Sundays are the best days. I like Saturday, for sure, with its catch ups and outings and, more often than not, evening derring-do (last night a girlfriend and I took in some theatre. The show was called Naked Boys Singing. One does so love to support the arts).
Saturdays, though, carry the weight, or, more accurately, the burden, of expectation. They are, after all, the first day of the weekend, and weekends so often are hampered with great expectations for fitting in all the extra curriculars, pleasant or otherwise, that didn’t happen during the week.
Sundays are free from these expectations because, by Sunday morning, expectations have either been fulfilled or dashed (that genius outfit you spent all week planning either debuted spectacularly, or sits on the bedroom floor, a reject and a flop).
This gives the more highly evolved among us the opportunity to Be In The Moment (whatever that means, I am yet to find out). For those of us less evolved, Sundays present an irresistible invitation to undertake pleasurable little busy-nesses that didn’t quite warrant top Saturday billing, but are, nonetheless, important.
This, for me, usually involves making soup, the beauties of which are manifold.
Firstly, soup makes fantastic lunch food, and if you cook and portion it out on Sunday, you can have lunches ready made in your freezer for the rest of the week.
Secondly, soups are time consuming but low maintenance. You do need to be around (ish) for an hour or so to keep an eye on the stove, but you are free to engage in other busy-nesses that make Sundays so lovely (painting BOTH finger and toenails. Cleaning the shower while listening to Prince. Re reading Truman Capote. Trialing new eyeliner techniques in front of your freshly cleaned bathroom mirror – I finally got the knack of lining the inner rim. Subtle, yet effective. It’s my new favourite trick).
Thirdly, and finally, your neighbours are more likely to be home on Sunday, all the better to tease with the tantalising smells coming from your apartment. No, I’m not mean, but it is sometimes satisfying to know that that delicious garlic-onion-spices smell the whole neighbourhood is salivating over is all for me.
Bwahaha.
Today, I made South Beach Black Bean soup, adapted from Nigella Lawson’s How To Eat. I made this soup last year for Kitty Gillfeather and I to share one night, and, whilst it was Okay, it was not Omazing.
Never one to be defeated by a recipe, and with complete faith in the kitchen gospel according to Nigella, I attempted it again, this time with a couple of modifications.
I’m pleased to report that my faith in Nigella’s inherent rightness was rewarded, after a couple of hours of simmering, by a dark, deeply spiced, lime-spiky soup. The best kind.
Given its Cuban heritage, I feel it’s only appropriate that you eat a bowl of this with something rum-based to drink: a Cuba Libre, perhaps, or, if you’re a little out-of-left-field, like me, sarsaparilla and Bacardi over ice with a squeeze of lime.
Yet another reason why Sundays are the best day: they’re the only day when lunchtime drinking (infinitely more satisfying than evening drinking) is de rigueur. After all, we’ve got work in the morning…
South Beach Black Bean Soup (Adapted from Nigella Lawson’s How To Eat)
(Makes three large portions)
200g black turtle beans
1 bay leaf
Olive Oil
1 red capsicum, finely chopped
1 onion, finely chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 tablespoon dried oregano
Zest of one lime, plus extra limes to serve (allow one per person for citrus fiends like me)
Sugar, salt, pepper, to season
1 tablespoon dry sherry
Sour cream, sliced avocado, dried chilli flakes and/or spring onions and coriander, to serve.
1) Cover the beans and the bay leaf with a generous amount of water in a medium sized saucepan. Bring to the boil and keep at the boil, topping up with more water as needed, until beans are beginning to tenderise, but, still have quite a bit of bite.
2) Meanwhile, in your largest saucepan, heat the oil and add your finely chopped onion and capsicum. Cook over medium heat until translucent, which should take about ten minutes.
3) Add the garlic, cumin and oregano to the onion and capsicum and cook a further five minutes. The mixture should be starting to colour, which is good. You want this mixture caramelised, almost to the brink of burnt, for depth of flavour.
4) Hopefully, your beans will be crunchy-tender by this stage. If so, add them, and their cooking liquid, to the large pot, and bring to the boil. If your beans are not quite ready, remove the onion-capsicum mixture from the heat. Return to the stove when the beans are just about ready.
5) Cook at a high simmer until the beans are completely tender. Add in the sherry and lime zest, and season to taste. Nigella’s original recipe suggests using a whole tablespoon of salt (admittedly for a larger quantity of soup than my specifications), which sounds like a lot, but bean dishes do tend to need a lot of seasoning to taste of anything at all, so taste test thoroughly and often and salt accordingly.
6) Locate rum, chill glasses.
7) Spoon soup into bowls and serve, sprinkled with any, none, or all of the following: sour cream, sliced avocado, dried chilli flakes, finely sliced spring onions, coriander, and lime wedges to squeeze over the soup on the side.
8) Viva Nigella, Viva Soup Sessions, Viva Sundays.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Sunday, April 8, 2012
A Week Full of Good Things.
