Category: Fashion & Beauty

The great white tooth

January 4, 2011

Has anyone ever stopped to think that the Tooth Fairy is the only childhood hero who doesn’t give gifts freely. Hers (unless the Rock now has us believing in boy tooth fairies) is one of exchange. She takes your teeth, one by one, and replaces them with a coin.

I actually think my teeth are worth more than a dollar, or the fifty cents I used to get. My sister would definitely agree as in the past four months, she’s had four wisdom teeth and a reluctant baby tooth removed. The Tooth Fairy has not appeared to make her smile (albeit a now metal and brace filled smile) but is letting her foot the few thousand dollar bill. Even if she had saved all the money previously ‘gifted’ by the tooth fairy, it would not even make a small dent in the price she has to pay for good teeth.

I got the good teeth in my family. Straight, relatively healthy and with room for all four wisdom teeth, which ever so ironically appeared at a rate of one per year during my university degree. Besides a small chip on one of my front teeth from a skateboarding incident 20 odd years ago (don’t tow ropes with knots in the end behind your skateboard) the only complaint I have is that they are not sparkling white like in a toothpaste commercial.

My forthcoming move to LA in one month has the vain diva in me worried that my smile isn’t as sparkling as all the other smiles in LA. With this major concern, I scoured the aisles of Priceline and found a new brand of toothpaste with the tagline “Originally formulated for film actors and models”. For me this said “With me, your teeth will be as white as a freshly painted Hollywood sign and will beckon in a come hither manner to Ryan Reynolds”. That baby, complete with free toothbrush and flosser toothpicks, led me to the checkout and winked at me with a blinking sparkle.

So here I am with one month to  furiously brush my teeth into a snowstorm ready for their Hollywood debut.

Brunch, my favourite meal to eat out

December 28, 2010

I love the languorous nature of brunch. It starts with a sleep in and (usually) unhurried getting ready time. Then there is the soul rejuvenating coffee, the eggs and bacon or pancakes and most importantly, the excellent company of good friends.

Brunch always seems to be the most gossipy of shared meals. You can debrief the events of a big night, each person recalling different details and plots. You find out what people are up to in a bulletin that beats any newspaper or Twitter feed. Afterwards, there is a whole afternoon that can be filled with activity: shopping, more coffee, checking out an art gallery, seeing a movie or just aimless wander. It’s quite spontaneous.

Today I had a two-hour brunch with my friends KP and Galleria*. It’s been awhile since our last brunch, as KP has moved away and only Galleria remains on the arts board we all served on.  At our last brunch, we all arrived wearing the same shade of green, which was a rather coordinated fluke that earned a paying out from Mario the owner. The strict instructions were not to wear green, so I thought I would be safe in a grey tank top with a print on it. However both girls turned up in shades of grey, so we managed to pull off our fluke for the second time running, though this time it wasn’t as obvious. I should have gotten a photo, but we were too busy chatting to pause for a “cheese!”.

So instead, here’s our no-it’s-not-St Patrick’s Day brunch pic instead.

The green team
The green team

We chatted about all the important things in the world:

  • Christmas and the exchanging of gifts
  • Plans for new years
  • Plans for 2011
  • Small-town gossip
  • Animal Kingdom (the movie) and assorted TV programs
  • Family and the mixed bag of love and hate that comes with it
  • Work – the good, the bad and the blah
  • Oprah’s visit to Australia
  • My farewell party(s)
  • Do they think I’ll come back with an American accent (the response was “no, but you’d better not”)

And surprisingly there was hardly any talk of any boys. There just wasn’t time between all that, my two coffees and Moroccan eggs. I heart brunch.

*She may be of Italian descent, but her real name doesn’t translate to Gallery.

The big wardrobe downsize

December 27, 2010
It’s 38 days until I move to LA and in preparation I am taking a fashion trip down sentimental lane.

I will freely admit to anyone that I am a hoarder. I won’t get rid of clothes, shoes or accessories because I come up with an excuse, such as:

  • I might fit into it when I lose weight one day
  • I might fit into it when I put on weight one day
  • It would make a great costume for a fancy dress party (that I never get invited to)
  • My mythical someday daughter will see me in a photo and wish I’d kept the outfit because it is suddenly retro cool again 
  • It has a story such as “Oh, but I got this poncho in Bolivia from a little old lady in full Quechua dress at the market”

I even have some makeup that my aunt gave me when I was in early high school, and I still use it, on the occasion that I need some bright 80s eyeshadow.

I don’t know how long I’ll be in LA for, but I’m taking advantage of my current “clear it out, give it away” mentality to do a sweep of my wardrobe so there isn’t so much temptation to squeeze it into my luggage. So far so good. I’ve managed to part with four pairs of shoes, a handbag, a long formal dress, a suit, a skirt, two hats, a scarf and a few belts. And that was just to one friend.

The outfit of never give aways
All my most loved items in one stunning outfit!

I’m setting aside more things for my 10 year old cousin (who already has a size 8 foot and will soon fit into my size nines) and her dress up box. Mum has already said that she’ll have whatever is left over.

So while people are getting excited as to what they might be able to find in my wardrobe, the sad news for them is that I will still be taking the best and most loved things with me. There will always be room in my luggage for my dress of dresses, the incredible multi-coloured heels, my white hat, my motorcycle handbag, silver crysacolla ring from Mexico and the Bolivian poncho.

This hoarder’s going to hit LA and commit a major fashion faux pas, but what the heck!