by Patsyfox on February 12, 2011
With the impending wedding of one of my very nearest and dearest – not to mention oldest – friends (that’s Meg for those who don’t know), and the subsequent gathering of hers from all over this fine land and far, far beyond, thoughts have inevitably turned to the fact that I’ll be seeing people I haven’t seen for quite some time.
OMG – How will I look?! Will they think I look old?! Will I think they look old?! *Not that I’m competitive. (*lie)
Ok generally I get “Oh you look great!”, or “Oh you SO don’t look that old!” (which – note to those who use this phrase – only underlines the fact that you find my actual age horrifying), but there’s no denying the fact that on a bad (read: post-red-wine) morning, I look like Keith Richards in drag. Sigh.
What can you do? Well I do yoga (though admittedly more-so to perve at Joel), and drag my arse around the parks and streets of Melbourne in my version of the Cliffy Young shuffle – never let it be said that I don’t go down kicking and screaming. But the secret my friends is something much easier.
I recall Maggie Alderson writing about a school reunion she’d attended, and that what really separated the uh-ohs from the oh-yehs was a good haircut and not dressing like a frump. I’d like to add to that a lick of lippie. There you have it – secrets revealed. Make your cheques out to “Patsyfox” – all you need is a good snip and pucker.
P.S. I have to pull a during-the-ceremony reading out of my arse in the next week, so if anyone has any ideas they would like to share, I will pretty much give you my first born, should I ever have one. Px
by Patsyfox on February 5, 2011
Decision making is not my thing. Since the passing of Patsy and subsequent pondering of how long I should wait before replacing her (though she could never be replaced, natch), I’ve also grappled with the newly discovered fact that I’m allergic to cats and feathers – gasp. Do I care if I sneeze and weep? Is the adorable bewitching beauty and cuteness worth it? I even banned myself from googling pictures of cats to help with the prospect of catlessness.
Then came January and, needing a bit of a lift, I started spending lunchbreaks in pet stores peering through cages like some pervert at a strip joint. Like any addiction, it was back in a heartbeat. I give in!
Then today on this horrid cyclone-influenced humid day, I wandered in just for a little taste and who was there but the ginge I’ve been waiting for!! Alas, freshly vaccinated I could neither play with him or take him home. So I put my name in the book as his number 1 and took a few happy snaps to keep me going til next week…
But then a strange thing happened – what’s that bit of fluff I see behind ginge?
Ooooooh…
She sees me…
But then looks a little like she just saw Bob
Which should it be? Which should it be???!!! The cutest ever GT stripe or the ginge? Heeeeeelllllpppp!
by Patsyfox on January 31, 2011
As if a house well baked from an almost 40 degree day wasn’t going to make it hard enough to sleep tonight, I thought I’d see about blinding some beach-goers with my first-day-at-the-beach-this-summer skin, and give myself some itchy scratchy ouchy sunburn to deal with. Genius!
Why the hell don’t they make sunscreen like the blue glue-sticks that go clear when they dry? Right now my entire body looks like a child’s finger-painting, only nobody wants to stick me on the side of their fridge.
by Patsyfox on January 21, 2011
Accepting that my higher purpose in life was to be regularly humiliated was the wisest thing I ever did. It took the sting out of it. The humiliations have been many and varied, but none so frequent – albeit minor – as tampons jumping wildly from my handbag when reaching for a tram ticket/tissue/money/lipstick/etc. God, those things can move fly and roll quite a distance in a millisecond. Not that there’s anything embarrassing about tampons per se – after all, we all know about lady gardens etcetera, but must we scream “bleeder” by throwing our sanitary products around public spaces?? Sheesh.
Of course I wouldn’t have cared a bit if the mini missiles had been the ones graced by my latest illustration project – Allow me to introduce to you the cutest product you could ever get up close and personal with – Miss DeJour tampons. On shelves any day now at Woolworths supermarkets.
