Keep on sneakin'

One of my favourite things to tell people of late is how things are 'on trend'. I say it with complete irony of course (this may not always translate: everyone I am taking the piss. I haven't become one of those bloggers yet) but usually it's true. So now, without further adieu, I bring you the brilliant trend spot of the moment: Sneakers.

That was very anti-climatic wasn't it? Who cares about sneakers if you're not one of the homeboys, you say? Not all of us like to 'kick it' or 'keep it fresh', right? Wrong. We all do. I'm feeling self righteous enough today to speak on behalf of the world. So to spit on your non-believer smut I'm going to show you what a proper sneaker looks like. The kind of sneaker you would never run, play sport, summersault.. hell you wouldn't even want to walk in them. More than that, I'd probably put them in a glass dome and have them sitting in the living room for 'sneaker parties', events where I'd force my family and friends to sit and discuss the importance and profundity of my sneakers. Thank god I don't have a spare 7 fitty to spend on a pair on canvas Lanvin shoes because I'd also be buying loneliness. Who says you can't put a price on that? This sounds like a damaging game I should start playing with my friends: how much money would it take for you to stop hanging out with me? I feel it's nice to test friendships sometimes. Anyway back to ridiculous (fabulous) sneakers. So everyone is getting involved, that's right it's not just Nike and Adidas left to get footloose (I can't believe I just said that), the tootsie roll continues with all the big boys: Chloe, Lanvin, Isabel Marant, Maison Martin Margiela and they're doing some wicked cool things down below the belt. Waaaaay bellow the belt. Where things stop getting sexy and start getting fetishy and weird.

But fun. Plainly. So kick back, relax, and let the good time's roll (walk briskly):

Maison Martin Margiela

You know those mornings when you wake up and think: 'I wish my feet were gold nuggets'? Problem solved. 

Jeremy Scott for Adidas 'Bear Brown' shoes

Why not wear bears on your feet? Give me a legit reason and I'll give you a legit slap in the face. 

Jeremy Scott X Adidas 2.0 Flame Fire

Oh god, for a second there I thought you were running SO FAST that you actually CAUGHT on FIRE but it's just your shoes. Nice shoes, man. 

Puma 'First Round Kynya Jnr'

Gone are the days where the age old rule of pink and purple and yellow and green leopard print should never be seen on the one foot together. Those days are dead people. The revolution is upon us.

Isabel Marant 'Willow High Top Sneaker'

Unfortunately where I live the marriage laws are still a little behind the times. It's true, people are not allowed to marry their shoes. But If I could, Willow and I have discussed it, and we've decided we're in love. I retract all hateful statements I made about sneaker heels and velcro. Nothing can deter my love for this shoe and all it's boyish suede charm.

Lanvin Diamond Print canvas&leather sneakers 

But then we're 10 years down the track. Willow's fading round the edges, had to have some work done on her sole's, she's not getting any younger. We're sleeping in separate rooms every other night. And then one day this minxy secretary from level 3 struts up to my office and something comes over me. Something no amount of yellow sports cars and 10 ft. yachts can fix... Suddenly diamonds and I are more than just friends...

xxL.

Creds: Everydayisfashionweek.tumblr, Fashionologie.com, Adidasjswingss.com

Kor(s)!

I'm back. I apologise to all of my fans (becoming a blogger= deserving of celebrity status), sitting and waiting anxiously at their computers, refreshing the page every 30 seconds in hope (desire, lust, mild arousal) that I'd have written another post about little to nothing. But unfortunately for you, Mona Vale hospital doesn't have wifi. So when I got ass hauled over there for the weekend due to post op infection (I won't go into details, it wasn't pretty) I had to be blog free for a good 48 hours I KNOW HOW DID I SURVIVE but regardless, I am back. With a vengeance. A vengeance for blogging. Does that even work as a sentence? Oh who cares I'm writing a post, get awn ittt.

...

I really hate that I don't hate Michael Kors. Because I do. I do hate Michael Kors. And I don't hate anyone (I hate most people). I find him pompous, boring and way. Too. American. Usually this is how I feel about what he does with clothes. Over all his Pre-Fall 2012 collection sucks. BUT it... it is wearable. There is some gold amongst what is usually an unsalvageable collection. By Kors standards.

