Boo!

My goodness, look what I found lurking amongst my archives. A spooky vintage photo! Where did this come from? Is it a ghost? Is it a vampire? Is it Bride of Frankenstein?

No, wait, it’s just me making mischief with a piece of lace-trimmed polyester. I took a series of photos a couple of years ago, but never published them as they were a bit macabre for SNAP. But they’re perfect for All Hallow’s Eve!

Hallowe’en is not hugely celebrated in Australia, and certainly was not when I was growing up in the 70s and 80s, so some research was called for. I learned that historians postulate variously that Hallowe’en originates from the Roman feast of Pomona; or the festival of the dead, Parentalia; or the Celtic festival of Samhain. In Ireland, it was the end of summer that was celebrated, before the onset of the ‘darker half’ of the year.

Also in Celtic tradition, it was large turnips that were hollowed out and carved with faces. After the Irish immigrated to North American shores, they adapted this idea to the jack-o’-lanterns, as pumpkins were readily available. Being larger, they were also easier to carve than turnips. Before that pumpkins had been associated with harvest festivals.

Another charming notion is the idea that on Hallowe’en night, a young woman may look into a mirror by the light of a candle and catch a glimpse of the face of her future husband. (Unfortunately it does not seem a name is provided – however, knowing what The One looks like would make it that much easier when trawling internet dating sites.)

Hmm, now where did I put that veil…?

Click here for more spooky photos.

Summer School

Click image for larger version

Aussie-boy

On beautiful sunny days like this in Melbourne, you can wander down to the beachfront and find your typical Aussie male specimen sporting about. On the hottest days he is most often seen in casual attire: a tank top, knee-length shorts and casual walking shoes (most often Havaiana thongs; occasionally runners). He is particularly noted for his laidback attitude towards life and liberal notions on the proper quantity of beer to be consumed on summer days. Very often he is to be found with his wrist attached to a surf- or body-board. When water sports pall, he amuses himself with a leisurely game of cricket on the beach. If heat or weariness overwhelms him, he may retire to his towel to sunbathe, during which time he will also enjoy the gentlemanly sport of birdwatching.

Eurogigolo

The Eurogigolo, on the other hand, is extremely concerned with image: firstly, his own; and secondly of any female who is lucky enough to be the object of his attention. It is of the utmost importance that his garments are eye-catching (like the plumage of the male peacock), his jewellery flashy, his hair rigorously under control and not subject to the waywardness of the wind, and his tan so dark thus ensuring by simple contrast his teeth are startling in their blinding whiteness. His native habitat is the Riviera, or the Greek Islands, where he likes to float in the shallows whilst he watches scantily clad young women saunter past. He does not play sport.

On very rare occasions, both personas may be embodied in a single man. Above, you will see an illustrated example with key identifiers that will help you ascertain the exact nature of the male under observation. Good luck!

Twice thanks to Volodya!

Spring Fling

What’s in for spring? This is not a rhetorical question: I really want to know. (I can hear your collective gasps at my ignorance.) I have kept this breaking news hush-hush, but the truth is I overcame my addiction to fashion magazines about a year and a half ago. I went cold turkey, and have only slipped up a few times.

Why would I do such a shocking thing? Well, I was becoming inundated by magazines that I had no time to read. The piles were towering guiltily on my coffee table, and finally I decided it had to stop. So now spring is virtually upon me, and I have no clue.

But surely – as per usual – it’s pretty pastel colours and florals and floaty things that match the joie de vivre of spring, right? Regardless of exactly which colours are in fashion, I advise you to wear what suits your complexion, at least next to your face.

…spring is such a lovely time of year: fruit trees blossoming, balmy breezes, sunshine, birds singing again…

I have been doing a lot of vintage shopping lately, disregarding trends, although as it happens some of my favourite things are fashionable at the moment: 1950/60s style, lace, over the knee socks and stripes are a few. (I did purchase a gorgeous current season Veronika Maine top in bold orange and taupe stripes, which I LOVE.)

But spring is such a lovely time of year: fruit trees blossoming, balmy breezes, sunshine, birds singing again in the morning, beautiful scents in the air. So why get hung up on trends? Go out and enjoy the weather, and wear what makes you happy. 

The Magical Scarf

Once upon a time there was a (fairly) young princess who was fond of wearing scarves.

By day she entwined her neck in the prettiest hand-knitted designer pink scarf that was adorned with silk ribbons and tinkled with shells dangling at the fringe. She was very pretty. By day…

By night it was a different story. Off went the pink scarf and the princess donned red and black tribal regalia instead. She would wave it about ferociously in a most unladylike manner whenever her champions clouted the enemy.

And when it was time to go home, remarkably the princess once more reverted to her docile ways – just as soon as she removed the magical scarf, and replaced it with the pretty pink one.

Such was the transformative power of the red and the black.

Changes Afoot…

Psst! – a little bird told me there are changes afoot at
So Not A Princess!

One day soon you’ll open the pages of this journal and something will have changed. (Just a tiny little bit.)

The home page will look a little different, and you’ll have to click through to this journal. On the flip side, there will be Princess Tatiana’s studio, with her portfolio in galleries and everything.

That’s it. Nothing to alarm you. Same fashion tidbits and dainty trifles in the journal as per usual.

Right. As you were.

(It’s Sunday night – shouldn’t you be in bed?