Dear Peggy,
When you are not feeling up to tip-top standard, and have a lot of things to do, DON'T try for wardrobe brilliance.
Because, if you spend the better part of an hour trying on, taking off, trying on again with a differnet cardigain, takign off again in a huff, you will not only miss three buses, you will be forced to come home to a room covered in fashion excriment. Complete with rejects, naked coathangers, discarded shoes, and a herniated wardrobe. (There were supposed to be pictures this week, but, unfortunately, my camera is not working - maybe it was offended?)
Instead, put on the most comfotable, most easy, and most black outfit of all (Johnny Cash, who faced his share of days that weren't at tip top standard, was onto something).
You might not get complimented. You might not get looked at. But at least you will get to work on time.
Which will mean you can come home early for a cup of tea and some of Jackie O's biography before heading out to job number two.
Cheers and lotsalove,
Peggy x
Monday, April 11, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Top Ten
It’s been yet another busy week here for Ms Entwhistle – I know, I know, we’re all busy, so there’s nothing new or exciting in my busy-ness. But, some wonderful things have been happening this week, so I thought I’d share some glimpses and snippets of my week with you, in the hopes that you are faring similarly well.
#10 – Sumatran Organic Fair-Trade (also slightly sanctimonious) Coffee. I ran out a couple of weeks ago, and couldn’t get myself to Jindebah Coffee until late this week just passed – but this magnificent coffee is so worth the wait and the journey to the deep south.
#9 – Marking First Year Essays. For a couple of reasons, I’ve ended up teaching a lot more than I intended this semester, hence a large part of my business. This means I get to mark 75 of each assessment task, and there are four assessment tasks in the course that I teach. I’m not doing the math because it’s going to scare me, but if you want to do it, go right ahead. This week I marked the first piece of assessment, and, as always, I’m thrilled by the effort that my little firsties have put into their work. Yes, marking is a headache, literally and metaphorically, but it also makes me smile.
#8 – Macaron Day. On Saturday, MamaK, Tessy Halberton and I had a girls’ afternoon making macarons. Whilst they are our first attempt, and, like the first year essays mentioned above, have a long way to go before they are perfect, they still taste rather magnificent.
#7 – The End Of Fieldwork. Yes, folks, it’s over. Specifically, it ended at 3am at an unnamed fieldwork location, and I was supremely glad. Particularly as The Dreamboat, acting the role of BIG HE MAN PROTECTOR, willingly stayed up all night, and surrendered the wee small hours of his twenty sixth birthday to doing something no one in their right mind would do. Which brings me to wonderful thing six…
#6 – The Dreamboat’s Birthday. Dreamboat turned 26 on Friday, and, although we were both whacked from a hard night’s observing, it was still a lovely day. Happy birthday darling, I’m glad you liked your present, even if I dropped it and it doesn’t quite work properly anymore – incidentally, does anyone know of a barometer repairer?
#5 – Autumn Barbecues. For the Dreamboat’s birthday lunch, we packed an impromptu BBQ and headed out to Cotter Bend reserve. It’s one of my favorite places in the whole world, especially at this time of year. I would have taken my camera to snap some shots to share with you all, but I thought better of it, as I want you all to go yourselves – the golden leaves and musky-earthy smell of the lichen is worth the windy road.
#4 – Lemons (and one lime) In My Kitchen. Don’t they look cheerful? They remind me of sunshine every time I see them.
#3 – Sunday Yum Cha. I promise I will never leave it ten years between drinks with Yum Cha, because it’s so much fun. Especially when you go with a group of ten people. Especially when you can chat about fabulous bargain fashion with friends you hadn’t caught up with in a while. Especially when there’s a giant Lazy Susan to twirl food on. Especially when you discover that friend whitebait is like fish and chips combined in the one foodstuff. Especially when you try tripe and are pleasantly surprised.
#2 – Fabulous Vintage Dresses. I scored two this week – one from the fifties and one from the seventies. There are so many fantastic vintage clothes sellers popping up around the place, there isn’t an excuse not to get amongst it.
