An absence of colour, all colours combined and chocolate

The was a time ( a very distant time) when I used to do a lot of interviews. These days I remember few details of any of them, but I do remember interviewing the colour consultant, mostly because she admired the colours I was wearing at the time and assumed to me that I had already "had my colours done." 


I had not - I was just wearing my favourite combination of work colours: black (skirt) cream (tee shirt) brown (jacket). I still wear this combination in blocks and am given to slight over-excitement when I see them combined. Now you understand why I bought this J Crew cardigan in Las Vegas ...

...and this vintage Carlos Fiori bag at the Alameda markets in San Francisco. 

 That Conan, a tireless retail associate at the Small World Books bookstore at Venice Beach, comes in my colours is a happy coincidence. I would have patted him what ever his colours but I can't stop thinking how good he'd look in my office when I'm wearing a black dress. 

That's going to need three coats

It takes a special kind of genius to leave the Southern Hemisphere summer and fly to the Northern Hemisphere winter without a coat. I am that genius: I remembered to pack hankies, four different shades of lipstick, six different dresses, two pairs of boots and eight pairs of tights but neglected to take a coat.


I realised my omission when we were flying over New Caledonia. Too late to rush back home and grab the trench I had set aside especially. 


However, San Francisco was sympathetic to me and put on the loveliest spring time weather for our first couple of days. This gave me time to re-group and concoct several reasons as to why I might need to get more than one coat.   


My first coat came from Old Navy. It was marked at fifty dollars but after the myriad of discounts that seem to be routine at American checkouts, it cost $29.40. It is the best $29.40 I have spent - this cotton coat with its big pockets, imposing zip, secure press stud fastenings and sliver of blue floral lining kept me warm, dry and looking a little mysterious for the whole trip. 

What's more, it is featured in this month's Real Simple. I love that magazine and spend an unnecessary amount of energy wishing my life would resemble the clean and uncluttered style that glows from every page. And now, of course. it does.  

 Coats became a bit of an obsession for me. At the J Crew outlet store I came across this lovely peach number and decided that if Scarlett O'Hara was alive today she'd probably want this coat. Or maybe not - frankly it made no difference to how much I liked it. It was marked down from $160 to $80 but again at the counter that amazing discount thing happened and it was mine for $39.00. 

I've included a shot of the interesting vertical pocket where I will be able to stash liquorice allsorts, bus tickets or incubate plovers' eggs. 


Both these wonderful garments are cotton, light weight and feature hoods. I hate carrying umbrellas so the hoods are a very important feature for me. 


The last coat is a trench from Target. It was made in China, perhaps by a gay machinist. The boat on which is shipped over was no doubt manned by some gay people and I'm certain that gay people worked at the loading dock and at the distribution and the trucking companies who helped get this garment in to the store to be sold to the wider community, all of whom invariably have contact with gay people every day and some of whom who are gay themselves. 


So I was  saddened to learn today that US Target funded a political campaign that subscribed to anti-GLBT sentiments. Not cool, Target. You sell great stuff and the staff that helped me in your stores could not have been more respectful or friendly. I hope in the future you'll remember all your staff, customers and the communities in which you operate when you buy into political campaigns. 

It's a great coat. Every time I wear it I'll be making a donation to the one of Sydney's gay charities, as well as sending positive vibes to US Target to re-think their views and value the equality of the hearts and passions of all the millions of people who are connected with their stores. 


And a big kiss and a bunch of lotus to Sydney's Gay and Lesbian community who will celebrate their Mardi Gras party on my birthday. I hope it's perfect for you all! 

It's the little things

Next to hearts, my favourite symbols are stars. I love starry skies, I love to see a starry brooch on a coat, I love to see stars doodled on message pads. 

I especially love finding them in thrift stores, like these large silver earrings from the Out of the Closet thrift store in Los Angeles. They were in a basket on the counter with some scrunchies, a couple of plastic bangles and a broken headband. True, they're not really my style, and they were very tarnished, but I picked them for silver and could see they were made by hand, probably from a sheet of silver rather than moulded. I gave them a good polish this morning and rather liked their emphatic celestial statement. Not one I'd make every day, to be sure, but one I enjoyed on a hot bright Sunday.

 Nearby on the same counter, there was a plastic dish filled with cheap jewellery. I found this brooch in amongst the clatter. 

I thought it was excellent value for a dollar and am fairly certain it will find itself pinned against white or navy blue clothes in the near future. 


The best op shops always have a box or bowl of those little touches that you'll wear for years. A couple days later in the Goodwill store in Culver Hill (maybe?) I spotted this old gem under the counter, biding its time amongst a range of pendants and necklaces. 

Yes, the enamel is chipped and the brass is dull, but the design is beautiful and the wear she's endured makes her all the more lovely to me. Eight dollars was a lot (well, based on her intrinsic value) but I know I'll never see another like her. I wasn't sure how I wear her but I knew I couldn't leave without her. She would, I was certain, add a touch of history and romance on something I own sooner or later. 


