Sam.

Doing a clean out of my multiple external hard drives and looking through old folders and photos I had saved.

A major trip down memory lane, with photos saved from my late teens. My taste in beautiful photos and fashion has not changed much in the last 10 years. 

Nor has my appreciation for beautiful photos of women and their bodies.

I forgot how much I love Sam Haskins and the beautiful photos he took of women in various states of undress.

Another year older, another year wiser.

It was my birthday last week, I went from 26 to the 27 I had really been dreading. Its weird, birthdays haven’t bothered me that much in the past, but there was something about turning 27 that was freaking me the fuck out.

I spent my birthday away for work, on a trip for a job I started four days prior. That was also adding to the overwhelming feeling I was having about my birthday, but for the most part it was myself being overly critical of where I am currently in my life.

Leading up to it, I was spending far more time than healthy thinking about what I thought 27 looked like when I was just entering my 20s. An overwhelming thought when my life is very different from what I had imagined, great, but different.

I haven’t done some of the things I had expected to have done by the time I turned 27. But you know what, in a moment of clarity while wandering along the beach I realized that not fitting in to other peoples generalizations, or my younger self’s generalizations is not necessary a bad thing.

I may not have done some of the things I thought I wanted to do, but I have done so many other amazing things, that I never imagined I would, or even could have done.

I have traveled and have a hunger to keep exploring, I have proven people wrong and made scary life decisions (they have all worked out exceptionally well thus far), I have begun things and finished them like a real ‘adult’, I have had and am having so much fun.

My early 20’s have been challenging, frustrating, exciting, scary, fun and insightful. I have learnt lessons and done things I never thought possible. I am happy and so thankful for everything I have done and experienced, as sappy as that sounds! I guess that is the thing about growing up, things may not go as planned but it isn’t the end of the world.

I may not be doing some of the things a lot of other people my age are doing, or have done what they have and that’s ok. That’s great actually, because who wants to fit in to a standard mold? I don’t want to be just like everyone else, I want to follow my own, often-unconventional path.

I guess that’s the thing about growing up, its ok to freak out, then realize that maybe its all not as scary as you thought it would be. If turning 27 encouraged me to focus on what I had done not what I haven’t then that’s good with me!

Flying solo

My housemate and I talk about this all the time, we have had lengthy, frustrated discussions, all revolving around our coupled friends inability to see that you can be happy and single at the same time. Shock horror!

It’s like as soon as you hit your mid 20’s and your not in a relationship people begin to assume there is something wrong with you. They begin to think that it is ok to try and set you up with anyone they know who is single, they think its ok to comment and pass judgment.

I don’t remember the last time I asked a married couple how marriage was working out for them, have they been on any good dates lately or had any good sex? But if you’re single it seems fair game.

I have found it more often than not happens with those I see less often, perhaps those friends I see once a month. You catch up after your general hello’s and how are you’s its right on to, ‘So are you seeing anyone?’

Um well actually I am not seeing anyone and contrary what you probably think, I am not spending my Saturday nights sobbing in to my pillow. Nor am I lonely, I am out enjoying my life and spending time with fun people who are also enjoying theirs.

I am single because I choose to be, I have no time just to have a partner because it’s the done thing. Until I meet someone who actually makes me want to share my time with them I am just not that interested.

Nor am I at all scared and sad that I am going to end up alone, I have friends, they are great and I don’t have to worry about the shit that comes with relationships with them!

I know particularly for my housemate, that most of her friends are married and for some reason they think she must be miserable because she isn’t. But since when did a relationship status become directly to linked with happiness levels or life satisfaction in general?

There is so much more to life and happiness than being in a relationship, I mean sure they can be great, but its not all doom and gloom if you are happily flying solo. I also have far more interesting things to talk about than awkward dates I have been on and boys I am not that interested in.

So we will happily continue to fly solo, being selfish and spending time with people that add value to our lives.  Maybe going on awkward dates, maybe not. Either way I am happy, others might not understand but I’m working on not caring.