Dumplings on Monday at lunchtime. Reminiscing with old colleagues about teaching, realising what I miss and what I don’t (I miss the students. I miss being in the classroom. I don’t miss marking).
Gin and tonics on Tuesday. In my track pants. Living the dream.
Laksa on Wednesday night. Feeling proud of my dear friend as she tackles her honours year with a smile. Glad that I can rely on her to share my all-in enthusiasm for jumbo combination laksa, extra tofu. Finishing an enormous bowl of piping hot broth, noodles, meat and vegetables, and feeling, in the words of my friend, like our tummies are smiling.
Koko Black on Thursday. Realising that my brother and his lovely girlfriend make infinitely better brownies than Koko Black. There must be a special ingredient that Koko is missing. Lapsing into an iced chocolate coma. Picking up some Easter treats and wondering how a chocolate bunny can cost $50, and how at least two people bought them while we waited to pay.
Ravioli on Good Friday. Talking, exchanging news, laughing, drinking cider and wine while eight of us kneaded, rolled, mixed, filled, pressed, cooked, and, eventually, ate, something wonderful we’d made, together.
Plums and figs, most likely the last of this almost-never-happened summer, on Saturday. The plums bought at Coles (still delicious), the figs, fresh from my parent’s garden, birds kept away from the ripening fruit by a netting and wire Taj Mahal my father built around the tree. Having to take breaks from The Hunger Games trilogy (so compelling, so distressing) to do mindless, comforting things, like cleaning my bathroom and hanging out washing. Sharing cup after cup of tea and swapping budget recipes with my lovely friend, and her growing baby bump, in the afternoon. Putting the two halves of my Saturday together late in the evening, keenly feeling the outrage of our luck that, unlike so many, our budget recipes, and my father’s self sufficiency, are about economy and pleasure in growing things ourselves, not survival for ourselves and our families.
This morning, pumpkin, sweet potato, carrot and ginger soup simmers on my stove, and Easter-spiced sourdough fruit loaf bakes in my oven. I stand in my kitchen and typing this as I listen to Kanye and Jay Z and let the smells of good soup and good bread curl through my apartment.
Tomorrow, my big little brother, his girlfriend, and my littlest brother will come over for a belated Easter breakfast and egg hunt. We will eat the bread that’s rising rapidly in my oven as I type this, drink pots of tea and coffee, make ham and cheese croissants with a truly disgusting amount of Jarlesberg, and collect handfuls of cheap chocolate wrapped in colourful foil. We will pool our chocolaty spoils on my dining room table and divide the eggs equally between us, because it’s what we’ve always done. We will Skype our parents to hear about late snow, Scottish breakfasts, and Easter service in my mother’s childhood church. And we will exchange assurances that we are well, safe, and fed, and that our weeks have been filled with good things.
Gin and tonics on Tuesday. In my track pants. Living the dream.
Laksa on Wednesday night. Feeling proud of my dear friend as she tackles her honours year with a smile. Glad that I can rely on her to share my all-in enthusiasm for jumbo combination laksa, extra tofu. Finishing an enormous bowl of piping hot broth, noodles, meat and vegetables, and feeling, in the words of my friend, like our tummies are smiling.
Koko Black on Thursday. Realising that my brother and his lovely girlfriend make infinitely better brownies than Koko Black. There must be a special ingredient that Koko is missing. Lapsing into an iced chocolate coma. Picking up some Easter treats and wondering how a chocolate bunny can cost $50, and how at least two people bought them while we waited to pay.
Ravioli on Good Friday. Talking, exchanging news, laughing, drinking cider and wine while eight of us kneaded, rolled, mixed, filled, pressed, cooked, and, eventually, ate, something wonderful we’d made, together.
Plums and figs, most likely the last of this almost-never-happened summer, on Saturday. The plums bought at Coles (still delicious), the figs, fresh from my parent’s garden, birds kept away from the ripening fruit by a netting and wire Taj Mahal my father built around the tree. Having to take breaks from The Hunger Games trilogy (so compelling, so distressing) to do mindless, comforting things, like cleaning my bathroom and hanging out washing. Sharing cup after cup of tea and swapping budget recipes with my lovely friend, and her growing baby bump, in the afternoon. Putting the two halves of my Saturday together late in the evening, keenly feeling the outrage of our luck that, unlike so many, our budget recipes, and my father’s self sufficiency, are about economy and pleasure in growing things ourselves, not survival for ourselves and our families.
This morning, pumpkin, sweet potato, carrot and ginger soup simmers on my stove, and Easter-spiced sourdough fruit loaf bakes in my oven. I stand in my kitchen and typing this as I listen to Kanye and Jay Z and let the smells of good soup and good bread curl through my apartment.
