An Illustrated Fashion Blog by Angie Réhe

Like my mother and a couple of ex-boyfriends used to say, sometimes I just got the devil in meh.  Like right now.  Could be a result of being driven to self-harm by spending a sunny day in a windowless room marking folios, or could be that he just likes it in here.

In any case, given that it’s sunday night after midnight, it’s a little like being all dressed up and nowhere to go.

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Ain’t that the truth?

To state the bleeding obvious, this is not one of my own artworks, but one from the collection of the talented Jaclyn Réhe, Our Painted Lady, tatoueur de la famille, not to mention my friends.  We have a healthy art-swapping deal going, which suits me fine, but for anyone else, besides waiting for our joint exhibition sometime in the not-so-distant-future, an offering of small works will be for sale at SPARK PRAGUE – a Rock’n’Roll / Art Gallery extravaganza taking place on the 7th May at the Prague Venue, 911 High st Thornbury.

8 bux on the door will get you nibbles while you enjoy the various artists’ works, followed by a rocking band line-up featuring Sons of Lee Marvin, The Knock Outs, The Trophy Wives, Stabbie Stabbie Kill Kill, Two Jacks And A Jill.  Why wouldn’t you?

Colour me superstitious but by mid-afternoon every day I see a theme-of-the-day emerging.  Wardrobe-malfunction/body-malfunction/universal arseholeness/sexy-people-everywhere/kindness/or sometimes a day is simply brought to you – Sesame Street-style – by a letter.  Today was brought to me by the letter B.

On the slippery-slope of an incoming cold with an unknown endpoint, I’ve been consumed this week with the fear of developing anniversary Bronchitis.  I have conscientiously treated it with Brandy, Baths, and plenty of Bed.  I appear to be Beating it.  Each day this week on the train, I have survived choking fits by popping Butter menthols just in the nick of time. Today, dressed in Black & Blue, just as the train pulled up, an unknown Bird dumped what appeared to be a Bucket of Birdshit on my head, so I got to ride the train not only feeling like hell, but mopping and picking this Bird crap out of my hair all the way to Flinders Street, without a mirror.  It was Brutal.  Am waiting for the good luck to Become apparent.

Superstitiously keeping with today’s theme, I offer an experimental rough sketch of my previous drawing, inspired – post Art Melbourne – by David Bromley.  A somewhat Bandaged Showgirl.

I could pretty much start a dedicated blog about all the things that are annoying about me.  In fact how I’ve managed to make it through so many bouts of PMT and not have been gunned down is beyond my comprehension.

But what’s annoying about me today is the fact that despite writing about the Dennis Hopper & The New Hollywood exhibition at ACMI 5 months ago, I still left it until the last day – the last hour in fact – to go see it.  Triple groan.  It was fabulous, and worthy of far more than one hour.  Mr Hopper, I love you even more than I did before, not even the mask business in Blue Velvet can put me off now.  Whoever knew he was such a good photographer?  All I can say is thank god for the exhibition book in the ACMI bookshop.

This and the Art Melbourne exhibition in one day?  I’m feeling both kinky & inspired.

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As much as I love a man in make-up – and that’s almost as much as I love a man in a skirt – I draw the line at stupid ghoulish contact lenses.  Take Marilyn Manson par example.  I always thought wearing them was the height of dumb, until he dumped Dita Von Teese for Evan Rachel Wood, and I realised there were always greater heights to climb.

But somehow the gown worn by Dita in her moment of insanity has escaped my attention, until last week when I was researching interesting wedding dresses to draw for the first public launch of Bridal Sketches, at the I Do I Do Bendigo Bridal Fair.  (Yes, I see the irony too.)

Not since (and I hate to name-drop) my uni-friend Megan Park designed my equally starring friend Tiff from Happy House’s royal purple wedding dress way back when, have I seen such a gown of magnificence.

With no plans of walking down any isles, I realise my chances of wearing such a frock are hugely diminished.  Enter the brilliant idea of Dr Mary to take herself to a fabulous bridal store so I can photograph her and produce for her a Dr-Bridal Sketch.  I think I may do like-wise.  In fact maybe this is an even better idea than Bridal Sketches – “Never going to walk down that isle but want to be immortalised in the frock?  Call Faux-Bridal-Sketches – we’ll put you in the picture“.

Either way, chances are it will outlast the marriage.

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Yes yes, he was a scoundrel and an arrogant *!#@**, but who cares!  He’s responsible for some of my favourite vinyl, and also some of my most cringe-worthy outfits of the 80s – strangely, the Buffalo Gals look doesn’t do much on someone 5’3″ – and I could have done without the Adam Ant white stripe across my nose at the local disco, thanks.

Business partner, mother of his child, Vivienne Westwood

Argh – I loved Adam Ant to an unreasonable degree, and to this day I still love a man in make-up.

Nothing says have a drink and dance like Double Dutch does…

In fact…

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Thanks to the fabulous Sarah of Style Melbourne for reminding everyone that The Patsyfox Drawing Salon begins next Tuesday in the fantastic setting of Nevada Duffy’s studio & retail space in Fitzroy.

Check out the Style Melbourne mention, or The Patsyfox Drawing Salon.

Every year at Easter the routine’s the same – I go to Mum’s, I lay around like a slob, I feign disapproval when she presents me with easter eggs.  So clearly there was a disturbance in the force this year, most likely brought about by her relocation to Bendigo.  Not only was I busy working up a sweat helping her unpack several decades of crap including my first ever toothbrush (as ridiculous as it is true), by Sunday evening the realisation dawned that the Easter bunny wasn’t making it to me this year, and those laps of the local lake swatting the locusts and feeling like an extra in a remake of The Ten Commandments, were for nada.

For the record  Mr Bunny, no doesn’t always mean no, and sometimes when I say  don’t buy me easter eggs, I mean I’d like a Red Tulip elegant rabbit or a humpty dumpty with smarties, thanks.

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So it’s almost easter.  Maybe you have a date, perhaps you’re going away somewhere, or could be you just have somewhere to go you simply want to look good for – me too!  So what was it that made me walk away from the bathroom when I’d applied the 3-minute dye to my eyebrows?

Probably the same thing that causes me to burn out every kettle I own.  Compulsion to multi-task?  The thrill of maximising every second of life?  Who knows?  All I know is I walked off to switch the washing machine on and ended up having a bath.  I don’t see the link either but there you go.  It was while exiting the bath that I glimpsed at the mirror and thought I’d seen Groucho Marx.  But no, it was me.

60 minutes of swearing, scrubbing with solvol, and amateur peroxide experiments later, I have resorted to ideas of sticking my fringe down with double sided tape, while trying to convince myself that ridiculous eyebrows are actually kind of beautiful in an extreme kind of way.

They look kind of like this, but on my much less appropriate face…  Oh, and I of course am not wearing this Miu Miu shirt which I’d pretty much do anything to own.

For comfort I turned to my Hollywood books, full of serious eyebrows…

I love Bette Davis to an unreasonable degree.

I hear Kate Winslet is starring in the re-make of Mildred Pierce, possibly my favourite Joan Crawford film, with one of my favourite film lines:  (When her husband tries to kiss her goodnight) “Let’s leave the lipstick on.”

Am I the only person who thinks Joanne Woodward likes like a man-woman??

And also the only person who doesn’t rate Audrey Hepburn?  For godsake I see only hunger!

Sophia Loren – annoyingly beautiful.  Even now.

But no-one wears eyebrows as well as Liz Taylor.  Or is able to be squeezed within an inch of their life by a belt and still look demure.

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