Don't judge a book by it's cover

Today, for the first time in my life my looks became a commodity. Something looked upon as a consideration for a potential job. It has left a strange taste I my mouth.

I am not a model. I am not looking for jobs where one would/should consider looks to be something to judge my ability on. I mean apart from your standard presentable, clean hair, clean clothes kind of thing.

I have a degree in Marketing and Journalism; I worked pretty damn hard to be in the top 15%. I am looking to work in an industry where it’s more about who you know not what you know. But not ever did I expect for someone to ask about what I look like, to see a photo of me, to comment that according to them I am ‘attractive’, to all be put in to consideration to give me a job opportunity.

I am looking for work as a journalist; I want to report on the news. Not the pretty fluff stories, the heart breaking shit that makes you realize the world we live in is not so damn shiny. I know I am not going to get there with the first job, but I didn’t think it would matter what I looked like to get that first job.

I thought all those hard hours I put in at uni would be put in to consideration, the over 12 months I have spent interning, my grades, all the work I have had published, these things would be judged in order to get a job. Not my face.

Yeah, I think realistically to get where I want to go I will have to get in to TV broadcast journalism. But why should I have to look a certain way have to considered for a job. Why cant the fact that I am capable of doing the job be enough?

I have been brought up in a family of very strong influences, who have taught me that it’s not about what or who you are; it’s about what you can do. I have never, ever, been in a position where I have thought because I am a girl I would be treated differently. I didn’t expect that, because I have been taught that success is not about gender or looks, it’s about ability.

Today my world has changed. I hate that it makes me seem almost naïve. I am not that, far from it. But why is there a double standard? I highly doubt a male journalism graduate would have to supply a photo in order to be considered for a job. Why should I as a female have to?

 

I’ve never been made to feel so inferior, I have worked hard, I have achieved things. It has not mattered that I am a girl, or that I am what society has decided is ‘attractive’. I have achieved these things because I have worked hard, because I have been determined, because I have a brain that I like to challenge.

Today I was made to feel like none of that really mattered. That all that mattered was that by sheer luck, the genes that went together to make me produced something visually appealing.

It’s almost like Tinder for jobs, lets see if this person visually fits the role then maybe we will give them the job. Who cares if they actually have the ability, the dedication or determination to be successful or a good employee?

I am now left questioning, if I have spent the last three years working towards to work in the wrong industry.

Answering Man Repeller's writers prompt: Escape your comfort zone

I remember this moment vividly as if it was only yesterday.

Lets start with a little back story, a young, bright eyed, naïve 22 year old, setting off on this magnificent European adventure with a girl I was soon to learn I did not know well enough.

Traveling, in a pair, with a friend I had not spent enough time with proved to be more challenging than I had expected. As these things often are. You have all of these romantic ideas of how you will both get along and it will be fun and easy. For the most part it generally is, with a few terse moments.

However, the terse moments began to outweigh the fun times. I was quickly realizing that perhaps choosing an only child to travel with when I was used to spending my holidays with siblings and cousins, and no real space to myself, was maybe a bad idea.

With a 14-week trip planned and only six weeks in, I was beginning to loose patience. But terrified of the prospect of heading off solo for the remainder of my trip.

It all came crumbling down one grey rainy day in Amsterdam. I had had enough. Tired of feeling like the bad guy whenever I tried to get her to compromise or to maybe consider doing something I wanted to do. Building up all my courage to talk to her and let her know that when the bus came to get us the next day that I wasn’t going to be joining her.

It was awful, I felt awful, there were tears and yelling. It felt like a messy break up. An uncomfortable 24 hours followed, then I saw her off at the bus stop, went back to my friends house and thought it was all going to be wonderful from here.

But oh boy was I wrong…

Off I went on the bus a couple of days later, it was fine while I was on the bus. It was when the bus got to that I began to freak out.

