Last night I dreamed I went to Manchester again...

I walked from Manchester-Piccadilly station (24 hour Burger King...ohhh, yeah), to Piccadilly gardens and onto Portland Street. I walked past the hotels, the Fab Cafe, the numerous buffets...

I turned on to Oxford Road, past Cornerhouse, Revolution, and the park. I turned to Cambridge Hall, but no one was there.

I don't know what it is, but even though I've spent slightly less than four months in Manchester and the better (?) part of 28 years, but I find myself homesick for the place. Whenever it rains I miss walking along Oxford Rd and having my umbrella pulled inside out by the wind as I made my way to Sainsburys for copious frozen meals and Warburtons crumpets.

I had to get up really early for work yesterday and it was still dark and it made me think of the first time I got up at 6:30am to pick up my friend from the train station and it was pitch black.

Whenever I go out and pay $15 for a cocktail I think of Sailor Jerrys mojitos for 3 pounds at Font, or amaretto sours and Grace declaring them to be 'Dr Pepper through a red straw - bad Motherfucker!'

I miss the TARDIS and the Dalek from Fab Cafe, Wasabi, and the Printworks. I miss Afflecks Palace and the Northern Quarter in general.

I miss the friends I made most of all. And I will see them again. FACT.

I wonder why I feel so homesick for this city and I think it's the place where I got to be me without everything else. I had to be my own person, and even though I could've been crazier and I could have been more adventurous, I think I realised that being on the other side of the world - this is who I am. Slightly depressing, but also comforting.

I've been thinking a lot about England in general and how it really did feel like my second home and I wonder if I really want to do the move to Sydney or if I should just save up and go to London?

Who knows? Changing my mind a million fucking times is also quintessentially me, alone overseas or surrounded by family and friends in Newcastle.

May 20 2010

I'm having trouble finding the motivation to blog regularly, but I promise to catch up real fast, ya hear?

So May 20, last thursday, marked the twelth year since my mum died. Pretty crappy. I thought about wearing all black, but it didn't appeal to me in the end. I remembered feeling like my body was aching and bruised, there was so much grief that day, and for a long time afterward. I still got upset explaining it to someone at work. So in the end I went for a black and blue look. Here tis:



The skirt still won't upload, but anyhoo. It's black. Perfect. Will cry when it dies. From Kmart around three years ago. Blah.



Dash Lace-Up Brogue in Black from Sportsgirl



Black button-back shirt - Sportsgirl



See? I'm totally loving shirts that button up at the back. Maybe a flashback to my brief stint in year 11, where are senior uniform included a white shirt that buttoned up at the back and had a peter pan collar. Sigh. I wonder where I can get one now?



This baby was from a St Vincent De Paul's op shop near my house. I believe it cost me around $8? I bought it when the 'shirt as a dress' craze began. Knowing they probably wouldn't make decent ones in my size, I decided to shop op shops for oversized or mens button up shirts. The trend sort of passed. But this bad boy is still being worn. You can't tell, but it's not quite pinstriped. The 'stripes' are actually a series of links that form a stripe.



The beanie is from H&M in Manchester. I miss it soooo much. Especially as H&M has no online store.

The cardigan won't work, either, but it's from Cotton On. And it already has a hole under the arm. NOT HAPPY. But it's cute and my sewing kit will make it better.

Olive Branch

So, in the continual charting of my working wardrobe, here is Wednesday, May 19. Work has been slightly stressful, so putting my energies into clothing sort of diverts my attention away from the fact that I think I'll top myself if I ever get a permanent position there.

I was feeling muted and I wanted really low-key, muted tones to match. I also wanted to debut my vintage Carla Zampatti scarf at the office - it's paisley, it's olive, and it's beautiful. I'm gravitating toward greys and acid wash in my casual wear, and felt it was as close to casual Friday as I can let myself anymore...



Mutastic? Is that a word? IS NOW.



The key piece - my Carla. This was the first of many purchases from the Glebe markets in Sydney, and I am not even close to done. I bought it from a lady named, if my memory serves me well, Katie Valentine. You'll know her when you see her - awesome quiff, red lipstick, big sunnies - will put you in the mind of an indie Rachel Zoe. I buy something from her stall every time I go because she has the best stuff. IDEA: document all of my Glebe purchases...



