




I Dont Care


I don't care that you don't love each other anymore.

I don't care that you might want to lunch at the Y now.

I don't care that you've packed up all her things in a little room like you think that will take away all the pain.

I don't care that you over compensate by telling me you love me 4000 times a day.

I don't care that your in denial thinking this wasn't happening.

I don't care about your new apartment or how nice your balcony is.

I don't care that you've both got depression at the same time.

I don't care that you keep changing your mind about whether you will get back together or not.

I don't care that I can't remember a whole week in my life when you were happy.

I don't care that you thought moving here would make you happy and fill a hole.

I don't care who started it or who is making it worse.

I don't care that he's sending you horrid messages.

I don't care that you think you can never see her face anymore.

I don't care that the thought of her sitting on the same chair that you are sitting on makes you want to reach into your chest and pull out your heart.

I don't care that you think he doesn't want to see you face anymore.


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All I care about is when you are both happy whether that's together or apart.
Ralphie....


Friday, March 26, 2010

I want to love and live like the ancients.
















It’s difficult to describe that moment when you connect with a piece of art. I get it with words but I know it can happen with music or photography or sculpture. I’m talking about that moment when you engage with somebody else’s work and it’s describing your own life. To be clearer it’s the perfect break up song, the one where ALL the lyrics match instead of the one where you have to pretend you were in love with a girl named Delilah. (P.S. Best ever break up song- You Am I, Heavy Heart, seriously.)

We can all agree that the subject matter of a large majority of creative endeavors is love. It’s a topic that we can relate to, in one-way or another. For me it’s the heartbreak stories. I have this habit of reading a book or listening to a song or looking at a photo that’s a positive representation of love and thinking, “yeah I get it, it’s cute, and now ‘let me count the ways’ it could fail”. It’s the lost love that speaks to me. There’s just something so genuine about torment.

There’s a melancholic beauty to reading a verse of text that describes the precise way in which you feel like total shit. When it seems like whoever wrote it must have had their heart ripped out in exactly the same manner as you.

I think the reason I relate to these bleeding hearts is because I know what it’s like to write about being hurt. That little blinking cursor is ready to hear what you have to say. There’s nobody to offer clichéd advice or question your decision making skills after you drunk dialed someone that everyone knows doesn’t want you. You get to choose all the dramatic words that you like and to act like it’s the end of the world. You are able to say everything you never said and everything that wasn’t listened to. It’s cathartic and there’s nothing else like it.

Recently I haven’t been able to find a lot of inspiration for my personal writing. And I can’t help but wonder if the writer’s block is a symptom of too many healthy relationships. I am happy. It doesn’t seem to require much embellishment and you don’t get to use nearly enough swear words when you’re writing about loving life.

I can archive nearly every piece of my private writing in relation to a boy. One lover was even something of a sick muse who treated me very badly and provided me with words like ammunition.

Does this mean my writing is only useful as a healing tool? Does it mean I whine too much? I probably do. But I miss feeling the pen like an extension of myself and the ink like my own sweat and tears. Am I a literary masochist?

It can be incredibly difficult to cast your gaze outwards and upwards. For example it’s sad but it’s often much easier to remember the worst thing a person ever said to you rather than the best. It’s even more miserable that it’s always easier to remember the worst thing a person’s ever done to you rather than the worst thing we ourselves have done to another. We’re so intent on our own suffering.

And then being in a good relationship is completely terrifying because there’s no one left to blame. We collect all these bad experiences over the years and then all of a sudden it can seem so difficult to be loved. Because maybe you haven’t had enough practice.

I see those that I love giving pieces of themselves away to people that don’t deserve them. When do you get to the point where there aren’t enough pieces left to make a whole?

I guess I’m writing this to say there’ll always be a story about a broken heart, but I wish it never had to be yours.

So you too are a fan of the modern woman, that poor hysterical little female, who, in somnambular pursuit of her dream, her masculine ideal, fails to appreciate the best man and who, amid tearful fits, neglects her Christian duties every day, cheating and being cheated on, constantly seeking and choosing and rejecting, never happy never making anybody happy, and cursing fate instead of calmly admitting: ‘I want to love and live like the ancients’.

(Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, Venus in Furs)




Thursday, March 25, 2010

Jeffrey Campbell, Take 2.

So in a tragic turn of events my last pair of Jeffrey Campbell wedges were foolishly left in a taxi on their first ever outing. So to whoever found my size 8 black suede beauties... you're welcome. Fuck you.

So this is my second attempt at Jeffrey Campbell shoes and hopefully it ends better. The Mary Roks were sold out and anyway I couldn't bear to pay up all over again so I ordered these:



























































I also have a close eye on these for winter...





















Wednesday, March 24, 2010

loverrrrs

Mama and Papa, back in the day.
They lived on a houseboat! So cute.

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Daisy.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Monday, March 22, 2010

Anna Dello Russo




























































































































































Vogue Nippon Fashion Editor.
Jaw Dropping, Debt Aspiring Collection of Clothes
"You see the runway looks-they look fasntastic! Why change?? I like to take the dream and put it on me."
(Grazia interview)
Ralphie...

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

2010 SS


































































































































D&G reinvented the Bloomers, Givenchy had everyones feet wrapped like Egyptian mommies, Versace Produced beautiful patterns and the most drewl worthy shoes I've seen in ages and Alexander McQueens last collection was Star Trek meets under the sea.

Opulence is back. FUCK off recession...

Ralphie.....

PS. Georgie Jagger looks banging inthe Versace SS 2010 Campaign.

Friday, March 12, 2010

I want I want I want....






























































































































































Is it really too much to ask for all of these for easter???? I can't eat the egg so i think this is reasonable...
Ralphie..

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

VICELESS

THE BET:



What is it? 2 months without our food vices.

What's at stake? $300 a piece.

When does it finish? 11th May 2010.


THE DETAILS:



Madeline and Bam Bam-


NO TAKEAWAY FOOD; no McDonalds, KFC, PIZZA, Subway, Fish & Chips, Hungry Jacks, Grilld, unhealthy Uni food, Bakery, Coldrock, Baskins etc, 7eleven, Oporto, deep fried Sushi Train or yakitori sticks, no hot chips of any kid, no asian takeaway of any kind.



Holly-


NO DIARY; no milk, cheese, ice-cream, cake, chocolate etc.



Jet-


NO REFINED SUGAR; no lollies, ice-cream, cake, chocolate, soft drink apart from coke zero or soda water, no sugar in coffee or tea.



THE RULES:


We are running on an HONESTY SYSTEM. However spies are in place and we will catch you cheating. The consequences will be forfeiting your $300 and receiving a punch in the crotch from all competitors. Apart from sneaking food, all's fair in love and war. There is nothing to stop anyone from,

a.) getting a large pizza delivered to the Powerhouse

b.) taking Jet to the cadbury factory

or c.) covering a male model in body chocolate and leaving him in Holly's room.



Outside bets are encouraged.

MAY THE BEST MAN (OR WOMAN) WIN.





Some thinspiration....



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