Thursday, December 30, 2010


The end of a year and the dawn of a new one (not to mention the end of a year filled with graduation, 18th birthdays, drivers licenses and other adolescent beginnings) calls for sentimentality. A whole decade is over. I'm (hopefully...probably) going to uni next year. I'm turning 18 next year. It calls for a post filled with bullshit and sappy thank yous and expressions of affection, so for the majority of my readers - you don't need to read any further beyond the outfit because it's going to be me harking back to 13 year old Jessica, giving out dedicatiOnNnnzZz on my blog).

Khaki maxi skirt: $10 random shop (called @Topshop....i saw another one called "At Zara". DODGY AUSSIES)
Bicycle singlet: Cotton On men's (the boys in the pictures below all have the same tank, we bought it at the same time, how cute are we)
Clutch: Thrifted
Belt: Thrifted
Photos: Theresa from Somewhere, Someday
My face: Slightly tipsy + heaps sleepy.

2010 was the year I pretty much grew up a whole lot. It sounds cheesier than a bowl of Easy mac (WHICH IS FUCKING GODLY), but it's true. It's the year I graduated. The year I sat through my HSC and survived it. The year that saw me take a hypocritical turn from alcohol-fearing dismissal to booze-embracing inebriation. The year I didn't listen to my parents very often (which is not good, I'm not proud of it). The year I lost my job for being a bitch. The year I bought floral Docs. The year I discovered the joys of Milan Kundera and the wonders of Kings of Convenience. The year I met a whole lot of awesome people. The year I went from Hip-ster music to Hip-Hop, and back. The year I bought a 50mm. The year I learnt a Korean Dance. The year I spent my afternoons in libraries and McDonalds, and on early morning buses to sneak back home. The year I fell down the crack between the train and the station platform. The year I spent in phone conversations to lovely people listening to me whine about my silly little life.

2011 will be better. There's no use thinking negatively because negative thinking attracts negative .....I don't know. It's late. I haven't showered. I smell. 2011 resolutions:

1. Be less of a bitch.
3. Be less of a bitch.

Resolutions never stick. But maybe, "be less of a bitch" is simple enough to stick.

I hope you guys have a brilliant NYE (and a safe one), and an even better 2011. I hope 2011 is kind to you. Thank you so much for reading my blog, coming up to me on the street to say hi, sending me drawings, sending me such lovely e-mails. I will reply to every comment on this post. You readers make my day.


And throughout it all, there were people who sat by and watched me trip over my own feet (literally, this ain't no sentimental metaphor bullshit) and instead of helping me up, would instead point and laugh at me. And I love them for it. Because even though half the time was spent teasing my "petite" size, or my lack of coordination, or my pouty lips, or my "ganga" ness, they're still there. Whether that be consoling me for the 5823906826th time, laughing at me, or giving me a good hug, or tolerating my endless stream of shitty attempts at rapping and my overuse of the phrase "cool beans". I don't tell my friends I appreciate them enough, so this is another endeavour to try and let you all know how much I really do, appreciate you guys. If I didn't include you here, please blame my shit goldfish memory, and know that I do appreciate you too. Everyone here has affected my 2010 for the better, like hot pants. Hot pants make everything better.

The boys in the above photo: you guys are fucking amazing (+ Aaron and Simon who weren't at this particular BBQ EDIT: SIMON SAYS "I WAS AT THE BBQ YOU DRUNK BITCH" Oops.). I would never have discovered the wonders and horrors of Jersey Shore and GTL without you. I would be shitter at gabbering than I already am. My nights would be spent Strathfield-less and my clothes would not be smelling of cigarette smoke all the goddamn time. Peter (on the far right) upon taking the photo exclaimed "MY CHICKEN AND I ARE GOING TO BE FAMOUS". That's why I love you, Peter. Midnight cruising and Like a G6 and that OMG SHAWTY'S SUCH A FREAK SONG, and all the other hip hop you guys got me listening to. You make my nights brighter. I'm such a lucky girl to be friends with such intensely attractive males, Kevin, James, Roger and Peter (and Aaron)

They only get a massively long paragraph because they were present at the time of my brainwave of having a huge blog post dedicated to my friends.

Aaron & Tim (first and last on the first row) - I know you don't like having your photo taken, so I chose one that doesn't show your face. Kids from other grades apparently think we're going out. We are sOoOoO kyot together. You and Tim are my favourite gay parents. I miss hanging out at your place even though all you guys fucking do is play piano and Starcraft. Tim - you're the most Asian non-Asian I've met, ever. Miss you, and will catch up with you when you get back from Durras or God-knows-where.