#1 – Frogs. But the most wonderful thing of all this week? Victoria and Albert, our new green tree frogs. Yes, they are named after the royals. Yes, they did keep Dreamboat and I awake with what we think were mating calls (which, strangely enough, sounded like a bird-squawk). Yes, I did wake up in a terrible panic and had to check they were still breathing (I was worried they’d frozen to death).
Oh, but aren’t they just darling?
#10 – Sumatran Organic Fair-Trade (also slightly sanctimonious) Coffee. I ran out a couple of weeks ago, and couldn’t get myself to Jindebah Coffee until late this week just passed – but this magnificent coffee is so worth the wait and the journey to the deep south.
#9 – Marking First Year Essays. For a couple of reasons, I’ve ended up teaching a lot more than I intended this semester, hence a large part of my business. This means I get to mark 75 of each assessment task, and there are four assessment tasks in the course that I teach. I’m not doing the math because it’s going to scare me, but if you want to do it, go right ahead. This week I marked the first piece of assessment, and, as always, I’m thrilled by the effort that my little firsties have put into their work. Yes, marking is a headache, literally and metaphorically, but it also makes me smile.
#8 – Macaron Day. On Saturday, MamaK, Tessy Halberton and I had a girls’ afternoon making macarons. Whilst they are our first attempt, and, like the first year essays mentioned above, have a long way to go before they are perfect, they still taste rather magnificent.
#7 – The End Of Fieldwork. Yes, folks, it’s over. Specifically, it ended at 3am at an unnamed fieldwork location, and I was supremely glad. Particularly as The Dreamboat, acting the role of BIG HE MAN PROTECTOR, willingly stayed up all night, and surrendered the wee small hours of his twenty sixth birthday to doing something no one in their right mind would do. Which brings me to wonderful thing six…
#6 – The Dreamboat’s Birthday. Dreamboat turned 26 on Friday, and, although we were both whacked from a hard night’s observing, it was still a lovely day. Happy birthday darling, I’m glad you liked your present, even if I dropped it and it doesn’t quite work properly anymore – incidentally, does anyone know of a barometer repairer?
#5 – Autumn Barbecues. For the Dreamboat’s birthday lunch, we packed an impromptu BBQ and headed out to Cotter Bend reserve. It’s one of my favorite places in the whole world, especially at this time of year. I would have taken my camera to snap some shots to share with you all, but I thought better of it, as I want you all to go yourselves – the golden leaves and musky-earthy smell of the lichen is worth the windy road.
#4 – Lemons (and one lime) In My Kitchen. Don’t they look cheerful? They remind me of sunshine every time I see them.
#3 – Sunday Yum Cha. I promise I will never leave it ten years between drinks with Yum Cha, because it’s so much fun. Especially when you go with a group of ten people. Especially when you can chat about fabulous bargain fashion with friends you hadn’t caught up with in a while. Especially when there’s a giant Lazy Susan to twirl food on. Especially when you discover that friend whitebait is like fish and chips combined in the one foodstuff. Especially when you try tripe and are pleasantly surprised.
#2 – Fabulous Vintage Dresses. I scored two this week – one from the fifties and one from the seventies. There are so many fantastic vintage clothes sellers popping up around the place, there isn’t an excuse not to get amongst it.
#1 – Frogs. But the most wonderful thing of all this week? Victoria and Albert, our new green tree frogs. Yes, they are named after the royals. Yes, they did keep Dreamboat and I awake with what we think were mating calls (which, strangely enough, sounded like a bird-squawk). Yes, I did wake up in a terrible panic and had to check they were still breathing (I was worried they’d frozen to death).
Oh, but aren’t they just darling?
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Macarons!
I’m attempting something difficult. Something challenging. Something that often results in failure and existential crisis. Something that, should it succeed, will be worth the angst.
PhD?
No (or, rather, yes, but not what I’m writing about today).
MACARONS!