Last week I went shopping for a long white t-shirt. I bought this. An acid wash print...dress. Yep. I'm that good. It's a litle unflattering as a dress, but it's perfect with my black high-waisted skirt. Unfortunately the photo of my skirt wouldn't upload so I'm totally thinking of devoting an entire post to it. Absolute wardrobe essential. Will cry when it dies like it's some sort of family member.

Oh, and the navy tights are from Target. Ten clams Australian.



It was rainy, so the boots were on again. Best compliment-attracter ever. Thank you to Edinburgh, for having amazing and cheap Doc Martens. Dr Martens, Dr Martens, Dr Martens BOOTS. Ahem.

If only I'd worn this in the video for Peachy. Might have been in it, more. Or if I looked more like my friend Tori. Sigh.

For Sarah

So, a friend has been pestering me for ages to write a fashion blog. And it will not happen. I keep reminding her it's just because she hasn't met all of my friends yet.

But what I thought might be interesting is documenting what I wear to work - because I do like to put some effort into my ensemble. And I buy so many clothes I can't save them all for the weekends - what would be the point?

I know lots of people say they need more workwear and that the problem is that they find all their clothes end up being workwear, but if 1000s of fashion magazines have taught us anything, it's that there are ways to wear trends to work and not be sent an email about 'inappropriate' office wear. Some of my pieces are relatively new, so where possible I'll provide linkage so you may enquire about purchasing yoself.

I'm not including Monday, because apart from my 'I want to wear my oxfords with my skinny jeans' thought, there was no thought put into my outfit.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

So I was aiming for a French chic look. And by French I mean a British magazine in the 60s' idea of French fashion. Oh, and Twiggy would have been the model. The striped top is fast becoming a staple and I knew the skirt would be perfik with it when I bought it online. Oh, and the cardigan - oh, my God, oh, my God, the cardigan. LOVE.



It's all a bit brandy and such, but it's mostly new, so if you like it it can be yours!



Scarf and Beret by Cotton On



Urban Renewal Bowtie Necklace at Urban Outfitters



Deluxe Button Through Skirt by Sportsgirl



Pins and Needles for Urban Outfitters jacket.



Striped top from Sportsgirl.



Back seamed tights by Voodoo (thanks to Poodle, who bought them first!)

Watch this space for more.

xo

The Songs That Saved Your Life

While I was truly Mancunian, I lived in student accommodation. Being 27 and living amongst 18 year old students who have nothing to spend their student loans/parents' money on except alcohol and Topshop meant that a lot of nights I would lie awake and hear them all coming home from the Footage, the Met, the Font, or Revolution, screaming, laughing, mostly screaming around 3am. EVERY MORNING.

So, rather than being the old lady I felt like being (which involved me opening a window and yelling 'SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU BASTARDS!'), I would listen to my iPod. Edie. She's red. She's amazing. She's a Shuffle. And of course this would mean that Edie was on almost constant recharge.

Lately I've been having trouble sleeping right away at night, so I decided to listen to Edie before bed. And in a flashback to last year, I woke up this morning with the sounds of Devendra Banhart coming from somewhere in my bed and alas, once more, Edie was dead.

But I have a secret. Edie was not my first Shuffle. There was another...a light blue one. Bigger on the inside. Naturally, it's name was the TARDIS.

I loved the TARDIS dearly. But because the charger is so small, someone stepped on it and broke it and I needed to buy a new one. And at the time it was the same price to buy a whole new iPod than buy a charger for TARDIS. So I bought a red one that's only available online and because Apple sucks and are slave to record companies and...ahem...intellectual property and copyright, you can only sync one iPod to a computer. So all of the music now on TARDIS is trapped inside it. And it was dead.

But my sister had a passing fancy for an iPod and I offered TARDIS. And because if something's slightly difficult, she doesn't want to do it, I got TARDIS back fully charged.

