Mecca Cosmetica is doing a matte leather-look nail varnish trio that I bought yesterday while entertaining a couple of six year olds (“you can look but don’t touch anything and don’t come in the shop until your ice creams are finished” is my idea of a craft activity).
I’m liking it. It’s an interesting shift from the shiny reds. The matte takes a bit of getting used to.
Even the clear top coat is matte. It’s quite a solid look. If the matte is too dull for you, you can always top it with a clear gloss. Alternatively if you would like to matte up your existing shiny polishes, Rimmel, American Apparel and Opi all do a matte clear top coat.
Apologies for the crappy photos – I have lost my battery charger for my camera so am taking photos as fast as I can knowing that at any moment the battery will die and I will have to seek out a new charger (and spare battery). Why I don’t do this before the battery goes I do not know.
The cost is $50 and you can check it out at Mecca Cosmetica. Just in time for Mothers Day. My kids don’t know it yet but they just couldn’t go past a pair of Julianne Jean silk pyjamas for me for Mothers Day.
Sometimes when I get on the Internet I feel like everyone is young and beautiful.
So a sensible, successful, beautiful friend said to me this morning and it got me thinking (kids back to school today so finally for the first time in two weeks I can think rather than just do). The world-wide web is like an insidious competition for who is doing it better than us. Often, rather than feel energised by dropping off the edge of reality and wandering for an hour or so in the world of the almost-real we can be left feeling a little….inferior.
I’d heard that being a middle-aged woman could leave one feeling a bit invisible, but never really believed it. I thought all those older women were being a tad whiney and precious.
They’re not.
I waited at a bar recently for ages while hordes of gorgeous young things got served either side of me. Then the next row of them got served, and the next. I was halfway sober by the time I finally got my vodka and soda.
And yet I look around at my sensible friends and their friends and I see a sea of truly beautiful women whose beauty is born of the experience that lies comfortably in their faces. I don’t love that my triceps rock to their own beat when I am waving at someone, but I do love that I really don’t care all that much.
My oldest daughter is seventeen, so the house is often filled with strapping young lasses with praying mantis figures wearing tops they call dresses: God they are gorgeous! But in their eyes is a wide-eyed innocence that lacks the beauty of a life lived, with all its joy and sorrow.
At my mother’s seventieth birthday party on the weekend all her friends lit up the house with their laughter and wonderful stories and anecdotes. They came bearing platters of food, genuine warmth and fun: now that is beauty. What’s more they didn’t have to wait a second for the next drink.
I was the only one waving though, so still a few tricks to learn…
Age is something that doesn’t matter. Unless you are a cheese.
There’s nothing like a tropical holiday with the whole extended family to bring ones parenting skills out of soft focus and into the bright sunshine. I’m wondering if there’s a statute of limitations on how many times I can say “I think she’s just very tired” when I’m actually thinking “my six year old is simply a rather unpleasant child. Sorry!”
A tad ironic then that the one article I printed from The Atlantic Magazine for fun holiday reading is called How to Land Your Kid in Therapy by Lori Gottlieb, my new parenting pinup gal.
I’m typing this on an iPad so will keep it short (first world problem in a third world country…) and there will be no links or pics as my other first world problem is a third world Internet connection.
Gottlieb, a therapist and mother, writes about how being the perfect parent can really stuff up a child. At university she and her colleagues were taught to always focus on how a lack of parental attunement affects a child, but after seeing countless young adults on her couch who had come from spectacularly attuned parents and who were sad, adrift, lost, Gottlieb began to wonder if being too attuned had its own bag of problems.
Being a crappy parent will do your child no favours, but being a perfect parent could stuff them up too. It seems Donald Winnicott was on the money when he coined the phrase “good enough mother” in the 1960s. On a side note, do have a read of his work if you want to follow this further. His work on the real self and the false self is very good.
I have a bit of a beef with “happiness” and the desperate, relentless pursuit of it I see everywhere. As Gottlieb writes “nowadays it’s not enough to be happy—if you can be happier. The American Dream…has morphed from a quest for general contentment to the idea that you must be happy at all times and in every way.” This has been championed by books like The Happiness Project, where happiness is good but more happiness is even better!
if you want happy kids to grow into happy adults then one of the worst things you can do is deprive them of sadness. It takes a conscious effort to allow your child their unhappiness, disappointment, even despair. When they are young it seems natural to be the fixer. We scoop our toddler from a fall and comfort them before they’ve had a chance to work out whether or not they are really hurt. I’ve tried not to do this, but I have. I get scared when I see my kids feeling devastated, wretched, sad. I worry I won’t be able to fix them, when in fact it’s not something that should even be fixed, but more something for a parent to guide a child through and perhaps hold their hand to just let them know that while their sadness is normal and difficult, you’ll be there to watch over them while they feel it.
