This morning I was going to write about how stressful the lead-up to Christmas has been, but the front page of The Age stopped me in my tracks. I’m sure you’ve all heard about the horrific school shooting in Newtown, Connecticut by now, and despite being shocked by all the information, it was the photos of those beautiful children that really kicked me in the guts. This was the first time I’d seen images of the children who were killed.
It changes the colour of Christmas, doesn’t it? Christmas IS all about kids – their joy, anticipation and innocence gives the festive season some meaning. Forevermore Christmas will now be a time of mourning for those families who lost their babies. And the six adults. Knowing so many families’ lives have been devastated by this tragedy, of course, makes our troubles seem pathetic.
The only positive to come from this is to hug our own children all the more tightly and cherish each day we have with them. Put aside trivial concerns about messy bedrooms, the unpacked dishwasher, sibling squabbles and marital spats to remember how precious and fleeting life is.
I feel guilty now about what I was going to write. About how Christmas can be a burden – especially for women, who often bear the brunt of present shopping and food preparation. I was also going to whinge about how I’m finding it hard to match the enthusiastic festive spirit of my daughter, and now I feel I deserve a huge slap in the face. So here’s a new version of what I wanted to tell you.
It started when I had friends over for drinks at the weekend and felt I couldn’t even begin to tidy the house because it is crammed with Christmas junk. And it’s Veronica’s fault. Because of our daughter, our house is swamped with Christmas chaos. Littered with STUFF from floor to ceiling. Her brother groans as we start pulling STUFF out of boxes each year. ‘Oh no, not again,’ he moans. ‘Crap everywhere, AGAIN.’ In a way, I know how he feels. I sigh inwardly as Christmas approaches, knowing I’m going to have to heave umpteen boxes out of the attic and down the stairs to help Veronica create her Christmas heaven.
Veronica has always adored Christmas. Every year she wants to put the Christmas tree up earlier than anyone else and she starts playing carols, singing along. Making Christmas shopping lists is a matter of utmost urgency and care. And Christmas shopping trips must be planned well in advance. I thought this was something she’d grow out of – perhaps after discovering the secret about Santa’s true identity. But no – at seventeen, she’s as enthusiastic as ever.
Every year Veronica pesters me to take her to Christmas Kingdom and buy more STUFF. It’s been an annual ritual since she was about nine.
Now, it’s not that I’m an excessive spender, but over the years the STUFF has accumulated. Her enthusiasm is annoyingly infectious. I find it impossible to say ‘NO’ when she pleads for ‘just one more’ decoration for the tree. We now have about three miniature moving English villages, large silver stars swinging from trees in the backyard, a tiny Santa rocking on a swing, a glowing Santa that lights up against a wall, a battery-operated Santa that pushes a cart, a dancing Santa, stuffed unicorns, large gold reindeers and reams of plastic lead-light Christmas stickers on windows. Not to mention the hoards of decorations and tinsel covering every inch of bench space.
I asked her why she loves Christmas so much and she said it’s because it’s a time for celebration. I was mildly and pleasantly surprised. At least she didn’t say because of the presents. And she loves the carols. Because of Veronica, we watch Carols by Candlelight every Christmas Eve. She insists the whole family do this together.
So you can imagine how devastated she was when she found out she had to have FOUR wisdom teeth removed last week.
‘Not in the holidays!’ she wailed. ‘Plus I have a Christmas party on Sunday!’ But it had to be done. After suffering braces for two years, there was no chance we were going to let those wisdom teeth undo all the good work that had been done. (not to mention the cost…) So off to hospital she went.
It’s a painful experience. I remember going through exactly the same procedure at her age. As I drove her home from the hospital, she turned her face to the window so I couldn’t see her tears.
I predicted time spent in bed watching movies and eating custard and ice-cream the following day. There wouldn’t be much room for Christmas cheer amid the pain-killers, mouth wash and ice-packs.
