2018 november/december frankie magazine

design • art • photography • fashion • travel • music • craft • home • life

ISSUE 86 NOV/DEC 2018 AUS: $10.95 INC GST NZ: $12.95 INC GST UK: £8.99 ISSN 14497794

9 771449 779000 05

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issue 86 talented contributors photographic nina ahn, luisa brimble, bri hammond, benjamin johnson, natalie mccomas, phoebe powell, carine thévenau, hilary walker, lukasz wierzbowski editorial richelle bergen, caro cooper, deirdre fidge, kat gillespie, leta keens, brodie lancaster, michelle law, maeve marsden, hetty mckinnon, daniel moore, giselle au-nhien nguyen, eleanor robertson, luke ryan, sinead stubbins, suzi taylor, jo walker illustration evie barrow, sophie beer, caitlin shearer cover artist adelina lirius editor sophie kalagas sophie@frankiepress.com.au assistant editor & online editor emma do emma.do@frankiepress.com.au senior designer aimee carruthers aimee@frankiepress.com.au senior designer & studio manager caitlin wynne caitlin@frankiepress.com.au designer anjana jain anjana@frankiepress.com.au proofreader rachel morgenbesser

advertise in frankie national advertising manager victoria yelland riddell victoria@frankiepress.com.au • 0410 300 849 account manager – victoria max jahufer max@frankiepress.com.au • 0424 218 955 advertising sales executive – directories emma white emma@frankiepress.com.au • 0416 146 658 advertising production lizzie dynon lizzie@frankiepress.com.au

editor-in-chief jo walker jo@frankiepress.com.au marketing coordinator ben eastwood ben@frankiepress.com.au general manager gaye murray gaye@frankiepress.com.au

executive chairman david gardiner company secretary bruce duncan managing director hamish bayliss publisher carole jones

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production & digital services manager jonathan bishop submissions: frankie accepts freelance art, photo and story submissions, however we cannot reply personally to unsuccessful pitches. for submission guidelines please see frankie.com.au/submissions

email addresses are published for professional communications only

internships/work experience: unfortunately frankie is unable to facilitate any work experience or internship programs frankie magazine is proudly published 6 times a year by frankie press, a division of nextmedia pty ltd, 2 craine street, south melbourne vic 3205

frankie.com.au

views expressed by authors are not necessarily those of the publisher. copyright is reserved, which means you can’t scan our pages and put them up on your website or anywhere else. reproduction in whole or part is prohibited.

Unleash yyour peculiar this Halloween

worldofthepeculiar.com

first thought

most tales of overcoming obstacles involve genuine, deep-rooted hardships; this one involves dress-ups and a plastic bowl.

It was medieval day at school (a spin-off of our year 9 history studies), and a sea of students came decked out like folks from the Middle Ages: fair maidens, court jesters, a regal Pope. I’d been assigned the role of medieval minstrel, responsible for the nobility’s musical entertainment throughout the day – weeks of rehearsal with my fellow musos had prepared me for this.

A feast was held in the school hall, complete with lavish banquet (roast chicken and veggies) and endless spirits (apple juice and water).

Performers took their turns between courses, until it was time for the main event: an elaborate maypole dance, accompanied by a rousing drum solo.

This was my time to shine; to beat that drum with the confidence and flair of a seasoned entertainer. But disaster struck: the instrument was nowhere to be seen. Rumours about its whereabouts circulated.

Was it an inside job? A rival minstrel, perhaps? Despite frantic searching, the drum had seemingly vanished. Still, the show must go on. I reached for the nearest bangable object – in this case, a historically inaccurate plastic salad bowl – and wholeheartedly thumped out the lively beat.

There were titters around the room from robe-adorned teens, and yet the maypole spectacular went off without a hitch. Which brings us to our lesson about resilience and not giving up: sometimes, when it seems like you’re dead out of luck and there’s no feasible way forward, you just have to reach for the closest kitchen implement. xx Sophie and the frankie team

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first thought

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contents

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what’s inside

the do-over:

brazen hussies:

PAGE 31

PAGE 60

A few tales of starting from scratch

The history of Australia’s feminist revolution

working it: PAGE 46

fruit through the ages: PAGE 82

How not to get stuck in a shitty job

Giant sloths, testicles and poison watermelons

you little ripper:

all packaged up:

PAGE 52

PAGE 119

Sweet threads for the warmer months

Care packages for every occasion

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contents

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014 frank bits

070 writers’ piece

024 braking up

074 looks we like

026 christine and the queens

078 on the job

028 in a tight spot

080 case of the ex

031 starting from scratch

082 a very fruity history

036 black beauty in pictures

084 travels in italy

040 the science of anger

094 an artful tale

042 playground ideas

100 around the world in eight films

044 crafty

102 collector

046 how not to get a shit job

104 my mothers told me stories

050 changing tune

112 everybody has a story

052 some ripper threads

114 i love my shop

058 road test

116 creatures and co.

060 brazen hussies

119 loads of care packages

064 that’s a wrap

124 mmm, banana dumplings

066 for old time’s sake

126 rvg

068 the independence collective

128 books from the ’80s

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your say Photo Nina Ahn

dear frankie HOW CAN WE HELP YOU, FRANKIE FRIENDS? LETTERS@FRANKIE.COM.AU

Dearest frankie, I’d been living in London for nine months. I thought I was settling in, but the last few weeks had been tough. Bad news from home, on more than one front, meant I’d lost my best friend and another close one – a death and a misunderstanding. A new job was coming up, but I had a period of lonely non-action and was starting to wonder if it was all a mistake. Until I picked up the stack of magazines my sister had collected and sent to me. Back-dated to issue 82, I started reading, and my small sharehouse began to feel more like home. You’ll always be my favourite. Love Beck .

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a huge struggle. But after taking everyone’s advice on board, I’m in a position where I’m well enough to go to rehab and learn to walk again! Thank you a million times over xx Love, Em .

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Dear frankie, I’ve made some questionable life choices that have led to me being not-quite-divorced at the ripe old age of 27.

I frequently feel as though I’m up the proverbial creek without a paddle, compass or clue. But I’ve managed to find a glimmer of hope reading Mia Timpano’s “One False Click”. I, too, secretly cyber-stalk my crushes, living in fear that I’ll inadvertently hit that damn thumbs-up button and die of embarrassment. But reading Mia’s article has given me the courage to take the leap of faith and hit ‘love react’ on the profile of whichever unfortunate soul I decide to moon over next. Anna xo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Frankie, frankie, frankie... Thank you for putting all my heroes in your recent edition, hand-drawn and stunningly summarised in “Forces of Nature”. These dudes and dudettes are the shiz and have shaped who I am today. David Attenborough is the absolute bee’s knees – he’s the connection between many a modern-day child and the natural world. His docos are more thrilling than any Hollywood blockbuster, and I know this because my four-year-old is hooked. She even refers to him as “Mummy’s boyfriend”… one can only dream. Thanks for your tip-top mag and this stellar lineup.

Love, Sarah .

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THE LETTER OF THE ISSUE WINS A SHELF AND VASE SET, RRP $155, FROM KIRRALEE.CO Dear frankie, I loved reading about Deirdre Fidge saying sayonara to her 20s, as I recently did the same. And I love 30. I’ve finally figured out how to style my curly hair after years of weird frizz and mushroom-shaped haircuts; I’ve realised I’m allowed to wear floral dresses every day because I like them and life has no dress code; and I’ve stopped giving fucks about what other people think (well, most of the time. It’s a process). Thanks for always bringing the goods, frankie. You’re something I’d never say “fuck you” to. x Eliza

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Dear frankie, I’ve been laid up in hospital for quite some time with Guillain-Barré syndrome, and have lost count of how many times I’ve read issue 85. I especially found the article “How Do You Look After Your Brain” to be helpful through such a rough time.

From being a super-active mum of three, busy at taekwondo and trying to start up my paper florist business, to then finding myself completely bedridden with no feeling in my legs has been

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scout’s honour sage x clare Normally rumours make us feel a bit on edge, like we might stumble across some damning information we don’t know what to do with. On the other hand, the latest collection from Melbourne homeware aficionados Sage x Clare, Rumah, makes us feel snuggly and warm and rather trouble-free. ‘Rumah’, in this case, means ‘home’ in Indonesian, which is quite fitting, because we’d like to add their goodies to our own abodes ASAP. If you feel the same way, simply head on over to sageandclare.com and have a looksee.

Why should girl guides, astronauts and denim jacket wearers get to have all the embroidered patch fun?

Embroidered patch equality for all, we say! So does Claire Edwards, the London-based Aussie behind Scout’s Honour – she’s even crossed the species line, whipping up canine-themed patches for conscientious pooches.

