5 WAYS TO LIVE THE LIFE YOU’VE IMAGINED NOW.
Because there's no reason we should be living a lesser life. Remove the term "idealistic" from your vocabulary and doors will open. Here's 5 ways to live the life you've imagined NOW.
BEHIND OUR FASHION
There are two sides to every story. What is it - but the fear of guilt - that makes you exempt from hearing the other? My recent trip to Fiji saw me unpacking more than bikinis, but factory life and cultural disparity. This is Behind Our Fashion, an intimate look into the other side of the story.
Interviewing my 2017 self
Because when it comes down to it, my 2017 self has a lot to answer for. Here's the story of how she's making it into 2018. Warning: You may just find yourself asking similar questions.
IT’S NOT JANUARY 1ST.. AND THINGS ARE CHANGING.
I’ve found a note on my phone of which I recall writing on one of the first days of January, 2017. I say ‘one of’ as it was likely not the very first: I’m notorious for both forgetting and avoiding these type things (growth and the universal expectation that we set yearly deadlines on it). I struggle to discern a cheese scone from a cheese-and-bacon pinwheel at the best of times (and such has pertinence being vegetarian). Trying to discern my larger goals from the cloudy sky in which they reside presents itself as an almost equally stressful task.…
Unhappiness: Is it Sam Smith’s fault?
The other day I was listening to Sam Smith’s, “Too Good at Good Byes”, and weird as it sounds, placing myself in his heartbreak. Ironically, all my relationships have ended somewhat amicably, and even more importantly, I’m in a happy one at the present. It made me wonder: why did it feel so good to pretend I knew Smith’s pain? Was it the gospel choir that chimes in mid-way? Or something much deeper than this? I know what you’re thinking: what’s deeper than a gospel choir, right? Well, it turns out there is one such thing. Another…
Day in the Life of a Social Media Manager
It’s one of those rare, calm days here in Wellington city. I’ve taken to the waterfront, as I often do, for a little break from my laptop screen. It’s Monday. It’s the 18th of September. Like the bay, I am content. As I wander, Siri documents my words. I look odd to the scattering of people whom I pass and yet, it doesn’t faze me. It is far more satisfying to adjourn with fresh air than it is with a blank Pages document. Fortunately I talk much the way I write anyway. More than talking, I find…
I wore track pants to NZFW. Here’s why it matters.
Day 5 of NZFW, I began with a rather charming, resort-style outfit. By about 6pm, I had exchanged floral for monochrome; Kate Spade’s ambassador for Michael Jackson 2003. Eh, perhaps I’m overselling it. I got cold. That’s right, it happens. Even at Fashion Week. In fact, especially here. You try promoting Spring in the last month of Winter. That shit is tough. I even got tired of prancing about in cute, leather sandals. #pityme Although it would be my usual tendency to battle for beauty, this occasion, I was far from in the mood. 5 days…
So.. what are you doing with your life?
It is on two occasions – both at family dinner and in midst of NZFW – that I’ve found life tends to raise a hand with its most frequently asked question. So what exactly are you planning to do with me, it asks. Well, not in so many words. Like many a doubts it has, it projects this one by way of intrigued (otherwise, arguably snide) individuals. “So where are you taking this?”, they ask, never not sending me into a haze of self-questioning: Should I know? Wait, what is it I want to do…
NZFW // Weddings, Wynn Hamlyn and that’s a Wrap.
To the absolute pleasure of some, NZFW has finally closed its curtains for 2017. A friend had announced some wise words earlier in the week, “come Friday and I really don’t want to be here”, as if to predict the way I too would feel by close. I was sore from too much sitting and uncomfortable from too much standing. My SIM card was and does remain galore with content of which I am progressively losing the brain capacity to curate. That’s right, I’m asking for your pity. But even more so, for a breathe of fresh air, a break…
You look good in anything you wear. Really?
Just about every second night, I rock up at my boyfriend’s place dressed in his grey trackpants (arguably mine), a pair of stained Nike sneakers and at the very least, four layers of jumpers on top. I literally look like The Rock after a cheat meal – perhaps even bigger. “When you’re girlfriend makes no effort and still looks beautiful,” I’ll mock, aware that I’m breaking just about every rule in both the fashion, and the girl-guy book, and that I’m far from doing so in a cool manner. “You do. You could wear anything and you’d…