Tomorrow, my big little brother, his girlfriend, and my littlest brother will come over for a belated Easter breakfast and egg hunt. We will eat the bread that’s rising rapidly in my oven as I type this, drink pots of tea and coffee, make ham and cheese croissants with a truly disgusting amount of Jarlesberg, and collect handfuls of cheap chocolate wrapped in colourful foil. We will pool our chocolaty spoils on my dining room table and divide the eggs equally between us, because it’s what we’ve always done. We will Skype our parents to hear about late snow, Scottish breakfasts, and Easter service in my mother’s childhood church. And we will exchange assurances that we are well, safe, and fed, and that our weeks have been filled with good things.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Bad Face Incidents (Brow Jobs Make it Better)
Having a Bad Face Incident? Spots, wrinkles, redness, dryness, freckles in weird places, funky dark under eye circles, bags, sags, itches, make up that decides to turn on you for no apparent reason?
I hear you.
Bad Face Incidents happen. To everybody. It’s a part of being human. Whilst it’s unlikely that you’ll have the full gamut listed above all at once (if you do, you poor thing, here’s a digital cuddle), I’d wager the next six months’ pay that not one of you reading this post can say that you haven’t had at least one of the above problems in the last twelve months. That’s ladies AND gentlemen, because I know blokes get Bad Face Incidents, too, even if they appear to shrug them off more easily than women.
What I know to be true is that until such time as the miracle cream/pill/product is invented, that wipes out spots/wrinkles/redness/freckles/cold sores et al, we’re all going to be in the Bad Face Incident boat at one point or another. Cold comfort, but comfort nonetheless, to know that it’s as much of a certainty as death and taxes that most humans will wake up, look in the mirror while brushing their teeth, and baulk.
So what can you do when you find yourself facing a Bad Face Incident? There are certainly things to address the specific concerns you have that, to a greater of lesser degree, are largely dependant on your budget, willingness to change your lifestyle (goodbye, Benson and Hedges, the bells of our love will ring in my heart 4 evah) and your stance on botulism as a suitable injectable (for the record, I’m undecided on that one, let’s have a chat about it after my next milestone birthday). Most of the remedies to Bad Face Incidents, though, take a little time to bear fruit. This isn’t helpful when you are mid-baulk, with your toothbrush lolling about your gaping-in-surprise mouth, and wondering how you are going to face the day without a paper bag.
While it’s not going to solve your wrinkles, your itches, your cold sores or your under eye circles, I do have something simple to suggest that will make you look infinitely better, irrespective of the particular Bad Face Incident that you have the misfortune of living through. I’m going to tell you, right now, because if you are having a Bad Face Incident, there’s no time to be tardy.
You need to grab a pair of tweezers, set yourself in front of a well lit mirror, and pluck your eyebrows. You too, boys.
The beauty of a good brow job is that no one will notice WHAT you did, but everyone will notice that you did something that makes you look better. Here’s why.
A good brow job will open up your eye area, making you look instantly more awake and younger. If you ARE younger, it will make you look FRESHER, which is also a good thing, particularly if you are so very, very unfresh as a result of adopting a youthful attitude to drinking, ciggies, and late nights cleaning up vom (belonging to you and, worse, to others) at house parties. This is especially true if your brows are like the Spice Girls song, and take ‘Two Become One’ as a directive. Gentlemen, this is a move your brows seem particularly fond of, so I would recommend starting in the middle of your brow and working outwards until there are two distinct hairy places as opposed to one. Feeling better already, aren’t we lads?
A good brow job will make your eyes the focal point of your face. Which means that when people look at you, they won’t be looking at your spots/wonky lippie/sprouting mole/as yet unspecified bad face incident. No, sirs et madams, they will be looking into your eyes, deep into your eyes, entranced by the beauty that they no doubt will find there. Because, if you haven’t noticed already, everybody has absolutely beautiful eyes, in one way or another. Go on, have a look. Don’t stare (it’s rude) but next time you encounter a real live person, take a peep at their peepers. See? Beauty. Right there. Even if their owners were otherwise totesies mingsies (Totally minging. I’ve been watching Bondi Hipsters on YouTube, and have been inadvertently hipsterising my vocab all week. Soz). Let’s accentuate what’s no doubt lovely about you with some lovely brows. Ming mitigated.
A good brow job will make your face so much more expressive. Back in the day when I used to be a Flirty Florence (many, many, many birthdays ago), the final arrow in my cupid’s bow was a quick flick of my meticulous brow, and I was, most of the time, In. Likewise, I was (and still am) a sucker for a cocked brow. Beyond flirting, though, a good brow job will allow your quirky/cute/serious/sincere/downright hilarious facial expressions to show – never a bad thing, provided you can modulate your face for the appropriate social setting. I once got told off by a student for wincing whenever he spoke in tutorial. Probably would have been good, in that situation, to have a less expressive face. Let’s revise my previous statement, then, to it is ALMOST never a bad thing to allow your facial expressions to show. (Although, having great brows certainly helped me pull a convincing Face of Contrition during the subsequent conversation. Perhaps greater facial expressivity granted by a good brow job is a double edged sword. Best wield it wisely).