There’s been a lot of talk for several years now about letting kids get dirty. Let them play in the mud and eat a snail, it strengthens their immune system to be exposed to a bit of filth early on. Gottlieb quotes child psychologist Dan Kindlon, as saying that if a child can’t experience painful feelings, they don’t grow psychological immunity.
Parents call the school if their child doesn’t get on the school soccer team, if they have a run in with another child. What you get in this sort of environment eventually is a teenager with no experience of hardship, Gottlieb writes. We are raising teacup kids.
When I was training for my first marathon (see how I managed to work that into an article on parenting? Still got it), I hired Pat Carroll to give me training advice via email. He assessed me, through my stats and personal info as a “teacup” marathoner. He explained that a marathon is like a dishwasher. It’s full of teacups and mugs. The mugs are tough as boots while the teacups are delicate flowers who have to be careful of overtraining and getting injured.
By saving kids from small growing up pains, we set them up to shatter like delicate teacups when they’re bigger and the pains are bigger and we are no longer around on a daily basis to smooth the path ahead for them. Better to let them grow up with a few chips and superglue.
So how do we not be perfectly perfect parents? I don’t know: after the kids headed off to the waterbom park this morning, I went into their hotel room and neatly folded all their clothes and popped them away. Just to make their happiness that bit more happy. According to Kindlon, this sort of behaviour is “parental over investment and is contributing to a burgeoning generational narcissism that’s hurting our kids.” I completely agree. But I also just didn’t want the room cleaner to see how disgustingly messy they actually are.
The final word seems to be “our children are not our masterpieces” a relief for both parents and kids I imagine.
If you’re serious about wasting time there is no better way than following heaps of blogs and there is a site that lets you do it all in one place: Bloglovin’. You just go to the site, type in the names of the blogs you like and each day a summary will be sent to your inbox in a single email with all your favourite blog updates.
Here are some of the blogs the sensible friends are lovin’ right now:
Man Repeller: This is how she defines the title: “outfitting oneself in a sartorially offensive mode that may result in repelling members of the opposite sex. Such garments include but are not limited to harem pants, boyfriend jeans, overalls (see: human repelling), shoulder pads, full length jumpsuits, jewelry that resembles violent weaponry and clogs.” It’s pretty cool.
Who What Wear: Whoever runs this site is a hard worker; it’s updated constantly with fashion trends and style notes. It includes style tips from stylists, what the celebs are wearing, various blogs within the blog, look of the day and product of the day. Fashion mecca.
The Sartorialist snaps uber-cool people on the street and posts them up. I can never even aspire to the level of cool I see in these pages but it’s lovely photography and gorgeous clothes. Today there are gorgeous New Yorker’s in pyjama style clothes. You’d think it would be comical but it somehow is beautiful instead.
Flourish Magazine is one I have mentioned it before but worth another shout and not just because it’s run by my good buddy Jane Willis. I was searching for someone to make a proper party cake the other day and asked Jane for a recommendation. She threw the question onto her Flourish Facebook page and within minutes there were about 14 replies with great local suggestions – the advantage of having a successful, well-connected local blogger on the books. If you want to source something in Perth, just flick Jane a note.
A Subtle Revelry is the go to spot for party DIY ideas, craft ideas (my house is a craft-lover’s wasteland, but it could be for you) and there are some interesting recipes – for instance today is how to make your own bagged microwave popcorn.
Olivia Palermo is a mainstay of fashion blogging but be warned, that sweet little cardi you think you will source for Autumn is liable to set you back eight hundred dollars. For cheaper fashion links look toward The Londoner or Buy Now Blog Later (although if you’re over 40 you also run the risk of becoming the proverbial mutton dressed as….).
Smitten Kitchen is gorgeous and the name says it all. She has a book which I haven’t got but looks lovely. Very popular food blog, like What Katie Ate. I sometimes judge a food blog by how boring/tricky the muffins look (muffins should be simple, delicious and easy) – check these out for beautiful Greek-yoghurty coconutty easy muffins. Beautiful.
