And this is what you missed II.

What got me excited…

 

 

Remember that one? Yes, this was unfortunately playing over and over in my head last week. Probably because I finally decided on my travel destination for August…drum roll please… Vietnam. Yes, I am perfectly aware that Bangkok is not in Vietnam, but the trips I’m currently looking at all start there. So when this song got stuck, I thought it could be exciting to add a crazy night or two in Bangkok to kick-start the adventure.

What made me nostalgic…
My first boyfriend got engaged. It didn’t come as a surprise, yet it still hit me just a little bit. I haven’t really thought about him or even spoken to him in years, but it’s still somewhat strange to realize that he is really and officially not mine anymore and that our plans for happily-ever-after didn’t come true. I guess I just felt sorry for a moment for my former 17-year old me, who so believed in this first love.

What made me pretty…
On Saturday I got a haircut at The Lobby for the first time. I was a bit scared upon walking in; if there was ever a place made in hipster heaven this is it. But to my surprise I learned that you can still entrust your hair to a stylist who is so hip(ster) that he wears a little hat while he cuts your hair and serves BOS ice tea. My hair now looks awesome and yes, I let it down big time at night!

What made me sad…
You also missed my Mum’s birthday yesterday. And so did I. I hate the fact that I am always far apart from at least half my family, especially on those days when there is roast beef and bubbles. Happy happy, Mami!

I've got mail.

Yesterday I was in a bit of a mood. Justified or not I felt very neglected and unloved by all my friends, had the realization that all men do in fact want a twenty-something, little blonde, and Valentine's Day is almost upon us with me sans date. I have written many times that I don't like it and think the concept silly, but this year I realized this statement only sounds convincing if I had in fact an offer which to gracefully decline. Otherwise it just makes me look a bit bitter. Anyhow…be that as it may.
Things got better though when a little package arrived after lunch. From Canada and no, don't judge! I was very excited to see that there are actually still people who not only send handwritten Christmas cards around the world, chocolate and pictures too. Luckily not of the family wearing matching reindeer jerseys in front of a fake Santa kind, but in my case reminiscences of me, my camel, and newfound friends in the Moroccan desert.
I had met Christe and Scott on my trip in August and upon return we all stayed in touch via Facebook. Eventually she inquired about my address and how long mail travels to Cape Town. Well, longer than even I expected, but I don't want to complain, because presents received when you have actually forgotten that there was a thing called Christmas, are actually the best. Especially when they arrive on a day like yesterday. I felt very touched and much loved from halfway around the world. Thank you, Christe, thank you, Scott – you guys made my day!

Dinner Party in Fez, no hands camel riding and Micky Mouse* looking a bit grumpy with Christe's hat she put on. Good timing with her picture though as the hat went flying a second later.
*Still not sure how I came up with that name...

And this is what you missed.

I decided to start my very first weekly installment here. Mainly to get some discipline into my writing I guess and just because I can. So I will give you each Monday And this is what you missed last week…
On Tuesday night I dreamed that I was man. A man including all the important bits. To make things even more exciting weird, me and my bits were in a swinger club/mansion. It made me realize how it must suck to be a man at times. And by times I mean when you get excited and prefer for nobody else to know (i.e. owner of the swinger club/mansion showing me around and obviously noting my…ehm…interest).

On Thursday I realized that watching a movie which reminds me of my teenage years The Perks of Being a Wallflower in combination with a strawberry-gin slushee and a date at the Labia makes me behave and feel like a teenager again. In a very good, the parents are out of the house, way.

After secretly making fun of my intern as she started looking a bit like an Oompa Loompa due to a dark orange tan I got my first sunburn on Sunday. It hurts; even more so as I tanned unevenly and now look like the Joker. Or Harvey Two Face as my friend chipped in, which are both almost as bad as an Oompa Loompa. It also makes me wonder why Nivea with all their nice smells, hasn’t managed an after sun lotion that doesn’t smell like aftershave. Thus I’m sitting at the office today smelling like boy.

And last but not least I splurged on a ticket to see my first love again – Bon Jovi ♥ you!

And this is what you missed.

Me and Mr Defoe.

I guess I can confidently and just a little smugly say that I am not one to get star struck. The only time I did feel star struck, it was a mistake as the person in question turned out not to be a star, so it didn’t count.
Part of it is that I usually recognize famous people. If I do, I’m just not one to faint or squeal and I definitely don’t think Orlando Bloom & Co. are good enough reason to go to Caprice.
I have worked with a few stars and it just never felt appropriate to start stammering at the sight of some famous naked breasts whether they were Beth Dito’s or Natalie Portman’s. The latter especially seemed just like any other normal girl with a bad post-breakup haircut (it was just after she had finished V for Vendetta). It may have also simply been too early in the morning when we shook hands and I hadn't had coffee and a cigarette yet to be properly awake and thus star struck despite the haircut. Now that I think of it, before the guys get envious, I also never saw her boobs as she was very shy and always changed by herself behind a curtain.
Now that I think about it, I might just be so smug as I haven't really met anyone star struck worthy yet. The time I was in Nureyev's house, would count, but then again he wasn't there. In fact he was already long dead and no, I didn't see his ghost. So I guess, you cannot really consider it star struck, I was just in awe by being allowed to walk on the floors which his very talented feet had once touched.

