Wednesday 10 November 2010

There was a time when I was gallivanting about Oz, when I became a bit tiresome of the old white sandy beaches and craved a fireside. Shucks!

As soon as it turns REALLY COLD- like now, I think back to a November and indeed a whole 14 months where I was really, really WARM. I like to think about emigration at this time.

This was where I was exactly six years ago (I should probably just go away again...SIX years- uh). Just turned 20 on an onion field now working in the desert (pretty much)

Here a few pictures. You can see how awful it looks...

Western Australia, Broome, Cable Beach: 22km of beach.


And by the Lighthouse at the end of the 22km of beach. Atmospheric sunset, celebrated with fanta and pizza.


And finally - the little den we made ourselves with our tents/cars etc. in the abandoned campsite opposite Cable Beach. It was too hot for the seasonal people in their caravans, they had all gone back down south for the summer.  I can't explain how ridiculously humid it got during the 'build up' before the wet season fully took hold and everything became sodden. 



During this time (pre soak) I worked in a bar until three or four am and then tried to sleep on the mattress outside. We all slept on the exposed mattresses - although actual sleep was only possible between the fourth and sixth hours after midnight, as then it got all obscenely HOT again. Cockroaches, spiders and snakes meant nothing to me during these slumbering quests. (That's until upon leaving Broome, I fell asleep in my bikini, on a rock in a national park and woke to find a massive monitor staring nonchalantly at me. They move fast.) 

Everyone allowed themselves to be crazy during said BUILD UP. This was fueled by copious rum, short shorts and ute pick ups. In fact we started this section of our adventures in the Northern Territories, where there were no speed limits on the road at all. Zvrooosh! Which made for some tense moments in The Woman, our gold saloon car. 

Emotions and feist among the Aussies got seriously intense. I think now's the right time for me to just clarify how far away from nothing we were:


Unlike me in my extreme greenhouse bar, the boys worked at the 5* hotel across the road from our camp haven. Nicole Kidman/the Oz suuuperstars stayed and played at their hotel. Christian would charm the women guests as a route to bask in their air conditioned rooms. The boys actually worked pretty hard sometimes and often we would feast on the food left in the superstar fridges. 

One of my own food joys was my banana milk on Weetbix (no 'a') fresh from the (just about still open) reception. A low point was cold Magi noodles (no gas) with peanut butter and beans.

When it rained (eventually - December) the German boys we were traveling with whacked on some German techno/bass in their car and we danced with actual elational joy in the droplets.

Looks like paradise aiiit.

Amelia's Magazine: Interview with Blythe Pepino of Pepino

Click HERE for my interview with Blythe Pepino of Bristol band, Pepino

 Illustration by Abby Wright. 


Walking home from an evening out is sometimes a slow affair. With the chill of the air rushing through the leaves, the wind whispers, clarity in its breath. This is the time of night, when only the workaholics and the creatives are studious. It is a beautiful time to bask. As it is right here, even the most ridiculous ideas become utterly feasible. And indeed I have planned elopements to South America, psychoanalyzed the health food shop assistant down the road and delivered eloquent obituaries to dead film stars. Oh! It is here when high emotion is reached! When nightingales sing! Sweeping statements are made! And also when nothing at all can be said. Thinking, thinking… thinking. The boy has learned to accept the pace of these evening meanders, the ‘profound’ findings and flighty musings escaping my consciousness. Sometimes it is possible to revisit or even create these times of mesmerizing purity and definition. Often this is through music, which has this indescribable ability of transportation. Pepino is one such band.

I saw them on stage for the first time a while ago and was surprised at the effect they had upon me and all around me. The audience and I were transfixed. Pepinopossess a range of beautiful components. They are ethereal foxes, taken from their country spheres and told to become urban tearaways. Embracing the task before them, they have assessed their situation, screeching and singing melodies to the heavens, they lull strangers and ask questions why. Lead singer, Blythe, 24, has a passion that comes with ease as she recalls the circumstances from which her comical and hearty lyrics originate from. Her terrifically ranging voice soars and plummets with vivacious sensitivity. Listening to their album, Redface is one of those songs that you listen to on repeat, holding you in its clutches. It moves from slow and dramatic to vulnerable and reflective. Meanwhile Rocky, like many of Pepino’s songs, have a touch of grunt and cheeky hilarious flashes, combining with high pitched, sweet, backing vocals and violins swaying and jumping.

Clutter, a response to the cleaning of people’s houses, is a thumper of a tune and their wistful beauty of a song about growing up in the country, The Birthright (not written by Pepino), is rose-tinted and beautiful. The violins and cello add to the juxtaposed sounds of soft drawn out vocals and gusty propelling sounds. Like aTori Amos or Imogen Heap… or Tinkerbell with balls. They’re a contemporary girl de force and unavoidably likeable. Blythe is also in a band called Bizali. Now taking a backseat, she is going full throttle with leading Pepino into the unknown. They have the talent of the few and they deserve the acknowledgement of the many. I meet Blythe after she has had a difficult weekend. I have spent the day working for free at the Bath Chronicle, she has been working in a pub. We blame the fullness of the moon for feeling a bit… strange. Then look up to its plunging light, before I try to work out how to use my dictaphone.

For the interview click HERE

Amelia's Magazine: Interview with Marion Foale of 60's label, Foale&Tuffin

Click HERE for my interview with Marion Foale of Foale&Tuffin fame and later knitwear legend.

                                                                                             Illustration by: Nina Hunter
You may have noticed that Britain’s fashion scene has been ‘yarnbombed’ of late. Knitwear is everywhere. The term itself refers to covering street furniture, including stop signs and phone boxes with knitted garments, such as long scarves and soft tea cosies. People generally festoon the knitwear to make a point and highlight an issue, such as a charity’s appeal.
The wool adorning act follows from the last two years of the enormous and triumphant return of knitwear to fashion. Its rise coincides with the soaring popularity of vintage and collectable clothing.
That’s why style pioneer of the sixties and knitwear legend Marion Foale’s informal talk at Image Boutique in Bath’s Milsom Place on Monday was quite the fashion event. For over thirty years Marion Foale has hand-knitted the finest wool and cotton jackets available in the world. Her designs are inspired by the glamour of the forties. They are exquisite in their fit and form, always with emphasis on femininity. Each jacket takes over 300 hours to make using only the finest cotton and wool yarns.
Min Stevenson, owner of Image, said: “We sell Marion Foale jackets every season, people love them. We were very excited to give our Foale fans a chance to meet the maker of such a superb collection.”
*Marion Foale with Min Stevenson, owner of IMAGE boutique where Marion talked to her fans.
Wearing one of her own red, swing cardigans, Foale chatted in a relaxed manner to her avid fans. She spoke of her background in the fashion business during the swinging sixties, and her successful knitwear collection from the seventies onwards.
I felt a little out of place, standing there with the PR lady and photographer, discussing the miniature quiches on offer. Most of the women there could afford the £400 prices of a Foale piece, and looking at their fabrics and immaculate complexions, most were certainly members of Bath’s elite.
However, when I fought through the ladies, and eventually cornered Marion for an interview, I found she was incredibly friendly and talked of her sixties past with delight and relish. She was equally lighthearted when discussing starting a business in knitwear with no idea how to actually knit. Gutsy.
Click HERE for the interview.


Illustration by: Abby Wright