Each iron-on badge will set you back around $11, and look spiffy on your furry companion’s bandana, jacket or blanket. scoutshonour.net

check it out

bottoms up We were always quite enamoured with the Land of Topsy-Turvy at the top of Enid Blyton’s Faraway Tree, and we have to wonder whether Norwegian designer Ingrid Aspen feels the same.

After all, her Bottoms Up glassware range would be right at home in the upside-down world: they can be stacked this way and that in a colourful tower, and, depending on their orientation, could hold a generous glass of vino or a more modest nightcap. Scandinavian simplicity with a dash of magic.

100percentnorway.com

Maybe we’ve eaten a bowl of Captain Obvious flakes for breakfast, but we have to say it anyway – this linen cap is awesome! Can’t decide between a hat or a bow today? No worries, you can have both! A big ol’ thanks to Sydney label Avenue for not forcing us to choose between two much-loved head adornments. Want to chuck a Riley cap on your noggin? Grab 90 bucks and head to avenuethelabel.com

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kalopsia design These lovely dangly bits are called the Nelipot earrings (meaning ‘someone who walks around barefoot’) and they’re inspired by a winding, pebbly path in Wellington that designer Sophie Parsons plods when things get a bit too much. Each pair of earrings in her collection expresses a feeling or reflects a fleeting moment in time, and we reckon that’s pretty heckin’ nice. To see more handmade goodness from Kalopsia Design, visit kalopsiabysophie.etsy.com

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pigeonhole shades colour me empowered As far as colouring books go, we think this Angry Girls Club zine from Melbournebased illustrator Gemma Flack is tops. Designed to celebrate the way people “adapt, rebel against and subvert expectations of femininity as they find and form their individual identities”, it’s not only empowering and chock full of good vibes, but also ready to be snipped apart and stuck up on your wall.

Which is a bit rad. $10, gemmaflack.com

first times, last times with pillow pro First time you played a gig? Christobel Elliot: With Pillow Pro, at the Old Bar in Melbourne in 2015. We were so nervous and shy, but the room was packed with all our friends and people that supported us. It was the best feeling! Last time you felt superinspired? CE: Last weekend we filmed a music video for our next release, “Hurricane”, in an incredible modernist mansion. As we went on, the shots got more and more beautiful and interesting, and it got us very inspired and excited. First time you set eyes on each other? Sophie Millis: At a music festival from afar when we were 18, but we properly met and became close a few years later when we were both in London. Last time you did something creative that wasn’t music? CE: I do a lot of hand-embroidery around themes of family and my mixed race background. I love how slow and relaxing it is to focus on small areas – you can sit and meditate on the subject for a long time. SM: I study design, so I’m always making garments and sculptures based on spatial experiences. It crosses over sometimes when we design outfits and shoots for Pillow Pro. First time you felt like a real-deal adult? CE: I’ve been through a lot of things where I’ve felt like the ‘adult’ in certain situations, but I don’t really consider myself a ‘real-deal adult’ because that sounds like a bit of a trap. However, the first time I felt really on my own and independent was when I moved overseas at 18. Last time you cooked something you were really proud of? CE: The banana cake with lemon icing I made for Soph’s birthday. I wasn’t really sure about it, but everyone seemed to love it! SM: When I make delicious vegan food that doesn’t make me miss cheese at all!

The irony of investing in eye-catching frames is that your own peepers don’t get to admire them in action.

Take these sweet shades from Perth-born brand Pigeonhole, for instance – on your dresser, they’re chock full of summertime radness, but once on, they may as well cease to exist.

One solution is to surround yourself with reflective surfaces, so you can gaze admiringly at your wellshaded face. Alternatively, you could live comfortably in the knowledge you look cute as all get out, then go about your day, free from glare-induced squinting. $69, pigeonhole.com

double denim A tiny history lesson for you: in 1951, American crooner Bing Crosby was knocked back from a Canadian hotel for not looking sharp enough – he was dressed head to toe in denim. Though management came to their senses and let the dreamy singer in, word travelled quickly, all the way to Levi Strauss and Co. Angered at poor Bing’s plight, the designers developed a custom denim tuxedo jacket to don next time he hit the town in a pair of old blues. And so, the term ‘Canadian tuxedo’ was born. (In related news, this swish indigo denim number is available from pennysage.com)

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drawing cards Tina Sosna is a German lass with a very good eye – we assume, at least, based on her sweet photography and lovely handmade stationery bits. These ‘welcome home’ cards are one of our favourite items from her paper-based range. They’re hand-illustrated on good quality stock; cost around $4 a pop; and would be rather nice to receive in the mail, don’t you think?

Find them at lovelyenvelopes.tictail.com

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mc pressure pali baskets p Have a look at this pretty thing, won’t you? Woven in a remote village in Myanmar using recycled plastic tape and traditional Burmese craft techniques, the colourful basket not only provides a spiffy way to cart around flowers, shopping and produce, but also makes use of materials that would otherwise end up in landfill.

Stop by palibaskets.com if you’d like to pick one up – each sale benefits the makers directly, which is rather nice.

say hello to lucy wilson from the sugarcanes How would you describe your music to your nanna? We’re the ‘love band’. We write songs about love – the good, the bad and the ugly. Best and worst parts of making music with your brother? No one knows how to push my buttons better than Jack. He really has a knack for saying the best things to shit me. But he also understands me and knows what I’m trying to say. I’ve never been able to collaborate musically with anyone else. What’s your go-to recipe to impress someone? If I’m feelin’ really fancy I’ll bust out hand-rolled spinach and ricotta cannelloni. If I want to look fancy without the effort, I’ll buy the tubes. What do you spend your downtime doing? I don’t have much downtime anymore, as a part-time special school teacher with two working bands. But on the rare occasion I have time to myself, I like to visit my dad’s farm in Gippsland and sit in front of the fire, or take the dogs for a bush walk.

Where would you love to play a show one day? I’d love to play Fuji Rock in Japan! Every photo of that festival looks amazing, and it’s definitely a country I’d love to tour with The Sugarcanes. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve done to make a buck? Being a musician is pretty weird. I’ve played in shopping malls and had the football turned up over me.

I’ve been asked to play songs as people walk down the aisle that are actually about having my heart ripped out.

You meet some very strange cats in the music industry.

We’ll keep this short and sweet: Floridian letterpress pros M.C. Pressure design a lot of ridiculously awesome things for your desk. Have a look at their shop at mcpressure.com if you don’t believe us. Now, we’re off to prove this sassy notepad (around $9) right – may your day be suitably constructive, as well.

aussie, aussie, aussie From opera singers and aviation pioneers to Indigenous resistance fighters and science-y types, Australia’s history is full to the brim with pretty darn awesome ladies, and Sydney writer Pamela Freeman thought it was time to show them off a bit. She put together a book called Amazing Australian Women, had it illustrated

by Brissie lass Sophie Beer, and kindly offered us five copies to give away – to nab one for yourself, head to frankie.com.au/win. Then again, you could stop by hachette.com.au or any good book store (not the bad ones, though) with $26.99 and a readiness to be inspired.

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you dig?

Maybe it’s because it comes in a colour that’s adorably called pumpkin; maybe it’s because it ranges in size from 4 through to 30; or maybe it’s because it looks like the kind of thing you could wear to the Rydell High school dance, but this Collectif shirt dress sure does razz our berries. Find it over at modcloth.com for around $124.

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a very caring bandana

plante clothing Summer heat demands near-nudity most of the time, but alas, going outside in public means we all occasionally need to pop some threads on, to avoid panicking the neighbours if nothing else. This means you’re going to need something nice to wear, whether you like it or not. New York label Plante specialises in nice things to wear, and they have plenty to look through online at planteclothing.com. Who knows – the neighbours might even be impressed.

Everything seems to be doing double duty these days: phones are cameras, watches are computers, and this reassuring bandana from New York brand Apprvl is a bona fide shrink.

Tell it your problems and it will give supportive feedback, and even tie your hair back as you have a little sob. (We daresay its cottony fabric would be quite soothing for dabbing away tears, as well.)

Designed and hand-printed by Brooklynite Megan Mussari, it’s available from apprvlnyc. com for around $18.

birkenstock

vivienne la When it comes to ceramic flower receptacles, Vivienne La is a bit of a rule-breaker – like little clay rollercoasters, her vases go up, down and loop-de-loop. More like abstract art with a little flora thrown in for good measure, we’re rather smitten with the Melbourne-made designs, and if you feel the same way, you can see even more at instagram.com/ vivienne.la

Just in case you were under the illusion that the Birkenstock sandal was a modern invention, allow us to share a little factoid with you: the idea for their flexible footbed inserts was born in 1896. Because of one Konrad Birkenstock, a German gent with a passion for footwear, you can now slip these comfy-as-heck Arizona leather sandals (rrp $156) on your tootsies, and stroll through your days with super-happy feet. High five, Konrad! birkenstock.com.au

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o goodness Plonk your butt on it. Use it as a resting place for a piping hot mug. Wear it as a jaunty hat.