Cheating with Bellini is a fairly new local blog by a pretty young mum I run with, Rosie. She has great taste in food and recipes so it’s worth following for those thermomix types who are interested in a variety of interesting tips, hints and dishes such as David Lebovitz’s Fresh Ginger Cake.
Style and Focus is a local Perth blog discovering and showcasing local style and creativity. It is a newish blog by two highly accomplished women, Jo Carmichael, stylist and Jody D’Arcy, photographer with seriously lovely photography, a great eye for beauty and fascinating interviews. These bloggers also have their own sites. They find stuff we all wish we had and post it up…. I think I might need a bar cart for my veranda.
Stockholm Street Style – It’s a little bit like The Sartorialist but it’s Scandinavia, home of the best TV series’, best clothes, happiest souls and my pin-up guy (apart from you of course Rob), Alexander Skarsgard….it’s where I will be born when I am next reincarnated.
My sister-in-law Claire put me onto this amazingly simple and wonderful recipe a few years ago. It’s one that has never failed to impress the kids and a great one to make for someone you want to drop a meal in to (mainly because it’s not casserole or lasagna).
Pesto or Tomato Parmigiana
Step 1: buy some free range chicken or veal parmigiana (always easy to find Mt Barker chicken parmigiana) and lay it out on a tray covered with baking paper.
Step 2: spread either passata from a jar (pizza tomato paste works very well) or homemade tomato sauce over half the parmigiana’s. Spread homemade pesto over the others.
Step 3 Top with grated cheese or parmesan and bake for 20 mins in a moderate oven.
I wasn’t kidding when I said it would be easy. I severed – I mean served – them with potato fritters and salad and sliced my hand in the process. I haven’t taken a finger off yet but I think even that would be worth working with a good sharp knife.
Happy school holidays to those celebrating the end of endless school lunches and sporting drop off and pickups. I’ll be on the veranda if you need me…
There I was a few weeks ago, having a lovely time plodding through Downton Abbey which needs no explaining as I don’t believe there is anyone left on the planet who hasn’t watched it.
Just as I was getting comfortable, good friend Pippa sent a text: “have you seen American Horror Story yet?”
Wow and wow. Forget Dexter, this is the bomb.
Firstly I just have to say this: I love Jessica Lange, remember her? She has just the right amount of loveliness, sexiness and creepiness to make the whole show worth the ride. Secondly, this is not my usual genre. While I have dabbled in zombies and vampires, ‘horror’ is not really my thing. American Horror Story is such a tightly wound little drama, however that it’s perfect for those Downton Abbeyists who just need a break from the Abbey for a bit of “captivating style and giddy gross outs” (Washington Post).
Each season is self-contained so it doesn’t matter whether you see them in order or not. In the first season, a family of three, psychiatrist Ben, Vivien and Violet move into an old house, unaware it is haunted. They get to know their neighbour, Constance (Lange) when her special needs daughter Adelaide (Addie) visits unannounced regularly, sensing and seeing the evil that lies beneath the veil of the living. Constance is a failed actress who has a complicated relationship with her daughter and those who dwell in the house.
The relationships within the little family are also complicated with Ben (Dylan McDermott) trying to win back his wife’s trust following an affair, his wife Vivien (Connie Britton) trying to recover emotionally from a miscarriage and their sweet but sullen teenage daughter Violet (Taissa Farmiga) suffering from depression and struggling with every aspect of her life and her parents complicated situation.
The second season, American Horror Story Asylum, takes place in a sixties mental asylum, Briarcliff, run by Sister Jude (Jessica Lange) and Sister Mary Eunice (Lily Rabe) overseen by Monsignor Timothy Howard (Joseph Fiennes).
It seems to be almost a caricature of a 1960’s mental asylum, with people being locked up for being gay, people being locked up and treated for insanity for racial reasons, patients having no voice, being trapped for decades in the brutally run asylum. The story follows four inmates specifically with many others providing fill. One is Lana (Sarah Paulson) whose lesbian lover is tricked into committing her when she comes to Briarcliff to write an expose piece on the place.
Jessica Lange is again superb in this season. She grows increasingly suspicious and unhinged as dark supernatural (or are they?) forces conspire to make her as mad as some of her patients. As one reviewer wrote, it’s hard to look away, even though you feel you should.
The third season is in the works and probably called American Horror Story Coven. Can’t wait. I had to put down the iPad and start reading good old books again after this one.
