Sweet Dreams

Ever since I saw Dorte Agergaard‘s digital prints on pillows and cushions (via Welcome Home) I haven’t been able to stop thinking about pictures I would like to put on my bedspread.  I love the idea of bringing grassy knolls and flowers into your bedroom without having to endure the hassle of hayfever. Nature and I unfortunately, don’t get along well sometimes.

It led me to inquire about the possibility of having customised bedsheets done but I fear this idea might have to be put on hold as the quote was $600 and upwards.  So for now, I’ll console myself by putting up some pictures that I think would look great against crisp white linen.

The Clothing Exchange, Sydney – 14 August 2010

What troubles me about the fashion industry, as much as I love it and am intrigued by it, is the disposability that it can encourage, with new must-have trends emerging every season. I confess that I am guilty of falling prey to fashion’s lure and as a result, have become a bit of a clothes hoarder.  So much so, that many clothes have never been given the opportunity to live to their full sartorial potential.  For those who are familiar with my scenario, this is where The Clothing Exchange team can rescue said clothes from captivity and find them the loving homes they deserve.

Kate Luckins, founder of The Clothing Exchange

Founded by Kate Luckins, clothes swapping events began as part of her fashion masters research project into wasteful fashion consumption.  Her project has now become a nationwide initiative, with events being held regularly nationwide.

Instead of fuelling demand for new garments to be made, the clothes swapping events encourage people to add new items to their wardrobe in a sustainable way. So when I heard that they were coming to Surry Hills, I had to go along and see how it all worked.

For those who worry that they wont get a fair swap, there is a screening process half an hour before the official swap begins to ensure that daggy tracky dacks stay out. For each item that passes the test, you are given a button that you use to ‘pay’ for something that takes your fancy.  I am happy to say my clothes passed the test – phew!

Buttons: The Clothing Exchange currency

An entry fee of $25 gets you a drink pass for the bar and you can swap till your heart’s content i.e. run out of buttons. The clothes that are left over after the swap are donated to The Social Studio, an organisation who train refugees and take excess and recycled material donations and redesign them into new garments.

My lovely shirt with its new owner...if you love it, set it free.

Despite it being a bit of a mad dash at the beginning for the best clothes (and having to change in the janitor’s closet!), I walked away with some pretty decent things. The best thing about it was being able to meet the new owners of my pre-loved clothes. I met this lovely lady who ‘bought’ a shirt that I found in an op shop while I was backpacking in Europe a few years ago.

So if you’re interested in getting rid of some clothes and in the process, meet some lovely people and hear stories about their clothes make sure you hop to the next clothes swapping event!

To find out more information, check out their website here.  Word has it, a National Swap Day is coming up in October with hundreds of people coming from all over Australia to swap away!

Craig David – Born To Do It

What a great album.

When I was 15, I lined up at Fox Studios when he did his first instore in Sydney, only to glimpse the top of his beanie. It was totally worth it. It’s a shame that his music now has become so unimaginative.

I hope to master Fill Me In in karaoke one day. I still can’t quite get past the first part without stumbling. It’ll be a long battle.

Faces and Places

Her carefully selected pants, handbag and shoes showcased the varying shades of beige. The precise crease that ran down her pants suggested an intimate familiarity with the heat settings of the household iron. She hoped he would notice her efforts.

Her shoes chaffed against her ankles, permanently bloated and pink from the immeasurable steps back and forth across the kitchen floor. They were now red raw as she breathlessly followed her photographer husband around the park. She was always chasing after something – the kids, a living, time. Her rosacea stained face looked expectantly towards him searching for an understanding of her silent exhaustion but he took no notice of her, only pausing to survey the light and fiddle with his camera’s shutter speed.

“An American in Paris, how romantic” she thought when her husband had finally mumbled his okay to their first overseas trip. An American in Hyde Park, was not so much.

…

It is stone cold quiet. The warm sun is filtered through the misty, frosted glass ceiling, allowing only light in. Under the watchful eye of the greying security guard, each sound – the slow unzipping of a backpack, the careful measured taps of a laptop keyboard or the turning of a page, was made apologetically. They did not mean to cut through the thick blanket of silence, promise!

Books line the walls of Mitchell Library, like any other library but these books are special, holding the beginnings of our young Australia – Australian Bush Ballads, Captain James Cook: A Biography, Voyages of Discovery. These books are elevated above a common walkway, only accessible by narrow stairs and with the permission of a librarian. One wonders how often this permission is granted, or even how often it is asked for, given the heady smell of yellowing pages, dust and the slow decay of paper, of words – when you first walk through the doors.

This is how I occupy my time in Melbourne

Youtube gems.

Talking Head’s “This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody)” is one of my favourite songs, so you can imagine my excitement when I find that MGMT, a band that has been played on my iPod quite a bit lately, has done an awesome cover of it. Favourite overload.

Also I post this to console myself over my fourth failed attempt to buy MGMT tickets to their Sydney show. WHYOHWHY? I underestimated the hipster hype and my broadband connection.

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centrelight pop and everyone goes ‘Aww!’ ” – On The Road – Jack Kerouac.

Howdy.

Someone told me once that Facebook, Myspace and other such social networks were a way for people to construct an image of themselves. People put up their best pictures, list their interests, amass large numbers of ‘friends’, update their statuses and broadcast which events they’re attending, in an attempt to create the best image of themselves, which may not necessarily reflect the person people encounter in reality.

I am guilty. I police tagged photos of myself on Facebook and untag the ugly ones, regularly update my status, re-edit my profile interests and regularly scrobble music I’ve been listening to.

If publically parading myself (Facebook, Myspace), music taste (Last.fm), daily activities, occasional frustrations (Livejournal) and drunken photos (Facebook, Photobucket, anywhere really just ask) is not enough, what better way to further develop my internet persona than setting up a bona fide blog?

I can only hope that the persona that I project on the internet closely parallels the self I project in person.  What frightens me is the fact that I could quite possibly be summed up with a series of images and words and people are able to, or believe they are able to immediately figure out my personality.  Perhaps I imagine myself to have more depth than I actually possess but it certainly takes away the mystery of people and I can’t help but think that those first few conversations where you get to know someone are marred sub conciously by what you already know about them from their profiles.  Perhaps it lessens the experience of finding out about someone through a good solid conversation?