Roll two down a hill and take bets on which one will reach the bottom first. There are many ways to use this braided O-cushion from Ukrainian makers Ohhio. Find even more of them over at ohhio.com

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nice napery

just don’t do it

Much like the ‘good room’, the ‘nice napkins’ tend to be reserved for when special guests pop round for tea. The rest of their lives are spent holed up in the third drawer of the kitchen, laying idly between the fancy tablecloth inherited from your nan and a set of souvenir oven mitts bought on a long-forgotten summer holiday. But, friends, it’s time to liberate your napery from this enforced hibernation – because why hide such beauty away? If you’d like to kick off your napkin emancipation with these cotton lovelies from Norman Copenhagen, head to lightly.com.au – they’ll set you back $38 for a set of two.

We’re not massive fans of following the rules for no reason, but when someone insists you boycott activities involving bats, balls, clubs and the like, you’d better shut up and do what you’re told.

Brisbane illustrator Steven Rhodes understands this better than most, so he created a tote to keep us all on the straight and narrow. (The public service announcement is also available on mugs, t-shirts, stickers and cushions, for a more regular reminder.) $24, stevenrhodes.com.au

mark your words Good news, bookworms! You can finally throw out the old receipt you’ve been hoarding from that one time you bought a packet of Butter-Menthols at the milk bar in 2003! We’ve found a better way to mark your page – it’s made in Barcelona by an outfit called Octaevo and shaped like a pair of rather stylish frames.

Oh, and we have six of the metal bookmarks (rrp $22.95) to give away over at frankie.com.au/ win. Pretty cool, hey? milligram. com/octaevo

a collection about nothing Let’s all just agree that Elaine Benes is by far the best character in Seinfeld, then get on with admiring the spring range from Kiwi label twenty-seven names, inspired by the curlyhaired, Pez-loving lady herself. Yada Yada: the Collection About Nothing features loose floral dresses, crisp trousers, and skirts fit for dancing (or jerking awkwardly, as it were). See more at twentysevennames.co.nz

in your face On the one hand, we don’t endorse sticking flaming rods in anyone’s mouth. On the other, we’ve been told this striking ceramic gent is quite partial to the musky whiff of incense.

So, what are we to do? Deny him this simple scented pleasure? Seems unfair, if you ask us. If you tend to agree, head over to awaysaway.studio with around 33 bucks.

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a fruity computer

getting to know... odette What kinds of things inspire your music? My own experiences in daily life. Mostly, I write songs to digest whichever strong emotion I’ve been dealing with. Otherwise, it’s usually a story that has little fragments of my life, but is mostly fiction. Describe your sound in five words. Piano, fun, emotion, very good. Who are your biggest inspirations, musically or otherwise? I grew up listening to a lot of singer/ songwriters. Artists like Sia, Missy Higgins, Tracy Chapman, Florence and the Machine. In the past few years, I’ve also discovered artists like Laura Mvula and Joanna Newsom. What’s your go-to meal for a cosy night in? Soup. Hands down. With a side of crispy bread? Amazing. Aside from music, what are you good at? I’m good at drawing sometimes! I have good days and bad days. I’m also good at whistling, and speaking and reading backwards. Do you have any bad or annoying habits? I bite my nails and pick at my teeth if I’m anxious, which is literally every second of all the time. Best piece of advice you’ve ever been given?

“Fuck everybody else.” I don’t even remember where I heard that; I feel like maybe I was venting in the ladies’ room at some bar. It was probably a stranger, but bless her. What’s on the radar for you in 2019?

I want to try borscht and to play in even more cities.

Iisa Mönttinen spends half her life correcting people who call her Lisa – no, there’s no ‘L’, yes, there are two ‘I’s. Presumably, the rest of her time is spent painting up a storm in her hometown of Helsinki, Finland, creating beautiful watercolour artworks that are then printed on things like bedding, duffle bags and, in this case, snazzy zip-up pouches for lugging your laptop around. The citrusthemed computer jacket comes in two sizes, and will set you back around $52 to $55 at society6.com/artisan

mighty lasses unite It could be the club t-shirt for a group of fledgling, pigtailed weight-lifters, but we daresay Gemma Metcalfe-Beckers of UK brand Mutha.Hood had a more profound purpose in mind when she designed these Strong Girls Club tees.

Whether resilience or brawn is your power, you can pick one up from muthahoodgoods.com for around $42 – they even come in little-girl size and baby onesies so you can start building your gang of mighty ladies nice and early.

farn Like a bunch of proud parents, we love watching our Good Stuff award winners going from strength to strength. Take the latest range from Farn – aka 2018 fashion winner Amanda Farncomb – for instance. Designed, screen- printed and stitched up in Melbourne, it’s full of lovely linen, florals and flattering lines, with prices ranging from $89 to $299. Like what you see? Have a gander at farn.com.au

little building co.

English-born, Brisbane-based fella Marcus Bree has a knack for constructing tiny buildings, from classic Queenslanders with intricate decking to pint-sized miner’s cottages. This might have something to do with his degrees in engineering and three-dimensional design, but our gut tells us he’s also just a bit clever with his hands. Fancy popping a miniature abode on your full-size mantel? Mosey on over to littlebuildingco.com

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in the wings

the chill guild If you’re the kind of person who gets about saying, “No drama!” in response to any thanks or request, why not gather up a bunch of your equally cordial buds; find yourselves a very pleasant clubhouse; and snap up some of these No Drama Club mugs? All you need then is someone to politely call your first session to order, and you’re set. Around $19, darlingdistraction.com

meet lauren crago of solomon street How and why did Solomon Street come to be? It came from realising that, as just me, I had limited ways to help others.

If I could create something bigger than me, my reach would become limitless, and the impact worldwide. What types of things do you produce? Clothing made from natural fibres and recycled synthetic fibres. The summer range will focus on using a linen fabric to create clean lines and ’70s silhouettes.

In support of our slow living values, all pieces are transseasonal, including a new organic cotton yoga top and matching leggings.

What makes your designs unique? I love food and, having a background in graphic design, have always found fruit to be mesmerising in its colours and patterns. Each of my designs is hand-drawn in pencil – representing the way I see the beauty of the natural world. Where do you do most of your making? In my Adelaide home studio, looking out onto the veggie garden where chickens and rabbits roam around the citrus trees. I’m also a bit of a coffee fiend, so luckily there are some amazing (and welcoming!) cafés in my area that I love to go and spend time in. Talk us through your swimwear range. It’s designed to be the most comfortable set of togs you’ve ever slid into. The fabric is made from recycled fishing nets, cut and sewn by an Ethical Clothing Australia-accredited manufacturer in Adelaide. Where can we find your goodies? Online at solomonstreet.com. au, or at Finders Keepers in Melbourne from October 19 to 21. We have stalls at local markets in Adelaide, too, such as Gilles at the Grounds and Bowerbird Design Market. Any tips for running a successful market stall? Get to know your market neighbours!

I’ve made the most amazing friends and support crew by having a good ol’ yarn with the talented makers around me.

It’s a bird! It’s a plane!

Oh, no, we were right the first time, it is a bird – a wooden one by printmaker Bridget Farmer, to be exact. According to Bridget, she caught the birdy bug (not to be confused with the bird flu) while growing up in Ireland, observing and sketching the feathery chums. These days, from her headquarters in country Victoria, she hand-prints on plywood to make mobiles in the shape of magpies, swallows, willie wagtails and more.

See the full flock at bridgetfarmerprintmaker. com – each piece will set you back precisely $38.

nice catch

tipple toters These wine carriers sure do take things up a notch from the classic brown paper bag wrapped around a bottle of plonk.

Sure, they’re technically still paper, but th he kind that’s washable, and won’t result in n any forests being chopped down. Plus, th hey’re stitched by hand in a cottage in Tuscany, which is just about as lovely as ca an be. Should you fancy dangling one fr rom your arm at your next picnic, head to o uashmama.com.au with $49.