And I was curious. What was Sallie 2008/2009 listening to? Was she going through a crap phase? Had she discovered some wonderful new band? It turns out that, well, we have a lot of music in common. She hadn't had her heart broken by Morrissey the way Sallie 2010 was, so she was digging him. A LOT. And Lou Reed. And the Smiths, natch. She liked the Presets a lot more than she does now and, happiest of happies, she reminded me that I love New Order, the Cure and Mates of State.

And awesomely, she also had my friend's band, Fictions, EP Motel Kids With Hotel Dreams and a band my friend at work used to play drums for, Tin Pot Operation. Please listen to them both. A LOT LOT LOT.

Oh, and when I get my hair extensions, this is the song that should be playing at all times whenever I walk anywhere, in slow motion, wind machine blowing my locks in a flattering, look there's the girl in school everyone loves but you know is going to end up with John Cusack kind of way:





Everybody knows that after hours love is free...

Frankly, Mr Shankley...

I was listening to Russell Brand a while ago, and it must be because it was a podcast of his Radio 2 show (good good times until Woss showed up)and he mentioned that he knew someone who emailed a resignation to their boss with the subject line 'Frankly Mr Shankley.' I admire that sort of action.

Morrissey is someone who seems to suggest that work gets in the way of creativity. Some people will argue that their work can be creative, but only if you're in a job you either genuinely love or one in a creative field.

I don't find anything particularly creative about my job. And I'm not saying that it's not a good job, or that any old reh-tard could do it. It's well-paid, it doesn't involve serving food or coffee or designer juice to a-holes.

But it does involve superiors who treat me and my kind like slaves, ridiculous policy and procedure changes and a hierarchy of information flow that makes me want to scream sometimes. But the people I work with are mostly lovely. And the customers can be wonderful as well as awful (the nice ones outweigh the awful ones. But then there are the annoying ones...).

No disrespect at all to the people who are doing my job as their chosen career, or enjoy their work, but this is not what I want to do with my life. Because I'm worried that Morrissey is right. I haven't worked full time in about two years, and becuase I don't love my job it's driving me insane and making me feel depressed and unmotivated.

I can't do anything that has to be done during office hours (thanks a bunch, Australia Post) and my weekends become precious. Oh, and the worst thing is that I can't wear all my awesome clothes.

And now I have a lot of awesome clothes. Because instead of being creative and writing scripts, I go on Facebook and I do a lot of online shopping to make myself feel better. Money does buy happiness, kids! Well, sort of. And because I can afford it and in the vein of the whole retail therapy thing, I'm getting hair extensions. Yep, nothing says 'this is making you forget you're miserable' like Serena Van Der Woodsen -like tresses.

But this blog is the first step toward being creative again, which will lead to bigger and better things career-wise (the hope), and in the meantime the money, the hair, the clothes, and NY Plan will get me through it.

Here's a picture that should cheer you up:

Hear my voice in your head and think of me kindly

Over at my other blog, Cinephile Paradiso, I'm doing things like this. But here on this one I've been sort of inspired by other more personal blogs. In a mixture of awe and jealousy I've been obsessively reading Style Rookie. She's thirteen and I wish I were her best friend. My friend said she wished she'd never seen it, because it makes her feel uncool. And she's one of the coolest people I know. But it's an awesome blog and if for some unknown reason you're reading this one instead of hers, go read it.

While searching for my name badge for work (ergh) that I may or may not have thrown in out in some sort of cathartic act while packing for my trip to Manchester last year, I started picking out some things on my desk (never used for actual work) that sort of reflected the person I am at the moment, so I took some photos of them. And realised it actually takes longer to just put a post containing photos up than it is to upload uni essays.

PLEASE TO ENJOY.



























Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Half a Person

A friend told me that oceans only divide countries. This was lovely because it was at a time when I was feeling quite homesick. It made me feel that you could still travel the world and stay connected to everyone you love. But now I feel that this little saying means much more than that.

I didn't feel that I had the kind of experience in the UK and Europe that others may have had. I went to three countries in as many months, I don't have many of those stories that people who go on tours seem to have, and I wasn't constantly living out of a suitcase. Being a student in my heart of hearts, I enjoyed being a student thoroughly. I made friends with the people on my course and I love them. Doing a film course means you have to work with people - you can't really do it alone unless you want to make a wanky art film...which some chose to and subsequently were rarely seen or engaged with.