There's a lot of beige. He's a beige kinda guy. And it's not particularly inspired (literally based on a trip to Phoenix. Seriously man, you didn't even try.. at least make something up) which is a tad disappointing but you know, it's Michael Kors. He's what yuppies dreams are made of (I think secretly I may want to be of the upper class where there is more money than taste, aka Kors taget audience, but that was not God's will). And it is, as per usual, very American. There are cowboy boots and there are cowboy hats. I'll be honest with you here, i hate them generally but these bad boys are slick. Almost make me want to not be the cynical bitch I am, jump on the Americana band wagon and hitch on over to the Deep South where I can, I don't know, chew bits of grass and have sex with my cousins. But in style. In black leather style. Yes, sure there are a couple of elements that make me not froth but definitely moisten in the mouth (that sounds a bit dirty.. I definitely don't have moist feelings for Michael Kors) over the K-burger's shit (that's even worse.. jesus..). For every beige trouser leg there is also a leathery harness. And for every beyond average white and tan outfit he's got a shot of red and turquoise. But what truly made me salivate? The mother lickin' fur skirt. Unwearable you say? Truly absurd? Murder? Wrong, wrong and maybe a little. God dammit this belongs with me in bed beside that Deadly Ponies furry lover my gold dug husband will buy for me.

What I love:

Black on black on black leather. That is a leather smock. It is. It should be worn when killing things and cooking corn for your 10 children who you named after the states they were born in. Incorrectly. With accents.

Styled terribly... why cardigan... why... don't hurt that skirt.. just don't do that.. I take it as a personal offence. But in all seriousness I need some fur on my ass come pre-fall (what the hell does that even mean. Pre Fall is summer. Fuck.)

I'm just going to come out and say it. I could wear this dress better than that model can. Suck my self involved wang, un-identified model.  

What should be burnt: 

There is nothing ok with all white outfits. There is nothing ok with all white out fits with tan accessories.

This is what I like to think the Abominable Snowman would wear when they go on bus toured vacations across America. If ten year old children can't work cross-body bags then you, as an adult yeti, cannot either. And don't start on me, safety and practicality is just not an excuse. Oh, and your shorts offend me.

Good lord. I am so bored by this. I have nothing to say. This outfit hurts my feelings. 

I feel like this was a big waste of my time. I never, ever want to write about Michael Kors again. 

xxL.

Creds: Fashionologie, Vogue.com

This should be seen and not heard (read)

House of Holland. House of Holy fuck balls. (Usually people change well known curse phrases to be less offensive. Mine are equally offensive and also a little repulsive. What can i say, I aim to leave a bad taste in your mouth. I apologise though, this is too many sentences for even the most untamed bracket user.) Holland's Spring 2012 Collection is making me froth at the mouth (from here on in this will be known as 'frothing' for those of you not up on the Aussie youth slang).

Henry Holland  (got a nice Humbert Humbert ring to it, doesn't it? Sorry Hen, not suggesting you're in any way pre-pubescently inclined) has come a long way since his... characteristic... slogan tee's. You remember them- "Get your freak on Giles Deacon" etc etc. Ha lol rhymes are witty. Although I really would like to say "UHU" to Gareth Pugh. (It would probably/definitely be the first time he heard it.) His newest collection, however, carries on with what seems to be a trademark flair for sophisticated nonsense. He's got some, albeit mildly oversized, tailored blazers, there are some trousers involved, and don't think he left out a fitted frock or a savvy short short. But what's that.. is that.. no.. yes.. it's tartan on tartan on tartan with a snake print belt. And that print.. well I don't know what animal it is exactly but If, and correct me if I'm wrong, a cow and a male leopard had sex and the cow had a little summin' summin' on the side with an elephant and then spawned a slightly zoologically confused offspring it would, in fact, create a beast with giant leopard cow spots ipso facto inspiration for Henry's collection. Could I have just said "Henry Holland has enlarged androgynous animal prints", well yes, yes I could have but that would make this whole piece much more concise and to the point and as you would have picked up, if this is your first time reading, in that painfully epic bracket extravaganza up top, that concise and to the point well, that's just not my style. 66 word sentence. That's a new PB. I've completely screwed what could have been a fine piece of writing, I know you're reading this dad and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

BACK ON TRACK: Crazy. Crazy attack of the prints. But not an attack of the senses. Despite having mixed (and possibly killed) around 10 (2/3) different animals for his collection and undoubtedly robbed a clan of Scotts, Holland has managed to produce a loud, but very succinct and fluid season. Although being ambushed at first by his choice of 'print mixing' (very on trend Holls, this ain't your first rodeo, is it buddy?) a subtle collection of pleasant pastels soothes our shattered nerves. And if that array of adjectives and alliteration didn't paint obviously enough the scandalous tale of a lone Leocophant (leopard/cow/elephant cross breed) trying to find his way in a Scottish world whilst being hunted by an angry British designer aka House of Holland Spring 2012 Collection, then here are some purdy pictures to help your exhausted minds eye.