These babies have become the latest in culinary cool. And, like so many cool things (Glee, leggings, chai), I resisted Le Mac for quite a long time. Of course, they were nice to eat, but only if someone else made them, for they appeared to be far too much hassle to make on my own – besides which, ageing egg whites seems positively disgusting.
But I’ve now RSVP’d (fashionably late) to the macaron party, after a weekend workshop with MamaK and Tessy Halberton. Although our demonstrator made no bones about the fact the macarons just sometimes do not work, Tessy, MamaK and I were buoyed by enthusiasm, and no small amount of sugar from the macarons we nibbled throughout the workshop. We’ve booked in a macaron-making date in MamaK’s well equipped kitchen this Sunday – wish us luck!
However, this morning, thinking of the special birthdays for special people I have coming up, I thought I would being initial preparations for my own batch of macarons…
Including ageing the egg whites, which, thankfully, can be done in the refrigerator. As this photo illustrates, I have also weighed the egg whites. I NEVER NORMALLY DO THIS, but the demonstrator, in our weekend workshop, was most emphatic about liquid to dry ratios. Frankly, quite a lot of fuss and bother before the sun’s properly risen - but a perfect macaron will be worth the effort.
After all, you have to break a few eggs to make an omelet – sorry, a macaron.
PhD?
No (or, rather, yes, but not what I’m writing about today).
MACARONS!
These babies have become the latest in culinary cool. And, like so many cool things (Glee, leggings, chai), I resisted Le Mac for quite a long time. Of course, they were nice to eat, but only if someone else made them, for they appeared to be far too much hassle to make on my own – besides which, ageing egg whites seems positively disgusting.
But I’ve now RSVP’d (fashionably late) to the macaron party, after a weekend workshop with MamaK and Tessy Halberton. Although our demonstrator made no bones about the fact the macarons just sometimes do not work, Tessy, MamaK and I were buoyed by enthusiasm, and no small amount of sugar from the macarons we nibbled throughout the workshop. We’ve booked in a macaron-making date in MamaK’s well equipped kitchen this Sunday – wish us luck!
However, this morning, thinking of the special birthdays for special people I have coming up, I thought I would being initial preparations for my own batch of macarons…
Including ageing the egg whites, which, thankfully, can be done in the refrigerator. As this photo illustrates, I have also weighed the egg whites. I NEVER NORMALLY DO THIS, but the demonstrator, in our weekend workshop, was most emphatic about liquid to dry ratios. Frankly, quite a lot of fuss and bother before the sun’s properly risen - but a perfect macaron will be worth the effort.
After all, you have to break a few eggs to make an omelet – sorry, a macaron.
Friday, March 18, 2011
My Parents (And Godparents) Are, In All Likelihood, Cooler Than Yours.
This weekend just gone my Fairy Godmother and Fairy Godfather came to stay with MamaK and PapaK. As with most friendships as old as the one between my parents and godparents, hilarity ensued - perhaps because enough time has passed that small talk and propriety are irrelevant, and you can get on with the business of being very, very silly indeed. So silly, that my BigLittleBrother and I had to be separated, least we set off another giggle loop (it didn’t work, I could hear him from the lounge room, and snorted cabbage salad through my nose. I couldn’t help it, PapaK and the Fairy Godfather were still talking about probes).
My parents got so silly, sometime while the meat was being probed on the BBQ, they decided to crack open their wedding album. Judging by the dust, it hasn’t been looked at since they got married, in 1985.
Take note of the year, readers. MamaK and PapaK got married. In 1985. If you share my passionate interest in Brideality, you will know that 1985 was the pinnacle of the 80s, and, thus, the pinnacle of 80s weddings. Think taffeta. Think carnations. Think ruffles – for the blokes. Think Lady Di (may she rest in peace). In short, think BIG. REALLY REALLY BIG. THINK THE BIGGEST YOU CAN AND THEN TIMES THIS BY THE POWER OF TEN. And you may be getting close to how BIG everything Wedding was in the 80s.
