27s club

When i was reading 'Just Kids' by Patti Smith, I found it really unnerving that Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison and Janis Joplin all died, within 2 years of eachother and all at the tender age of 27.

Little did i know it was a trend.

The term '27s club' was coined by author Eric Segalstad and illustrator Josh Hunter in reference to a staggering list of musicians, mostly from a Rock 'n' Roll background, who passed the torch that year.

Red wine saw the end of Jimi, heroin was Janis's demise and a wonky heart apparently got Morrison.

Who else gained membership?

Rolling Stones founder Brian Jones drowned in '69, Kurt Cobain pulled the trigger in '94 after claiming on numerous occasions he longed to join the club, Amy Winehouse drank herself to an early grave in 2011 and Rolling Stones '5th Rated Top Guitarists of All Time' Robert Johnson was poisoned in '38.

There we go. Bit of music history for you.

Those are the 'Official members' but the list goes on....

...Ron McKernan from Grateful Dead, Dave Alexander from The Stooges, Kristen Pfaff from Hole, Mars Voltas Jeremy Michael Ward.....the list goes on.

Pope John XII, Joseph Merrick (The Elephant Man) and Jonathan Brandis would all have made the cut but a lack of musical genius dictated otherwise.

I saw this angel, she was dressed in leather

Sex, drugs, parties and cute English accents, what more could you ask for in a cult television show. Fuck new level, Skins take teen dramas to a whole new dimension.

I CAME ACROSS this God-scent of a show one lazy Friday night channel-flicking session. Adolescent attention caught, I watched. Forty-five minutes later I had to turn the telly off and just sit there in the dark to absorb what I had just witnessed.
Seemingly antithetic to the dubious and fabricated sob stories explored within 90210, Gossip Girl and others alike, Skins offer a whole new take on teen dramas. Basic storyline involves the youth culture in Bristol, London with a heavy, HEAVY emphasis on sex, drugs and all things decadent. Know not only are the father-son BAFTA* award winning duo, Brain Elsley and Jamie Brittain on my “People I must meet before I die” list, but also Mr Edward Gibbon – the all mighty, all knowing, all divine show stylist.
Providing style flavours to suit all your tastebuds, Gibbon bestows a fashion fiesta of all the threads you wish you were brave enough to wear. The fore-mentioned angel in leather is no more than the enigmatic and elusive Miss Effy Stonem. Rocking the grunge look, I have never seen anyone look more beguiling and beauteous. With a colour range of black to dark blue, one would think options are limited, but by golly I have never seen such a selection. Juxtaposing stiff leathers with lacy legging, androgynous looks with feminine statement jewellery, and heroin-addict makeup with beautifully trashed frocks.
If the whole “I don’t give a fuck” look doesn’t rev your engines, there’s another two whole sets of cast members to pick from (they completely re-cast for the “second generation”), where no character is analogous. Whether it is Cassie in a retro spiral, Freddie dominating the “I never shower, but I can still pull chicks” demeanour, Cook the archetypal James Dean model or Pandora, the naive virgin who appears to get dressed in the dark but still look adorable.

I should also point out that the show is currently boasting 5 seasons, however unlike a decent red wine, the show did not get better with age. Reagrdless, come one, come all, take your pick, I guarantee whatever your fashion fetish is, it will be in Skins. So check it out on http://www.surfthechannel.com/ and I pledge my soul you too will become addicted

poop, guns and a whole lotta ranch

You know what? I'm just going to dive right on in here.
A kid pooped in the pool.
Yes.
Poop. In the pool.

It was a scorching hot summer camp afternoon and i was sitting high and dry in the lifeguard chair watching all the kids break all the rules we just went over. Ah to be young and ignorant. Next thing i know, Dawn is screaming, shrilling more like it.

'GET OUT! GET OUT!'

Thirty something dripping wet miniature bodies start hurling out screaming, frantic, fearing for their lives.