But no. Before lunchtime, Veronica was in the kitchen dressed in her Christmas t-shirt and ear-rings. ‘I have to make some cupcakes for the party tomorrow,’ she said. With a bandage swathed around her head holding ice against her swollen cheeks, she cooked and she iced, baking and stirring for the entire day and evening. Cooking for her friends and creating a magical gift, instead of buying something from the shops. In-between, she threw up twice, as a reaction to the anaesthetic she’d had the day before.
It was a Harry Potter themed party so she made dozens of multi-coloured miniature cupcakes, all topped with the letter ‘H’ for all to eat, plus a special batch of Harry Potter cookies as a Kris Kringle gift.
And unlike her difficult, camera-shy brother (see earlier post ‘Who is that Stranger Hiding from the Camera) she was even happy to pose for a photo for me – despite her swollen and slightly bruised face.
How could I have dared to even think of complaining about the Christmas chaos in our house when the creator is our beautiful daughter who brings us and so many others, so much joy? To complain about anything, particularly to do with our children, when others are suffering such unimaginable grief in Newtown, would be criminal. To those families, I send my deepest, most-heart-felt sympathies, hugs and tears.
Instead, this is my ‘thank you’ story. Thank you, Veronica, my darling daughter for being you and keeping the Christmas Spirit thriving in our home. And to whichever God is out there, looking out for my family and keeping them safe. Thank you. Forever, thank you.
It has to be said. There are far too many spray-tans-gone-wrong being flaunted at Christmas parties right now. I’m not dissing spray tans as such, but when they crossover into the fluro-orange Ompa Loompah shade, it’s not a good look. Sure, it’s better than signing up for skin-cancer inducing solarium sessions or frying yourself in oil under the sun, but I’d still rather look at other solutions.
One of my favourite options right now is to build up a natural looking tan by using a moisturiser that also doubles as a gradual tanning lotion. As far as I’m concerned, the best one on the market is Dove Summer Glow. It doesn’t streak, nor does it leave an overpowering, acrid ‘fake tan’ smell hovering around. But I do buy the one labelled ‘medium to dark skin’ because I found ‘fair to medium’ just didn’t cut it.
It’s also a reasonably priced product. I try to buy the larger size with a pump dispenser as it’s more cost-effective and easier to use, but it seems harder to come by these days with supermarkets constantly cutting back on many of their product ranges.
But whatever shape it comes in, the end result is a more natural looking glow (‘scuse the pun) than a spray tan, which is more in keeping with fashion trends right now. Take a look at any fashion mag and you’ll find the overly-bronzed bathing beauties of yesteryear have swum off into the sunset.
But an even better tip for great looking tanned legs is to buy a good quality pair of stockings. That way you get a smooth tone, no streaks and if you’re in-between leg waxes – a decent camouflage as well. I KNOW this is a good tip worth sharing with you because it’s the fashion question I get asked the most, when people (mostly girls) discover my legs are not my own! Write this down – you won’t regret it!
VOODOO PANTYHOSE Colour – JABOU
Getting the colour right is essential. So I’ll say it again. Remember – JABOU!!!! This is the closest looking colour to a natural tan you’ll find anywhere.
Voodoo Hosiery usually take up a decent amount of the shop floor at most major department stores across Australia. But there are so many different varieties, it can get confusing. Here’s what I’ve discovered after trialling many of them. And they’re not cheap, so hopefully this will prevent you from making the same mistakes I’ve made.
The Shine Sheer to Waist version in the red packet retails for $13.95. So you might think this is a better option than the Shine Firm Control in the yellow packaging – being one dollar cheaper…
But think again. I find the red version ladders more easily as the texture of the pantyhose is finer, right up to the waist. The yellow version is thicker around the tummy so it doesn’t ladder as readily and also pulls in any unsightly bulges which is also a huge bonus! It’s also cheaper to buy in bulk, so pick the 3-pack. You can never have enough stockings in reserve at home. (I also keep one in the glove-box of my car for emergencies!)
Sheer Toe Pantyhose work well with open-toe sandals
For those of you wanting to wear open-toe sandals, this is still possible. There are two varieties of Voodoo stockings to pick from.