As we leafed though the photos of the big day more than 25 years ago, a startling realisation dawned. My parents were cool. Really cool. In fact, so cool, and so anti-trend, were they, that I think they may just have been hipsters.
Take note, ye the jury, of exhibit a. My mother’s dress. Note how it has a vintage aesthetic, is demure yet charming, and is exactly the opposite of the 80s silhouette we know and love? As a good hipster girl, my mother knew that there’s nothing worse than conventionality, a fact reflected in her dress.
And exhibit b. My father’s moustache. Like all good hipster men, PapaK has a ‘tache, and, in this instance, can legitimately claim that he had one ‘before everyone else, and before they were cool’. Because he had one before present day hipsters were even born.
Exhibit c, ladies and gentlemen, is the bridesmaids’ dresses. Note how charming my Fairy Godmother and her fellow maids look, in simple dresses, which, in true hipster spirit, my mother made for them. Note, also, this particularly gorgeous shot of MamaK and the Fairy Godmother. They look like they’ve been caught doing something naughty and sharing a giggle. For the record, they still looked EXACTLY LIKE THIS at many points on the weekend.
Exhibit d refers to the style in which the photographs were taken – spontaneous, candid, and overexposed. Apparently, this was to do with the photographer botching up at the last minute, then overcharging my parents. So my folks instead relied instead upon the happy snaps of guests to fill their album. Something which the more hipster bridal magazines I hide in my desk at work (for scary moments when only Brideality will do) advocate as a way of creating ‘charming’ photo moments. Except, in my parent’s case, these charming moments were in the stead of an overpriced photographer, so there’s an added authenticity to these shots that makes them deeply, deeply cool.I particularly like the shot of the priest with a ciggy (look closely, it's there), and the groomsman picking out an eye crustie. My Fairy Godfather, a last minute guest (he’d only just met my Godmother), even pioneered some early photobombing, but sadly it didn’t scan well so I haven’t included it below – sorry, Fairy Godfather!
But I think, what gives the day more hipster cred than anything else mentioned above, is that my parents were true to themselves, and their style, in an era when the trend was not in step with them. The fact that, twenty six years down the track, their wedding photos look as fresh and lovely as they did all those years ago, is testament to how very cool, and how very true to themselves – in short, how very hipster – my parents were, and, in many ways, sill are.
So, yeah, I mean, it’s not like it’s a competition or anything, but my mum and dad, were, in all likelyhood, way cooler than yours.
My parents got so silly, sometime while the meat was being probed on the BBQ, they decided to crack open their wedding album. Judging by the dust, it hasn’t been looked at since they got married, in 1985.
Take note of the year, readers. MamaK and PapaK got married. In 1985. If you share my passionate interest in Brideality, you will know that 1985 was the pinnacle of the 80s, and, thus, the pinnacle of 80s weddings. Think taffeta. Think carnations. Think ruffles – for the blokes. Think Lady Di (may she rest in peace). In short, think BIG. REALLY REALLY BIG. THINK THE BIGGEST YOU CAN AND THEN TIMES THIS BY THE POWER OF TEN. And you may be getting close to how BIG everything Wedding was in the 80s.
As we leafed though the photos of the big day more than 25 years ago, a startling realisation dawned. My parents were cool. Really cool. In fact, so cool, and so anti-trend, were they, that I think they may just have been hipsters.
Take note, ye the jury, of exhibit a. My mother’s dress. Note how it has a vintage aesthetic, is demure yet charming, and is exactly the opposite of the 80s silhouette we know and love? As a good hipster girl, my mother knew that there’s nothing worse than conventionality, a fact reflected in her dress.
And exhibit b. My father’s moustache. Like all good hipster men, PapaK has a ‘tache, and, in this instance, can legitimately claim that he had one ‘before everyone else, and before they were cool’. Because he had one before present day hipsters were even born.
Exhibit c, ladies and gentlemen, is the bridesmaids’ dresses. Note how charming my Fairy Godmother and her fellow maids look, in simple dresses, which, in true hipster spirit, my mother made for them. Note, also, this particularly gorgeous shot of MamaK and the Fairy Godmother. They look like they’ve been caught doing something naughty and sharing a giggle. For the record, they still looked EXACTLY LIKE THIS at many points on the weekend.