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Look, we don’t know when the next International Sock Design Awards are being held, but when they do pop up, we daresay these Nice Catch transparent lovelies by Coucou Suzette – aka Parisian designer Juliette Mallet – will sweep up all the gongs. We’re rather chuffed to have five pairs to give away (around $24 each), so if you’d quite like to wrap some (soon-to-be award-winning) socks around your tootsies, stop by frankie.com.au/win and wish with all your might. coucousuzette.com

frank bits

mutt ado about nothing hi get to know our cover artist, adelina lirius Tell us a bit about yourself, please. I work as an illustrator and designer in Stockholm, Sweden. I’ve always loved drawing. I got a box of coloured pencils when I was about four, and from then on I was hooked. I also love snorkelling; I find coral reefs fascinating. How do you describe your style of art? Detailed, playful and imaginary, with muted or earthy colour tones. Does Sweden influence your artwork at all? Yes, the nature here is beautiful, with many lakes and forests. The older architecture in Stockholm is beautiful, too, and since I love everything vintage with lots of history, I find those buildings and their carefully crafted details very inspiring. What are your favourite types of things to illustrate? I love to draw and paint people and their emotions, plus nature and buildings. I also like to illustrate a feeling or a dream, making them come to life though my art. Talk us through your creative process. After some research, I start by sketching different ideas on my iPad. When I’m happy with the design, I paint parts of it by hand with gouache or watercolour. I then continue drawing details digitally until I’m happy with the composition and colour. Sometimes I mix traditional media, and sometimes I create the whole piece digitally, depending what fits the project. What are you working on at the moment? I’m very excited to be illustrating a picture book. The process is rather new to me, but a very enjoyable one! The joy of diving in to the characters and creating different scenes makes time fly by very fast in the studio.

When life hands Hong Kong native Charlene Man a hunk of clay, she makes a kennel’s worth of pooches and gives them names like Bob ScratchIt, Sarah Jessica Barker and Bark Obama. Originally she crafted the ceramic canines for a dog-themed gallery show, but we’re sure glad she decided to share them with the world. Because they’re pretty ace to look at. Let’s just call it puppy love and be done with it. charleneman.tictail.com

in high spirits Things that look like other things are good things. That’s our general rule of thumb.

So we were more than a bit tickled to discover this gin bottle-shaped coin purse from London makers Tatty Devine.

After all, gin is one of the very goodest things of all (according to some people, not us, of course). It will set you back around $28 over at tattydevine.com, and won’t even leave you with a throbbing hangover. You beauty.

coming up roses Forget guns ‘n’ roses – the real rock ‘n’ roll pairing is a sturdy boot and the flower favoured by tattoo artists; menacing beasts with teapots as servants; and single folks on the hunt for love. Knowing this, Dr. Martens have created a Chelsea boot (rrp $269.99) featuring embroidered roses and their signature stitching, and we’re stoked to have a couple of pairs to give away. To get your mitts – or feet – on them, head to frankie.com.au/win and cross your fingers nice and tight.

(And don’t forget to tell us your shoe size!) drmartens.com.au

oh seven days Say g’day to Oh Seven Days – a Turkish label with a knack for making nicely tailored, high-waisted pants, among other things. They also know the value of a deep, easy-to-access pocket or four, and source their materials from unused ‘run-off’ fabric rolls, so they get brownie points for being environmentally friendly, too. High five! ohsevendays.com

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something to say Photo Lukasz Wierzbowski

Cars, it turns out, have meaning. Mine was crammed full of memories, as well as a lot of physical detritus that passengers had to sweep aside in order to sit. On an ill-advised overnight joyride to the country, an evil ex-boyfriend and I folded down the back seats and slept in total discomfort. On a poorly-planned Tasmanian holiday, I insisted on taking the slow and winding scenic roads and nearly missed the ferry home. One time, after years of pushing the empty tank to its absolute limit, I found myself suddenly stranded in the middle of a quiet suburban street, and had to hike to the nearest petrol station in disgrace.

braking up KATHERINE GILLESPIE BIDS FAREWELL TO HER BELOVED FIRST CAR.

Nowadays, adulthood is confusing and hard to define. Few traditional markers of maturity feel like they’re in reach. But owning a car actually suited my transient millennial lifestyle of inconsistent jobs and short-term leases – my car moved with me between no less than four sharehouses, split between two different states on opposite ends of the country. It was a means of independence when I felt like I had few. Even when my bank account chugged towards zero, I’d buy five dollars’ worth of petrol and cruise around the streets by myself, feeling somehow safe and in control, like the outside world couldn’t hurt me.

It took me ages to get my driver’s licence. I mean ages – if you’re one of the hundreds of people who gave me a lift to a party between the years 2010 and 2015, thanks for letting me drink in the back seat and sorry about all the terrible music I insisted on playing via aux cable.

Owning a car means being able to make moody solo trips through the suburbs late at night when you can’t sleep, blasting your favourite tunes and pretending you’re in a movie. It means litres of frozen Cokes from the drive-thru during impromptu beach days. It means every hard rubbish pile is a shopping centre where the price tags all say $0.00. It means, as the hundreds of dad-rock songs about driving on highways can corroborate, total freedom.

When I finally passed my test and bought a sensible secondhand hatchback that was nothing like the 1970s Datsun I actually wanted, I realised what I’d been missing out on. Driving rules. It’s the only hallmark of adulthood that actually lives up to expectation, maybe even surpasses it. (Having a credit card? Messy. Working full-time?

A cruel, cruel joke. Cooking your own meals? Occasionally fun, except you’re broke and tired due to the aforementioned factors, and therefore unlikely to enjoy it all that much.)

Not that there weren’t downsides. I never could get the hang of parallel parking, and oddly seemed to get worse at it over time.

And cars are exquisitely costly to run and maintain; it never made any financial sense whatsoever for me to own one. There were environmental downsides, too – my bicycle rarely made the cut when it came to choosing an I’m-late-for-work vehicle, and for that, I apologise. Still, I loved that car like an expensive, accident-prone child. Goodbye, old friend. May your next owner be more inclined to look over their shoulder while reversing.

All this is on my mind because I recently entered the throes of a mid- 20s crisis, sold said car, and moved overseas. I don’t have regrets, but I was surprised by how much it hurt to say goodbye to the vehicle I learnt to drive in. When I handed over the keys to my trusty little red four-door, with Gold FM as its first radio preset; a million stupid bumper stickers that would always peel off in the Melbourne rain; and some minor-ish dents that I still insist weren’t my fault, I was overcome by a near-physical pain, reminiscent of heartbreak.

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@thehellocup

music talks

Her first record, Chaleur Humaine (‘human warmth’), was released in both her native French and English, and has sold more than two million copies since 2014. It made her one of the biggest popstars in France, a country where her beliefs and identity often clashed with the way the music press wanted to handle pop artists. Héloïse is a pansexual woman who was not only inspired to make music with the encouragement of drag queens, but who boldly explores the trappings of gender and femininity in her lyrics and performance.

second life MEET FRENCH POP ICON CHRISTINE AND THE QUEENS. Words Brodie Lancaster

“In France, there’s a culture where queerness – and even feminism – is really hard to explain with nuance.” Often, she’ll be met with demands to explain the intricacies of gender identity and not asked a single question about her music. It’s an exhausting task. “I’m glad if I can educate, but at some point I felt like I was doing a job I didn’t have to do.”

In the music video for Christine and the Queens’ song “5 Dollars”, Héloïse Letissier hypnotically rolls the muscles in her spine, applies face cream with a slap, and ponders her outfit for the day. She settles on an intimidating leather harness, strapped over her tiny chest and hidden behind a boxy suit. She leaves the room, and we’re left wondering what – or maybe who – she’s about to conquer. She has transformed once again.

Four years since her debut, Christine and the Queens is releasing Chris, an album about “hungry, horny women” – a vaguely taboo idea that Héloïse is experimenting with through her presentation as a square-jawed hunk. In videos and live performances, she’s like a gang leader who’s never seen a gang outside of Michael Jackson videos and the finger-snapping Sharks and Jets of West Side Story.

It’s all choreographed machismo, reminding us how much of gender is rooted in the performance of confidence and arbitrary visual markers like hair-length.

Héloïse grew up a wildly shy kid. Her parents – Mum a French and Latin teacher and Dad a professor of Victorian-era literature – encouraged her to live an internal life in the company of book characters. Following a break-up and spiral into depression in her early 20s, she wandered into a London drag club. What happened next has become the folkloric origin story of France’s most exciting popstar: a band of drag queens plucked the heartbroken 22-year-old waif out of the crowd and instructed her not to care about other people’s opinions of her. That was the day, she says, that her life truly began.

“By exploring that, I actually got in touch with my femininity; I was showing more of my body as a woman, but with a set of clothes that made it macho. I like how easy it is to subvert gender. It can be just a tiny detail or a way to behave that’s unexpected.”

Héloïse called this new confident, wise iteration of herself ‘Christine’ and, in tribute to the performers who ripped the ennui right out of her, pluralised her stage name. Christine and the Queens was born. “When Christine arrived in my life, it was more of a survival technique than a character for me,” Héloïse explains.