I love the little touches. Everyone has their own little touch in some area of their life - adding garlic salt to their minestrone, finishing their grooming with a swipe of creamy beige lipstick,  wrapping a present with two different coloured ribbons. In all the blogs I read, it is the little touches that intrigue and inform me most. 


Another thing I've learnt about on the US blogs is Target. We have Target here but not as our American cousins know it. Our Target is safe and reliable and its range is limited. Last year I enjoyed the Target Liberty pop up store in Times Square but this year I found giant Targets on a our little road trip and did some serious Target trawling. I was mesmerised by the quality and range US Target offers. I found lots of little touches there, including this : 

It's the perfect spotty Saturday bag for keeping safe sunglasses and purses while you haul a huge bag around for groceries and vegetables. Better still, it was very receptive to a little touch of its own. 

Brooch + spotty bag = nice touch. 

The American thrift stores were good to me. In St Matthews Thrift store in Santa Monica (well worth a visit: great range, extremely well priced) I found three silk scarves that cost me a total of $2.50. 

The drug stores were just as helpful. Walgreens offered me touches of two of my favourite cheap cosmetics. 

I love both these products - they render my skin and hair quite pleasant to the touch. 


While the holiday is still fresh for me, I have to say - home is good. It's been nice, unpacking everything, allocating the space in the wardrobe, sleeping in my own bed, making my own breakfast with my own special touches. 

I miss the side order of toast with grape jelly, and I really miss sweet potato fries, but my sister-in-law (an accomplished artist and fabulous cook) made sweet potato salad today that more than satisfied that craving. 

                                              

There's beetroot, carrot and beans in there too. The recipe is from Neil Perry's book, but the almonds are her idea. I thought they were a lovely touch. 

Did you pack this luggage yourself?

There are many thousands of things I love about the US. I love their excellent roads (logical and well kept), I love their friendly and respectful citizens, I love the little tubs of raisins and brown sugar that accompany bowls of steel cut oats in diners and I love the colour and history that you can find with a little effort at every window, every truck stop, every corner. 


There are two things I wish I could bring home from home from the US and install here - the fabulous thrift stores and the Alameda Markets. 


We flew in yesterday and I, in a comforting shroud that can only be had after five Valium  (yes, five - I am a great person to sit next to on a plane, quiet and still) began to unpack. In my sweet unfocused haze, I thought you might like to see the vintage jewellery I collected on my travels. 


I'll focus today on my haul from the Alameda Markets. 

  It was all beautiful. Like this Czech pendant, Wedgwood brooch, amber glass brooch (that can also be worn as a pendant) and sash pin. 

Or this small carved plastic flower pin, or the gold lined brooch.  

Or these two glass Czech necklaces. 

Or this fabulous pair of matching glass brooches. They are bright and detailed and consequently hard to photograph but they are going to be so much fun to wear. 

It wasn't all rhinestones and clasps. There were many gorgeous dresses I had to leave behind, but did manage to find some light, easy to pack things, like  these four silk scarves. I am particularly in love with the zebra number. 

But not quite as in love as I am with this unbelievable creamy silk blouse from the forties. I believe this blouse was waiting for me. It was hiding under a pile of heavy table clothes and made itself known when I slipped my hand amongst the cloths, looking for silk. I bought it on spec without trying it on, and it fits like it was made for me. 

It is hand made, and even features tiny quilted removable shoulder pads. Look at the detailed sternum: 

Then this dress, which the dealer had marked for $60 but sold to me, for no reason I can discern, for thirty dollars. It's art silk, (hand wash! No drycleaning!) probably from the late forties, and is in perfect condition. She's a little roomy in the bosom, but nothing a good belt and fitted jacket can't fix. 
                                            
The dark patches you see on the chest area are two tiny beautifully smocked pockets. 

This little bark cloth bag is also hand made and cost me eight dollars. It has a split personality - meek and pastel...

... or crimson and dramatic. 

I like both. 


So that's one tiny corner of my luggage. Coming soon - Volume Two: the thrift shop hauls. 

Leaving Las Vegas and Hollywood

It is a universally acknowledged truth that I really like photographing my feet ...

...which I did this afternoon on the pier at Santa Monica. We drove down to for lunch and to see what the Pacific looks like from the other end. It is, I'm happy to report, just as lovely as our part. 

Hollywood and the surrounding suburbs have been a strange experience. There is so much history, and so much familiarity, yet the town seems to be scrapped clean of any soul or heart. I've never been anywhere so rich in surface and accessories yet so devoid of flesh and feeling. 


We had hoped to do a bit of wider wandering but yesterday my spouse was laid low with a bad cold and a truly terrifying cough (seriously, birds fly from trees and cats hide under beds when he coughs). In the interest of public safety I kept him out of the driver's seat and instead we took a tour around Hollywood, part of which showed us houses where famous people allegedly live. Frankly I don't believe it - why would anyone live in the Hollywood Hills or Beverly Hills when the only certainty would be a busload of tourists rubbernecking your house every ten minutes? It was interesting nonetheless, learning the geography of the districts and seeing the fancy houses. 