Exhibit d refers to the style in which the photographs were taken – spontaneous, candid, and overexposed. Apparently, this was to do with the photographer botching up at the last minute, then overcharging my parents. So my folks instead relied instead upon the happy snaps of guests to fill their album. Something which the more hipster bridal magazines I hide in my desk at work (for scary moments when only Brideality will do) advocate as a way of creating ‘charming’ photo moments. Except, in my parent’s case, these charming moments were in the stead of an overpriced photographer, so there’s an added authenticity to these shots that makes them deeply, deeply cool.I particularly like the shot of the priest with a ciggy (look closely, it's there), and the groomsman picking out an eye crustie. My Fairy Godfather, a last minute guest (he’d only just met my Godmother), even pioneered some early photobombing, but sadly it didn’t scan well so I haven’t included it below – sorry, Fairy Godfather!
But I think, what gives the day more hipster cred than anything else mentioned above, is that my parents were true to themselves, and their style, in an era when the trend was not in step with them. The fact that, twenty six years down the track, their wedding photos look as fresh and lovely as they did all those years ago, is testament to how very cool, and how very true to themselves – in short, how very hipster – my parents were, and, in many ways, sill are.
So, yeah, I mean, it’s not like it’s a competition or anything, but my mum and dad, were, in all likelyhood, way cooler than yours.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
A-Waiting
Hi All,
My apologies again - I have missed my usual Monday/Tuesday posting this week. It's not for want of trying, though!
You see, the post is written, and a-waiting on my laptop, but the very special pictures to go with it are a-waiting didgitalization - and, due to me not having a scanner, this won't occur till Thursday or Friday.
But, I can assure you, it will be worth the wait!
Love,
Peggy xoxox
My apologies again - I have missed my usual Monday/Tuesday posting this week. It's not for want of trying, though!
You see, the post is written, and a-waiting on my laptop, but the very special pictures to go with it are a-waiting didgitalization - and, due to me not having a scanner, this won't occur till Thursday or Friday.
But, I can assure you, it will be worth the wait!
Love,
Peggy xoxox
Monday, March 7, 2011
Twee Monster
Sometimes it’s hard to stay cool, calm and grown up. Sometimes, you just want to embrace your inner three year old, and wear everything that’s pink, sparkly, motif-ed and pastel all at once.
This morning, I found myself gripped by the Twee Monster. Imagine the bastard love child of Julie Andrews (circa The Sound of Music) and Elton John (circa now and forevermore) – and you’re getting close to what my personal Twee Monster looks like.
You see, on what was shaping up to be a boring, let’s wear what’s clean day (I was doing two loads of washing), a rather lovely surprise was left on my doorstep by Australia post. It was an early birthday present from Clementine Kemp – a beautiful vintage sundress, full skirted, in the most darling turquoise polka dot. Before I knew it, I’d been stealth hit by the twee monster. I was wearing four different shades of pastel (turquoise, lemon, pink, lilac), three different motifs (polka dots, cherries, bows), two rings on the one hand (to tie in both the turquoise and lilac elements, natch), and one very distressed look on my face.
These are the consequences of overexposure to Elton John in the womb, and a childhood full of wholesome family entertainment. Clearly, urgent action needed to be taken.
So, how best to counterbalance the ravages of the Twee Monster?
It’s quite simple. I’ve got two words for you:
Black, and leather.
As exhibit A shows, I kept the foundational elements of the Twee outfit:
But added, as per exhibit B:
A big black leather bag, a tan leather belt, and some simple black onyx studs, and, like magic, the Twee Monster disappeared, back into its colour matched cave, with a copy of Elton’s greatest hits and the boxed commemorative Sound of Music DVD by way of consolation.
Except, then, the weather changed, and I had to start from scratch with today’s outfit…ah well, can’t win all your battles!