One is the Sheer Toe Pantyhose, which I prefer as only the pickiest of fashionistas will be able to notice, but for those who consider stockings and open-toe sandals a downright fashion crime, there’s also the open-toe stocking variety – Glow Toeless. This has an opening at the end of the stockings, with one stitch in place to hold the fabric around your big toe. It can work, but generally I find these a little uncomfortable, plus the line where the stocking ends has to fit exactly with the line of your sandal. And the Glow Toeless variety comes under a different colour scheme (God knows why… ) so they don’t come in the cherished Jabou colour. Golden Glow would be the next best shade, but it’s still not as good as Jabou.
And for those of you who love a bargain and on-line shopping, yes, I have checked out the price comparisons. There are many on-line options, however Stockingsonline.com.au seems to have the broadest range. BUT, while their Voodoo hosiery is slightly cheaper, I couldn’t find ONE PAIR that came in the Jabou colour. Sorry… Guess you’re going to have to make that trip to your local Myer or David Jones after all! But DO let me know if you find a cheaper way of tracking down the one and only Jabou. Especially in the Shine Firm Control yellow pack. Thanks.
Every now and then, you come across a shop that truly is an Aladdin’s Cave full of hidden treasure. The sort of store you can circle for hours, continually discovering prized booty you didn’t spy the first time around.
Belle and Beans is exactly that. Nestled under the railway bridge along the Gardenvale shopping strip, it’s also a double-purpose shop – filled with great ideas for gifts AND colourful clothing. For me, this means I can visit – ostensibly on a Christmas shopping mission – but if I happen to be diverted by a new party frock I absolutely MUST buy for myself, then that’s completely justifiable – right? After all, I went there, purely motivated by the need to ‘give’…. Plus everything is SO reasonably priced, you could hardly be accused of over-spending.
Owner Nova Healy started up her first Belle and Beans store in Highett three years ago, then came across a vacant space in Gardenvale that captured her imagination. ‘I really fell in love with this store because of the location and space and I really wanted it,’ she said. ‘It’s really visual.’ Her new Gardenvale store opened just over six weeks ago.
With two connecting rooms, Nova has made the most of the space, filling it with ingenious feature pieces – including a tee-pee – and displays of bright clothing, jewellery and shoes. She’s had so much fun decorating her new store, it’s inspired her to relaunch her original Highett shop with similarly bright, funky decor.
A mother of three, Nova says the name of her store came from a combination of her daughter’s names – Belle, being the eldest who also works there part-time, and, her youngest daughter, nicknamed ‘Beans’.
She says the playful spirit of the interior design evolved organically. ‘It’s evolved naturally because I travel overseas and have been going to Indonesia and Bali for years, so I’ve got friends over there with furniture factories and businesses so that’s how it’s come about.’
Fortunately for me, my friend Rochelle was back in Melbourne, on a break from her TV Production Assistant job, and was able to model for me once more. So let’s take a look at our favourite outfits that are in Belle and Beans right now and then I’ll show you a few fab present ideas:
Belle and Beans aqua dress $79.95, Feather sandals $139.95 and beaded belt $29.95
Some of the clothes are sourced through agencies, but an increasing number are designed by Nova herself, under her Belle and Beans label. ‘I design and screen print and obviously have staff who help do that. I’ve been designing for about three years now. I like bright – I love colour! Some people go whoa… but it works.’
Best of all, the prices on some of these pieces are unbelievably cheap. Can you believe this gorgeous studded skirt is just under sixty dollars???? Nova says that’s part of her strategy for the stores, making them particularly attractive for her younger clientele who might not have huge wallets but have an enormous passion for high-turnover fashion.
Another reason to feel ‘guilt-free’ when shopping at Belle and Beans, is that Nova sources most of her gifts through a company called Tractor, run by a local Melbourne girl. ‘It’s a bit like Oxfam,’ said Nova. ‘She goes travelling all over the world and they employ villagers to make things which gives them an income.’ Fantastic – ethical AND original! So let’s look at some of my favourite gift ideas:
I couldn’t wait to show you this – my favourite item in Belle and Beans and one of the most quirky presents I’ve seen. Where else could you find a PAPER MACHE PIG?? An ideal gift for the man in your life. Tell him he looks like George Clooney and explain that you’ve bought him just the right pet to perfect the image – but he won’t have to clean up after this little porky. (more masculine colours available too!)