Finally, and most importantly, a good brow job, for the above reasons, will make you FEEL fifty million per cent better about your face. Which, as we all know, is the real crux of the bad face incident – it’s about how you feel about your face, not as much about that wrinkle or that pimple that shouldn’t be there. So when that morning I described at the beginning of this post happens (and it will happen), and you find yourself confronted with a Bad Face Incident, remember two very important things: first, you are not alone, and second, grab those tweezers and get that swaggah back.
I hear you.
Bad Face Incidents happen. To everybody. It’s a part of being human. Whilst it’s unlikely that you’ll have the full gamut listed above all at once (if you do, you poor thing, here’s a digital cuddle), I’d wager the next six months’ pay that not one of you reading this post can say that you haven’t had at least one of the above problems in the last twelve months. That’s ladies AND gentlemen, because I know blokes get Bad Face Incidents, too, even if they appear to shrug them off more easily than women.
What I know to be true is that until such time as the miracle cream/pill/product is invented, that wipes out spots/wrinkles/redness/freckles/cold sores et al, we’re all going to be in the Bad Face Incident boat at one point or another. Cold comfort, but comfort nonetheless, to know that it’s as much of a certainty as death and taxes that most humans will wake up, look in the mirror while brushing their teeth, and baulk.
So what can you do when you find yourself facing a Bad Face Incident? There are certainly things to address the specific concerns you have that, to a greater of lesser degree, are largely dependant on your budget, willingness to change your lifestyle (goodbye, Benson and Hedges, the bells of our love will ring in my heart 4 evah) and your stance on botulism as a suitable injectable (for the record, I’m undecided on that one, let’s have a chat about it after my next milestone birthday). Most of the remedies to Bad Face Incidents, though, take a little time to bear fruit. This isn’t helpful when you are mid-baulk, with your toothbrush lolling about your gaping-in-surprise mouth, and wondering how you are going to face the day without a paper bag.
While it’s not going to solve your wrinkles, your itches, your cold sores or your under eye circles, I do have something simple to suggest that will make you look infinitely better, irrespective of the particular Bad Face Incident that you have the misfortune of living through. I’m going to tell you, right now, because if you are having a Bad Face Incident, there’s no time to be tardy.
You need to grab a pair of tweezers, set yourself in front of a well lit mirror, and pluck your eyebrows. You too, boys.
The beauty of a good brow job is that no one will notice WHAT you did, but everyone will notice that you did something that makes you look better. Here’s why.
A good brow job will open up your eye area, making you look instantly more awake and younger. If you ARE younger, it will make you look FRESHER, which is also a good thing, particularly if you are so very, very unfresh as a result of adopting a youthful attitude to drinking, ciggies, and late nights cleaning up vom (belonging to you and, worse, to others) at house parties. This is especially true if your brows are like the Spice Girls song, and take ‘Two Become One’ as a directive. Gentlemen, this is a move your brows seem particularly fond of, so I would recommend starting in the middle of your brow and working outwards until there are two distinct hairy places as opposed to one. Feeling better already, aren’t we lads?
A good brow job will make your eyes the focal point of your face. Which means that when people look at you, they won’t be looking at your spots/wonky lippie/sprouting mole/as yet unspecified bad face incident. No, sirs et madams, they will be looking into your eyes, deep into your eyes, entranced by the beauty that they no doubt will find there. Because, if you haven’t noticed already, everybody has absolutely beautiful eyes, in one way or another. Go on, have a look. Don’t stare (it’s rude) but next time you encounter a real live person, take a peep at their peepers. See? Beauty. Right there. Even if their owners were otherwise totesies mingsies (Totally minging. I’ve been watching Bondi Hipsters on YouTube, and have been inadvertently hipsterising my vocab all week. Soz). Let’s accentuate what’s no doubt lovely about you with some lovely brows. Ming mitigated.
A good brow job will make your face so much more expressive. Back in the day when I used to be a Flirty Florence (many, many, many birthdays ago), the final arrow in my cupid’s bow was a quick flick of my meticulous brow, and I was, most of the time, In. Likewise, I was (and still am) a sucker for a cocked brow. Beyond flirting, though, a good brow job will allow your quirky/cute/serious/sincere/downright hilarious facial expressions to show – never a bad thing, provided you can modulate your face for the appropriate social setting. I once got told off by a student for wincing whenever he spoke in tutorial. Probably would have been good, in that situation, to have a less expressive face. Let’s revise my previous statement, then, to it is ALMOST never a bad thing to allow your facial expressions to show. (Although, having great brows certainly helped me pull a convincing Face of Contrition during the subsequent conversation. Perhaps greater facial expressivity granted by a good brow job is a double edged sword. Best wield it wisely).