Off I get, struggling to find a cab to take me to my hostel, seeing as I a; didn’t know where it was and b; didn’t speak German (except for gutten tag and ja).

Every emotion was building up, I was feeling stressed, worried, scared and overwhelmed. Finally making it to the hostel, checking in and heading out to find something to eat. That’s when it all came tumbling down.

Walking out the front door, with instructions on places to find dinner, then proceeded to get lost and a little teary…

The little teary turned in to one of those amazingly, attractive, noisy cries, which are best kept for the private of your bedroom or shower. However, I was currently sitting on the steps of Berlin Hauptbahnhof Station.

And I cried, boy did I cry.

All I could think about was that I knew no one, no one in this country, no one in this time zone, no one on this continent. That if something happened to me no one could help me, that no one could console me.

I’ve never felt so alone and isolated, so out of my comfort zone. Strangers kept on coming up to me asking me questions in German, which were followed by me crying louder or very unattractively sniffing then blowing my nose.

I was alone, in all sense of the word. The first time in my entire life that that thought made me feel really truly vulnerable. This traumatic ordeal lasted all of an hour. But it felt like forever.

Eventually I ran out of tears, it began to get cold and I didn’t have a jacket and I got really hungry. Dusting myself off, heading back to my hostel all red and puffy in the face.

Walking in to my dorm room, that was empty when I left, to the sound of girls laughing. Upon opening my door the girls in the room that I had yet to meet looked up at me, saw my face, came running and gave me the hug I desperately needed.

Five years on, this one girl is still in my life, although she lives in London, that night I made a friend for life. So although I was thrown miles out of my comfort zone, I learnt a lot, about my resilience, about my ability to do a good ugly cry and about the kindness of strangers.

b&w

A shoot I styled too long ago with a very talented Ned Rodgers...

Photographer: Ned Rodgers

Stylist: Me

It's fashunn, Darling

Photos Tommy Ton at Style.com

Dreaming of a European summer

I wrote this little reflection upon returning from Europe last July, why I never posted it I don't know. In light of all my friends currently planning fun trips abroad I thought it right to post my musings from a wonderful little trip to my favorite places.

 10 Rue Bailleul, my temporary Paris home

...It’s been just over two weeks since I left the wonderful world of holidays and was thrown abruptly in to the cold, Melbourne winter. Four magical weeks spent exploring, wandering, eating, shopping, eating some more and sleeping. 

It had been four years since my last trip to wonderful Europe, four years since a European summer. I know I can’t complain I am lucky that this was a trip where I revisited my favorite places, when I know many have yet to experience the joy that is a European adventure and a European summer.

Paris' famous Left Bank

This was a trip that I had been looking forward to for a very long time, something entirely different from my last trip. I am a very different person compared to the last time I was there. I was going for entirely different reasons and have a completely different outlook compared to the very young 22 year old that visited in 2010.

This was a trip purely for me; it was a trip that I had initially planned to go on by myself. But as luck would have it I spent most of the four weeks enjoying the company of friends and family with a few wonderful days on my own re-exploring magical Barcelona.

Paris, London, Barcelona and Pezenas…

Almost two weeks were blissfully spent in Paris. Of any city, apart from Melbourne, Paris is my favourite. It is beautiful, interesting and there is so much to see, do, eat and drink. I am not talking about your standard tourist attractions (Don’t get me wrong I love a good tourist attraction, I mean the Eiffel Tower… just stop it!). But the quiet streets away from the major hustle and bustle, little lane ways, cafes, wine bars, patisseries, galleries, bookshops… one amazing taxidermy shop (If only I had somewhere to keep a menagerie or a polar bear). 

 This little beauty was one of the many treasures found in Design et Nature (4 rue d'Aboukir 75002 Paris)

It’s a magnificent city. Days were spent wandering streets where the only decisions that were made were along the lines of, left or right and do I want another cake. It was a hard few weeks that’s for sure. 

