Pleats are a girl's best friend.

Top: Lovers and Collaborators, Palazzo Pants: Lovers and Collaborators, Bracelets: Zahara Mai and Topshop, Shoe: Tony Bianco, Clinique Chubby Stick in Chunky cherry









Top: Pol, Maxi skirt: Pol, Blazer: Zara, Shoes: Tony Bianco, Necklace: Equip, Love ring: Diva, Hope ring: Forever 21

Popped into Door 121 to choose some pieces from their incredible showroom (NTS: Learn how to control the insatiable urge to steal everything, burn the building down and run off cackling down the street). Sophia and I styled together and did a quick, fun shoot in her backyard. Some hazards faced: spiders (albeit only 1mm in diameter), heels poking holes into uneven tarpaulin ground and stealing one too many slices of cheese from Sophia's fridge. My cheese addiction is worrying, and bottomless.

How. Incredible. Are. Those. Palazzo. Pants. I spotted them on the Lovers and Collaborators website a while ago and I was in complete awe. DEM PLEATS. DAT COLOUR. Unfortunately my lack of height has turned around to nibble me on the bum because they were about 15m too long for my short non-model legs. The waistband was rolled up 3 times in these photos. Oh, the perils of being the height of a bonsai tree. I think I might get a pair though and just hem them, they're just too scrumptious.

And Sophia's green Zara blazer. Ahhh, I could get lost in that colour. I could dive into and take a week long swim in that colour. Thank you to Door 121 for letting my grubby little hands loose all over their showroom.

And don't forget to Follow me on Twitter if you haven't already for your daily dose of complaints and Jess-shaped musings on the benefits of not wearing pants.







Top: First Born, Dress: Pol, Rings: Sportsgirl, Necklaces: Mok Theorem and Sportsgirl





Top: Pol, Suede shorts: Pol, Beblt: Vintage, Shoes; Tony Bianco, Arm candy: Zahara Mai and Topshop.

Mine.

The heels that have been lurking at the side of my internet subconscious are mine. No longer do they only exist on the feet of fashion royalty snapped on Street style blogs. No longer do my feet cry in envy. They are mine.

My eyes fell out and hung on bloody, springy stalks as soon as I saw them huddled in a corner of Pitt St. Zara. After a quick confirmation that they were in fact, my size and the last pair in my size, I ran to the counter faster than I run to the fridge for the bag of shredded cheese after my parents go grocery shopping. Despite how low the heel is, they are incredibly hard to walk in, harder than any other heels I've tried on... but I guess I'll just have to break these babies in. Even if I am internally screaming in pain, I will look classy whilst doing so.

In other news I'm now employed and interning at various places. Happy days! A bit overwhelmed, but happy (and hectic) days, nonetheless.

Picnic Rug

This week is completely filled up with back-to-back interviews for internships, volunteer positions, casual sales assistant jobs and university lectures that are pretty much just slides of optical illusions (why?). I am exhausted already and am probably going to pass out in bed soon and awake to angry phone calls from my car pool buddies after I inexplicably press snooze on my alarm, and am half an hour late to uni (as I have been doing for the past week).



Cape: Thrifted
Dress: Thrifted
Heels Tony Bianco/Friend's
Bag: Thrifted
Belt: Thrifted
Sheep: Gift from a friend's trip to New Zealand

All images shot by: Vinh Pham / Ve Noir Studios.





When I wore this outfit out for the first time, I was with a friend of mine, on the train. Minding our own business. Enjoying each other's company and the general rankness of public transportation. Until our Cityrail reverie was cut short by the sudden appearance of a leggings and Nike dunks clad trio, complete with streaked hair (I shouldn't be judging). If you asked me to guess where they put their makeup on, I'd say the kitchen. The eyeliner looked as if it were smeared on by a spatula and their mascara applied with a fork. So these three otherwise harmless younger-looking girls stood behind my friend and I, who were just basking in the scent of commuter B.O. and drunk-person spittle. And they started attacking my cape. "It's a picnic rug. It doesn't even fit her", one sneered. I turned around. Calmly, "Shut up."

"No, you shut up." I stared at her, unsure if we had begun joking or if she was sincere. She was being sincere. Long story short, we spent the rest of the commute and part of the walk to the carpark being followed by them and getting insults hurled at us (well, mainly me). Some of the more winning jibes included: "Look at the prostitute", and "Give me back my rug. I think you stole my rug. And you're wearing it." This happened a while ago but I still don't understand how unecessary and rude people can be. The worst part was, I was trying to strut in front of them and be all, "I AM BETTER THAN YOU, I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU", and then my lack of coordination kicked in and I stumbled in my heels. Woops.



Regardless if this is a picnic rug or a rug from someone's house a prostitute outfit, I adore it. I have worn it out three times and counting. The best part of it is I thrifted all of it (sans shoes) at one thrift store. When I first wore everything, I looked in the mirror and thought, "This would be the perfect date outfit." But who needs a boy when I can take myself on dates to McDonalds. All the romance I need is contained within a McDouble with an extra chicken patty. Did I mention this dress was from the children's bin and cost me 50 cents?