“I allowed myself to be empowered for the first time. I put a name on it. Christine is a way I can be extremely fragile and extremely strong, but it’s very much always me.”

Emboldened by gender chameleons like Michael Jackson and David Bowie, Héloïse examines these ideas through the lens of pop.

“I love working in a format that can be really popular. Because of who I am, what I have to say and how I identify, I’m more like an outsider.” But, given its accessibility, pop music can be the ultimate Trojan Horse: a vehicle for big ideas and scary human truths, hidden inside something unexpected. Like a harness worn beneath a double-breasted suit jacket.

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Made at Shillington Shillington’s innovative approach to design education means students can achieve amazing results in a seriously short amount of time.

In 3 months full-time or 9 months part-time you’ll graduate with a polished portfolio of commercial work, ready to land your dream job. Make your creative career with Shillington. shillingtoneducation.com

shillington_

Student work by Petra Venturini

New York • London • Manchester Sydney • Melbourne • Brisbane

something to say

to the edges; stopping in the middle of the road to pick up five cents; strapping my laptop to my body like a drug mule so airline staff won’t include it in my cabin luggage weight; eating a questionable kebab that gave me gastro for two weeks instead of chucking it out, because it cost me $7; and only throwing out underwear I’ve had for 10 years because the elastic is so worn I have to tuck it into my arse-crack for it to hold. I don’t get the appeal of brands and status; my favourite boutique store is Chemist Warehouse. Recently someone asked me which high-fashion labels I liked best, and I had to google ‘high fashion’ because I’ve only just broken the habit of exclusively buying clothes from the sale section.

in a tight spot MICHELLE LAW IS A PENNY-PINCHER, AND PROUD.

So, why do I subject myself to these cost-saving measures? I’m certainly not poor. I mean, yes, I have lived below the poverty line for most of my adult life, but I’m privileged as hell: I’ve never been without a roof over my head, and relatively speaking, I’m basically a millionaire compared to most people in the world. I just can’t stand seeing things go to waste, and I hate being ripped off. As the kid of migrants who lived through poverty, the value of things was instilled in me from the get go, and those habits are hard to shake. My sister still only uses one light when she’s home to save electricity. My grandma uses the foam trays from pre-packaged meat as coasters.

When my mum snuck into the business lounge, she stole half a dozen boiled eggs and stuffed her purse full of bread rolls.

Hello, everyone. My name is Michelle. And I’m a cheapskate.

It’s remarkable that it’s taken me so long to admit this – the signs have always been there. Just ask any of my childhood friends who rudely refused my requests to shove their pockets full of free bread samples any time we passed a Baker’s Delight; or any boyfriend who’s waited patiently on a bench while I spent hours in a dollar store, only to emerge empty-handed because “nothing was on sale”.

Have a rummage through either of my two bags (I have more bags, but they were expensive and are therefore kept in storage, to be used only for special occasions like my wedding day or funeral) and you’ll find them filled with fistfuls of serviettes from McDonald’s, or packets of crumbs that were once complimentary biscuits from a Qantas flight. (Note: I only fly Qantas for work. Normally you’ll find me on Tiger, the airline-of-choice for flaming bags of trash like myself.)

People may snigger and call this behaviour undignified, but I’ve only ever seen it as resourceful and practical, and sort of impressive, to be honest. I’ve never felt like I’m being mean to myself, and my cost-cutting measures have led to long-term benefits. I’ve been able to indulge in other more significant ways, like paying for private health insurance and buying a new car and phone outright.

I’ve put together care packages for my friends when they’re sick; I can afford treats for myself when I’m having a bad day, and I think massages are worth every penny. Maybe one day I’ll have saved enough to feel like I can stop stealing toiletries from hotels, or even book myself onto a Qantas flight for leisure. However, that seems pretty unlikely. This trash bag never forgets her roots.

People have ridiculed me over my cheapness. So, if you’re going to judge, I strongly discourage you from reading the following list of cheapskate activities in which I’ve engaged, including but not limited to: stealing teabags and toilet rolls from hotels; cutting open empty toothpaste tubes to access the paste that gets stuck

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thefinderskeepers.com

creative people

four nice people tell us about the time they cast their lives aside to start again.

INTERVIEWS SOPHIE KALAGAS

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CASSIE LUCAS

I worked in landscape architecture for around seven years. If you think about architecture and all the elements that go into that, it’s the same thing, but outside, from residential design to public parks. My interest was always in more temporary spaces, like art installations – it makes a lot of sense to me now.

I worked in an office in Amsterdam for two years, giving landscape architecture a red hot go. When I came back, I got a job teaching at RMIT. There’d be book and exhibition launches, and because I’d always worked in a deli, it was my job to get cheese and salami and stuff like that. They asked me to do a party for 250 people, and I was like, “Sure, let’s give it a go.” I loved that I could create the atmosphere; do all the visual stuff; collaborate with lots of people – that was a light bulb moment.

I never said, “Today, I’m starting Firecracker.” It was more of an organic thing that happened over about 18 months. Firecracker is a food and events business. We do styling, planning, graphic design, stationery – that kind of thing. I love creating feelings at different events through food and props.

It was a hard decision to leave landscape architecture. I was proud of the work I’d been doing, and felt like I was part of something. I was worried what people would think of me, giving up this ‘proper job’ for more casual stuff. But it got to the point where I was like, why keep working on someone else’s business and helping them grow, while only spending 50 per cent of my time and energy on my thing? Then it’ll never be anything, will it?

Over time, I’ve learnt to ask for help. I didn’t do it at the beginning; I’m severely independent, to my detriment. I’ve become open to delegating and saying, “I’m struggling, can you help me?” Building a business has given me a great confidence and belief in myself. When I started Firecracker, I was basically working out of a home office, hiring a kitchen on a needs basis. Now, we’ve nearly finished fitting out our second space. We’ve worked for some amazing people. Without a doubt, I made the right decision.

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Photo Bri Hammond

Going full-time on Firecracker in 2013 was petrifying. I was so scared. I didn’t have much cash in the bank, and didn’t know how it would go. The hardest thing was doing everything. With a small business, you’re the accountant, the business manager, the kitchen manager and the admin assistant. I hadn’t really prepared myself for all that. I had no interest in accounting or bookwork; I still don’t.

DANIEL GRAY-BARNETT GRAY BARNETT

I never knew what I wanted to do for a career. At school, my marks were pretty good all round, and I had this big science versus art dilemma – I didn’t know what the career options were for the art path, though. People with good enough marks usually did medicine or law, so they seemed like obvious options. My parents were pretty happy I was thinking about medicine – they didn’t push me, but they wanted me to do my best, and something that would be good for me.

Medical science is a three-year degree. Most people go on to do post-graduate medicine, so that was my plan. It was really interesting, because you do stuff like anatomy and playing with cadavers, but about halfway through, I felt like I was just going through the motions. Other people were really excited about what they were doing, but I didn’t feel the same. It made me realise I didn’t want it as badly, and maybe I shouldn’t be a doctor if that was the case. I finished the course, but only because I didn’t know what else to do.

Photo Carine Thévenau. Thanks to Dimitri’s Pizzeria

I worked for a pharmaceutical company for a few years. The pay was good, but it wasn’t making me happy. I wanted to feel excited about going to work every day.

I’d always liked music and playing instruments; I was really into bands and went to a lot of gigs. One day, I was googling and found that TAFE did a music business course, so I decided to quit my job and go back to study.

People were like, “You’re so brave to quit, it must be really hard.” For me, it would be much harder to stay. This seemed like an easy decision, to do something I wanted.

I was 25 when I went back to TAFE. Because I’d been through one round of study, I knew what was expected of me, and was a bit more focused. Trying to juggle work and TAFE while paying rent and bills was a bit of a hurdle, but I worked shifts at a pub on weekends to get by.

The music business course helped me figure out what I ultimately wanted to do.

I had to make a fake gig poster as an assignment, and loved it – that got me looking into illustration, which sounded perfect for me. It’s so unrealistic for kids to choose what they want to study straight out of school. There’s a lot you just don’t know about. People change their minds all the time, and it’s totally OK to do that. Just find something that matters to you.

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LYNDAL KILGANNON

I met my ex on RSVP. We dated and moved in fairly quickly; it got serious, and we talked about getting married a lot, so we saved up for a house, then ran away to New York to elope. It was so much fun! We’d been together for 10 or 11 years by that point.

