Tomboy fun with a cocktail dress feel...
Little trinkets of wisdom. Things I click LIKE to in my head. Musings and nuances. Thought-gems. Illumination. Other cryptic crap.
Because I have. Everywhere I turn, there is someone trying to belt out their new blog. And the ones people take notice of are the blogs that are updated constantly. Prolific people I tell ya. It takes dedication. And possibly a day job that really does end at 5-sharp. Have I seen a lot of fantastic blogs lately? Yes. Have I felt intimidated? Yes. It's no wonder I'm the Internet's next blogger sensation (she says while skirting her eyes away from her last blog post, dated MONTHS ago. Skirting eyes now roll). I guess this is an apology. To make up for my silence, here's a toy I've been playing with lots and lots and, despite being an only-child, am willing to share. Not all of us have PhotoShop or know how to use it. So for rookies like me, Pixlr is a flippin' great, FREE picture editing toy to have. You can do things like this: Take an existing photo...
A Sober Moment: Mandy and I at Oppikoppi, basking in the dappled shade. Picture by Angela
And spruce it up (or down even)...
Ta-da! Mandy and I still at Oppikoppi, still basking in the vintage-looking dappled shade.
I love this girl's style. I love this blog. I just love her. Grrl crush!
We all know there's a major vintage revival happening and you can swing the word 'hipster' around like a dead cat, around and around. And around. And... arou. No, it's starting to hum.
New subculture and buzz word to cite relentlessly please?
Noirohio Vintage's 'VINTAGE IS THE NEW BLACK' tagline resonates with me, less in a trendyI wear vintage because I'm anti-mainstream way and more in a don't pay out your ass for clothing, it's just material, there's already so much of it to go around, if we reuse a little instead of making new shit every time, our planet might thank us (a little) way.
Ala tattoos, leather pants, leopard print and a Bettie Page do.
But elegant.
And not too theatrical (which I feel punk/psycho often becomes). Wear your clothes, don't be worn by them. You don't need to be a parody of yourself.
Just classic, good clothing with your own style, personality and accessories peaking through. That's what I'm going for these days (or trying to, budget and hoarder mentality permitting).
This style appeals to me as someone who's kinda evolving and growing up in the overarching 'alternative' scene - it's nice to be edgy ('edgy', really Lauren?) without being pigeon holed into one specific genre like "Oh, she's so punk"; "She's so rockabilly". I still love those styles (and music) and wear elements of them, but can't just be that one defining thing anymore.
My roots still anchoring me, I did a little more skim research and after reading Noirohio Vintage's influence list on Facebook here, and seeing that The Smiths, The Clash and Johnny Cash are listed, I was sold.
This style reminds me a lot of Sophomore - another fashion house I LOVE for the same reasons.
Check out their lookbook video with music by The Virgins:
2. There's a difference between looking cool and looking pretty.
Sure, you may wear the crazy, shapeless, washed-out thrift store clothes that don't fit your body, only to be accosted by your nu wave page boy haircut, and sure, you look cool as hell. Intimidating even. Like an extra from a movie. But do you look pretty? Sometimes when it's all thrown together it's too much, like you're typecast to play a certain role and you really desperately need to look the part. It's a ridiculous amount of effort.
It's hard to be both, something's got to give. If you can get the balance just right, it's magical. Otherwise it's just too much I talk to pigeons and they talkback cray-cray.
When clothes are distracting and misleading it sucks. When clothes are a costume it sucks even more.
Noirohio Vintage piques my interest because the clothes don't compete with the models' natural beauty - they've maintained their classic good hair, clean make up, ladylike finishes (no androgyny here) which I think builds the case for the clothes (and the person) even more.