Finally, and most importantly, a good brow job, for the above reasons, will make you FEEL fifty million per cent better about your face. Which, as we all know, is the real crux of the bad face incident – it’s about how you feel about your face, not as much about that wrinkle or that pimple that shouldn’t be there. So when that morning I described at the beginning of this post happens (and it will happen), and you find yourself confronted with a Bad Face Incident, remember two very important things: first, you are not alone, and second, grab those tweezers and get that swaggah back.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
No One Likes a Hosiery Hoe
Tip #1: Always, always, always, always, ALWAYS keep a virgin pair of basic black tights and basic black or nude stockings in your hosiery drawer for laundry/ladder/last-minute-important-event emergencies. By virgin, I mean still in plastic. Those black opaques you’ve worn twice do not count as virgins. They’ve been around the block already, sister.
Tip #2: Avoid snags (which always occur when you’re running late for the bus and have already busted out your virgin pair) by filing your nails as soon as you trim/break them. Similarly, put your jewellery on after you’ve put on your hosiery, or select pieces with smooth settings. Gentlemen, if you are looking for a significant piece of jewellery for a significant other, factor in the hosiery-snag-factor in your final decision. It will save your household money and running-late tantrums, thus enhancing your domestic bliss quotient.
Tip #3: Unless you are nubile and/or a fan of hip flexor stretches, DON’T put one leg of your tights on and roll all the way up to your crotch. You will have to bend yourself like a paperclip to get the other leg in. DO insert your legs into your tights simultaneously, so that you can pull the tights up both sides at once and avoid groin strain. If, however, you enjoy an early morning challenge, go right ahead and relish the joy of having Birkram bendy legs. And keep the number of your chiro handy, just in case you are not quite the yogi you thought you were.
Tip #4: Manage ladders with a dab of clear nail polish. This works best if you apply it while you are wearing the tights.
Tip #5: To stretch tights that are too short, tie one end securely to a bedpost. Wind the tights around the other bedpost, loop them, and stretch them back to the first bedpost. Fasten securely, leave overnight, and, voila, your tights will be long enough in the morning. For drastic cases, do this with wet tights. NEVER have a pair of tights stretching on your bedposts when you entertain guests. It can imply some proclivities you may not be comfortable with.
Tip #6: You can easily repair tears in openwork lace or fishnet tights (SO big this season) by carefully drawing together the two sides of the tear with a needle and thread. Unfortunately, this doesn’t work for opaques, sheers, or printed tights.
Tip #7: Extend the life of your torn and laddered plains by layering under a pair of openwork lace or mesh tights. Double the warmth, with the advantage that no one will notice the tears and ladders in the pair underneath.
Tip #8: Similarly, if crotch tears threaten imminent disgrace to your reputation as a lady, layer a (large, plain, respectable) pair of panties over your tights. I maintain this is how the undies-over-the-tights look got so big in comics. Bruce Wayne was merely rationalising his hosiery expenditure.
Tip #9: Dark colours minimise, bright/light colors magnify. Vertical stripes or patterning will lengthen your legs, horizontal patterns or detailing will expand them. A black dress, black tights or stockings, and black shoes, will lengthen the eye line. Select hosiery with these principles in mind.
Tip #10: Try a garter belt and stockings, they are more practical than you might think. It’s easier to carry a single stocking (in case of tears and ladders) in your purse, as opposed to a balled-up pair of tights. Stockings are also cost effective, in that if you wreck one half of a pair, you can save its lonely other half as a backup. Just be sure to pick a brand and colour and stick to it if you are not a fan of the mismatched legs look.
And, finally…
Tip #11: Remember, at all times, that tights and stockings are a capitalist lie, designed to part women of the world from their hard earned dollars. If you really to revolt, wear them ripped, torn, layered, and mismatched. But just remember tip #8 about being a lady. Make like Batman and layer with sensible panties, because no one likes a hosiery hoe.
Tip #2: Avoid snags (which always occur when you’re running late for the bus and have already busted out your virgin pair) by filing your nails as soon as you trim/break them. Similarly, put your jewellery on after you’ve put on your hosiery, or select pieces with smooth settings. Gentlemen, if you are looking for a significant piece of jewellery for a significant other, factor in the hosiery-snag-factor in your final decision. It will save your household money and running-late tantrums, thus enhancing your domestic bliss quotient.
Tip #3: Unless you are nubile and/or a fan of hip flexor stretches, DON’T put one leg of your tights on and roll all the way up to your crotch. You will have to bend yourself like a paperclip to get the other leg in. DO insert your legs into your tights simultaneously, so that you can pull the tights up both sides at once and avoid groin strain. If, however, you enjoy an early morning challenge, go right ahead and relish the joy of having Birkram bendy legs. And keep the number of your chiro handy, just in case you are not quite the yogi you thought you were.
Tip #4: Manage ladders with a dab of clear nail polish. This works best if you apply it while you are wearing the tights.