A few months later, I was like, something isn’t right. It was a quiet voice in my gut that I couldn’t ignore. I had the house, dogs, a good job, and now the husband. I thought, this is it, I’ve got everything I’ve been told I should have – but something was off. We gave it about a year, then I said, “You know as well as I do, I’m calling it.” Neither of us was happy, so I moved out. It was so confronting.

I never dreamed I’d be single and alone at 33. Giving up my ‘perfect life’ to start again from scratch – what the heck?

I had to learn the dating game again, it was really bizarre. The guys I met were so full on – they wanted wives, and it was all a bit much. I thought, just do what you love; you’re not half a person looking to be completed. Know yourself, find out who you are, get a busy life, then go back to it. It’s been really good, because now I know it’s OK not to say yes to a second date. Just have fun with it and see where it goes, without any expectations.

When you’re part of a team for so long, the biggest thing is getting to know yourself in such an independent way. Rediscovering who I am as a person has been a huge upside of this change. Also, the unexpected gifts – meeting new people (as crazy as some of them are), and friendships that have become so much deeper. I’ve learnt that nothing lasts forever, but not in a bad way. It means you don’t take anything for granted, and really live in the moment, appreciating what you’ve got. I never thought this is where I’d be at this time in my life, but I’m really, genuinely happy.

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Photo Carine Thévenau. Thanks to Rustic Pearl café

It was appealing and terrifying at once. I felt very isolated, because all my friends were in long-term relationships, getting married, having kids. Meanwhile, no one was obliged to check in to see how I was doing; if there were financial problems, there was no back-up, just me. But how many people get a second chance to create the life of their dreams, knowing exactly who they are and what they like? That was amazing – I could do whatever I wanted; I could live overseas, take a new job, anything.

AI NISHIMOTO

I am 100 per cent Japanese – I’ve lived my whole life in Osaka. I was born there, worked as an artist there, and in other hospitality jobs. Some friends moved to Japan from other countries, and I loved speaking English with them. I’m also really interested in the art culture in other places, so I decided I wanted to live somewhere else.

I met some people from Melbourne in Osaka. I also searched the internet for artists I liked, and many of them lived in Melbourne, too. I thought, I should go there! I’d never been to Australia before. I was so nervous, because I’d never lived anywhere except with my family.

When I moved here nearly two years ago, the biggest hurdle was the language.

It’s hard to understand the Australian accent – in Japan, we learn with an American accent. I was very confused at first. My friend here introduced her friends to me, and I was so lucky, because I found a sharehouse in just five days. I was worried I couldn’t live with other people, but it was so nice, because I got lots of information from my flatmates, and they were really kind and funny.

I found a job at a local café. It was hard to communicate, but I’d worked in hospitality before, so I knew what to do. My co-workers asked about Japanese culture; they were very kind. I taught them some Japanese and practised my English, so we had an exchange. For me, food was the most foreign thing. Japanese food here is so expensive! I’m really interested in vegan and vegetarian cooking – it’s hard to find in Japan, because people eat everything.

Photo Bri Hammond

I was most excited about starting from scratch as an artist in another country.

In Japan, I was doing work by myself; Japanese people like to be alone. Here, I collaborated with my friend – it’s a new way to work for me. It’s more relaxed and easier to communicate. Many people understood my work, I was surprised.

I’m proud of my life here. I have lots of good memories, like going to the river to swim and feeling part of nature. I’m a student now, studying business and marketing. I got more confidence in myself, and had many challenges. Sometimes I feel homesick, but not often. I miss my friends and family, but we keep in contact by the internet, so I feel better these days. The best advice for someone moving somewhere new is to be positive and expect good things. It took around a year, but Melbourne feels like home.

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creative people

if nostalgia were colored brown washington d.c. artist nakeya brown explores black beauty and identity in her nostalgic snaps.

INTERVIEW SOPHIE KALAGAS

grease, gel, dryers, rollers, satin scarves – objects that have a presence in black beauty rituals. I build an environment around the scale, shape and colour of an object.

Tell us, what’s the concept behind your series If Nostalgia Were Colored Brown? If Nostalgia Were Colored Brown uses objects associated with home life and beautification processes as building blocks in constructing identity and black feminine spaces of self-care.

I’m interested in the language and connective power of objects.

Each tableau is a place where intimacy, womanhood, culture and blackness are brought together to cultivate a sense of nostalgia.

Have you ever rocked any of the styles depicted on the record sleeves? I currently wear a half-blonde afro!

Tell us a bit about the palette you’ve used. It’s so bright and colourful! Why did you make that choice? I wanted a work that was emotive and celebratory on impact – not critical, not demonising, not overly sexualised. I wanted to put the joy and magic of black womanhood in the formal components of my photos, because without work of this nature, we as black women lose an uplifting facet of our narrative.

The vibe of the pictures is very ’60s or ’70s, when afro hair was all the rage and very much a political statement. How do you feel looking back at that time, compared to now? In a lot of my work, I draw inspiration from the pains and joys of the African-American experience. Looking back, I’m in awe of how those complexities manifested into a groovy, conscious, soulful and richly beautiful aesthetic that shaped an entire cultural identity. I embrace and hold onto the way our cultural production of the mid-century has influence even 50 years later.

How do you want the viewer to feel while looking at these images? That black women are beautiful and have been beautiful for generations.

What is your own experience of the hairdresser as a young black girl, and later, woman? Up until college, either my mum or a stylist handled my hair, which had been chemically processed for much of my time as a girl. I didn’t see afros much, but I saw braid styles quite a bit. I’ve had memorable experiences of bonding, and not-so-great ones, too. I’m a mother of one, soon to be two young girls. I hope the experiences my daughters have will be different – hopefully there’ll be a wider variety of representation and the mainstream perceptions of beauty will be more inclusive.

More broadly, how do you use photography to explore race and gender? The truth is, the medium of photography and the way it’s been historicised erases the voices of women and people of colour.

We’re often subjects without power, or incredibly devoted producers that don’t receive recognition and accolades. I make images that pull from my experiences as a black woman, in order to push against the invisibility narrative.

Who are some other photographers or artists of colour you’re inspired by? Photography-wise, Lorna Simpson, Barbara Katzen, Carrie Mae Weems, Mickalene Thomas and Deana Lawson inspire me. Writers such as Maya Angelou, bell hooks and Audre Lorde are inspirations, too.

Describe the process of putting the shoot together. Did you have specific items in mind, or was it more a case of ‘you’ll know it when you see it’? I’ve been making these stills since 2014. It’s always been a process of seeking in real time. I’ve never purchased any props on eBay or anything; mostly they were sourced at various vintage shops and thrift stores. I have a set of rules when I’m searching: the vinyl record sleeve has to be very image-focused with an R&B soul diva on the cover. The tools are typically combs,

What’s something we should know about you? I’m not just a photographer. I also teach middle school photography, art and film.

When I’m really inspired, I write, as well.

Where can we see more of your work? nakeyabrown.com

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learn something new Photo Classicstock

the science of anger

up, making us breathe faster, and literally heating our bodies.

We might even go red in the face and get a bit sweaty.

SOMETIMES RAGE CAN BE GOOD FOR YOU. JUST PLEASE DON’T PUNCH ANYONE WHO GETS IN YOUR WAY.

But, as demonstrated by the fact that we’ve all misplaced a Freddo without massacring anyone, we needn’t act on this chemical rage.

If we’re lucky, our cerebral cortex kicks in – the brain part that enables us to control our instincts with judgment and soothing anger management mantras. Everyone’s heads remain attached to their bodies, and we all live to get angry another day.

Words Jo Walker

Many scientists think genetics are an important factor in angermaking, and German researchers have even found the gene mutations that make some of us more likely to rant and swear and tell others to perform unlikely sex acts on their mums. In news that will shock no one, evolutionary psychologists reckon men are more prone to getting angry than women, since, in the classic caveman scenario, a big angry guy is more likely to see off marauders, stop a war, or just get a bigger slice of giant prehistoric wombat barbeque.

Whether you’re feeling mildly stabby or in a full-on Hulk rage, psychologists reckon there are three basic reasons to get angry: when expectations aren’t met (the last Freddo you thought was in the fridge is no longer there); when something is seen as a threat (that tailgating arsehole on the freeway who doesn’t understand safe braking distance); or when attempting to hide other emotions (I’m not crying, I can’t let anyone else see I have the sads!).

Even in non-wombat barbeque times, anger can help us get what we want. Specifically, it can give us an edge in creativity: research in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology shows that anger makes our thoughts less structured and systematic, which can lead to creative outcomes. So maybe pick up a paintbrush next time you feel a bit punchy – you could have a non-systematic hit on your hands.

Studies out of the University of Massachusetts show most of us get angry at least several times a week, if not several times a day.

