What would Audrey do...?

Often when I’m clothes shopping or dressing up for a night out, I think to myself “What would Audrey do?”

Miss Heburn has been voted as the most naturally beautiful and elegant women year after year in countless magazine, newspaper and website polls, even now, with a media saturated with "perfect" prototypes, we still vote for Audrey over anyone in todays limelight. She was always glowing, and even she described her look as simple. Many people mistake "Audrey fashion" as the look you see in "Breakfast at Tiffany's" (her worst film might I add) and this is totally off! If you look through photos of her off-screen, Hepburn loved to dress in simple sleek outfits, often a lot of black or comfortable flowing skirts, flats and scarves.

No, I’m not one of the countless overweight retro girls dressing backwards in time. I just question the over-complication we put into our appearances these days and with countless fads backed up by what can only be considered an over-PRed fashion industry, more and more women are dressing in ways that rather than enhance their beauty, actually makes them look worse.

Every newspaper, magazine and website that I either read or end up failing to avoid tells me the next “in” thing; from Platform heels to block colours to neon eye-shadow. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am aware that many of these looks are nothing new and can often be dated back to a very sexy care free 1970’s generation but what gets me is how un-care free this look has become.

Suddenly we’re spending hundreds of pounds to achieve looks that outdate faster than you can pay back your credit card bill.

Funnily enough, in an attempt to prove a point in this article, I sat down with a stunning photo of my fashion icon, Audrey (we’re on first name basis now don’t you know), and attempted to “modernise” her look (badly with little to no understanding of illustrator.) Some how, this… this… doll!!! manages to outshine any hideous transformation I try to put her through, therefore rendering my entire article null and void. I probably shouldn’t post this at all considering my best pal Audrey has put me to shame… but that would mean all this typing and illustration was a waste of time;

And I don’t like wastes of time.

Damn you Miss Hepburn and your perfectness!

p.s. A recent discovery of mine is that this lady used to have a pet deer! She's like a disney princess! ^^*

Writing, news and ponies.

I loved considering myself a writer, I always had. Being a cliche, sitting under willow trees, pen and paper in hand; open mic nights and distraught, humerous and somewhat mind-boggling words sprawled across a page. I loved being "That Girl"; Even I could see the humour in it.

Sadly it has recently come to my attention that writers actually write... on a regular basis! Who'd of thunk it eh?

I'm a pretty useless writer; my vocabulary leaves much to be desired, my topics are often gonzo but uninteresting and I only ever seemed to make myself and my mother laugh... now it's just me and laughing on your own is somewhat of a taboo; wouldn't want the neighbours talking now would we?

In fact, ever since it was "just me" I've found writing of any sort near impossible. Hard to believe there was once a time where sitting down with a notepad would produce pages and pages of words that not even I knew that I knew and a night in usually involved a laptop rather than an Xbox.

Its hard to pinpoint the exact reason why I've found writing more difficult. Am I complacent? Happy? Too busy? Bored? Do I imagine that without my mother laughing over my every word, that no one is actually reading or listening?

To be honest, none of those self-deprecating excuses are good enough so I reckon its time I got back on the horse, or maybe pony... yeah pony... much less terrifying... and start writing again; not that I can literally write on a pony, that WOULD be difficult.

In other news;

I have a new job; which is good.

I had most of my long long hair cut off, which is bad; but people keep telling me is good.

I have a flat with my boyfriend, which is good;

but its too expensive which is bad; so I'm looking for a new one... which is also bad.

And thats all we have time for tonight...

So I'll leave you with these wise words.

If at first you don't...

Thank you.

Goodbye.

Returning the kings to their roots.

The life of an under qualified king is never simple is it?

I had finally done it, broken through the mould of being under qualified and had at last become a king. Well sort of... I had made it to the bottom of a ladder, ready and primed to slowly stumble my way up in a pair of fairly painful but beautiful heels.