The first two seasons are available on iTunes. My vote is they are both worth it. Have you seen it yet? Let me know what you think if you do.
That final year of school is tough: you have assignment after assignment to contend with. Pesky teachers on your back about ‘progress’.
Your parents just don’t seem to understand or remember how hard it is. You wish you could just cruise around in the car alone for once. You fantasise about solitary road trips to Margaret River to watch boys surf.
You never have time to read just for fun. The stress that gets dumped on you is almost unbearable. The tears, the lack of compassion from friends, the parties you have to either miss or leave early….
AND THAT’S JUST ME.
…why didn’t anyone tell me that Year 12 would be this hard the second time around?
I can only imagine what it’s like for my daughter, the one actually having to show up at school (most days); parents pretending not to be completely strung out, whispering to each other late at night about the logistics of taking an escape break somewhere without the kids. Mostly, stupid cruel parents making her to go to school. Every friggin’ weekday. And so it goes until 3.00pm November 28.
How to get through? Some lucky mothers have jobs to go to. Escape to there, make it your happy place. Those of us unemployed need other distractions. While I do wish ASOS wouldn’t keep doing their irresistible 20% off everything every second day, that has provided a little exciting spike in amongst the spiky angst. Thanks to some very stylish friends, I picked up some great biker boots the other day, it was the day before two quite big tests (Geography and French, I believe) so they were fairly expensive.
Then there’s yoga, only beware buying a ten-pass voucher and letting it expire past the extension you asked for because you just haven’t had a moment calm/alone/organised/motivated enough to get yourself to a class. It’s stress-loading yoga when you waste a whole pass, not stress-relieving.
Running – and talking about running – has probably been the greatest saviour physically for me. Alone with the dog, the wind in my hair, sometimes some music on my iPod. Below is what I listened to this morning.
Later I had coffee with one of my running pals, she of the fabulous red hair and extensive Lululemon wardrobe and we talked splits, tempo runs, mileage, races: it was like taking a short weekender losing myself in run-talk.
My oldest daughter has really good taste in music and she happily shares it with me. She has discovered the eighties (soundtrack to my life, sista!) and while I have done the right thing and put her in front ofSixteen Candlesfor research purposes, she has come up with some great stuff without any help from us, such as this little gem – a cover version by Ohio band Cobra Verde of New Order’s Temptation. They also do a haunting slow version of The Rolling Stones Play With Fire.
If I am completely honest my two daughters scare the living daylights out of me. They are much smarter, more determined and confident, savvy and beautiful than me. I’m not quite sure how it should all work, and I am quite tough under this soft (don’t laugh!) exterior so imagine how bamboozled my poor gentle peace-loving husband is. He lives in perpetual bewilderment.
Fortunately there is the best relief of all – friends who have been there, done that and are undamaged enough to be able to recall the terror of seeing their own kids through the end of school and pass on words of wisdom or comfort, like “it only lasts a year per child” and “don’t attempt to give up wine or chocolate for Lent” and “there, there, it’ll be okay.” Seriously all anyone really wants is to know that someone else has trod this path, whatever path that may be, and gets where you’re at. It applies to pretty much any stress we encounter in life, big and small.
Sometimes we just need someone to cry with, even if there’s no actual crying involved.
I suspect things will be quieter as our son goes through this in two years time, but just for a laugh we have another daughter headed towards Year 12. Although not for another eleven years. Rob has suggested we use this time gap to regroup, travel a little, swim regularly, perhaps a little counselling.
Apparently there’s a maths assignment due tomorrow so I may just pop off now and have another look at that nail polish I was reading about the other day…
This one is one of those recipes I am just kicking myself I haven’t been doing for years and years, suggested by a sensible school mum the other day. It is so easy and the difference health-wise between this version and Mr Heinz’s is unspeakable…I didn’t ‘fess up that I had been opening the can for years; I pretended I had been making them as below (no particular recipe) forever.
So here it is. You’re probably all doing this on a regular basis already. It’s just ridiculously simple. Next time I will reduce the amount of bacon and onion only because my littlest child struggled with the sudden difference in texture and demanded to inspect the tin.
Baked Beans
Throw in a pan with some olive oil half a big red onion and a few rashers of bacon. Sauté until soft and aromatic. If you have boys the smell of this will draw them into the kitchen for a chat.
Add paprika, basil, salt and pepper, a tablespoon of molasses, about half a big jar of pasta sauce or sugo (I like Five Brothers Tomato) and anything else that you think will go well. I also add a big dollop of homemade tomato sauce/ketchup for extra sweetness.