Which is maybe not surprising, when there’s so much to get the irrits about. Adults, apparently, get most stroppy when they’re feeling out of control, while kids will resort to tantrums when frustrated (that damn missing Freddo!). Even babies are wired for fury – from an evolutionary standpoint, they need to be. Getting angry means people are more likely to give you what you want, especially if that’s a dry nappy and a nice drink of milk.

Feeling the rage when we don’t get what we want also helps us focus on our goals – when the world is against us, we’re more likely to be motivated to prove those haters wrong. One experiment in Boston showed that angry people tend to pay more attention to rewards than threats. Participants were made to write about a rage-inducing memory while being played angry music for five minutes, then they were shown two pictures: one depicting a knife-wielding maniac; the other a couple getting all sexy.

An eye-tracking device monitored which they paid most attention to, and the sexy times won. Proving angry people are good at shutting out obstacles and going for what they want. Hopefully in a healthy and non-stabby way.

Once an outside angrifying event occurs, it’s dealt with in our amygdalae – two small, nut-shaped parts of the brain that process emotions – which trigger the production of neurotransmitters called adrenaline and noradrenaline. These give us energy and strength for several minutes, basically prepping us to punch on if needs be. Our muscles tense and our heart rate increases, forcing blood pressure

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• Idea Generation and Innovation • Leading with Vision, Purpose and Values • Understanding Finance • Negotiating Pricing and Contracts • Collaborative Sales, Marketing and PR • Managing the Budget and Business Information • Cultural Communication and Behaviour • Managing the Growth Process

{

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our project

spent on the remote Thai-Burma border in 2007, where he ended up building 40 playgrounds in two years. “There was this endless desire from the local community to improve their schools,” he says.

“Teachers aren’t stupid. They know that rote-learning doesn’t work, because you’re stopping the child from doing what they naturally want to do at that age: learn through play.”

playground ideas MARCUS VEERMAN IS ON A MISSION TO PROVE THAT CHILD’S PLAY IS THE MOST SERIOUS BUSINESS.

The focus of Marcus’s playgrounds is imaginative play. “Most playgrounds are devoted to physical and sports play, but if you’re missing that extra imaginary element, you’re missing out on all the social and brain development that free-form play can provide.”

This means playgrounds built from recycled and familiar materials; spaces that reflect the local community, but can also be altered by the kids using it. Think rocks, car tyres, rolls of carpet, computer keyboards, rope and long planks of wood. “Stuff like that is genius for kids, because they can build cubbies or cars or sit around and have a picnic. That act of creation is so powerful in developing kids’ brains.”

Words Luke Ryan

We are, it seems, in the midst of a severe global playtime drought.

A 2016 study showed that the average child in the UK spent less time outside than a maximum security prisoner. One-in-nine children hasn’t set foot in a park in at least a year, and a third have never played in mud. In general, kids spend less than half the time their parents did outdoors, and when they do escape, it’s to closely supervised playgrounds where the range of imaginative play is severely constrained. In developing nations, the problem is even worse. Underfunded schools rely almost exclusively on rote-learning, while impoverished communities lack the space and time for children to explore, play and be themselves.

So far, Playground Ideas has helped build more than 2000 playgrounds, servicing one million children in places as diverse as Cambodia, Guatemala, India, Ghana and Kazakhstan. There’s no single formula for these setups – each one is dictated by the resources the communities have on hand, as well as the kids’ background and location. “I remember one playground we made for the cancer ward of a Philippines hospital. It had slides and a cubby house, but also a makeshift doctor’s surgery and pharmacy, because that’s what these kids needed in order to explore their lives.”

For Marcus Veerman, founder and CEO of not-for-profit Playground Ideas, the evaporation of playtime is more than just a question of parenting philosophy – it’s an issue with profound, lifelong ramifications. “The research is clear: for every dollar we spend on play provision for children below school age, society receives an eightdollar return.” Apparently, early play interventions improve children’s social skills, self-control and problem-solving abilities, leading to a 44 per cent rise in high-school graduations; a 42 per cent rise in yearly earnings; and a significant reduction in family breakdown.

Ultimately, play cuts to the core of what it means to be a child.

“We think of schools as being solely dedicated to the provision of information,” Marcus says, “but that feels so limited. I think if we could expand our thinking to bring in some of the lessons of the playground, it wouldn’t just be good for kids in the long run – it would elevate childhood to a whole new level.” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Playground Ideas is Marcus’s contribution to the power of play – an online resource centre offering blueprints, information and on-theground assistance to people trying to construct playgrounds in some of the world’s most impoverished areas. The idea grew out of time

Playground Ideas was a community finalist in the 2018 frankie Good Stuff awards.

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crafty

a fine print

the final product will be flipped and mirrored, which is particularly important if you’re printing words!

TRY YOUR HAND AT A LITTLE HOME LINOCUTTING.

Start with a 20x20cm square block and cut out the main 18x18cm circle, keeping the extra lino for the next step. Then, carve out all the lines, as well as four circles where the coloured flowers will go. Feel free to experiment with different tips on your lino cutter.

Some have small tips for tiny details, and others have wider tips for carving out bigger areas.

Words and project Richelle Bergen

After the main design is carved, grab four smaller pieces of lino (the bits left over from the beginning should do). These will become the coloured flowers. Choose a simple flower shape and carve four of them, the same sizes as the small circles in your main block.

MATERIALS paper / soft lead pencil / ezy cut printing block or artist’s linoleum block / linoleum cutters / piece of glass or plastic inking plate / a brayer (a roller made for printmaking) / printmaking ink (we used black and yellow ochre) / printmaking paper / baren or wooden spoon

Next, place a few blobs of black ink onto a smooth piece of glass or plastic (the front of an old picture frame works well). Using your brayer, roll the ink out until it’s evenly spread on the glass. Then, with your inked brayer, roll the black onto your carved block. Make sure to cover every part of the block evenly. You don’t need a lot of ink – in fact, less is more!

HOW TO Start by drawing your design onto a piece of paper with a soft lead pencil. Your drawing should be the same size you want your final print to be. (We used an 18x18cm circle.)

Take a piece of printmaking paper and carefully lay it over the top of your inked block. Using the back of a wooden spoon, a baren or your fist, apply even pressure to the back of the paper. Then, carefully lift up the paper to see your print!

Once your drawing is complete, lay it pencil-side down onto your lino or ezy cut block. Then, carefully rub your fingers across the back of the paper to transfer the drawing to the block. (A soft lead pencil and dark lines help the drawing to transfer better.) You could also skip this step entirely and carefully draw right onto the block – just be sure not to dent it with your pencil tip, as it will show up in your final print!

Wait till the black ink is dry to do the flowers. Get your accent colour ready using the same process as with the black – dab it on the glass, then spread it out with the brayer. (You can use the same brayer as before, just make sure to properly wash and dry it first.) There’s just one difference while printing the flowers: instead of placing the paper onto the block, you should press the block onto the paper like a stamp. This allows you to place the flowers perfectly.

Once your drawing is transferred, it’s time to begin carving. The basic principle of block-printing is that anything you carve away will be white (or the colour of your paper) and anything left will be the colour of your ink. If you’re making your own design, remember

Once carved, your lino blocks can be used to make as many prints as you want. You could even gift them to family and friends so they can get their own craft on!

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real life

nice work if you can get it keelia fitzpatrick from the young workers centre helps us figure out how not to get stuck in a shit job.

WORDS SUZI TAYLOR

FIRST IMPRESSIONS COUNT If you’re asked in an interview which team you bat for, whether you have kids, or big plans for your reproductive bits any time soon, that’s not just awkward chit-chat, it’s also illegal. “Our Anti-Discrimination Act states that a person can’t be discriminated against for a job on the basis of age, race, sexuality, parenthood status or any other thing that has nothing to do with the actual tasks they’d be responsible for,” Keelia says.

“Legally, an employer isn’t allowed to ask about any of these things, in relation to your application or your employment in general.” That first interview can also help you suss out the vibe about a place, so keep your eye out for any warning signs. Does your interviewer look about as inspired as a steamed dim sim sitting in a switched-off bain-marie? Do they use phrases like, “We work hard and play hard”?

(Translation: we’ll work the bejesus out of you, then shame you if you don’t attend Friday night drinks and laugh at our jokes.) According to Keelia, other flaming red flags include “dissing your predecessor in the role, and wriggling out of answering questions about career progression and professional development opportunities”.

work for me. And on weekends, I’m going to steal a little bit more.’”

You could also ask your potential new boss whether they provide pay slips. If not, chances are you’re off the books. “If you’re getting cash in hand or a pay slip that doesn’t contain a breakdown of your ordinary rate plus penalty rates, super and tax, they’re probably not calculating any of those things,” Keelia explains.