For a while, I felt like I'd missed something because I wasn't trekking through Asia and having my life changed by meeting poor people, or taking advantage of the poor people by getting pissed for 2 dollars, eating shitloads for 50 cents and haggling with locals for cheap souvenirs. I didn't do a tour either, so I didn't have any drinking stories, or horrible hostel stories.

But when I really thought about it, I didn't really want those sorts of experiences. And it did change my life a little. I discovered that I really love the UK and that it really has been my spiritual home for my whole life. A mutual love of the Mighty Boosh is a much stronger foundation for a lasting friendship than simply being from the same country.

Being in Berlin was such a strange experience. I really have to employ the cliche that it was a rollercoaster of emotions. It was over Christmas and New Years, so I hated it sometimes because I was so far away from my family. I loved being in the city - Berlin is so cool, especially East Berlin. It's hard to explain without sounding like a wanker, so I will just say this: Bowie lived there. And Lou Reed named his rock opera after it. And I finally had some of those typical European holiday experiences.

My favourite was one that resulted in me essentially wasting a day of my holiday with a hangover, but it was worth it. It involved avoiding creepy Germans that were hanging around because of me, drinking whiskey and coke in a bar projecting Antonioni's Blow-Up on the wall, walking the streets of Berlin in the early hours of the morning with a New Yorker, a Londoner and a Parisian. And getting back to the hostel when reception reopened at 7am so drunk it was a surprise any of us made it. But we did.

And some of the people we met were pretty cool. Said Londoner and New Yorker, and a Finnish lad called Henri, who my travelling buddy is enjoying a romance with. The hostel staff were the coolest people on the planet - I wish I worked there so I could be friends with them. Thinking up names for some of our fellow guests was also fun. There was the hipster Strawberry Shortcake, American Chopper, and the Woodsmen, to name a few. I had a discussion about Alan Turing with a lovely Brazilian guy in English, and Turing's whole bit is difficult to explain any time, let alone when your first language is Portugese and English is a little further down the list. I also had a very difficult concept in physics explained to me by an Austrian guy who was one half of possibly the most adorable couple ever - why beer comes out faster if you put a hole in the side of a can.

The one thing a lot of people say is that Americans are the most annoying tourists. Erm, yeah. Unfortunately the most annoying fellow travellers I found were...Australian. And New Zealanders. We did meet a lovely girl from Perth, but in Edinburgh...whoah. Lame.

By far the most heinous experience of this trip was saying goodbye to my friends. My flatmates were so wonderful - one in particular, and she was the first to go. It's ridiculous, yet also amazing, how quickly you can develop bonds with people. And it's nice to know I now have friends all over the world (and a bed to sleep in when I get there...). But saying goodbye was really the least fun you can have. I had awkward, teary public goodbyes with my favourite people in Manchester, and cried all the way through Where the Wild Things Are. And the night before I left for London, one of my flatmates and I couldn't even look at each other without bursting into tears.

It really is the people I met in Manchester that I will always remember (and I am determined to see again). A small number of highlights: Eating Ben and Jerry's in Abduls with Stina and watching television for so long that we ended up ordering food. Getting incredibly drunk on Sangria and Pakh with my flatmates and dancing to This Charming Man in Fab Cafe. Making my 'perplexing' film in the woods in Sale in early December. Having long conversations about film with Kristen on Skype (oh, not to mention our run-in with the law), and just hanging out in general with the coolest American ever. Going all the way to Droylsden with Alicia, Waan and Jay when we should have gone to Canal street. Nights out with Claire, nights and lunches out with Sioned, and Wasabi with Stina. Random conversations with Grace about craving five dollar notes. The Christmas party with the most awesome guys on my course.

I always thought that by calling my blog the Mancunian Candidate, I would only actively blog about my experience in Manchester. But I found that while I only spent three months in the place, I actually feel like I'll always be a Mancunian Candidate. I saw Echo and the Bunnymen play at the Sydney Laneway festival and when the frontman asked if there were any Mancunians in the crowd I whooped. Three months and I think I'm from Manchester. But I think that's a nice thing. I heart Manchester. And it's not just something on a t-shirt (although I have one), either.