Cook it down a bit with about half a cup of water. Add a can of cannellini beans, drained.
Pop it on buttered toast for brekky or over a bowl of rice or cous cous for dinner and Bob’s your uncle.
As a grand finale I urge you to have a read of the latest post of my all-time favourite food blog which is written by my whole food pin-up gal, Jude Blereau. Many years ago MSF Ali and I did a four-week whole food cooking course with Jude and there can just be no better grounding in food love than her teaching.
Jude has such a great take on what constitutes a ‘super’ food as well as her famous bone broth recipe which is very similar to that of my other foodie heroine, Sally Fallon who I saw speak several years ago when she headed up the Weston A Price Foundation.
Here is a recipe that you can alter entirely without screwing it up. I call it Amazeballs because thats how you feel when you’re eating them. And they’re balls.
Amazeballs
300g approx of:
nuts/seeds. I used 50g each of walnuts, almonds, pepitas, brazil nuts, pistachios and cashews
Blend the bejeeziz out of it all in your thermomix/food processor. Roll into balls and store in fridge. I sometimes add a bit of protein powder or some maca powder (libido booster anyone?). This batch I couldn’t be bothered with any of that. Also there will be teenagers eating them, don’t want to boost anything but brains and good manners thank you. I only used these nuts because they were in the pantry – you can just use almonds if you like and they are just as nice.
I drove through Australia’s most adorable town on Sunday and thought ‘I have to get a photo of this on my blog’, as you do. Rosa Brook is not far from famous wine and surf town, Margaret River. There’s Darnell’s General Store and about half a dozen houses you can barely see. I always stop there just because I can’t not stop there, it’s too cute:
Here is the view up the road:
….and here is the view down the road:
This is who I parked next to. His mileage is nearly as efficient as mine:
Rosa Brook is quite close to a great olive oil grower called 34 Degrees South which is my favourite olive oil at the moment. You empty some wine bottles (easy!) and take them in and fill them under the vat tap of your choice. It’s worth a visit and exactly like walking into the M.A.S.H 4077 tent that contains olive oil rather than Hawkeye and Radar. There are some slightly scary geese to negotiate on the way in.
I was cruising the ‘Net early this morning instead of making the kids’ lunches for school like it was a Sunday. God knows what they eventually went off with….probably all my money, again. I re-visited one that I haven’t seen for ages but am looking at now with new eyes: Buy Now Blog Later. What I love about her apart from how pretty and interesting she seems to be is her unashamed shallowness. This is her tagline:
“Just so you know this is a blog about shopping.
It doesn’t get any deeper than that.”
I’m throwing around words like “wisdom” and “inspiring” – even “sensible” – but I still want to blog that amazing tube-y mascara….so I’m embracing my inner shallow.
On that note, let me show you a few photos from a great party we went to on the weekend. I feel entitled to blog a party as they are – to be honest – few and far between these days. Perhaps now that everyone’s turning 50 any minute – not me thank God – there might be a few last gasps of frivolity to be had. According to my oldest teen, we may as well just roll over and die from old age right now. She can’t believe I can stay up beyond 9.00pm and lets face it, I rarely can.
The party was in the south west at a friend’s holiday house which was more like walking into a winery for its elegant beauty. The theme was ‘festival’ so I channelled Kate Moss at Glastonbury and believe that no one could even tell the difference between us. I feel sure I will find this image floating around Google Images next time I google “kate moss”:
Rob channelled a hairy rock guru which was a mean, rockin’ look as he drove us to the bus stop in my mean, rockin’ Toyota Prius:
Ali and I getting ready in the bathroom of the family holiday house, Le Crap Shack (yes it is really called that):
The Hoodoo Gurus lit up the stage:
And we danced the night away, despite my daughter betting we wouldn’t stay up past 11pm.
Next day called for a lot of food, so we headed to Eagle Bay Brewery for a great feed of burgers and salmon with some of the other rockers. I highly recommend lunch there if you’re anywhere near Yallingup/Dunsborough. We chatted to one of the lovely owners, Astrid, and discovered its owned and operated (“..and there’s mum on the till…”) by a third generation farming family and sits smack bang in the middle of their farm.
Now about that really great mascara….I’ve got a section on the blog called The Dogs Bollocks which is just cool stuff other people have put me on to. It talks a bit more about it there.