If I hadn't already, this post will definitely have extinguished the last of my surely dwindling readership (had a slight peak due to Keating popularity, but that will be exhausted by my tiresomely long and tangent infused paragraphs). I would like to say, please continue reading, give me another chance, It's 2 AM, I don't remember most of what I've written.. I'm slightly crazed.. who and where is this House of Holland? Why are these girls wearing the skins of Leocophants? Where am I? Who am I writing to? What am I doing with my life?? 

Anyway enough of that nonsense. I'm finally going to bed, I just missed you all too much to not have one last attempt at a post. And in that attempt, like with most last ditch one's, I have lost you. 

Farewell my beloveds,*

xxL.

Note: this will not be my last post. 

Credits: Fashionologie, House of Holland

A queen among men

So we've been together for how long now? What like, 4 days? I think it's time. I think it's time you met him. The other man.
He needs no introductions (but I'll give him one anyway). From humble beginnings (he lives in a castle) rose this fiery young man. No need for formal eduction (Whitehouse eat your heart out) his talent was blatant at a young age. Back in the dizzay he would make me listen to his new collection's runway music on shared head phones. We were 15. He also used to try and 'improve' me whenever he got his hands on a make up brush but this isn't about me... Let me welcome the handsome, the dashing, the eloquent beyond words (he calls me 'Cheese') and above all the fabulous- Mr. Phoenix Keating.

Phoenix Keating has been seen on the likes of The Little Black Book, the young and the fabulous and too many editorials to count and of course, the queen of queens: Lady GG. His creations, when grouped together, are really like a couture soiree. It's where couture goes to pick up couture and find a respectable couture husband. Let me demonstrate:

Phoenix Keating S/S 11/12 shot by Thom Kerr 

His Spring/Summer 2011/12 debuted off schedule at Sydney's 2011 Fashion Week featuring what is destined to be known as that red dress and using an array of fabrics (or should I say textiles?) including tulle, leather (for yes, leather harnesses, I-know-fucking-right), spray paint, net, and some sort of plasticated fabric that made women's breasts look like cones of doom (insert Madonna's nod of approval). 

They talk about, in this fickle fashion world, a designer's 'woman'. Keating has rebuilt his (dare I call her the 'Keating Woman') into something of a beautiful terminator. Dictionary def (everything my uni tutors told me NOT to do when writing) of terminator: 'The dividing line between the light and the dark part of a planetary body'. That's right, scrub Arnie smut from your minds (maybe not completely..).  Photographer Thom Kerr has, in the S/S 11/12 shoot, divulged to us this other worldly being- both good and evil, light and dark, a little bit lady and a little bit fetish, the ultimate woman possessing everything she needs and everything she desires. A woman so fierce and whose independence is so self satisfying that a man could never possess her. At least, that's my ultimate woman. And indeed my reading of the collection. Designing is, after all, as much an art form as any. I welcome my spin of Keating's work. With open, leather bound arms to rest upon my blood red, razor sharp bossom. Too far? Never.. I'm one of Keating's women. 

That's not me. I wish that was me. Wouldn't it be great if that was me? 

PK 2010 shot by Julie Healy

S/S 11/12 Runway

Phoenix and I in PK

Now to get a tad sentimental on yo asses: Phoe is talented. He is insanely, stupidly talented. It hurts me how much so. I like to think of myself as the photographer prodigy type, but if he put his mind to it he'd whip my ass at that too. His vision of the world, of the people around him, the way beauty just is- it's different to that of anyone else I've met (I go to an art school so this is saying something). He was always destined for greatness (Cue your vomit hitting the screen, I'm wiping it away, and I'm continuing): he's reached it and is only going further. He's the man you'll read about well after he's gone and the one you never forget meeting. Fuck that you'll claim you've met him. You'll lie to say you've met him and shared a moment 'that one time' at some bar when he poured his drink on you accidentally on purpose because you may or may not have been wearing something he didn't like. Don't look at me like that, you probably deserved it. A genius in his field, Phoenix Keating is someone you are going to be hearing about for the rest of your life.  

He's also really good looking. I've been trying to convince him that I'm the girl his loins have been craving for but no dice. I'll get him one day.. 

Phoenix Keating

Stocked at:

Museum Clothing Oxford street & Bondi Beach

Estate of Mind Surry Hills

CM Store Bondi Beach

P&me at an Absolut party. I wasn't drinking beer with a straw you derguns, I'm not a complete princess. It was a bitch drink. 

This is, unbeknownst to everyone, in fact Phoenix looking humbled by my post and not him after his 2011 show. 

xxL.