Tip #5: To stretch tights that are too short, tie one end securely to a bedpost. Wind the tights around the other bedpost, loop them, and stretch them back to the first bedpost. Fasten securely, leave overnight, and, voila, your tights will be long enough in the morning. For drastic cases, do this with wet tights. NEVER have a pair of tights stretching on your bedposts when you entertain guests. It can imply some proclivities you may not be comfortable with.
Tip #6: You can easily repair tears in openwork lace or fishnet tights (SO big this season) by carefully drawing together the two sides of the tear with a needle and thread. Unfortunately, this doesn’t work for opaques, sheers, or printed tights.
Tip #7: Extend the life of your torn and laddered plains by layering under a pair of openwork lace or mesh tights. Double the warmth, with the advantage that no one will notice the tears and ladders in the pair underneath.
Tip #8: Similarly, if crotch tears threaten imminent disgrace to your reputation as a lady, layer a (large, plain, respectable) pair of panties over your tights. I maintain this is how the undies-over-the-tights look got so big in comics. Bruce Wayne was merely rationalising his hosiery expenditure.
Tip #9: Dark colours minimise, bright/light colors magnify. Vertical stripes or patterning will lengthen your legs, horizontal patterns or detailing will expand them. A black dress, black tights or stockings, and black shoes, will lengthen the eye line. Select hosiery with these principles in mind.
Tip #10: Try a garter belt and stockings, they are more practical than you might think. It’s easier to carry a single stocking (in case of tears and ladders) in your purse, as opposed to a balled-up pair of tights. Stockings are also cost effective, in that if you wreck one half of a pair, you can save its lonely other half as a backup. Just be sure to pick a brand and colour and stick to it if you are not a fan of the mismatched legs look.
And, finally…
Tip #11: Remember, at all times, that tights and stockings are a capitalist lie, designed to part women of the world from their hard earned dollars. If you really to revolt, wear them ripped, torn, layered, and mismatched. But just remember tip #8 about being a lady. Make like Batman and layer with sensible panties, because no one likes a hosiery hoe.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Comfort vs Contours and American Apparel Tights.
I watched a great film last night. By the end of the opening credits to The Rum Diaries, I had decided that I would run away to Porto Rico (or, more accurately, time travel back to Porto Rico circa 1960, when the film was set). It’s been too long since I had beach time, and the setting of The Rum Diaries whetted my appetite for sand, salt, sunshine, shenanigans on yachts with rope ladders, Aaron Eckhart in a linen suit, red Chevys and tanning the good old fashioned way.
As I was stirred from my slumber this morning byAaron Eckhart bringing me a cup of tea in bed the chill breeze of a Canberra Autumn, I remembered one reason why I was glad that I lived in cold old Canberra and not Porto Rico circa 1960.
American.
Apparel.
Tights.
I have a tendency, which I blame on clumsiness and longer than average legs, to go through pairs of tights quicker than Johnny Depp’s character in the film goes through bottles from the mini bar. Tights normally last about two wears before there is a hole in either the toe or the crotch. Having been a student for years, I’ve devised ingenious ways of getting more wear our of holey tights (a post for another day), but I’ve long suspected that hosiery, as much as I love it, is a capitalist plot to part young women from their hard earned.
This was until Zsusannah Verona bought me back two pairs of American Apparel tights from the states. It’s not too far a stretch to say that these tights LITERALLY
Blew.
My.
Mind.
Here’s why.
You know, ladies, how you face the dilemma every morning of Comfort vs Contours? It’s the battle between wearing what is comfortable, and wearing what gives you the contours you desire. American Apparel Tights are the only item of clothing I know of that not only passes, but excels, on both counts. They are the most comfortable tights I’ve ever worn, and, at the same time, make everything below the belly button look toned, luscious, completely free of cellulite, and totally pinch-able.
Could one want anything else? Well, actually, yes, you can, because American Apparel hosiery come in the most incredible array of colours, patterns, and textures. Soon after Zsusannah had gifted me two pairs (Dark Teal and Boudreaux), I placed an online order and branched out into their lacework, sheers, metalics, stockings and garter belts. All amazing. American Apparel hosiery also lasts at least three times longer than any other pair of tights or stockings I’ve owned, my long legs and clumsy habits notwithstanding. And, to cap it all off, America Apparel hosiery is made in America, by workers who are paid fairly. Everyone is a winner here.
Sadly, though, nothing is perfect, not even Aaron Eckhart (his character in The Rum Diaries is a bit of a jerkface). The big drawback with American Apparel tights is that they don’t come cheap. A pair of basic opaques will set you back $20, and when you get into sheers, lace, and garter belt/stocking combos you are looking at least $35. I know that this is a stretch for most people’s budgets, especially as hosiery is fragile and can’t be considered a rock solid wardrobe investment, like good quality wool cardigans and Veronica Maine pencil skirts.