I had finally achieved what I was meant to have achieved over 2 years ago when I could actually call myself a "graduate" without a little bit of shame. I had moved to London, and followed the usual London routine... I hate it, I love it, I hate it again, sod it, lets get drunk, love it... f*ck this place, no wait, its alright if you let yourself sink into its "charms".

I was in a fantastically glamorous and monotone routine. Yeah that sums it up perfectly.

Anyway, if you've been paying attention, you may have noticed the use of the past tense. Yes, alas, it truly is the past. It all had to come to an end. The company I have been working for, although doing well, has been forced to budget over the following months, which means saying a sad goodbye. Life of kings eh?

It has been exactly one year, eleven months and six days since my first "under qualified king" entry; the entry that described a life of the hopeful unemployed. One year, eleven months and six days and I'm back to where I started.

Its ok, I like to tell myself that it all happens for a reason. A king wouldn't be a king without the knocks and bruises would it? So back to the land of pajamas at noon, "job applicator" for a title and maybe a little bit of tea, biscuits and Pacman.

Kings!
Watch this space :)

x Mum x

Happy Birthday mum
Tally Bermeister
R.I.P
16.09.61 - 07.07.10

I haven't been able to find the words or the right way to really blog since the passing of my mother. Nothing felt appropriate, still nothing feels appropriate. The simple fact was, she was the one who truly loved reading it. She was the one who inspired me to always find humor in the world around me and write it down, just so she could have a giggle at her computer screen. She was a very proud mother who always praised her children and encouraged each of our own skills and creativity. This blog would go on forever if I truly began to sum up what a beautiful, warm and strong woman she was so I'll leave it as it is.

She was my mother, best friend and angel in life and now in death she remains the same.
Always an angel.

Love and miss you always,
Happy Birthday.
xxx

"Shes my number one fan, my first blog reader, my only twitter feeder,
when I rhyme, I'm Browning, When I sing, I'm not a cat drowning,
When I dance I'm divine,
When I ctrl, alt, delete, I'm the new age Einstein.

She's beautiful, she's my muse,
a wondrous example of those Israeli Jews,
A smile covers pain, a story calms the insane,
A warm meal comforts cold, her hand was always mine to hold,
... and I know it's too late to write you this, but if I can't give you a kiss,
I might as well reminisce..."

Leora Bermeister 09.2010
A short segment out of the poem entitled "19.06"

Something I should have been proud of sooner.

Chinese New Year... In China!

So the Lunar New Year was approaching, all I could think was that I'm sitting here, a two hour flight away from CHINA, the words "CHINESE New Year" bouncing around my head, I may have possibly been eating CHINESE food at the time... It seemed like I had no other choice and without thought or hesitation I rounded up some friends, some visas and some air tickets and we were off to Beijing for the long weekend.

There were a number of memorable moments within my short 3 day stay in the city, such as the Great Wall, the great hostel and the not so great duck; but I feel that I should focus my attention on the New Year itself.

Much like my skiing experience, I had an image in my head of what to expect. It included parades, dragons, one massive firework display somewhere central, more dragons, street shows, dragons, bright lights, dragons and fireworks. Unlike my skiing experience, all my expectations were surpassed and were nothing like I had imagined.

On Saturday we went on a hunt for action. Where are the people? The People setting up camp for the evenings show? I grew up in Australia, and my idea of a firework display included setting up during day light to secure a spot. Where were the dragons?!?!? Had we come to the wrong city?

After chatting a few times to our wonderful hostel staff, they assured us there was "no where to be", which disappointed us greatly. Luckily, the manager took a liking to us and said to be back by midnight to join her on the roof of the hostel for a drink.

We wandered the streets and side-alleys for a while, only to watch all the locals setting off firecrackers everywhere and anywhere. I even saw children lighting them and cars driving around them; it was madness. This sight is unbelievable within itself, for 15 days straight this is a normality; every where you go, day or night, you will either hear or see explosions; its how I imagine a war-zone to be... obviously, without all the death.
Midnight came and we headed up to the roof of the hostel with our beer; and in the cheesiest words I could think of "the magic happened." This is a sight that I feel everybody MUST experience at least once in their lifetime. The city is literally on fire! All around you, 360 degrees, every Person in the city is burning up the sky. I was over-whelmed and had no idea which direction to even look in. Fireworks were exploding next to me, behind me, to the left and right and above me... to top it off, this doesn't end. It peeks at midnight and continues for possibly an hour and then slowly calms down but still continues throughout the night.