Of course we don't all look like this majestic wonder of a female (I'm addressing the brunette bombshell) and can't all comfortably pull off (or put on) leather skinnies, but I feel like she's at least not trying too hard. Lies. Okay but her finishes are at least timeless. Same with the blonde fatale. If you're going to have the crazy hair/make up, then your clothes don't need to compete - it's enough already. Or if you maintain a relatively normal look - go batshit with your clothes and accessories. Whatever.
Or just, you know, ignore me (I feel like there's hypocrisy lurking somewhere, ready to bite my Mr Price ass).
This is my opinion anyway. I'm 24. I'm striving for balance. I'm trying to figure out this new life phase (and what the hell to wear in the morning).
More! If you Google image search them, it's a closet of well-dressed, non-sloppy Suicide Girl types. And new (old) outfits I haven't seen on the blog before! Do it!
Cape Town based artist Bruce Mackay exhibited Kindling at Wolves in Jo’burg for the month of February. I went to check out the opening night (3 February).
I stepped into Bruce’s quaint world of delicate line work, forestry, birds, tree-sailor people (you betcha) and antique keys.
Like peristalsis, I strode across the room to inspect two pieces that promptly caught my eye. The attraction came in the form of two lino prints, beautifully laser cut into wood.
One of the two linos.
The detail and craft in these pieces made me so happy. I got that warm fuzzy feeling of antiquity, of the ‘old world’ where I imagined Bruce as a flannel-wearing, bearded woodcutter, handcrafting works of art from his cottage HQ; fire place crackling, birds singing the theme song of ‘The Sound of Music’… Sigh, handcrafted goodness (and sleep deprivation).
“Those would make rad tattoos, shotgun?”
This is the first thing I said when I made eyes at a man and woman illustration pair done in pen and ink, with their feral, ‘I’ve come from the sea but been lost in the woods for a long long time and can speak to trees and animals’ look about them. Their faces, old and weathered with the sense of wisdom and sadness that comes with time - would make amazing characters in a graphic novel. Or look great on my forearms. Either way, I loved them.
Kindling as a whole comes down to balance: gentle intricacies in the illustrations that aren’t fickle or flimsy. Art that’s striking but doesn’t have to shout or shock to get your attention.
And the very name ‘kindling’ – something as small and insignificant as little sticks and twigs, when bunched together and ignited, can start a raging fire that can wipe out an entire forest. The art is pretty; nature is harsh. Balance.
Barring the Old Mother Hubbard of parties just 10 km away (Jozi Fest), and that there wasn’t the usual Friday night bustle and drink hustle at Wolves (which is a damn shame), Kindling was well worth checking out. To balance that out however, I know full well that any ensuing Thursday night would've made up for the lack of attendance. Ten fold.
You can check out more of Bruce's delightful work here and here.
(See the real thing here or just keep scrollin' scrollin' scrollin' scrollin')
So it was the first week of January and as wistfully expected, there wasn’t much going down in Jozi. No crazy-big parties. Bob Rocks was still closed. We were all broke. We are all still broke. What’s a girl to do? I know! How ‘bout not get wasted and choo-choo-train dance to electro and go to this little gem instead?
Enter: Outline, an exhibition by Koos Groenewald.
I arrived at Wolves on the opening night, expecting to see some familiar faces but for the most part, assumed everyone was still on holiday. I was wrong. Wolves may not be a big place, but it was packed with freshly tanned, eager-eyed Jozinis, slapping their jaws together with such vigor that it actually felt good to be back.
Outline was more than an art exhibition – it was a play date. It felt right. So did the niche-brewed beer. And Wolves, set in the heart of Illovo, Jo’burg, was the perfect backdrop for Koos’ quirky, playful illustrations.
Koos’ style is fun and reminds me a little of Quentin Blake’s sprawled illustrations from Roald Dahl novels – naughty, irreverent, cheeky. The character and mischievousness in the faces of his animals, human-like expressions at that, have a way of making you grin. And the human faces? Well, they’re the kind of humans I want to make friends with. There’s a crazy energy to Koos’ childlike scrawls, something dangerous.
