My very White weekend

Some time ago, my oldest daughter was sitting on the couch multi-tasking. You may do some of this yourself, in my daughter’s case it was watching Trinny and Susannah, chatting on Facebook and reading a blog. She suddenly burst out laughing and announced, ‘Mum, you are so white.’ Yes, true, sun-baking and fake tanning have never been my thing. But apparently she was referring to the fact that I am a left-leaning, inner city type with a fondness for certain kinds of stuff. If you’ve never read or heard of Stuff White People Like then check it out, they have a list of stuff white people like, it’s very funny. But to help you out, here’s a taste of my weekend.

Early Saturday morning I collected the same mocking daughter and headed for the Eveleigh St Farmers Market (#5). In my French Provincial Market basket (not on list, but should be), I had my iPhone (#40), and my Moleskine notebook (#122). I was wearing a scarf (#97) – The Leopard print one, currently my favourite (see previous post on my scarf addiction). I immediately queued up at the Colombian coffee (#1) stall for my cappuccino, made by a very cool barista wearing trendy-geek glasses. The coffee queue is always the longest, except for the Billy Kwong queue, which is nearly as long as their restaurant queue any given Friday night.

Market scene captured on my iPhone

Coffeed-up, we made a plan. We’d work our way through the market and then come back for what we needed. We ditched this plan almost immediately when I tried some organic (#6) mandarins and bought them, in case they sold out. And once the wallet was opened the buying began. The produce is fresh and so well-priced, we told ourselves, we bought enough to feed the neighbourhood, forgetting that we’d be back next week to do it all again.

After the market we headed up to King St Newtown and wandered in and out of bookshops with community noticeboards offering writing workshops (#21) which, I wouldn’t be doing this weekend, because I did one last weekend. We had another coffee (#1) served by a waiter with the cover of the Joy Division album tattooed on his arm (almost covered by #121) and finally headed home to our respective inner city abodes.

That afternoon I did a spot of blogging (another not on the list that should be), checking for any grammar(#99) mistakes and caught up on Facebook (#106), Twitter and read the Spectrum lift out of the SMH while my youngest was having a rest.

Over a red wine (#24) with dinner, my husband and I discussed what we might watch – Juno (#57)? Already seen it, and all of The Wire (#85) and Mad Men (#123) so we decided to continue with our complete re-viewing of  The West Wing.

Sunday morning I often like to go to yoga (#15), but had more important things to do this very White weekend. It was the The National Day of Action for Climate Change so off we went, me, the husband and our 4 yo to the rally in Prince Alfred Park and politely voiced our concern at the plight of the planet and inaction of the politicians in Australia. ( I should point out that numbers 122, 97, 40 and 1 all played a very active role in the proceedings.)

The Polite Carbon Tax Rally

The weekend was rounded off with a  1 year old’s birthday party and a visit to The Vivid Festival (almost #3) to see the light installations on the Opera House, Customs House and the Museum of Contemporary Art. And there was the melting Ice Bear to check out.

There is only one way to end such a White weekend, a good book and a cup of green tea (#13).

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Scarves and Other Addictions

It was Wallis Simpson who said you can never be too thin, too rich or have too many scarves. I’m sure she always intended to add the bit about the scarves, if not she should have because it is a truth universally acknowledged, that you can never have too many scarves.

I am completely addicted to the scarf. It’s not a new addiction, a passing fad. Nor am I entirely sure how or when it moved from being a recreational pursuit to an almost daily habit.  It has been with me for many years and I’m guessing that it has a strong genetic link. It can’t be a co-incidence that I’m wearing scarves my Grandmother collected in London and Paris in the 50’s and 60’s.

Gran's Jacqmar Scarf

Her scarves are all silk, square, except for a grey and pale pink polka dot sash that ties at the throat, like one of the  Pink Ladies in Grease.

Gran's scarf

My three daughters all have the scarf-wearing chromosome and happily enable my addiction with regular gifts. Mothers’ Day just gone saw me presented with a fabulous Leopard Print Witchery scarf, which I have practically lived in ever since.  It has replaced last year’s favourite – a Jac + Jack cream and soft caramel fine wool striped shawl.

The Witchery Mothers' Day Scarf

I have scarves I have knitted from hand-dyed silk yarn bought at Paddington Markets, soft Alpaca from New Zealand – and now I’ve revealed my other addiction – knitting. But lets deal with one addiction at a time. (I have several, by the way, beautiful stationery, fabric, champagne, Johnny Depp). Scarves found me in New York, Florence and London and one particularly delicate, hand-batiked silk one found its way into my suitcase in Ubud. But I still remember my first scarf. A Mulberry swirl of purple, red and cream tasselled cotton bought at Liberty of London, twenty-five years ago. I wore it ’til it fell apart and it lived out its final days in my children’s dress-up box.

The Ubud Hit

There was a time when scarves were only worn tied neatly at the neck, the way my Grandmother wore hers, occasionally secured by a brooch. Sometimes they were protectively wrapping ‘The Do’ for a day’s hunting like The Queen. Or as stripey, scratchy, tribal sporting equipment. Now scarves are shawl-like, looped at the throat and left to fall softly covering flabby tums and muffin tops (from the excessive champagne drinking addiction). They transform the simple choice of jeans and a top into an Outfit. Change the scarf and it’s a new outfit. And if like me, you’ve had a Style guru tell you that black is just not your colour, instead of ditching your entire wardrobe, scarves are the solution.

And scarves are a year round option, not just a winter-warmer to wear while you slurp pumpkin soup in front of the dying embers of your radiator. I have two favourite summer staples. A watercolour, muted Pucci skinny silk sash and a black and white, scalloped edged silk rectangle from Dolce & Gabbana.

As addictions go, I’m pretty committed to it and fantasize about the day when I can combine it with at least two of my others – champagne and Johnny Depp.

Johnny Depp and his Scarf Addiction