And I keep forgetting to blog about the short trip I took to the Blue Mountains with my high school friends. Taking a break from uni is one thing. Taking a break from uni surrounded by the crispest air imaginable is another. Maybe it's because I don't leave Sydney often, but the air up in the Mountains was the most incredible thing. Second to spending a week with the cutest kids drinking too much tea, eating too many eggs, playing poker, grocery shopping, bushwalking, drunk dips in the spa, and watching foreign Spanish horror movies. Here's a very short collage of my time:

P.S. I am volunteering at a Canadian film festival called Possible Worlds. Take a look through the movies and come down and watch a few if you're in Sydney. If you're in Sydney AND Canadian, you have no excuse.

Rain, Rain

Jesslovesfred Part 1. from Vinh Pham on Vimeo.

Robe: Thrifted
PVC Leggings: Black Milk Clothing
Tank and shoes: Bardot/Acne (Borrowed from friend)

I'm blogging on a uni computer right now because I am lonely and alone, and wet. Apparently yesterday was the wettest Sydney July day in 23 years. I don't mind the rain, though. Even though it may make my hair turn into a pile of wet wool and it may cause my eyeliner to run and make me look like a panda victim of domestic abuse, I still have a tonne of fun jumping in puddles. Because I am a five-year-old trapped in an 18-year-old's body. And what's Winter without a bit of rain?

Here's a quick video outfit post that Vinh threw together. I'm wearing the Black Milk PVC leggings right now and they're pretty much the best thing to have ever touched the bruised and scarred skin of my legs. Even if I got really creepy comments. Quote some construction worker - "Look at dem pants." (that exact wording).

Bad Blood

Photos: LUCIA PANG
Model: JAIME PARKER
Make-up and hair: HELEN SAMARYAN

I had the pleasure of styling for/working with the venerable Lucia the other week on a personal shoot. I also had the pleasure of meeting make-up/hair extraordinaire Helen and leggy Jaime - they were all a bundle of fun. These snot nosed little primary school kids parked their asses down directly adjacent to us in what I can only assume was some sort of convention for pests. A hatred for mini human beings proved to be the common thread between us four. I think I even told them we were filming Iron Man 5 and they might have believed me. Everything I used I have most probably used in outfit posts before so I'm not going to bother with styling references.

But how amazing of a job did those three girls do? If you put them into a blender you'd make one talented milkshake.









I actually have a whole bunch of things to blog about (for once), so expect almost daily updates - outfit posts and all that. But I couldn't keep the photo below to myself. Chloe Moretz (Hit Girl from Kick Ass). She is 14. And she's more well dressed than 99% of the people I know. You are FOURTEEN. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? When I was fourteen I was picking my nose and running around in slogan t-shirts and flared jeans.

Mountain of Mars

Dress: Black Milk - Mountain of Mars 2.
Wedge boots: Acne Admires
Shawl thing that is deceptively not as warm as it looks because the wind sneaks into the millions of little gaps in it: Some $10 shop.
Sunglasses: God knows where
Necklace: Some tribal stall.

All images shot by: Vinh Pham / Ve Noir Studios.





If you have known me since the beginning of high school, you would know that whenever I make a drastic hair plan - be it a pixie cut, an angled bob, or dyeing my hair fire engine-red, it never works out. I mull over it for six months or more and subject my friends to endless questions before convincing myself out of it and discarding the broken hair dream into the gutter. Shaving my head is probably the first plan that has actually materialised into something I can look at in the mirror.

After making a rash decision to do it for $10 at a sleazy men's barber in some dirty alleyway, I came home with one side of my head hairless and naked. My mother thinks I look like a lesbian, my father is adamant I will never get a husband now, and my youngest sister has nightmares about me. Everyone else I know greets my head by rubbing it in fascination as if a genie would fly out of my ear if they rubbed hard enough, and one of two questions:

Q1. Does that side of your head get cold? And/or
Yes. I now empathise with people who have short hair and have to deal with it during winter. The left side of my head misses my hair-blanket

Q2. How do you grow it back?
If I flip my hair back in the middle, it looks exactly the same! Hurray for versatile haircuts!

If I had a dollar for every time someone has rubbed my head or asked me one of the above questions in the past week, and you put all those dollars in a pool, you could drown someone in it. I Tweeted a photo of myself with my new hair [here] if you want an up close and gratuitous webcam picture.




How incredible is this Black Milk dress? James is an absolute genius. When it arrived on my doorstep I just stared into the print for a loooong time and nearly fell in. There will always be a special place in my heart for printed clothing. And Black Milk Clothing.





I'm so excited to head up to the Blue Mountains tomorrow with a few high school friends. Even though it's only an hour or two away, and it's only for five days, it'll still be nice to get away for a bit and pretend I'm a few hundred thousand miles away from here. I plan to spend the week sitting by the fireside reading, and indulging my fantasy of being cultured and high class in my jammies. Seeya next week :-)