New York Welcomes You

Well here I am. New York.
Let's pause with that for a moment...

....

Yep. New York.

My over-planning and research has already served me. At the airport a very friendly, helpful driver offered to take me to my hostel for $97. When I guffawed and repeated the price to him his smile broke and he pointed me across the road, "$45 cabs over the road." I ain't nobody's fool! Yet.

After an almost clinically clean sleeping experience, I woke up at 5:50 am and am now sitting in my PJs at the downstairs cafeteria, eating my egg and ham bagel and drinking a small (ie. normal) sized styrofoam cup of Lipton's (with skim, not soy unfortunately). When I asked the cafe guy if the eggs were powdered he looked at me with disgust and said "Powdered? No way man." Then he proceeded to pull out a milk carton of egg mix and proudly hold it up for me to see.

I've never eaten less egg-flavoured egss in my life but for $1.85 I'm willing to make a few sacrifices.

On a Perfect Day in Retail: Afterword

It would seem that one of my previous, somewhat politically incorrect entries has been the cause of displeasure in a number of readers. To illustrate:

Anonymous said...
To the retail bitch who whinges about her potential customers... I say... hey without us annoying shoppers you wouldn't have a job lady! Thanks for being so helpful, you'll get no commission from me...< Love "one size does not fit all". At least my food stays down...

Well.
I feel the need to make a few things clear.

Unfortunately for me, when I write I'll willingly forgo self-preservation for the sake of honesty. I'm not afraid to express a particular sentiment where others may decide it best not to.
So writing about the thoughts that occasionally go through my head during my 9-hour days of standing in a tiny space, giving all my care and attention to the complete strangers who walk into my shop, does not mean that these are thoughts I would ever voice, or in fact would have any desire to. Nor are they any different to the private, negative little thoughts that everybody has on a daily basis.
The difference is, I decided to reveal mine for your reading pleasure (or displeasure, it would seem).

But as an addendum to that entry I'd like to say this:
I love my job. Because making women of any age and shape feel good about themselves is a wonderful experience. It's also a service that is largely under-appreciated, due in part to the general perception of sales girls as commission-chasing Barbies. And they do exist, but paradoxically they are the sales assistants who earn their bosses the least amount of money. I, however, earn my bosses a good deal of money because I don't actually care about making money (and for the record, I earn no commissions or bonuses, just a flat, hourly rate). I think all women are stunning, and it breaks my heart when I hear a woman say she'll buy that beautiful dress after she's lost a few pounds, or a teenage girl admit her mother thinks she's fat.
Incidentally, the final, particularly nasty thought expressed in that entry did not materialise in response to the customers weight, but rather to what she was doing to the unpurchased clothes she was trying on; specifically stretching them beyond all recognition with her hands and aggressively pulling at them with no concern for their mass-produced welfare.

So, if I have offended, think but this and all is mended;
I didn't really mean it.

Start Spreading the News

Only 3 and a half weeks until I leave for New York and the William Esper Studio and I'm still tracking down accommodation. At the moment it looks like it may be Polish Greenpoint, where I'll be able to stuff myself with Pierogi and Zywiec for a reasonable US$900 a month.
From there I plan to go to Chicago before heading to LA to sell my soul for a few weeks. I'm hoping to throw Las Vegas and Mexico into the mix too if all goes well; I don't have any internal flights booked yet so my itinerary is still open.
So that means that in a month I'll be Street Styling from some new locations, in between running to acting classes and learning lines.

If anyone in the States has a spare couch, or a couple hours free to get coffee, I'm open to suggestions...

Street style - Drumstress

Sexy style with deadly hair, Cindy Blackman.

Street style - The Quintessential Male Hipster

Denim jacket: check
Dunks: check
iPod touch: check
Pack of Stuyvies: check

Forgotten anything? Oh yeah...
Ray-Bans: worn even at night!

On a Perfect Day in Retail

To the customer who looks at EVERY item on EVERY rack, spending 25 minutes in my 10-square-metres of store space without choosing a single item while I'm stuck looking attentive behind the counter waiting for her to leave, I say:
"This isn't a library!"