However, it is without doubt worth the budgetary squeeze to invest in American Apparel hosiery. I don’t think any woman should have to face a Canberra winter without at least three pairs of beautiful, flattering, comfortable American Apparel tights and a garter belt plus sheer black stockings for those days when she needs a little help imagining she’s Joan Holloway or some other irresistibly sexy siren.
And while it’s not the sand, salt, sunshine, and other summertime shenanagins that I’m craving, American Apparel tights are a happy consolation prize for those of us living in Canberra circa 2012, rather than Porto Rico circa 1960.
Ps: as ever, this is an unsponsored post – just one woman sharing her hosiery tips with the blogosphere.
As I was stirred from my slumber this morning by
American.
Apparel.
Tights.
I have a tendency, which I blame on clumsiness and longer than average legs, to go through pairs of tights quicker than Johnny Depp’s character in the film goes through bottles from the mini bar. Tights normally last about two wears before there is a hole in either the toe or the crotch. Having been a student for years, I’ve devised ingenious ways of getting more wear our of holey tights (a post for another day), but I’ve long suspected that hosiery, as much as I love it, is a capitalist plot to part young women from their hard earned.
This was until Zsusannah Verona bought me back two pairs of American Apparel tights from the states. It’s not too far a stretch to say that these tights LITERALLY
Blew.
My.
Mind.
Here’s why.
You know, ladies, how you face the dilemma every morning of Comfort vs Contours? It’s the battle between wearing what is comfortable, and wearing what gives you the contours you desire. American Apparel Tights are the only item of clothing I know of that not only passes, but excels, on both counts. They are the most comfortable tights I’ve ever worn, and, at the same time, make everything below the belly button look toned, luscious, completely free of cellulite, and totally pinch-able.
Could one want anything else? Well, actually, yes, you can, because American Apparel hosiery come in the most incredible array of colours, patterns, and textures. Soon after Zsusannah had gifted me two pairs (Dark Teal and Boudreaux), I placed an online order and branched out into their lacework, sheers, metalics, stockings and garter belts. All amazing. American Apparel hosiery also lasts at least three times longer than any other pair of tights or stockings I’ve owned, my long legs and clumsy habits notwithstanding. And, to cap it all off, America Apparel hosiery is made in America, by workers who are paid fairly. Everyone is a winner here.
Sadly, though, nothing is perfect, not even Aaron Eckhart (his character in The Rum Diaries is a bit of a jerkface). The big drawback with American Apparel tights is that they don’t come cheap. A pair of basic opaques will set you back $20, and when you get into sheers, lace, and garter belt/stocking combos you are looking at least $35. I know that this is a stretch for most people’s budgets, especially as hosiery is fragile and can’t be considered a rock solid wardrobe investment, like good quality wool cardigans and Veronica Maine pencil skirts.
However, it is without doubt worth the budgetary squeeze to invest in American Apparel hosiery. I don’t think any woman should have to face a Canberra winter without at least three pairs of beautiful, flattering, comfortable American Apparel tights and a garter belt plus sheer black stockings for those days when she needs a little help imagining she’s Joan Holloway or some other irresistibly sexy siren.
And while it’s not the sand, salt, sunshine, and other summertime shenanagins that I’m craving, American Apparel tights are a happy consolation prize for those of us living in Canberra circa 2012, rather than Porto Rico circa 1960.
Ps: as ever, this is an unsponsored post – just one woman sharing her hosiery tips with the blogosphere.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
The Top Ten Things About Working In An Office…
10) You walk in, walk out, and leave your work exactly where it should be. Where, exactly, should your work be? I’m glad you asked. The answer is surprisingly simple. Work should be on your desk. (Not in your handbag to read and grade over dinner, not in your head to think about in the shower, not scribbled in your fieldwork notebook to type up at some ungodly hour of the morning. Work does not belong in these places. Work. Belongs. On. Your. Desk.)
9) There are office morning teas.
8) There are office afternoon teas.
7) There are office lunches.
6) There is office birthday cake.
5) You will have lovely coworkers who make sure you are looked after on your first day at work.
4) You will have lovely coworkers who change sections two weeks into your job (sadface) and let you have their old desk with incredible views of Black Mountain (so much happyface).
3) You will discover that you still have the magic when it comes to difficult key stakeholder phone calls. The perfect persuasive phone purr? A definite office asset.
2) Casual Friday.
1) You get to go for walks to and from the printer, pretending you are Joan from Mad Men.
9) There are office morning teas.
8) There are office afternoon teas.
7) There are office lunches.
6) There is office birthday cake.
5) You will have lovely coworkers who make sure you are looked after on your first day at work.
4) You will have lovely coworkers who change sections two weeks into your job (sadface) and let you have their old desk with incredible views of Black Mountain (so much happyface).
3) You will discover that you still have the magic when it comes to difficult key stakeholder phone calls. The perfect persuasive phone purr? A definite office asset.
2) Casual Friday.