Shirley (middle female) - NO WORDS FOR YOU. You know how much you mean to me. If anyone who's not Shirley is reading - she's fromt he grade below and our friendship started from my stalking her on facebook. You're going to be so successful, and your talent blows my pants off every day of my life bro.


All the Grade 2011s here: You guys are adorable, and I envy your grade and I WISH I WAS IN YOUR GRADE BECAUSE YOUR GRADE IS AMAZING.

Jess G in particular:
(10:11 PM) Guzzz: Blog about my sexy arms
(10:12 PM) Guzzz: Night mother fucker. Msg me tomororow if u want to meet up and eat meat

She has sexy arms.

Linda; you're a fucking wild child. Let's kiss again sometime. You have the best style, and for some reasno we don't talk much but I'm still so comfortable to tell you anything. P.S. I'm borrowing your ACNE's, bitch. Jokes, your feet are too big LOL. But you're super fun, and super lovely.

Bob Waffle: You and your Hurlstoners are super hip and I vaguely remember being told to say something about how cool you are and shit or how great you are. You like balls. You're pretty sweet as a friend, bro.

Gordon/Filip/Hubert: Thank you for always being there to listen to me whine. I can tell you this shit over the phone so ...ya....

Monkey/Siagra/Simon: Sorry for slapping you all the way back in year 8 or whatever. You're a super-smoot acne-free BAMF, and you're a really chill guy. I still have your notes on my phone from April. Love you. "WAAT U MEAN MUTA FUKA"

Jimmy: I don't even know how I became friends with you but you're a fucking boss. That's all I need to say. I'm running out of time and I'm talking to you on MSN so ill just tell you there wtf.

Grass Gnomes: It's a shame we don't talk anymore but you are still the smartest, and loveliest bunch of girls I've met. We will still keep in touch I swear. Even if van is in Melb. We'll skype that shit. GG 4EVZZZZZ BRO. Maybe we can make gnocchi at mine sometime again, because when Joanna makes that shit it blows my mind. P.S. You're all so talented and you'll be so so successful.

+ Alex Chan because you are fucking hot and shit and you get a whole banner to yourself. You've listened to me be a bitch the whole year. You're the only person I know who's half a good a stalker as I am. See you tomorrow IS THIS ENOUGH FOR YOU FUCKER
+ P. Liao, you are one super funky monkey. Sorry I couldn't be bothered getting a pic to you. We go way back AYE. Coffee soon. Stop getting worn out by work. It's cool we're still friends :) Sorry for eating all your ice cream


Sunday, December 26, 2010

A very sweaty Christmas

I spent my Christmas day at my best friend, Shirley's house, whom you all should be very familiar with now - seeing how much I namedrop her all over this blog, because one day she's going to be some hot shot director and in ten yaers time I can be all like, 'remember when I threw you all over my blog? You can't forget me. Buy me shoes with your millions of dollars.'

Dress: Vintage, courtesy of THE ROBOT NINJAS
Shoes: Dodgy $20 ones from Lovely Shoes
Bracelet/watch: Thrifted
Rings: Lovisa
Belt: Thrifted

Most of the day was spent making macaroons, eating them, taking 50 000 photos of her dog Waffles, who decided to be a smart little shit and dig a hole and run away later during the night, watching 500 Days of Summer, sweating, and playing Plants vs. Zombies in her air conditioned little brother's room. All up, a pretty solid Chrsitmas. And I'm pretty knackered so goodnight, internet. Merry Christmas.

2. Hi there my BFFFFFFFFLZZZZZZZZZZZZ dog, Waffles.
3. Hi there all you stylish little hipster friends still in high school (ha, have fun guys).

P.S. I watched Black Swan, and crazy brilliant. I'm just going to throw the word, 'lesbians' out there, and you'll understand when you watch the movie. Highlight of my life.

All outfit photos taken by Shirley C., ring shots + group shot taken by Tiff Wang

Saturday, December 25, 2010


Merry Christmas, lovely readers. Whether your holiday is spent neck deep in snow getting your balls frozen off, or spent with a beer in one hand, a pair of tongs in the other and your feet in a pool - have a very happy Christmas. I hope you all get what you wanted for Christmas, and if not, there's always next December. :)

And if you need a helping hand to get festive - i made a few Christmas mixtapes last year, right over here. Be safe and expect an outfit post within the next couple of days. Me, on Christmas morning in bed, not being able to fall asleep -

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

The Bride Whisperer

This editorial made the lesbian in me come out and fornicate with everything and everyone (everyone female) within a 100m radius. The concentration of stereotypical male fantasies in this one editorial produced enough sexual tension/energy to power a small baby electronic elephant.