This morning, I found myself gripped by the Twee Monster. Imagine the bastard love child of Julie Andrews (circa The Sound of Music) and Elton John (circa now and forevermore) – and you’re getting close to what my personal Twee Monster looks like.
You see, on what was shaping up to be a boring, let’s wear what’s clean day (I was doing two loads of washing), a rather lovely surprise was left on my doorstep by Australia post. It was an early birthday present from Clementine Kemp – a beautiful vintage sundress, full skirted, in the most darling turquoise polka dot. Before I knew it, I’d been stealth hit by the twee monster. I was wearing four different shades of pastel (turquoise, lemon, pink, lilac), three different motifs (polka dots, cherries, bows), two rings on the one hand (to tie in both the turquoise and lilac elements, natch), and one very distressed look on my face.
These are the consequences of overexposure to Elton John in the womb, and a childhood full of wholesome family entertainment. Clearly, urgent action needed to be taken.
So, how best to counterbalance the ravages of the Twee Monster?
It’s quite simple. I’ve got two words for you:
Black, and leather.
As exhibit A shows, I kept the foundational elements of the Twee outfit:
But added, as per exhibit B:
A big black leather bag, a tan leather belt, and some simple black onyx studs, and, like magic, the Twee Monster disappeared, back into its colour matched cave, with a copy of Elton’s greatest hits and the boxed commemorative Sound of Music DVD by way of consolation.
Except, then, the weather changed, and I had to start from scratch with today’s outfit…ah well, can’t win all your battles!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
The Future’s So Bright I’ve Got To Wear Shades…
Many summers ago, during a companionable swim on a perfect South Coast beach, a suntanned, 19 year old Peggy glibly declared to her handsome swimming companion that 24 was her ‘Scary Age’. The age at which she would begin to see herself as an adult. The age at which she would begin to achieve adult things. The age at which she would begin using anti-wrinkle eye cream.
In a few short weeks, readers, I am turning 24.
What does this Scary Age mean now that I’m staring down its barrel? Well, I guess my 19 year old self was right – I can no longer see myself as anything but an adult, because I am doing all those adult things which seemed so far away at 19. I’ve moved out of home. I’m no longer working in retail. I’ve moved on from my first car (R.I.P LaShonda) to a car with power windows and central locking, and 4 doors. I’ve finished one degree and am midway through a PhD. I no longer drink and smoke like I used to. I’m punctual, at least more punctual than I used to be. I have rich and beautiful relationships with many loved ones. I bake my own sourdough bread. In short, readers, I feel very grown up, and ready to tackle The Scary Age head on.
There still remains the issue, though, of wrinkles, and the necessary commencement of early prevention measures. Last semester I noticed that I had a groove on my forehead, in a rather unusual spot – high up, and near my hairline. My first wrinkle. I immediately began to pull faces at the mirror. What facial expression was it that I was using to give myself an early onset wrinkle at 23? I tried smiling. It wasn’t a happy wrinkle. Ok, frowning then – still no corresponding line. Brows furrowed in deep contemplation of life’s mysteries? Nope. It was only when I gave up the silly game of pulling faces at the mirror, and let my incredulity at this whole situation show on my face, that it became plain. As the saying goes, you get the face you deserve at 50 (or 23), and the face I apparently deserve is the face of incredulity.
Cue existential crisis.
Since this disturbing discovery of my persistent incredulity, I have been trying earnestly to think un-incredulous thoughts. So far, so unsuccessful. There are too many WTF moments in life, particularly when you mark first year essays with the frequency that I do. So, I have compensated for my inability to be credulous by drinking lots of water, eating lots of avocados, and, most importantly, wearing sunglasses. All the time. Hence the title of this post.
You see, I feel like I can face anything that The Scary Age, and all the ages after me, throws my way when I’m ensconced in a pair of oversized shades. Somehow, putting them on makes me feel collected and together, like I am competent and can do all these grown up things I have to – and want to – do.
Like working on a perfect summer’s day rather than swimming at that perfect beach.
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