Yesterday I stumbled across this video again:

Despite not missing my old job one bit, I was thinking how it came that I was never on a shoot like this and whether I may have missed out on my chance to be ever properly star struck. What are my chances now after leaving fashion to ever meet someone like him? I started thinking how it would have, could have been. Would I call him Mr Defoe? Probably, but not because I’d be star struck, but because it’s simply polite. Not because he is famous either. I wouldn't call him Mr Defoe because he is The Mr Defoe, but because he is well...older. Yes, my mother would approve. I'd be well behaved, but also cool. Because though he is older, he is also very cool. We’d be a match made in a very cool heaven.
You could call me intriguing. Yes, he would definitely be quite intrigued by me. He'd probably give me a little sexy smile and say Please, call me Willem. May I add that my heart rate is up as I’m typing this? Whatever…okay… who am I kidding? I’d be completely and utterly star struck and yet in ideal world nobody would ever notice.
In the regular world however I would probably start to stutter with a strong German accent as one does when hit with proper star-struckness for the first time. In the regular world he would also stare at my breast and make a sleazy line about the great views of Manhattan. Or he would ask me to get him a double soy latte from the bar while dropping his last outfit from the shoot at my feet instead of in my waiting hand.
Both scenarios are actually quite horrifying. After all, we are talking about The Talented, Amazing, Genius Mr Defoe. So I'd rather dream of losing my composure, even in front of him. And so maybe it is just as well that I have never met anyone star struck-worthy. As it I can keep my cool and so can the stars.

Golden...ish.

So yesterday was the night of the Golden Globes. I didn’t care enough to invite myself to someone who has a TV, but I do care to look at the red carpet fashions today and to give my professional personal evaluation of the looks.
As Amy Poehler, one of the night’s hosts was saying: "It's the only night of the year where the beautiful people of film rub shoulders with the rat-faced people of television.” The fashion seemed to reflect that and as per usual there was some good, some bad, and some really ratty outfits, which were definitely not exclusive to the TV peeps.

Last night unfortunately saw:

A Zaubertroll.

In case you don’t know what this refers to – this is a Zaubertroll:

Hard to believe they were once a popular toy and anyone would volunteer to wear that hairstyle.

 

A knight in semi-shining armour.

 

Which is really not a good look for a girl ever. Especially if she clearly shares the same hair stylist with Miss Zaubertroll.

Yet another Oompa Loopma.

 

 

Is it the eye-shadow? Is it the spray tan? I don't even dare to ask.

The couple formerly known as hot.

 

Clearly got married and thus lost their hotness as all the regular married couples do. Her dress? His sunglasses? So sad!

Luckily there was also this:

Post break-up, show him what he is missing, and clearly the boy must be banging his head against the wall for being so stupid to mess it up - dress No 1.

 

Jennifer Lawrence in Dior Haute Couture.

Post break-up, show him what he is missing, and clearly the boy must be banging his head against the wall for being so stupid to mess it up - dress No 2.

 

 

Taylor Swift in Donna Karan Atelier.

Pocahontas Barbie was allowed to the ball.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yes, I am aware that Lucy Liu is not Native American, but I still think she would make a great Pocahontas and as weird as this Carolina Herrera dress is somehow, I love it nonetheless and would have totally spent my pocket money on a Barbie like her.

 

Last but not least there was My dress:

 

 

Dior Haute Couture yes please! and I wouldn’t mind looking like Marion Cotillard either. Aah, a girl can dream…

Return from the dark side.

Yay for the new year finally having arrived! So official that I have to use white-out whenever I write today's date, because as per usual I will still write 2012. Sometimes I manage to turn the 2 into a 3 with a somewhat elegant, last minute swing of the pen, but not always. We all know it just takes some time to get used to a new year’s formalities.

Last week I returned from Mordor Germany. I saw the sun twice for 10 minutes. The first time was at my Mum's when I got lured outside by people talking about spring-like temperatures. When Germans talk about spring-like temperatures they forget to mention that spring-like temperatures in Germany are still flippin' cold. I ended up out and about and freezing in town, wearing nothing but sweatpants, a t-shirt, a jacket, and oversized scarf. Lucky for the little South African in me, I had decided beforehand that Havianas were probably going to be dead weight on this trip. I did however bring my sunglasses, God knows why. I figured there couldn't be a place where I could not, would not wear sunglasses. I was wrong. Germany was simply too dark, even during the day and thus my face was without sunglasses. So for the most part of the trip they were crying in my backpack.
Spring-like temperatures my ass; Germany was cold and dark. So dark in fact that when I woke the first day at what I thought was the middle of the night I got a freight because I thought the end of the world had simply come a day late. Then I looked at my phone and realized The End had not gotten stuck in traffic, it was worse - it was still pitch black at 8am!

I don't want to sound too mopey, I think I have simply been spoilt for the past 6 winters that I spent in the sun. But I saw my parents, all of my siblings, all my best friends, my awesome nephews, my soon to be born nieces/nephew, and it was great. I loved every minute of it! However, I realized my joy was about seeing the people that I love so much and not about 'being home'. Home is where the heart is. My heart leaped when it landed at Cape Town International Airport and my hand reached for my sunglasses for the first time in ten days. My face simply looks better adorned with some Prada.

 

 

Number one.

For my number one post in the new year I wanted something special and definitely something happy. Since my trip to Germany was...well, not quite that, I thought I should keep this travel tale for a little later in the year. Luckily I decided to spring clean today and found a print out I had made a while ago. It still seemed utterly fitting for me and also this new year: happy, but not chirpy (you know how I feel about chirpy anything...), a little dark and thus not too 'inspirational quote of the day', and it is one of the few poems I actually like. Maybe because not only do I get it, it seems to get me as well. 

So with the words of Charles Bukowski I wish you all a Happy New Year! May it be ... everything you need it to be.

The Laughing Heart

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.