Monday, May 31, 2010

You might as well live

The thing is, I need a list.

I have a list on my desk every morning. I write it last thing before I go home the day before. My list can include simple tasks like "read papers", "file" or complex tasks like "check appeal - details Dom after 2" or cryptic things like "Day Adv inq - LFM June 16 - pros for AStatF".

I have lists for my my home life too. My grocery list says things like this:

*cranberry cereal
*work milk
*narnas (aka bananas).
*geggs (aka eggs)

My wardrobe list, which I write about every six weeks and is supposed to guide me effortlessly and stylishly through the upcoming season, says things like this:

*Blue pinny
*Beige pinny
*silk cotton crew neck
*Narna tee (aka Banana Republic tee shirt)
*wool tights
*Bally boots
*other Bally boots

..and so forth. It reminds me what I have and what I like wearing. It enabled me to get up extremely early the other morning to go to the Trash and Treasure market, all kitted out in a frock I had tucked away at the end of last winter:

Here's a close up of the pinny (or pinafore, if you will). It's a corduroy number I bought off a local ebayer for about eighteen bucks:
Here's a list of what I was wearing that day:

Tee shirt: Banana Republic
Dress: Cue, from eBay
Tights: COS
Bag: Mulberry
Boots: Bally , second hand, eBay

My clothing list at the moment is big on tights, boots and dresses. I have a work version and a home version. It was thrown in to chaos today when I was wandering around Sydney's CBD and came across this on sale (in a very big way - $40 reduced from $150) in a local chain store called Witchery:

That's a pretty tragic photo of what is actually a rather lovely blush-coloured rayon dress. Here's a close up of the smocking panel on the front:

It's a very soothing flattering colour and a wonderful shape - straight up and down, loose, suitable for strolling around estates with a parasol, playing croquet with my chums and Charlstoning. I will be wearing it for none of those activities, instead opting to team it with rather rugged plain accessories.

When I finally get my head around this dress it will appear on a list thus:

*peach smocking dress
*peach silk slip
*brown wool tights
*brown Marc Alpert boots
*cream crew neck
*red faille bag.

It might take a month or so though.

As I recovered from the chaos of an unexpected dress I went scouring for a copy of Harpers. US and UK magazines are available in Australia, but the up-to-date ones (that is, available here about a week after they hit the newsstands in Ohio or York) are zipped over the globe by air mail and cost a bomb - up to twenty dollars. I limit myself to Real Simple, Harpers, British Vogue and Lucky. Today, however, my list was challenged again when I found this:

It's a new British magazine with a very different attitude and much more stark copy than the usual run of magazines. It looks distinctly smart and not at all patronising. I am inordinately excited - I rather fancy myself as a bit of a gentlewoman. The proof, though, will be in the printed pudding: I will report back directly.

Oh, and I also got this with Some Blonde on the cover:

I had to. It was on the list.


  1. I cannot seem to function without making lists of things I have to do which I then completely ignore. Except for those items I include on my list that I have already done. Please let me continue to believe that this is productive.

    I think my favourite list is the Harper's Index.

  2. My favourite lists are those I find in shopping trolleys at the supermarket. I once found one that seemed normal until I got to the second last item: 12 loafs (sic) of bread. I never tire of wondering what exactly those 12 loaves were used for. And here's a sordid confession: sometimes I start my lists with something I've already done, just so have something to tick off.

  3. My mum used to keep a shopping list on our fridge and would add to it as she needed to (as I do now). One day my little brother added "plastic soldiers" to the list in his little brother hand, in the hopes that she wouldn't notice and buy him some plastic soldiers when she did the shopping for the week. I wish my mum still had that list.