Here we are at the end of another week of sharing the pen love. The baby has made it through a full week of school (surprise) and the songbird has made it through a full week living in the musicians share house subsisting on fresh pasta, cheap wine and late nights. It sounds a little like living in the cottage to be honest. My darling boy is happy in our nations capital with his marble, mosaics and gorgeous girlfriend. Miss Mich is feeling the contentment of a good mother hen right now. A good looking mother hen with style and wit..obvi..
All of which allows Miss Mich to ponder the bigger questions. The capital letter conundrums.
As a result of this somewhat disturbing GFC that we had to have, it is good to see the shift away from that dreadful middle class penchant for wearing both your heart and your designer label price tag on your sleeve.
As egalitarian as Miss Mich would like to be, there has been nothing worse in these up until recent times, than seeing the masses embrace mass consumption of “luxury goods”. If it's not linked G's or C's on the side of your sunglasses, if there are no LV”S printed on your canvas satchel, if your watch doesn't scream TAG, then who are you? It reminds Miss Mich of one of her favourite songs by the Foo Fighters – The Pretender..
Back to gauche consumerism...one of the better outcomes of the economic downturn is the hobbling of the disposable income of the declasse. We are to be spared the layer upon layer advertising of aspirational branding, the over supply of “Beckham” based perfume..intimately Beckham? ...There is nothing intimate and certainly nothing subtle about these people.
We are now looking at the new order of “consumption etiquette”. Cottage industry dear hearts, niche brands that are limited in production and high on quality. Miss Mich herself is on the thresh hold of launching her own quiet luxury resort wear collection. A capsule of classic, essential items to swan about those luxurious hotels where stealth wealth is quietly sitting by the pool overlooking your private yacht without any of those noisy Beckham boys playing marco polo in the pool and splashing your recessed logo sandals..even the cocktails are now pastel in colour..
Luxury Prudence dear hearts, is the phrase for today. Be judicious with your purchasing. Buy something for the quality and how it speaks to you. Not because every Tom, Dick and David Beckham has it.
Enjoy responsible shopping and Friday.
Love Miss Mich
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Well... Miss Mich has had quite the Top End Tour. Beetling around the "communities" sharing the pen love.
With her Chamber buddies and our little Cessna 402, Pilot George at the helm, it was a happy group that breezed into Kowanyama, Pormpuraaw, Aurukun, Weipa and the gem that is Thursday Island. Miss Mich was terribly impressed with both the landscape and the darlings she came across.
Miss Mich's roommate for the sojourn, Miss L, proved to be a hoot. Lots of laughs and secrets shared, it was just like having a sleepover every night. Miss Mich looks forward to more high jinks with Miss L in the future..
The boys on the tour were just that. Naughty, lots of entry level humour and physical comedy, all did as much laughing as serious work. The perfect balance. With orders for the pens coming in as we e, Miss Mich is already looking forward to next years trip.
The Bright Young Things at the cottage survived with the baby using her food funds to buy make up and trinkets, whilst the songbird moved into the classic musicians share house in town. Listen for her interview and recording on ABC far north radio this week.
It's a busy life Dear hearts, so the message here is snooze and you lose...
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Yes, it's time for the second charm. I realise I am drip feeding you all, but all things in moderation, except sport. (Obvi).
Miss Mich had been exploring her new world as a single yummy mummy for the summer spending her days playing tennis, swimming with the little fishy's at Camp Cove and having lunch with her gorgeous girlfriends. She was lean, the sun loved her and the first charm was sitting well on the bracelet. Then Miss Mich's very good friend, her Maltese maiden, she of the deep dark eyes and rapturous curls, called to say a friend was in town.
Dinner, Buon Ricardo?? Why yes...
Making up the four was of no consequence to Miss Mich. As we all know she is the ultimate Ambassador and loves any excuse to wear a little summer frock. Tootling down the drive, the Farmer graciously stepped from the car to shake hands. Miss Mich is still, even now, recovering from a handshake that could be employed by the SAS in guerilla warfare. If this was an indication of hand to hand combat, Miss Mich was in trouble...but intrigued.
It became apparent over dinner that the Farmer was not merely a farmer, but it amused Miss Mich to think of all the bulls in a pen coralled with all the other land holdings, business's, islands and boats..
Please do not think the farmer was like a bull in all ways. Bullish yes, arrogant yes. Hung like one?...
But I digress. The Farmer would come to town and dinner and a small (?) show would be had and Miss Mich mildly amused. He was powerful in his world and when this crossed over into the national political sphere it amused Miss Mich even more to think of him pinned down in Miss Mish's little bull pen in the East.
You notice I gave him a capital letter. All charms deserve one, Dear hearts as they have led Miss Mich to where she is today. The Farmer was a rustic diversion in the first year of Miss Mich's journey back into the real world. Even Miss Mellie enjoyed his world for one of those dinners and developed the idea of the Baa Bra in collaboration with one of the Farmers neighbours. Somewhat like Ugg boots for the boobies, all were disappointed when they didn't take off.
This idea in itself, which amused Miss Mich and Miss Mellie at the time, is really the only point of disgrace in the whole pastoral affair.
Enjoy hump day.
With astrakhan love
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Miss Mich has some new wisdom to share with you. Camping Wisdom. Note the capital letters.
In Miss Mich's former life, camping was more likely to be drinks on the terrace in jewelled flat sandals, a silk Kaftan and Sydney harbour twinkling away below us..or perhaps a marquee over the dressage arena, Ralf Lauren jodpurs and a nice firm crop (Miss Mish is getting a little nostalgic here and missing her sport).
What ever form it may have taken, it certainly did not invlove nylon, gas bottles or eksies.
However, times have changed and Miss Mich is now embracing new experiences and new activities with vigour. It is true that most of these new experiences up until now, have involved sport and charms. The long weekend just past has proven to be the exception.
Whilst Miss Mich would never have initiated the camping idea, the thought of sailing across the wind on a lake up in the highlands sounded like a good excuse for cashmere, red wine and those cute little Burberry gum boots..and I must say the lake did indeed remind Miss Mich of Loch Ness at Inverness, particularly when the sky was dark and the rain started sideways.
The sight of 102 little sail boats scooting along, Jack Sparrow amongst them, was enough to inspire Miss Mich to dingy sailing. Suffice to say the Green Guru is accomodating Miss Mich in this, her latest whim. Nothing less than a decent showing in the State Titles will do, so there is lots of work and training ahead. It is possible Miss Mich may be a little competitive, and what better way to redirect the energy usually reserved for Miss Mich's favourite sport than pulling on ropes and hiking out the side of the boat.
Back to camping...Dear hearts, it is possible to live like a gypsy for a few days. One can have pate and cheese in the esky, your coffee still in the plunger, water boiled on a gas stove and a tent with an entrance and separate boudoir. The terrace becomes the edge of the lake and the jewelled sandals are exchanged for leopard print Ugg boots. Rest assured Miss Mich maintained her style, kept up her standards and the only loss was a broken fingernail on the last leg of the twilight race...
With love from under the sleeping bag