The shopping, don’t even get me started on the shopping…OH EM GEE! The Europeans sure know how to do a sale, and Australian retailers really need to up their game. With most shops offering a 50% off minimum it was hard to contain myself. 

Paris left me in a daze. Cakes, cheese and pastries were eaten; wine was drunk, with a side of long walks and long lunches. Some people go to Europe to see the sights; I go for the cake shops and patisseries. 

Cakes from the Patisserie down the road, the eclaires pictured changed my life. If your in Paris I highly recommend a visit to Boulangierie Julien: 75 Rue Saint Honoré 75001.

Paris was followed by a wonderful and sunny long weekend in London, catching up with old friends and eating some more. London is wonderful; having been lucky enough having spent a bit of time there in the past, there is nothing better than experiencing London as a local. Completely bypassing anything touristy and just hanging out.

Somewhere near Brick Lane

The most wonderful thing about this trip was that I got to just hang out, revisiting places where I have already done the touristy thing. It’s so enjoyable being able to experience a foreign city like you would your home. 

After a very sad good bye in London, and some pressure placed on old friends to get their bums over to the sunny side of the world ASAP it was off to Barcelona.

The first stop where I was traveling solo, it really is a liberating experience traveling all on your own. And sometimes a confronting one, you forget how much you just rely on others to help with things… Like needing to pee at the station with your entire luggage and no toilet cubicle big enough to fit you and your suitcase in… Major dilemma, do I leave my suitcase out or do I pee my pants?!

Leaving suitcase unattended won.

It’s also strange having dinner alone, which was probably the main down side to traveling solo. It was a novelty on night one, a novelty that quickly wore off. People respond in funny ways to a young woman dining on her own, there were some pitying looks; some confused and others were admiring my confidence to eat alone… I was hardly going to bypass eating dinner just because I had no one to eat it with!

Barcelona is a crazy place, bustling, hot, busy, loud, colourful. The main attraction I have with Barcelona is the art and architecture…. Three words, Oh My Gaudi. Antoni Gaudi, wow. Sagrada Família, Park Güell, Casa Milà, Casa Vicens and Casa Batlló, all wonderful buildings by this genius of a man.

The last time I was in Barcelona I visited Sagrada Familia, while I was there only the perimeter of the inside was open for viewing.  Scaffolding was everywhere and metal construction poles were holding up the ceiling.  You could see basic outlines of what the building was to look like but it was hard to get a good idea. 

This time… Wow! The inside is almost completely finished, apart from a few stained glass panels. It really is the most magnificent building I have ever visited. The scale and the intricate detailing, it completely took my breath away. It is a masterpiece. I’m not one to fuss over churches too much; however it’s hard not to fall in love with Sagrada Familia.

 

My days were spent wandering streets I had never been down, eating lunch at the St Josep Merkat and loosing myself amongst the crowds.

Then it was off to the south of France. Life is really better in the south of France. The French have it all sorted, they know how to live and how to enjoy themselves. Life is all about eating, drinking and spending time with family and friends. 

I ate fairy floss flavored ice cream here, I felt like all my childhood dreams had come true! 

My first night in Pezenas was spent at La Estival, a summer street party held every Friday night down the main street of this beautiful little town. The street is closed to traffic, tables and chairs are set up, food stalls, and local vineyards have wine for sale. You come down, buy an empty glass, proceeded to fill it and your tummy with delicious goodies, sitting on tables with hundreds of strangers. It really is the best way to spend a Friday evening.

My week in Pezenas was spent exploring medieval cities and castles, eating, sleeping in, eating more, visiting markets and enjoying the sunshine. I did not want to leave, Pezenas is one place I could happily spend much more time in. 

I’ve come home planning my next trip over, promising myself it won’t be such a long time between visits. There is just so much to see and holidays are always more exciting than real life!

Me in my happy place, wandering the grounds of the Louvre just before sunset