To the chinese girl who brings a pair of earrings to the counter and says, "I take the earring", I say:
"You don't want the other one?"

To the woman who knocks on my CLOSED door at 5 past 6 and waves me over after I've mouthed quite clearly that we're closed, I say:
"Do you want to buy something? Do you want to give me some money? No? Then why are we having this conversation?"

To the customer who comes out of the changeroom and dumps a giant ball of inside-out, scrunched up clothing on my counter before leaving I say:
"What am I, your maid?"

To the business woman who can't be bothered bending over to try on a pair of shoes but rather prefers to mash her heel against the leather, I say:
"WOMAN. For GOD'S SAKE. BEND OVER and use your finger."

To the middle aged woman who responds to my "How are you today?" with a "Just looking", I say:
"Hmm, maybe you should get that checked out. I don't know what juslooking is but it sounds nasty."

To the overweight teenager who comes out of the changeroom stretching and pulling at a top that's too small and complaining "It doesn't fit right. My boobs are too big for it", I say:
"Honey, it's not your BOOBS, it's your whole BODY that's too big".

Afterword

Street style - Centre Place

This girl was tiny but absolutely gorgeous; the photo doesn't do her justice. Nothing she was wearing appeared to be from any particular label and certainly not chain-store . The front of the jacket (bought in Barcelona) was embroidered in matching coloured thread and the bag was a wonderful rich blue in canvas with leather. Her shoes were vintage as was her jewelery. This is the sort of outfit I see on dozens of girls every day but the difference here is that it didn't look 'off the rack' but thoughtfully put together.

Street style - Simplicity

Street style - Swanston St

Street style - Harajuku via Fitzroy

You can't quite see it in the photo but the colour of the notebook she is holding perfectly matches her bag and the lower rims of her eyes are lined with the most intense glittery eyeshadow.
She was quite the head-turner.

Street style - Collins St

Street style - Thanks to the Winkle Pickers

Street style - Brunswick St boys

Amazing things Not Yet Invented

This morning, sitting on the edge of my bed putting my shoes on, I heard the voice of my boyfriend, half-asleep from under the covers say,
"Someone should invent butt mints so that when you fart it smells minty and fresh. And it could work as an air deodorizer".
Setting aside for a moment the absurdity of the situation in which this was said, I have to admit that it's not a bad idea.

Covert blogging from the SBS studio

Forgive me my absence. I've been full of imaginary blog entries that I've been unable to make and it's been frustrating. But I was most touched to find the following message in my inbox the other day:

"i don't want to sound like a stalker (although i guess i possibly am) but i have been checking your blog everyday and stressing that there were no new posts since march 17. i made jake walk past your work today to see if you were in there and interrorgate you over your lack of bloggingness, but alas, you were nowhere to be seen. then i thought you were sick or worse dead.
luckily when i returned home and turned on my laptop, i found your latest and also the reason as to why you hadn't blogged.
my anxiety has gone!
sincerely,
your number one fan
pee ess. i have my 17 year old sister addicted to it also

Thankfully the ADSL-man is on his way and I have a lovely backlog of Street Style photos to upload so the natural balance will resume soon.

A Crepe a Day

I'm sitting in the food court at Australia on Collins, eating my spicy noodles and taking advantage of the free wireless interweb. It's been an interesting experience living in a new house that is as yet unequipped with ADSL. I feel I've grown as a person. I've watched more TV, read more of my book, taken longer showers, and last night spent a romantic evening with myself, a cup of tea, and the pile of promotional mail and local gazettes that had accumulated on the kitchen table. What I haven't managed to do however, is face the stomach-turning task of Unpacking Boxes of Miscellaneous Ephemera. Could I not just burn it all and then deal with the consequences later? Surely I can be reissued copies of all my old tax return statements, university reports, pet vaccination cards, letter from ex-boyfriends and 3 year old birthday cards that were particularly heartfelt.
I've also just lived through another bout of Easter and have a residual chocolate addiction which no amount of Nutella crepes from Aix Creperie (see below) are able to cure.
Although, maybe one more will be the clincher. In fact, I'm off to try that now. And perhaps a little more of The Age Cryptic Crossword - another addiction I'm having difficulty shaking.

