7 Reasons Your Body is not a Temple
temple ˈtɛmp(ə)l/ noun a building devoted to the worship of a god or gods. 1. Temples are constructed with certainty and permanence. You and your body are in constant construction. Each day you consume a mouthful or take a breathe; move a step or walk a mile, your body is being constructed. Your age is a mere representation of this work. Our initial build speaks so little for the way we will one day be constructed. To demand that our bodies be something they are yet not, is like asking whisky to mature at a faster rate.…
Done with the To-Do.
Well, well, well. By all means, it has been a while. I’m not going to apologise for when I leave writing for yet another month, it’ll only feel redundant. I will say this: it hasn’t been a choice thing. I miss my little baby. I don’t know if you’ve noticed or remember, but I did a whole make-over session and then disappeared (apart from on Instagram, which oddly, I always seem to find time to prioritise). It was like a Gok series, except I never walked a naked catwalk because I grew too busy and forgot that my wardrobe…
The First Entry
This Christmas I was gifted a whimsical journal titled ‘musings’ on the cover. For days of December I dated entries and placed small thoughts. I tied the turquoise bow and coupled it with New World receipts and travel pamphlets in my leather bag. Here it has stayed much of Summer. On sunny days in February, I found myself instead drinking cocktails and nibbling on parmesan-sprinkled fries. I could be caught skinny-dipping at the edge of the city, recording moments through laughter and morning coffee. Today, the sun is out again and to the beach, I’ve finally brought my journal. I have…
5 Reasons You Didn’t Achieve Your New Year’s Resolutions
Well, well, well. It would seem we’ve found ourselves in another year. Happy New Year everyone! Here’s hoping your celebrations were anything but dull. If you follow my Instagram, you’ll know I made it back to Auckland for family Christmas. I shoulder-hopped my way into the New Year once again thanks to Rhythm and Vines. And as we speak, I’m crossing clouds back to Wellington for the remainder of the Summer. One could say it’s been busy. What’s important is I’m back and I’m writing. The champagne glasses are finally clean and in turn, I’m dirtying a mug and a…
The Importance of Outer Beauty
It is a wonder to discover that in a world so beguiled by self-image, we can still discern what it is to be truly beautiful. A word layered with endlessly more meaning than the likes of ‘hot’ and ‘sexy’, to relate it to self is far from media-inspired. Belief in our own beauty can be found with whom the revenue-driven discourage a visit: our raw and untouched selves. It is here where we shall uncover that to be beautiful is no more than to feel it. Over the past couple of weeks, I have subconsciously divulged into the topic of beauty…
First Year Uni: What I really learnt.
Last Thursday at 10.30am, I completed my first year at university. While it carried with it a sense of relief, The End docked with much less triumph than I imagined it would. It felt indefinite, unsure if this was the destination, if we’d even boarded the right ship. For weeks now, people have been filtering out of the halls. I’ve fought with final days, with wind, rain and Descartes theories condensed on an A4 piece of paper. And despite how it couldn’t have come sooner, the end of first year has given rise to an oddly unattached emotion. I imagine retiring will…
My Greatest Fear
I have come, perhaps with the age of false indestructibility, to fear little. In fact – and I don’t mean to begin on such a bleak note – I barely fear death. Sure, to fathom the pain scares me. The idea that I will not complete all I hope to – this is scary. The actual concept of no longer existing, however, doesn’t panic me. If such is the way of life, then I am accepting. It is out-with my control, and thus I needn’t dwell. I’d rather live instead. I don’t hesitate when I step onto a plane for…
5 things you should know about
1. Melie’s Kitchen I remember when I was five and ‘cake time’ was a regularity, even an expectation of birthday parties. A fan or not, we all anticipated the moment for what it entailed. This, of course, was a multitude of things. In addition to a birthday wish, granted was permission for guests to a) leave, b) dive into the more appealing sausage rolls and fairy bread, or c) eat a slice so sizeable that on any other occasion, it would call for judgement. At about 11 years old, the cake tradition died out. It was for the best, too. Cakes…
REALITY CHECKS
Day 4 of NZFW, and I’m beginning to understand the limitation that is tiredness. Much alike to navigating the kitchen, it’s something I should have learned a long time ago. Being stubborn, I chose instead to let my parents argue with the bags under my eyes for years. My 7 year old self was still not convinced. She dabbled in the practice until about 3am when her eyes would flash open and she would deem it time to get ready. She’d have about 3 hours to clean up her room and play with her toys, then, to wake up and…
The Four Voices of NZFW: What They Do and Don’t Say
NZFW attracts a diverse range of clientele: there are the media crew (those who represent various magazines, online websites or their own blogs), the somebodies (ranging from dated TV presenters to successful photographers), the well-acquainted (those who have attended five times on the back of their friendship with a well-established designer), and finally, the first timers (those who have been invited to just one show courtesy of a friend, family or a winning ticket). In that the range of people is so varying, you don’t meet the snobby without bumping into the uncomfortable, hear the ponce without first basking in the…