Credits: Phoenix Keating, Facebook, Phoenix/My instagrams phoenixkeating & lucylemasurier 

Piss pot through and through

This may come as a shock to some of you, but I am in fact, 100% Australian. "But how?!" I hear you exclaim? "How when you ooze such style, grace and all round European elegance?" And, don't forget, my very un-straight-off-the-boat Irish complexion. I know, it's a bit of a mind fuck-a-roo but I am true blue. And as this day is, of course, 'Strayaa day, today's post will be celebrating just that.

Now I'm not able to go out and drink like I would like to. My most redeeming Australian quality is being able to turn any occasion into a legitimate drinking experience (I had a party to celebrate my tonsils coming out. Enough said). So, as today my most festive drink will be a large glass of ice cold Milo and I stupidly timed it so my 5 ft. Australian flag was getting dry cleaned (Idiot Lucy.. cmon) I'm going to raise a toast to the best of Australian fash, but also New Zealand because you know what this fine day shares in common? That's right my cousin's day of birth and today it is her TWENTY FIRST OH MY GOD TODAY YOU ARE A WOMAN. So Happy birthday Molly McCarthy, may all your responsibilities and adult stresses overwhelm you and have a cold one for me guys, schlang a saussy on the barb and I'll sit on my verandah trying to create a 'Happy birthday' and National Anthem hybrid.

Oh right, my cousin is from New Zealand. Hence the Australian and New Zealand fas... yeah you get it.

1. Romance Was Born:

A/W 2011

What the hell even is that? It's like a flower had sex with explosives and had explosive flower babies that attacked this poor young woman. 

A/W 2011

They made home on this chicks rockin' bod and decided to go for a 'country yuppie' feel and in turn invested in lots of wicker furniture.

Then they realised that they were going about it all wrong, redecorated and dedicated their lives to the gays. 

2. Deadly Ponies

A furry doctor's bag. It's everything that is missing in my life. 

But really this is my ultimate bag. I want this bag. I want it with everything I am. Bag, you are my ultimate. 

3. Karen Walker

When I was in Wellington before christmas and buying myself lots of undeserved christmas presents a grey and mustard drop-hem dress by K dubs was one. This bitch ass woman served me then tried to sell me another dress in a size 6 (I'm not a size 6) for $700 dollars and then a necklace for $1500. If you ever read this bitch ass woman, learn to help your customers before trying to rob them. You bitch. You bitch ass. You bitch ass woman. Good dress but.

A/W Southern Hemisphere 

So daggy and so cute. I can imagine wearing a Karen Walker outfit would feel like being the kinda ugs, lame girl at school who grew up to be quirky and understatedly hot. Kinda like what Zooey Deschanel tries to do in every single role she's ever had. But better. Because Zooey Deschanel is a goober.

Matching prints woot woot.

S/S 2011 Northern Hemisphere

Similar colourings to my dress. Cept mine has got more of a 1920's flapper makes me look like a log thing going on.

4. After the Apple

I don't need to post anymore (can't be bothered). This bag says it all (hardly anything) about this brand.

Happy Molralia Day Everyone.

xxL. 

 Photo creds: Romance Was Born, Deadly Ponies, Karen Walker, After The Apple

Before I go down

This has to be the quickest post in the history of quick posts because I just popped a sleeping pill and this bad boy is gonna drop in about 10 minutes. I was doing my nightly (I say nightly but really it's a 24/7 thing) blog round up and came across some other rangtasmic being, Style Devil, who had posted this fun little vid. Lanvin= fab. Pittbull= da bomb. Models dancing= on the fence with this one. Models dancing badly= Brill. So here is a little night cap for ya. Karen Elson, fellow rang dog, dancing like a dick weed. I mean that in the best possible way. She makes dick weed dancing sexy. Wish you didn't give up that hot piece of smokin' dick weed ass now huh, Jack White?*

*Fun story: Met Jack White at his concert after he was attempting a stealth toilet exit. Word to the wise, Jacko, don't bring a cane and top hat to the loo. It's not the most inconspicuous get up, play boy. I was 14 and super attractive (not so attractive). If you ever get to hang out, like I did, with the big JW give him a shout out for me. He'll remember.

xx L.