And loving the zip-lock bag to keep those suckers in their place…
by Patsyfox on January 17, 2011
It will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me that I’m a little fond of Nick Cave. The darker and grumpier he is the more I love him, naturally. Over the years of seeing him every summer, I’ve battled numerous security nuffnuffs at various venues to gain the freedom to mosh at his feet – pulling ears and tossing sunglasses into the distance to acheive this – and any of my Patsyfox students could attest to the fact that he and I look great as a couple – they’ve had to endure my lap-top screen saver of the photo of us together, arm in arm, I kid you not. So why hasn’t he seen the light yet and left that pesky model wife and hooked up with me?! I despair.
Never one to give up easily though, I’ll be giving him one more chance tonight at the Grinderman gig at The Palace. Come on Nicky, let’s grind.
by Patsyfox on January 12, 2011
Yes yes, I’m 12 days late I know, but fortunately for me, being on time was not one of my new year’s resolutions. And besides, as far as I’m concerned I can wish people a happy new year for the entire month of January.
So welcome 2011, but firstly I’d like to say a big thank you to Santa for the fabulous chest cold he gave me for Xmas. No really, it was so wonderful to cough my lungs up for the entire duration of my holidays – thank you Santa! I particularly liked the part where it got worse at night so I went 4 consecutive nights without any periods of sleep longer than 30 seconds, causing me to wander my mother’s house like a deranged freshly arrested Nick Nolte but worse – rolled in Vicks.
However, like hangovers, the best thing about being sick is how fabulous you feel when you get better – and I feel great. So great that I’m able to sleep like a baby. Anytime. Anywhere. And just in time to return to work! So if by chance you see me on a train, in a yoga class, or at a traffic light somewhere, feel free to give me a little nudge.
And in case you forgot how bad he looked…
by Patsyfox on December 21, 2010
Am I the only one feeling a little weary? A year of excessive workload has segued seamlessly into panicked xmas shopping and continuous cork-popping and frankly, I can’t hack the pace. Though I’m throwing myself into it like the trooper I am.
So as I stare down the barrel of 10 days straight with no pressing work commitments, contemplate all the e-mails left unanswered from the last 5 months, wonder just how bad the credit card might be looking, and ask myself will I ever write another newsletter again? (yes), I bid you a very Happy Xmas and all the very best wishes/luck/karma/success for 2011.
X
by Patsyfox on December 20, 2010
Imagine you could take back that bad joke, choose not to take offense at that comment, get your number back off that guy, and that other one, not have that one last drink, not moon your student with a transparent dress, or take those absent-minded kisses off that e-mail you sent the boss… Utopia, correct?
Real-life Control-Z: the super power of choice. Put it on your list for Santa.
Control-Z means never having to say you’re sorry.
by Patsyfox on November 19, 2010
Oh yes my friends, it’s Friday night and have you ever seen a pair like this? Meet my NBFT (that’s new best friends tonight, ob).
On the left we have his holiness the G&T, and mirroring his elegance on the right is the honorable remote control – foxtel if you don’t mind.
So while I kick back & contemplate a 19hr working day yesterday which culminated in some beautiful-if-I-say-so-myself illustrations for a certain Melbourne bridal designer presenting to a certain royal-to-be, I will be blissing out with Mr Tanqueray & an array of TV programs I’ve taped over the last, ooh, year…all the while dreaming of tomorrow which will begin with my stupidly hot yoga teacher, and segue into hanging with Ms Rocks & Leonard at Hanging Rock. That’s what you call having your ducks in a row.
So apart from top-secret drawings and demos for my fabulous students, I have just some humble life drawings of the beautiful Emma Jayne.
by Patsyfox on November 5, 2010
Has anyone besides me talked back to the endless stream of models-these-days-are-starving-themselves-it’s-so-unhealthy-we-must-return-to-sensibility drivel populating our broadsheets? Do they remember Dior’s 1954 New Look and the pencil-waist that came with it? Any of them?
David Downton gave me another reason to love him when he popped by our town recently to promote his new book, addressing the subject with “Models have always been taller, thinner, younger and more beautiful than us. They are genetic accidents.”
On this basis we could almost pity them. Almost.
The look that caused such a stir…