But let’s just get one thing straight; there is a difference between ‘childlike’ and ‘childish’. The former is awesome and imaginative, naïve in a way that suggests zero ego and hardened cynicism. Childish is just, well, silly and rudimentary. Koos’ work is certainly not the latter.The childlike element might also have something to do with the fact that these illustrations were created from one line.
One line.
Yup, like that game where you put pencil to paper, freely scribble some lines, create a shape then ask, ‘What is it?’ This is a game I’d like to play but can swiftly confirm would need labels and descriptors. I envy kids who can, without a doubt in their minds, create. Little artists making little metanarratives in crayon. That’s basically every kid. That was me as a young lass. That’s Koos Groenewald.
Review by Lauren Bow and photographs by Chris Corbett.
The exhibition runs until 31 January, so best you come play. Check out the Facebook event here and see more from Koos here.
Peta 'Go Veg' stickers we had in our militant varsity veg days. How d'ya like them pixels?
Lactose and gluten intolerant. Check? Check?
Shit.
Let me introduce you to the Grinch Who Ate Christmas. That's usually me. In fact, that was me a few days ago. But how do you be said Grinch when you're lactose AND gluten intolerant AND in the running for being a veg going on eight years?! All I could think was: "Christmas is going to suck this year". Suck and bloat.
And it did.
Labeling stuff is tiring but it's so much easier to sum up your dietary choices/prohibitions in one word. I'm a ...
(ponce?)
Done. People then nod in a farce of understanding but generally leave it. But when you've got to go into some detail about it, I'm talking 3 minutes worth, you suddenly become very aware of how tit you sound.
The vegetarian restrictions I've willingly embraced 'cause they're self-imposed, my little metanarrative I can follow in a black and white fashion, but the latter is a recent discovery (after almost a year of feeling shit) and have been, shall we say, bestowed on me which naturally, I want to rebel against.
But I'm rebelling against myself. How counter-intuitive and adolescent 'punk' of me. I might as well koki the anarchy 'A' on my shoes and wear a Cliche Guevara tee.
Eating is cheating. In my case, this is almost every meal and I won't start feeling better until I get hardcore with my diet. Duh, Lauren.
Or change my diet? Does this mean a paradigm shift in belief and morals?
Obey stencil collage on paper
We can directly control what we put in our mouths... uh, in most cases. Let me rephrase, we can control what FOOD we put in our mouths. Yet this is one of the hardest challenges I have yet faced. What a ridiculous middle class, bourgeois challenge to have. I make me sick. Literally.
Lame, no one likes that weird food girl who sits wistfully at dinner, can't eat anything off the menu and talks about her restricted diet incessantly all evening (ala Jozi preachy vegan of the mid-2000s). Or quietly eats all the 'poison' food and then complains about the ensuing pain. But is packing your own quinoa really the answer? I've lost cool points just thinking about it (and I lynched for those points).
Besides, that involves forward planning and doesn't fit into my self-fancied 'easy breezy-anything goes' lifestyle of eating out tons. This might also have something to do with being lazy and not loving cooking. But I prefer the former.
I'm killing myself, softly, while getting more soft around the edges. Hooray. You are what you eat I guess, and I clearly went out and swallowed a beach ball.
Time to get serious. As serious as words on a digital page on a blog that seven people follow.
Discovering you're lactose and/or gluten intolerant is like a break up. A break up with a lover; a delicious cheesy, pasta, bread and butter sort of lover you'll get fat for. When you've cut out meat, cheese becomes more than your lover, it becomes your religion. I've been in the denial phase (not to mention grief and anger) for so long and I'm proud to report that last week, I circled the 'acceptance' stage. I know this because I bought not one, but TWO allergy-free cookbooks. BIG step for me (especially considering I don't cook). Also, they were on special.