I much preferred taking photos of other people's feet, which you can do, of course, at the famous Chinese restaurant pavement. The size of famous feet diverted me for quite a while (seriously, Matt Damon and George Clooney have enormous hoofers) and in amongst all those grown up feet are these tiny little baby feet: 

Sweet! 


But back to Santa Monica, where I made a friend ... 

... and my husband photographed, at their request,  some lovely, stylish friends ...

...and then he made a monochrome friend of his own: 

That handsome square-nosed four-legged chap was looking quite prepared to come home with us. 


And the big news - when we were taking lunch in a lovely cafe called Marmalade, we actually saw a very famous person indeed - Dick Van Dyke took a table a few feet from us! Mr Van Dyke and his dances with penguins (Mary Poppins) is one piece of film that always puts me in a good mood for weeks on end. I'm happy to report that Mr Van D looks like he could waltz a few rounds with some penguins yet. 


We're flying home tomorrow. It's sad to be leaving - we have had a wonderful time and learnt so much. The trip will be a long one, about 22 hours and we won't arrive until Friday. To get to Australia you have to fly through a time warp over the international dateline and you lose a day. This is academic for people like me who watch Air Crash Investigation and can't fly unless they are rendered comatose by Valium.


I have my bags packed - I had to buy two new suitcases in order to get all my shopping home. J Crew, Banana Republic and thrift shops are my weaknesses; visiting the Outlet place in Las Vegas has not helped matters. 


I have some wonderful purchases to show you when I get home, not least my magnificent Hermes blazer that I found in a store called Address in Santa Monica this afternoon. It is Holy Grail of blazers - in pristine condition, plain and yet beautifully detailed, large pockets, on sale and fits like it was made for me. I promise to provide relevant photographs when I am back in my home, but meanwhile here is my second favourite purchase - $5.99 from the CVS drugstore on Hollywood Boulevard: 

Cotton pyjama pants in a leopard skin print. Oh, CVS. Is there any whim of mine you can't satisfy? 


Before I go, a couple of other favourite feet: 

I can just picture her shoes. 

And hers. 

My two favourite Pisces-Aquarius couples. 

For ever more

Happy Valentine's Day!

St Valentine, as we know, believed in the power of love over all things. I believe in love and sweet chili sauce for my vegetables. That this little tub sweet chili sauce formed this pattern is one of the many happy coincidences that I've known these last ten days or so. 

This evening I caught the lift in my too-funky-for-the-likes-of-me hotel with a lovely cheerful young man who greeted us with great courtesy and charm. "How's it going?" I responded. "Actually," he said, "it's going great - I just performed at the Grammys! It's been one of my dreams and now I've done it!" 

Needless to say we were delighted for him. Sadly, I'm not young people so I don't know who he was. Hollywood, to that extent, is wasted on me. 

But not in other regards. For a start, I have seen the stars. None made me so happy as this one: 

My first crush! Seriously, I had a very severe crush on Sherlock Holmes - the Hollywood version - when I was 12. Sherlock Holmes is always Basil Rathbone to me. 

And of course the shops. I made rather a welter of it in Sephora and Zara this afternoon. A shopping spree on Hollywood Boulevard is not to be sneezed at. It almost beats Saturday's excess when my kindly husband took some rickety little aircraft to the Grand Canyon, something I couldn't face without being sedated to the point of coma. "I'm worried you won't have anything to do," he said before he left. 

Fat chance. 

Closing the suitcases is becoming one a major part of my daily exercise routine, and these are contributing to two of the major food groups of my diet: 

Why can I not buy these in Australia? 

Today we travelled from Las Vegas to Hollywood and when I was not eating, or thinking of eating, raisinets, I was thinking about Edgar Allen Poe. I was inspired by these blokes: 

Ravens! I'd never seen them in the flesh before. When I saw them I suddenly understood what set Poe writing for Lenore. They are fearsome and majestic and, as the truck driver who was buying something not quite coffee from the same diner told me, they can talk!

This trip to the States has done this for me on a larger scale too. Listening to conversations, talking with strangers in stores and diners, wandering through drug stores, watching the scenery - it is making the literature and the dialogue of America so much clearer. What once seemed to be somewhat mannered dialogue in Cannery Road or The Corrections now seems sparkling and authentic. 

Which brings me back to the start of of this post - hearts and love. Today marks thirty years since my mitrol and aortic valves were replaced. At the time the surgeon told me the valves would last about fifteen years and that my heart wasn't strong enough to withstand surgery a second time. It is an odd shadow to live in, a strange sound to live with,  a ticking clock that you're expecting to stop any minute. Over the years the prognosis has changed, and late last year I found out the valves I have - Starr Edwards - are now recognised to be indestructible. They could last forever, if only the rest of me were as durable. 

And that makes me very happy, that was once unclear and doubtful time is now spent feeding ravens, eating chocolate covered raisins and realising that I now understand Truman Capote better than I did.

The journey continues!