Nova’s a big fan of the pigs too. ‘I fell in love with the pigs in Bali. That’s where they’re made. They make them out of paper mache and you can order them in any colour or style paper you like. They’re good fun. So many people fall in love with them too.’ Although dog lovers may prefer these perky little bulldogs instead…
I broke my blogging rule regarding family matters last month. Originally, the intention was to forewarn Fletch and the kids if I was intending to write about them, but that went out the window when I posted a story about Fletch’s addiction to the Catch of the Day website – without his prior knowledge. Thankfully he didn’t mind.
So I figured, once a personal rule is broken, it no longer exists – right? Which meant I started writing a story about my 15-year-old son without him knowing, only to find he is SO much more sensitive about that concept than his father.
I WAS going to write about how well he’d done at school this year and how hard he’d studied for his exams, which are now over. In particular, I wanted to draw attention to the fact that he is developing beautifully as a writer and I am often filled with wonder and delight when I read his work. The way he’s going, I wouldn’t be surprised if he publishes a book before me.
With that in mind, here’s the conversation that ensued when I approached Tom to take a photograph. I always like to keep Blog photos as recent as possible – as any journo knows, it kills a story if the pictures are dated.
‘No, you can’t take my photo, Mum,’ he said, running for his bed and diving into it face down, pulling the sheet off the mattress.
‘Oh, come on….’ I pleaded. ‘I need a recent one for a Blog.’
‘What’s it about?’
‘It’s about what a brilliant writer you are.’
‘I’m not a brilliant writer. That’s not even interesting. You can’t do a Blog on me. Especially photos. What about privacy?’
‘You put your own photos on Facebook all the time, plus you have already let me use photos of you from a family holiday earlier and now you’re more than six foot tall and fifteen years old, I think you’ll be safe.’ I said, well aware he was looking for excuses. ‘Let’s do a selfie!’ I squealed, snapping away, my inner-paparazzi relishing the challenge.
Hmm, that’s obviously a completely embarrassing idea. He jumped off the bed, grabbing his pillow as camouflage. Before whacking me with it. And starting a pillow fight. Which isn’t fair because he’s now taller and stronger than me.
I think the photo sequence that follows speaks for itself…
I gave up. Sometimes I really feel for the paparazzi.
But I lie. There’s no way I’m giving him the final word. As if. One last story before I sign off to explain why I know Tom will be a writer. Or a journalist.
Off all his essays, in particular, I loved the biography he wrote after interviewing his Grandma. He described how his Great-Gran left England, ‘inhaling deeply as she boarded the gang-plank to the ship, as if taking a last breath from her homeland to her new country.’
‘Beautiful’ I murmured, as I read that line, sighing with the poetic impression of it all. ‘Except Tom,’ I said, ‘that you know your Great-Gran was born in Australia. She never set foot on a ship leaving from England.’
‘ Yeah, ‘ ‘I know’ he said, shrugging nonchalantly. ‘It just made for a better story.’
See??? Of course he’s going to be a writer!
(FYI – he did actually approve this in the end – even though he thinks it’s completely stupid.)
‘I am woman, hear me roar,’ sang Helen Reddy in 1971 and let us never forget the power of that anthem. Yes, it was a WOMAN who was the first Australian to write a Grammy Award winning song. And yes, Reddy made waves with her Best Female Performance acceptance speech, thanking ‘God, because She makes everything possible.’ A true legend.