Miu-izzlin' in 2012

Maybe it's because all I've been doing the past week is watching terrible, TERRIBLE excuses for movies (rom coms) sobbing into a tub of ice cream (low fat soy, I'm not a complete monster) about how I'm never going to get married because, let's face it, no one can deal with this much crazy. I jest guys, I'm a complete catch. Too much of a catch in fact, which is why I am currently, get ready for it, single. Pick your jaws off the ground, people, It's not that far fetched. Some just find that this much woman is too much. So, as I've been stuck at home recovering from the evil operation that has plagued my life the past 2 weeks, I've been making myself feel better by dressing up in pouffy sleeved frocks, white and pink, high pony tails and jewels. Many jewels. So many jewels. ACRES of jewels. Maybe not that many jewels. Some traditional and some perhaps not so (are rope necklaces a classic yet?). I feel like a damsel in distress awaiting her knight in shining armour. But as that cliche makes me want to vomit tulle underskirt onto the screen and my knight would obviously be wearing an Armani suit not armour (HAHA Funny designer oriented lol right there.) I will rethink this. I'm actually waiting until my throat has healed before I'm able to re-attack Sydney and get my minx on, perhaps not finding myself an appropriate husband but definitely someone to keep me.. occupied.. on one of these balmy summer nights.

Smut! You people are disgusting. I was merely suggesting a raucous round of scrabble, you know how I like me a play on words, and perhaps some cluedo. Good lord, I'm a lady. And on the topic (sometimes I try to keep on topic) of ladies I bring ya'll Miu Miu 2012.

Firstly: this guy gets it. This is what I'm talking about (what the hell am I talking about). Miu Miu has brought us what Prada started in 2011. Diamond vom. The truly fabulous clash of modern kitsch (lighting bolt earrings? Ah yus) with ultra fem and traditionale. Lace gloves? And Pearls? AND BLINGIN' BOWS? I hate bows. I hate bows with such a passion. But I am made, as fashion always does, to eat my words. Now every time I see a petiteley tied ribbon in a young girls hair I won't feel the need to rip it out, stamp on it and spit on her shoes. No, that 12 year old will go unscathed another day. Instead I'll link her arm, and skip into a field of daisies and ponies while she cries in fear because she doesn't know who the frick I am. That's just how I do. This year I am feeling it guys. I'm feeling pretty. I'm feeling flirty. I'm feeling a little bit kitsch. I'm gonna mix in the bling and the bows and the pearls and fuck it man I'm throwing in some lace for the first time since I was 15. This shit is happening AND I'M SO DAMN EXCITED. Who needs a husband when you can be having this much femmy fun and promiscuous sex.

Did I really just say that.. fuck it no one reads this shit anyway.

Prada Resort 2012

To Be Announced Miu Miu knock offs

Look at those models, so much attitude "I'm wearing pink WHAT OF IT BITCH." God I love pink. 

Haus Of Price glitter vom wedges (not their real name)

Prada

Only a mildly expensive bag

Let's get lady like.

xxL.

Photo Credits: Miu Miu, Fashionologie, Solestruck

Nailed it!

I know, nudity is a really hard act to follow. How, you ask, am I supposed to top a chick with her goods out? I agree, I peaked too early. I might even say prematurely.. but I won't. Anyway, I considered just pulling out now and putting my blogging career to rest but with all 2 of my followers relying on me I have decided to persevere and play another round.

Yes that's a pun in the title you got it kids: Nails. My third post is about nails. Gay in the derogatory and literal sense you say? No, says I. And then yes. Because I am currently looking at my frieken pimped out nails where there is a glitter party happening and like, 10 layers of polish have been invited. You know those chicas who walk around with their intense acrylics on and it literally looks like they've got 3 lots of finger nails on each finger and they probably need mini finger cranes to move their hands? Yeah. My nails right now. Cept mine are all real, esay. Minus the nail polish.. that's not me. That's nail polish.

Point of all that crap was I'm really pumped on nails at the mo' and I'm going to illustrate why It's not just my codeine delirium that's making me think like this THE REST OF THE WORLD (no, not just Japan, cmonnnnn) is on board with me. I would go into details about designers, faashion bullshit and more plays on the word 'nail' but as my only readership is going to be fags and their hags anyway I'm going to give you what you want: Lady Gaga.

Get nailed. 

Tavi is getting involved. Everyone loves jail bait style prodigies. Not sarcasm, she's fabulous. 

Parkmoonchoo Fall 2011 show

These are my own pimpizzlin' (real word) nails

Products:

I get bored reading about what other bloggers think about beauty products- I can't see the effects your fucking toner is having on your ginormous pores so don't tell me about it. The nail polish I'm using at the moment are in the above photo. Some of it is designer, some of it is some crap I picked up in a 10 for 10 dollar bin and they smell like turps. Live it and love it. 

xxL.

Photo credit Refinery 29, Fashionologie.com, The Style Rookie, Lucy Le Masurier