The hostel manager explained why this was happening all across the country. There is an old story that tells of a ghost that brings bad luck; the ghosts name in Chinese means "Year". The Chinese people believe that if every year, they make as much noise and light as they can outside their homes and work places, they will scare off the ghost for yet another year. I wouldn't want to be the one person in China who forgets. She also explained that the Chinese people happily spend on these 15 days, buying as many of the most elaborate fireworks as they can; regardless of income.

Long story short... It was Awesome.

ASR... A Ski Rant

Skiing is not for everybody.

Let me start by saying that I am not judging the sport itself nor the people who do it. I'm just sharing my first experience and the disaster it was. If you LOVE skiing, you may want to stop reading because realistically, I'm going to be doing some heavy whinging.

This weekend I visited Muju ski resort (South Korea.)

I left JeonJu with so much excitement, I knew I wasn't going to master the sport in a weekend but I looked forward to the image I had running around in my head; cabins, lodges, hot chocolates, romantic ski lifts, beautiful people laughing, cute ski bunnies, snow fights oh and of course a bit of skiing; which to be honest looked a lot like this:

Obviously that reference would have made a lot more sense if there were actually people skiing in that video. Don't question me! They were holding skis, that's enough for me.

This is what it really looks like.

I got there, its bloody cold obviously, and I ask some people where the beginners go, they point at a queue and I get in. I stand in line for what feels like forever before getting on the ski lift which takes me to the top of a massive mountain (not for beginners). I fall while getting off the ski lift; at this point I realize that there is a possibility I may have not been ready for what it is I was about to face. I panic when I see just how steep the slope really is and instantly head into the mountain-top cafe (lodge?) for the hot chocolate I had dreamed of.

It turns out the lodge was actually a small dirty room filled with a few benches, a man who serves you an instant hot chocolate for twice the price and another man who after one sip comes over, tells you to throw away your drink and get off the mountain as they are closing the slope. Thanks for telling me this AFTER I buy the bloody thing.

I get my skis back on and look down the slope only to realize that I have absolutely no idea how to ski. No one has ever spoken to me or told me anything about skiing and here I am alone, looking down and thinking to myself;
"what the hell do I actually do???" More men come over and tell me to get off the mountain...

In their best English "GO! GO! SKI! NOW! SLOPE CLOSE! GO"

I make an attempt, I fall, I don't know how to get up, I remove a ski, get up, put the ski back on. I go, I fall, oh for god sake! All the while these men are still yelling at me to go. I manage to get going only to realize I don't know how to turn which leads me into a fence. Finally a man holds my hands and skis backwards in front of me down the mountain. He lets go, I fall. (This is starting to sound like a joke.) Finally after a long time of the man laughing to himself as to how the hell I ended up on that slope in the first place, he calls over some sort of embarrassing stretcher and throws me on it to be taken down the mountain to face my friends at the bottom. Humiliation at its finest.

The experience slightly improved in the evening when I actually found the beginner slope and practiced alongside all the other people just as bad as me... but here is my summary of skiing: I can't ski, it sucked, I sucked... even when I got the hang of it (at 9pm on the beginners slope) it still sucked. Its cold, frustrating, expensive, uncomfortable, scary and abusive.

Okay now I've gotten that off my chest. Honestly, its probably not that bad. I may have just had an exceptionally bad first experience. I'm assuming that if my day had gone the other way around, hitting the big slope AFTER learning how to turn or stop; I would be sitting here saying how absolutely amazing skiing is but it all kind of happened backwards for me. Never mind... I guess skiing just is not for everybody.

On a final note. ASR (a ski rant) may also refer to A.S Roma, Air-sea rescue, apple software restore, and Asian soybean rust. ^^*