I seriously find this editorial so brilliant. Everything from the half naked, bare-breasted brides, to the dirty tained tulle and the garters and the evil bride/good bride thing. This is possibly the most pornographic thing that has ever been on my blog, and possibly the most pornographic/impossible set of engagement/wedding photos ever to be taken. I don't think I'm even typing coherently anymore, the amount of saliva dripping out of my mouth onto the keyboard makes it that hard to type.

Edita Vilkeviciute, Abbey Lee by Mario Sorrenti for Interview December 2010 // Images from The Fashion Spot

And if you thought it didn't get any better, watch them breathe in each others faces being all sexy and shit:

Interview Magazine: On Set with Mario Sorrenti from Heather Sommerfield on Vimeo.

And this. NYE DRESS ANYONE? It's like there was a supernova within a dragon. I'd outshine the fireworks. Speaking of NYE, it's coming way too fast. 2010 came and left too fast. So much happened but there's not much to show for it, everything was kind of a blur.

'The Gold Rush' Mathilde Frachon by Benjamin Kanarek for Harper's Bazaar China Janauary 2011


Tuesday, December 14, 2010

A partridge in a pear tree

My friend Theresa is sort of an amazeballs organization extroadinaire, and thanks to her we now have an annual Kris Kringle/christmas dinner at her house. Last year's outfit. Basically just a lot of engorging yourself on home made food to the point of the skin on your stomach pulling taut like a drum and a slim teenage boy dressing up as a very unconvincing Santa and handing presents out.

Wizard coat/dressing gown: Thrifted
Tiered red dress: Thrifted
Bag: Thrifted
Socks: Dad's
Glitter brogues: Forever 21

I was the laziest little slug the morning of the dinner and my friend Tim spent about 2 hours on the phone convincing me to wake the fuck up and haul ass and get ready. I went from lying on the bed, to having half my body on the floor and my legs on the bed, completely lying on the floor, to "I can't get up, I'm lying under the bed."
"No you're not, I don't believe you."
"Tim trust, I am."
"I bet you one leg and one arm is under the bed."
" did you know"
"I'm too hungry."
"I'll buy you food."
"I'm too sleepy."
"I don't care."
"I'm too dirty."
"Take a shower."
"I have nothing to wear."
"Your wardrobe is massive, and you're Queen Fasionista. Get up."

This coat is amazing though. It increases my ego about three thousand percent. I'm surprised that this outfit is even half as festive as it is, because I pulled it together half asleep and grumpier than an injured rhinoceros. I felt like Dumbledore on Christmas Eve.

My secret santa bought me an illustrated biography of The Beatles and a double finger cross ring from Sportsgirl. The degree of hipster in that one present was so high my legs mutated into the wheels of a fixie bike, pet wolves started growling at my feet and triangles appeared on my forehead. But it was a lovely present. Upon seeing my cross ring, "lucky you're Catholic. They bought it because they knew you like The Beatles and you're Catholic." Good one, dad.

Speaking of hipsters, a guide on how to dress like one: Hipster 101: how to dress like a hipster.

Anddd, Contribute to my Wikifashion page. (Ignore the last "AHAHAHHA VINH VO" sentence. Long story.)

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Tiffany & Co. Holiday 2010

I'm going to close my eyes and pretend this is my life. Although I don't think it's physically possible to have a family this good looking. And somehow I don't think my life is going to be filled with strolling in the snow clutching the hand of some hottie and nonchalantly looking over my shoulder because that's what people do at Christmas, apparently.

So, I'm probably not going to be spending this Christmas with my sickeningly adorable offspring and at dinner parties. I'm probably going to be sleeping and eating as much chocolate as possible without spewing. Class. I have it.

Christmas never seems to inspire anything that festive within me, though. No Holiday season goblin is ever awoken from its deep slumber inside the walls of my skin. I remember when I was younger my family would drive around and cruise Sydney just to see the lights that people put up. There was a house in my neighbourhood that won awards and shit, and going within a 10km radius of it was like swallowing mistletoe and a light bulb. But they took the decorations down, because it cost too much. The world is a depressing place, sometimes.

This Christmas I want to try get a photo with those shopping mall Santas. And maybe hunt some reindeer. And possibly fashion myself underwear made out of tinsel.

( Images from here. )

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

On the prowl

First off, I forgot to post this interview I did with the lovely Ottavia from Eight Biscuits. Thanks again, Ottavia!

Romping around in my new leopard print sweater dress thanks to Ivy at The Robot Ninjas (my first ever amazeballs sponsor). There are a few things in fashion that make me feel bad ass and invincible. One of them is leopard print. The others are 14cm heels, studs, leather and blazers. Anything leopard print gets my heart rate racing, this futile human body of mine limits my potential. It's fun to pretend to hunt gazelles and lick my paws in this sweater, though.