'POO! THERE'S POO IN THE POOL!' Dawn declares

Everyone was screaming. Finally, after everyone was shuffled from the life threatening poo and back up the hill did one of the campers fessed up. Having previously been given a time-out for throwing a rock at another campers head for no apparent reason, said camper decided to give a little pay back, primative style. Little bitch.

Post camp, Derby and I ventured down to San Diego, her new home and upon return I was meant to stay the night at Dawns house. All in all, it go to be about 2 in the morning with me standing in camps car park after sitting in a hotel lobby getting hit on by creepy yet charming old fellas and a 40 minute vacant hotel search in a cab with it's meter running. Ouch.
Standing in the car park deciding whether or not the owner will take pity on me (she lives on site) and not beat up up for coming a-knocking at God forsaken hours. Bugger it. Knocked on the door to nothing except dog barks. Shit, this means i've got to curl up in a ball under a tree for the night (for those unaware Northern Cali is super cold at night).
While making my choice out a few potential tree trunks i hear the unmistakable sounds of rubber on gravel. I poke my head out from behind the trailer i had strategically masked myself from sex predators.

'WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?'

An elderly man stood with a massive shot gun, barrel down right at me.

'WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?'

This would of been a tad more intimidating if the man had more on than his tightie whities and a singlet on.

Turns out is was the owners pa, who lives just up the hill and whilst i was apparently 'banging away' the owner was lying down in her bathtub, handgun at the ready, shitting her pants.

Luckily, she burst out laughing when finding out the serial killer was me, then pa started laughing, so i joined in.

And yes, i did sleep on her couch. Best sleep i'ld had in a long time.

Sorry I'm such a neglectful bitch

Oh hey...didn't see ya there.
It's been, what? about 2 months? I'm sorry, so very sorry. Things have been just chokas that's all, me being overseas and what-not. Well actually I'm still a fare way from the sunny shores of Sydney, instead I'm in the worlds greatest city......Milwaukee! Kidding fools, New York, I'm in New York.

After an intense 2 months of working at a summer camp i decided 'Fuck it!' Time left on my visa, money still in my pocket, off, off and away!

Before I get carried away in the thrills of being a young gal alone in the big city, lets start from the beginning shall we.

A Californian summer camp with horses, lots of horses, decided to hire me for a summer (I think primarily because the lady doing the hiring happen to have the same name as me, we were very excited at this). When i finally arrived at San Francisco airport a two hour bus ride awaited me to Sonoma County (wine country) from there i was to make a swift phone call to the camp and someone would come claim me. Hmmmmm, the phone booth happen to be out of order....hmmmmm don't actually own a working mobile...hmmmm here'e me stuck at a pick up point with no way of communicating that i needed to be picked up.
Luckily, an older lady happen to be sitting content with her organised travelled plans offered to give me a lift. Hesitant at first, I seized up this apparent 'good samaritan' and her husband to see if need be could i take them. At ease with me fighting abilities I hoped right in and after a lengthy 10 minute drive of 'lets show the foreigner the town' they took me to Cloverleaf Ranch, my home for the next several weeks.

More camp stories will be revealed. Trust me, hilarious shit is about to spill. To get you excited, here's some pics...

Birthdays were had

Slow motion Kung-Foo was taught

Bras consistently stolen

Penis's consumed from

Bestial love

Illegal activities

Unitards were worn...numerous times

Harry Potter themed dance

A dance were the kids disappeared off and the 

counsellors didn't even notice because we were 

too busygetting crunk on the DF.

......and hippos.

My bad. I'm just shit

Well aren't I just the wort blogger ever. To be quite frank i actually forgot, which works out to be rather shit because the forgotten post was the concluding Fashion Week write up. Any who I'm sure y'all sick to death about Fashion Week reviews by now so i'll just pop the photos from BTS Dion Lee (best show of the week).

On a little side note, it took the models and us for that matter, an extremely long time to suss out the choreography.
Two runways + 3 sets of stairs + numerous models + 4am call time = disaster.

mirrored runway

Gorgeous sunrise, shit choreography

Runway numero duo

The ever elegant Julia Nobis

Myf - Yifan - Ruby Jean