One big step, yes, but it's more about the baby steps, as in WTF am I doing?! Let's see how this goes, I'll take it one step at a time. And again with the steps. Maybe I should throw some exercise in there while I'm at it. And some fish.
Stop what you're doing. Go to this site. Do it now. Right now. You will not regret this. You will not pass 'Begin' and collect R200 because you'll never leave this site again.
'Everyone's Mixtape' is such a lovely idea and perfect for the holidays. Actually, it's perfect for any occasion. Thanks Debbie for being all London and cool and sharing this.
Oh, why hello Blog! My my it's been quite a year. I'm proud to report I've been buzzee (with two zee's), and I'm not in the least bit uncomfortable about reporting this directly to you, Blog, who is in fact me. Awkward.
So 2011, the less-shiny middle child of 2010 has been surprisingly awesome! Maybe it's because I didn't expect anything. Maybe it's also because 2010 sucked for me. Nevertheless, it's been my year of opportunities: new projects, new people, travelling (in a big fish, small pond kind of way) and possibly too much time at Bob Rocks.
Who are we kidding, we love that place!
Join me, Blog, on a self-important journey looking over my year in mostly B-grade Blackberry mobile uploads.
This year saw me forge stronger friendships with old acquaintances...
'Pirate Day' at Zoo Lake.
... and make new (amazing) friends altogether. Can I say, TEQUILA SLAP?! Not forgetting all the other gems who were already in my life (you know who you are).
I cut my hair. This is news because it was pretty freakin' long okay. Think Asian Mia Wallace.
I started DJing (enter Lil' Bow - boss track selekta but janitor-skilled CDJer).
Please ignore my techno-fail and pretend this is rotated.
Smooth.
I started writing for the Revolution website, a tie that's just grown stronger - hello Jozi contributor.
This is rad because a) I love what Revolution is all about having grown up in the skate, music and art scene and b) My whole reason for starting a blog this year was to get me writing again, for myself, in different mediums (and not just my day job copywriting), so this is exactly the kind of opportunity I needed.
The iconic Revolution fist.
Which makes me reel at the fact I only started this blog this year! Given, I haven't done a hellava lot, but seriously, this blog was born out of a weird space, the kind of space where you cling to a new vessel for creativity because it makes you feel better. Nine months on and I've grown so much (I'm not pregnant). Thank gawd for that. Praise jezuz!
Somewhere along the way I discovered the world of branding and my love for it (through a random Vitamin Water job), which prompted me to leave my job at M&C Saatchi Abel in search of new challenges, not to mention all the people I love (M&N&N for life). That was one of the hardest decisions I've made to date.
The crew, yo.
And I started a new job (hi Switch).
On the party side of things, I organised two events - one mine, a small scale Tarantino birthday party with a best friend -
It's scary how much I look like John Travolta.
the other, a large scale punk show called THROUGH THE BEST OF TIMES.
I learnt buttloads from this show.
I was that brat who went to Cape Town, twice.
Camps Bay, April.
I was 'the surprise' for my friend Bun's birthday weekend.
Greenpoint, December.
My two glorious trips to Cape Town also brought two visits to the latest addition of my family; my little cousin Josh. High 5 buddy!
Josh and I bonding over rock 'n' roll, April.
December - check how he's grown!
I also went to Cape St Francis and St Lucia (and swum at neither, fail).
This was partly due to the FIVE weddings I got invited to this year (there's something in the water I tell you).
St Francis, for the other Lauren's beautiful wedding.
St Lucia, for my cousin Jade's wedding. She was a proper chilled, DIY bride and I was the lax bridesmaid chillin' in the backseat.
I went to the Maloof Money Cup (Kimberley) with The Fistettes (don't ask).
Watching the vert finals with Mick and Nick.
The Fistettes... on Youtube.
I looked forward to Maloof ALL year and it didn't disappoint! I had one of the BEST weekends of my life (meeting pro skaters has that effect).