Boxelder Bugs - fun for all the family

As I type this there is one on the lip of my coffee mug. Another one's traipsing across the table. They used to repulse me but I'm starting to find myself strangely amused by them. They are Boxelder bugs, and 2008 is year 10 in their 10 year population explosion cycle.
Until a few months ago when they started popping up all around my house, I didn't even know these little black & orange fellas existed. But after doing a little research and finding out that they are pretty much harmless, I've taken it upon myself to carefully pick up any I find inside the house and gently throw them at my bug-phobic boyfriend. It's great fun.
Continuing my Boxelder research tonight, I came upon a forum for victims of the Boxelder bugs and have just spent the last hour unable to tear myself away. Here, for your pleasure, is a selection of my favourite comments.

weeks says:

My 18 month old boy picks them up all the time. He crushes them between his fingers, he eats them, laughs when they crawl on his arm. He tries to hug them but more often than not his head smashes them. ;) It's great entertainment and he's never gotten sick from them. They are harmless! (I’d be more concerned about the fact that my 18 month-old son was, in fact, a spider.)

SG says:

I live in the Portland. In October, we see 100,000s of them on our house. It's like a Hitchcock scene - the house literally swarms with them. Regardless that they don't bite, it's still an insanely gross experience. I'm a guy ... a big burly, guys guy. I ate worms and bugs as a kid to gross out the girls. I served in the USMC. I've seen war time. Yet, they gross me out big time. You ever have hundreds of them crawling all over you, swarming in your nose, your eyes, in your ears? You open a window and 20 minutes later, you’ve got a hundred of them in your bedroom. For some reason, they love the back of my neck. I can't tell you how many times I've woken up with them crawling on the back of my neck. I've gone to work, been sitting at my desk, and then one crawls up on my neck - it had hitchhiked a ride with me to work, then crawled on my neck. I was having sex with my wife once, and she had 3 of them on her legs. We can't have guests over because it's just plain disgusting, and your friends, no matter how much you explain it's just a bug infestation, nothing to do with your hygiene, they all think you’re a sick S.O.B. and won't come by any more. Ever have one crawl across your dinner plate? I'm not making any of these up.
I will kill them. I will decimate them. I will murder every last one of these bastards. Blow torches, chemicals, soap sprays - I don't care what it takes, I will eradicate them at the first signs. This is war. Not one I'm going to lose.

Anonymous says:

I've been in my house 3 years and every fall it's the same thing. This year has been the worst. I was at the theatre a few weeks ago and I felt something crawling on my face. Yep. It was a box elder bug. At work, all of a sudden, they're dive bombing my head. I know they are MINE, stowing away in my coat, clothes, hair, something, following me EVERYWHERE.
I've taken to naming them, and talking to them. I don't even vacuum them up anymore. I now stash empty Aquafina bottles in every room, and scoop up the bugs to keep as pets. They stay alive in there for DAYS AND DAYS. Then I watch them lie on their backs and kick while they fight for their last breaths. This one was actually rolling a dead bug over and over with his feet, like a circus performer. It was awesome.
I think I might be going slightly insane.

Dr. John says:

…it is, undeniably, somewhat satisfying to stomp them.

I agree!

Street style - Addicted to TV

Dress by TV.
This lovely lady also informed me that the TV store in Prahran (2a Cecil pl) is having a Sale this weekend, which is where you'd find me if I wasn't moving house this weekend and hadn't just joined a gym, but more on that another time.

I am upset because...

... last night I went to the closing party for the Loreal Melbourne Fashion Festival (aka fashion week) held by Oyster Magazine and took stacks of photos of the beautiful, creative, drunk and desperate. Today I connected my camera to upload the photos and, to my great chagrin, found that my CF card had inexplicably wiped itself and left the data storage business.

I apologise to all the people who posed for me who've already gone out and bought tickets to my blog. Your dignity will be returned to you post haste.

The Girl loves HolyJuan

If you're not reading this guy's blog, then I really don't know what to do with you.