It was a case of WOMAN POWER in abundance at Crown yesterday, where General Manager of Public Relations, Ann Peacock, hosted the 14th annual Women In Media Christmas Lunch. Men have had their boys’ clubs and coteries for centuries and I ‘Thank God‘ that Ann came up with this concept to recognise and bring together the biggest power players in our communication industries for an annual event. We’re talking about our best known journalists, PR powerhouses, media managers, TV and radio personalities and yes, even a couple of bloggers. (My, the stories I heard… )
Of course, it’s not Christmas without Santa… Re-living our childhood, I was delighted to test the strength of Santa’s knees along with my oldest and dearest buddy, Brigitte Duclos, (GOLD FM Breakfast radio host) who has been a close friend since we met in kindergarten, many moons ago…
And while there were lots of laughs to be had, with many keen to jump Santa, (including the delightful Dee Dee Dunleavy who I’m thrilled has found another radio gig – this time with 3AW on Sundays, along with her loyal cohort Grubby) there were also plenty of serious discussions about the state of the media industry, and what the future holds for those who’ve taken redundancies and chosen a different path. Questions abounded about traditional media versus new media and how to make the two work together. Others talked about the battle of juggling work and motherhood. And the old chestnut reared it’s ugly head – you know, sexism in the workplace and how it impacts on women.
As the chatter grew, I snuck inside the marquee to check out the table setting which I’d glimpsed through the plastic. Wow – what a picture! A cacophony of pink florals and Christmas trinkets scattered strategically down the centre of the table, perfectly accented by old-worlde wooden school chairs, painted in pastel hues. It almost seemed a shame that guests would soon be ushered inside to upset such perfection.
The attention to detail was meticulous. Each guest had their spot marked with a delicate glass Christmas ornament encasing a silver bird, with attached personalised name tag.
Then in one big rush, the hordes swooped and amid a clattering of chairs and clinking of glasses, it was ‘game on’! But the crescendo of noise subsided when Ann Peacock took to the podium and began to speak, recognising that one of the fold was missing from the table. A hush fell as Ann paid tribute to the late, legendary publicist Suzie Howie, who recently passed after a long battle with cancer.
Ann quoted Suzie’s famous words that she penned herself when she knew she wouldn’t be with us much longer. ‘I have had a terrific life and am so grateful for the fun, the excitement and the wonderful people who have been a part of it.’
Remembering Suzie, Ann spoke of her incredible work ethic and how she continued to work right up to the end. Ann met Suzie when she was just 17 years old, and counted her as an important role model and inspiration. ‘Time and time again, she displayed her tireless motivation and attention to detail that she paid her clients. I miss her laugh, but she has left us with so many happy memories. Suzie was a true leading lady and those memories will live on.’ Happy memories yes, but those of us who knew Suzie were still reaching for our tissues. I also knew Suzie for more than 20 years and was particularly grateful for her support and kindness after I left Channel Ten.
Ann also acknowledged every guest at the table and recognised the hard work done during the year, but said now was a time for celebration – a chance to kick back and have fun. But she also reminded us all, ‘What goes on in the room, stays in the room!’ Standard.
In ending, she encouraged everyone to take to heart a final message from Suzie, to stay positive.’Enjoy life. I have,’ she quoted, from the inimitable Ms Howie.
And enjoy ourselves we did! After main course, James Reyne inspired many to sing along as he performed several of his greatest hits, including Reckless.
Judging by the photos of everyone, I think we all took Suzie’s message on board. Here’s a collection of shots from the wonderful Women In Media Lunch. And I must say I very much enjoyed taking pictures of some of the print media girls for a change, who are usually on the other side of the camera. Although Suzanne Carbone and Mik Grigg from The Age declined being snapped, preferring to stay out of the spotlight. Which is fine, although somewhat curious…
Ann had warned us during her speech that we’d face a challenge carrying our Goodie Bags home. I didn’t register the PLURAL attached to the word BAGS at the time,but check this out…
Yep, not one, but FOUR Goodie Bags were given to each guest at the function.
I mentioned earlier that thing about attention to detail, didn’t I? Here’s another one. Crown even provided helpers to carry our bags to our cars… I know, I know. I was damn lucky to crack an invite. Thanks Ann! And I bet you’re all dying to know what’s actually IN the Goodie Bags, right? I will let you know, but enough for now. That can wait for the next blog, coming soon. I’m all for girl power, but seriously, I’m too exhausted now from just carrying the darn things through the door.