Growing up sneaks up on you. I signed my first lease to move out for the first time (there goes the neighbourhood Illovo).
Our flat overlooks this lovely place.
Yup, it wouldn't be young livin' without a crazy roomie...
Hello NIKKI SIXX, my future flatmate, ex-art director and ying to my yang going full motorboat/platter puss.
I could probably have used a better pic...
Wait, no. Still ridiculous.
Loving music for years finally lead me to my dream - making music! Okay not quite, but I did get to write and record a song! Given, it was for the Nigerian market and was proper cheese-ball, but still, it felt pretty rockstar!
In studio, getting groovy.
After years of complaining and being only-child dramatic, the powers that be got over my weather-beaten, morning after voice and gave me a Mac! Hooray!
And look at the fun we've had! Every Mac deserves a handmade zombie friend.
I totally know how to screen grab now (no, I'm not thirteen and I haven't made out with my computer).
Hmm, what else have I done repeatedly this year..? Oh right! Early on in the year, I discovered my new party band - P.H.Fat. There's been many a drunken, bass-grinding, (phantom) flat-peak wearing night out to their beats. The novelty's worn off a bit (maybe 'cause I've killed them, well, it) but it's fun to lose your shit and mutate into your alter ego Laquonda. Or so I've heard.
P.H.Fat at The Alex Theatre. Hollaaaaaaa!
I didn't do many festivals this year. In fact, I did only one but I think it's the one that counts - OPPI!
Out of focus Diana picture courtesy of my homegirl Mica. We were drunk already. Who stays focussed anyway?
This year, I'm not sure exactly how or when it happened, but like a ninja in the night I've slowly developed an affinity for gold jewellery (I used to be like 'Ah gold, sis, it's so 80s'), brown (yes, shoes, belts and bags, mom style) and mellow indie (I've always been into indie but the slow, folky stuff used to annoy the shit out of me - apparently not anymore).
Villagers 'Becoming a Jackal'.
This song is really doing it for me right now.
Angus and Julia Stone 'Just a Boy'.
This song's been in my iTunes for almost two years now but I've only (really really) starting enjoying it now.
So yes, I love pretty music now. There! I said it!
Perhaps this mellowing out is also a part contributor to my new approach to shitty people - I'll kill you (with kindness). No one can be a hater when you don't talk shit about them (even though you really really want to), smile and greet them. It's maturity or something, coupled with brown, gold and a mom bum? High waisted shorts will do that to you.
BREAKING NEWS ON THE BODY FRONT! I GOT TATTOOED!
In other self-indulgent news, this was not the first time.
After a two year delay, I added to my back piece. Having found an amazing NEW artist I'm so excited about (and having just spent five hours with her this past weekend), my tattoo project is just four (painful, uncomfortable, mock-bravado) hours away from being complete which will bring the grand total to 13 hours ink time, yikes!
Before.
After!
All that's left to add are sun rays and stargazer lilies *pants dance*
I highly recommend these guys...
The Body Architects, Cape Town.
What's life without the people you love the most, your adopted family? 2011 marks Dee Dee, Mandy, Angie, Colleen and my 10 YEAR friendship anniversary! Alert the media! Or just, you know, get on with your life.
But fo'real, I love them dearly, and here's to the next 10 years!
At our annual Christmas dinner last night. Trying to get us all in one shot proved difficult (especially after some Pimm's). The blur, the lighting, damn you Blackberry and short arms!
I'm feeling more creative and inspired than ever (albeit more tired than ever). I'm feeling more capable than ever. I'm feeling, feelings?
I've got a few more projects lined up already for next year and I can't wait! I can honestly say 2011 was the tits. All the bad somehow rolled around in liquid candy and glitter and became awesome.
Work comes to an end tomorrow and Christmas is in three days; I'd say that's a pretty good time to sign off.
See you, Blog, in 2012. Stay classy (more a general note to self about the perils of holiday drinking at old man pubs) x
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