1) You get to go for walks to and from the printer, pretending you are Joan from Mad Men.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Jeanius.
1) Select store. Avoid anywhere vaguely fashionable.
2) Locate the denim section of the store. Take three deep breaths.
3) Reject denim that features the following: whiskering, fading, back pocket detailing, acid wash, rhinestones.
4) Select the following: two styles, no more, in at least two sizes each. The styles ought to be significantly different fits. You may also select two different colour washes, but no more. The purpose is to take a deep, rather than a wide, sample, to comprehensively establish the validity of a particular jean.
5) Enter change room. Reject help of sales assistant.
6) Remove all clothes except undergarments.
7) Group jeans according to style, in descending size order, darkest colours first.
8) Take jeans off hanger. Insert lower legs into jeans. Pull up.
9) Using belt loops for leverage, ease jeans over thighs. If you are aiming for a fitted jean, the following sub steps apply:
i. Insert fingers into belt loops.
ii. Jump into the air whilst holding belt loops.
iii. Land, still holding belt loops, in order to completely insert thighs into slim fitting jeans.
iv. Assure sales assistant that you do not need help, or at least, not any that s/he can provide.
10) Button jeans. Do zip. Take three deep breaths. If jeans remain buttoned, proceed to step 11. If not, take jeans off and repeat steps 8-10 with alternate fit style.
11) Critically assess jean. If the denim is grazing the floor in bare feet, the length is acceptable. If the denim smoothly upholsters thighs, the cut through the leg is also acceptable. If you cannot see the outline of your labia, and the zip sits as a ‘V’ rather than a ‘W’, the fit around your hips is acceptable and you are taking appropriate steps to risk manage camel toe.
12) Critically assess muffin top. If overhang is greater than one inch, repeat steps 8-11 with alternate fit style. If overhang is minimal (one inch or less) but the jeans feel firm, address the following additional criteria:
i. Is it your special time of the month? If so, the jeans are the correct size. You will shrink by the end of next week.
ii. Does the fabric contain elastin, spandex, or lycra? If so, the jeans are the correct size. Stretch fabrics will expand an inch at minimum with wear.
iii. Is it the afternoon or evening? If so, the jeans are the correct size. You will shrink when you are no longer pregnant with a food baby.
13) Turn around. Make use of double view mirror in change room. If you see two bottom cheeks, the jeans are the correct size. If you see four or more bottom cheeks, repeat steps 8-13 with alternate fit style.
14) Turn around to face the mirror. Give yourself a high five/fist pump. You are a jeanius.
2) Locate the denim section of the store. Take three deep breaths.
3) Reject denim that features the following: whiskering, fading, back pocket detailing, acid wash, rhinestones.
4) Select the following: two styles, no more, in at least two sizes each. The styles ought to be significantly different fits. You may also select two different colour washes, but no more. The purpose is to take a deep, rather than a wide, sample, to comprehensively establish the validity of a particular jean.
5) Enter change room. Reject help of sales assistant.
6) Remove all clothes except undergarments.
7) Group jeans according to style, in descending size order, darkest colours first.
8) Take jeans off hanger. Insert lower legs into jeans. Pull up.
9) Using belt loops for leverage, ease jeans over thighs. If you are aiming for a fitted jean, the following sub steps apply:
i. Insert fingers into belt loops.
ii. Jump into the air whilst holding belt loops.
iii. Land, still holding belt loops, in order to completely insert thighs into slim fitting jeans.
iv. Assure sales assistant that you do not need help, or at least, not any that s/he can provide.
10) Button jeans. Do zip. Take three deep breaths. If jeans remain buttoned, proceed to step 11. If not, take jeans off and repeat steps 8-10 with alternate fit style.
11) Critically assess jean. If the denim is grazing the floor in bare feet, the length is acceptable. If the denim smoothly upholsters thighs, the cut through the leg is also acceptable. If you cannot see the outline of your labia, and the zip sits as a ‘V’ rather than a ‘W’, the fit around your hips is acceptable and you are taking appropriate steps to risk manage camel toe.
12) Critically assess muffin top. If overhang is greater than one inch, repeat steps 8-11 with alternate fit style. If overhang is minimal (one inch or less) but the jeans feel firm, address the following additional criteria:
i. Is it your special time of the month? If so, the jeans are the correct size. You will shrink by the end of next week.
ii. Does the fabric contain elastin, spandex, or lycra? If so, the jeans are the correct size. Stretch fabrics will expand an inch at minimum with wear.
iii. Is it the afternoon or evening? If so, the jeans are the correct size. You will shrink when you are no longer pregnant with a food baby.
13) Turn around. Make use of double view mirror in change room. If you see two bottom cheeks, the jeans are the correct size. If you see four or more bottom cheeks, repeat steps 8-13 with alternate fit style.
14) Turn around to face the mirror. Give yourself a high five/fist pump. You are a jeanius.
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