Leopard print sweater dress (well I'm not too sure that it's a dress...): The Robot Ninjas.
Fake docs: K-Mart, years ago.
Socks: My dad's.
Bag: Thrifted.
Belt: Thrifted.

Do your closet, your body and yourself a favour and check out their online store. Cheap as chips, and almost as tasty (nothing beats good hot chips). how good is the premium label cream leather blazer what the hell. It's like a marshmallow and a cyborg mated and cut their offspring up and sewed a blazer out of it.

Check out their blog | Twitter | Facebook page.

I got called up and offered a trial as a club photographer for Zaia (Sydney), but I can't take the opportunity because I'm under 18. Massive, massive bummer. I've been moping around all day berating my birth date. I did score a group interview at Aldo Shoes, though, so fingers crossed all goes well tomorrow!

Oh and before I forget, help me fill out my Wiki Fashion page! I am at a loss when it comes to describing my own style/blog, so help a brutha out and help me describe what this blog is about/my style/who I am etc by filling out my Wiki page for me. Because even I don't know who I am. For all I know I could be an oyster. Or the tail of a dinosaur. Eternal happiness and goat fur is waiting for you on the other side of this browser as a thank you. Two more reader-created illustrations (I always did think I was a cat):

Edit: "She is made of ninja rainbows and unicorns. She may or may not fuck you up with sparkles and leopard print, but she's really nice while she does it."

Whoever wrote this, I offer you my ovaries. That is an amazing description. Keep it coming, guys.

Beyond Jackie / Brownie and friends

Monday, December 6, 2010

Topshop Christmas 2010

I really like the styling in the Topshop Christmas 2010 Lookbook. It's sort of undone and messy but it works so well. Like that bodycon dress/combat boots/cozy cardigan combo. It feels like combat boots are starting to get a little overdone, though. Well not starting to...ever since chains like Shoebox and Therapy released versions of the combat boot, it's all over the place. I will never stop wearing my fake Docs, but it really just feels like every girl and her pet snake are traipsing about in combat boots. I'm getting a bit tired of it. Don't get me wrong though, they look great. When (..if) I get a job, I'm hoping to get my blistered feet into some Chelsea boots, boat shoes, and a new pair of loafers (r.i.p. my old ones because my mum enjoys throwing all my crap into the bin for no apparent reason). I'm so tired of the shoes I have aaaaargh screw having no money.

And I am drooling over that camel/black coat. It is magnificent. But towards the end of this post, the outfits get a bit bird-creature-in-a-mental-asylum-i.e.-bat-shit-insane. Look at those sequinned (?) trousers. It's like Mardi Gras decided to vomit all over that model's legs. Or like some sequinned sludge monster is slowly consuming her whole, like an anaconda.

ON A COMPLETLEY DIFFERENT NOTE - I'M CRAVING PEPPER LUNCH. I ate it today but it just sort of fuelled a more intense desire to eat it again. If you don't know what Pepper Lunch is, you haven't lived. Go. Now. Turn off your computer and leg it to your nearest Pepper Lunch.

P.S. If any of you are ever bored. This. Seriously.

(Images from Marie Claire UK and Miss at la Playa )

El Ateneo

I needed to share this. It's too beautiful not too share. How can a book store be this beautiful? I could spend my whole life here. Transforming an opera theatre into a book store. Whoever's idea it was deserves three thousand neopoints and a pat on the back (yes, I tentatively ventured back into the land of Neopia and free omelettes and jellies with my half-starved-to-death Kacheek. Points to you if you understand anything I'm saying right now). There's almost too much brilliance for my tired eyeballs to handle, I could gouge my eyes out right now, if I had a spoon and maybe a mop to clean up the mess. P.S. it's in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

But whenever I think of Buenos Aires I just think of Carmen Sandiego.

I feel really rutty. In a rut. Again. And I'm not too sure why, but I've become this angry gremlin. All the time. It's like there's an angry little goat riding on my shoulder making me want to throw bricks at everyone I see and everything I do. That's a lie, I know exactly why I'm so angry all the time, but it's irrelevant now. I don't really feel myself these days. Music doesn't sound the same, I can't be bothered dressing, I eat too much, I don't sleep enough. Whatever. Just a silly teenage angst phase. I was attacked by a plant the other day (or, more aptly pointed out by my friend: the plant doesn't move. You tripped on your own feet and fell on it.) and now i have this nasty splinter in my thumb that somehow worked its way completely under the surface of my skin and is just being irritating and making it harder than 4u maths to text people.

And just because there's no such thing as too much beautiful shit on one page -

Hope you are all having a better weekend/post-HSC period/holiday/day/night/morning/afternoon than I am. x

From top: Sr. Bigotes, images, deaida, daniloidman and Louis Montemayer.