CURIOUS ABOUT CULTURE Walking into a workplace with a culture of extensive overtime, unchecked bullying or bigoted humour could be as risky to your health and wellbeing as slips, trips and physical hazards. It’s trickier to suss this out in advance – but not impossible, Keelia says. “When you inquire about the job, just ask straight up: ‘How would you describe the work culture here?

What do you value, as a team? What’s the expectation of unpaid overtime, and do you encourage people to leave on time and take breaks? Do you have policies on bullying and sexual harassment, and can you give me an example of how you’ve put these into practice?’” Chances are, if they’re not thoughtful and proactive about setting a positive workplace culture, they won’t have much to say about it. “Culture and values need to be articulated and enforced, so find out if that’s happening.” If you’re offered a role but want to suss out who you’ll be working with, you could organise to go for a coffee or visit the office before you make a call. After all, you’ll be spending a lot of time with these humans, and as current employees, they can give you a (hopefully) honest account.

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY To be clear: payment means actual money.

As the world doesn’t subsist in a gift-based economy, it’s not OK for the pub owner who’s hired you for an acoustic set to pay you in beer and chicken parmas. You can’t pay your rent with a piece of golden fried poultry, so don’t be shy – whether the pay rate is advertised or not, ask before you apply. “There are pretty clear laws stating what the minimum wage is; what the penalty rates are for weekends and public holidays; and how much superannuation you should be getting,” Keelia says. “If the boss tells you they can’t afford to pay their staff the minimum award or penalty rates, that’s basically them saying, ‘I’m going to steal a bit from you every single hour you

EXPLORING THE NEW DIGS You probably wouldn’t sign a lease on a new home without at least checking out some pictures, so why not take a look at the place you’ll be spending most of your working week? “You’re entitled to know what the setup is, so ask

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real life Photo Twentieth Century Fox

SIGNING ON THE DOTTED LINE Before you dive head-first into a new job, you need something signed off by your boss that outlines the basics of what you’re in for – like what your role entails (to avoid any rude shocks on day one); where you’ll be working (so you can plan your trip from home); how much you get paid; your start and finish times, plus breaks; and what terms you’re being employed on (is it casual, contract, full-time?). “This is something you should totally ask for to help you decide whether to accept the job,” Keelia says. “It’ll give you a pretty good insight into what you can expect, and it’s in writing, so they can’t claim something different down the line. Don’t be afraid to ask for more detail if it’s light on in any of those non-negotiable areas.”

for a tour before you seal the deal,” Keelia says. “I’d be asking myself: is this workspace safe, practical, appropriate and, finally, would I actually be happy to work here, day in, day out?” You can also get a sense of dress code while you’re there – a detail that could matter more than you might think. “It seems superficial,” Keelia says, “but it can tell you a lot about who you’re working for, especially in industries like hospitality, which is rife with outdated and totally sexist notions of how female employees, in particular, should look.” Again, it’s something you can broach with your interviewer – if they suggest ‘less is more’ but you’re not actually applying for a life modelling gig, walk away. If you’re required to don something that could jeopardise your wellbeing – think high heels when you’re waiting tables all night – again, you might want to give it a miss.

THE PACKAGE DEAL Overall, a job hunt is about knowing your worth, and not entering a situation that could ultimately do you harm – physically, mentally, emotionally or financially. “If you think of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs – survival down the bottom, fulfilment up top – the basic needs should be taken care of first in a workplace,” Keelia says. “Even if you don’t have high expectations of fulfilment from the job you’re doing right now, you deserve, at the very least, to get the minimum wages and entitlements that our legal systems provide to all workers.”

There’s no point campaigning your boss for beanbags, nap pods and a cat-petting relaxation room if your basic workplace is unsafe or everyone’s being underpaid. Laws around fair pay and safe working conditions haven’t just magically materialised – they’ve been fought for by generations of trade union activists. “These rights and entitlements are only meaningful if we’re prepared to put them into practice and hold people – usually bosses – to account,” Keelia says.

SAFETY FIRST Occupational health and safety is about more than hard hats and closed-toe shoes. “Find out what kind of training your employer plans to provide,” Keelia says. “It’s their job to make sure you have support and know the procedures to work safely, so they legally have to provide those things – especially if you’re working with anything hot, heavy, dangerous, or money-related.” It’s also on them to give you the gear you need to do your job risk-free. If you broach these topics in advance, only to be met with a blank face, count that as a sign of how much (or little) they’ve got your back. Meanwhile, if you’re in one of those cash-in-hand roles we mentioned, it’s worth noting you’re less likely to have quick access to WorkCover if you’re injured on the job. “Even though they still have a legal duty of care, they’re not going to be falling over themselves to put in a claim if you’re not even meant to exist,” Keelia says.

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sophie-beer.com • frankie.com.au

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new year’s eve

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Illustration: Caitlin Shearer.

issue 87 on sale

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NOTES

hi there, 2019 frankie’s diary and calendar are now on sale!

doubles as a nature al journal

shop online frankie.com.au/2019 or find your local stockist frankie.com.au/find

rant

changing tune

Traditionally, the loudest critics have come down hard on rap music, proclaiming it to be profane and hateful. Yet there’s barely a murmur when it comes to unsettling pop songs of days gone by. We somehow overlook creepy comments when they’re accompanied by a funky tune. So, I’ve decided to take it upon myself to rewrite some of the more alarming lyrics.

DANIEL MOORE REWRITES SOME OF HISTORY’S CREEPIEST POP LYRICS.

First off the bat, Sting and his ironically named band, The Police:

Every breath you take; Every move you make; Every bond you break; Every step you take; I’ll totally respect your personal space and do everything I can to ensure I don’t make you feel unsafe.

Who doesn’t love a good ditty? A song to make you happy, or to soothe a wounded soul when you’re feeling down. We make mixtapes for crushes and have sing-alongs on road trips. Some songs are guilty pleasures, others prompt memories of good times gone by.

But not all songs are what they seem. For every sweet serenade full of touching sentiment, there’s a tune with a hidden whiff of sinister intent. What is it about a catchy chorus that makes us forgive the fact some lyrics are creepy as fuck?

Oh, can’t you see?

You belong to (no one, you’re your own person and you’re strong and independent); My poor heart aches (but I have a good support network of friends to call on when things get really bad and definitely won’t emotionally dump on you or manipulate you into feeling bad for me); With every step you take (which I’m definitely not aware of because I’m giving you the time and space you expect and deserve).

I read somewhere that music ‘back in the day’ was ‘nicer’ and less offensive. However, after taking a closer look, I’m not so sure. While The Beatles sang about wanting to hold your hand, Freddie Mercury confessed to first-degree murder… to his mother, no less.

Then there’s Bob Marley’s sweet little tale of kindness:

I high-fived the sheriff; And then I hugged the deputy (and definitely no one got shot, because I value and respect the law and those who enforce it).

Bruce Springsteen, performer of palatable and uplifting rock anthems, similarly decided to be an A-grade creep when he sang: “Hey little girl, is your daddy home? / Did he go away and leave you all alone? / I got a bad desire, I’m on fire,” during one of his supposedly metaphor-filled songs. (Seems suss, mate.)

Granted, my versions aren’t as catchy, but I think there’s merit to them. I get that music is an art form, and a tale of murder and mayhem doesn’t necessarily reflect a real-life desire to engage in those activities, but I also reckon there’s a fair argument for making our popular tunes a bit less rapey. Some songs are just too jaunty for their own good. They trick you into ignoring the lyrics and, before you know it, you’re humming along gleefully about burying a loved one.

I’m looking at you, Nick Cave.

Billy Ocean was even more brazen with his boorish behaviour, insisting some random hottie get out of his dreams and into his car – which sounds less like a love song and more like the demands of the world’s creepiest Uber driver.

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style

you little ripper jump, skip and frolic about in these fresh warm-weather threads.

PHOTOGRAPHS BRI HAMMOND ART DIRECTION AIMEE CARRUTHERS PHOTO ASSISTANT TATANJA ROSS ART ASSISTANT ABBEY RICH MODEL ZEINA AT FOLK

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Farn Relaxed jacket, rrp $299, farn.com.au.

Things We Lost Petra top, rrp $69.95, thingswelost. com.au. Insight Zambi pant in yellow, rrp $89.95, generalpants.com.

Dr. Martens Smooth boot in white, rrp $249.99, drmartens.com.au

Perfect Stranger buttonfront top in tan, rrp $49.95, universalstore.com. CLDL Liaison high-waist pant, rrp $149, clientliaison. fashion. Atmos&Here Abigail leather sandals, rrp $89.95, theiconic.com.au. Rust Spot hard headband, rrp $16.95, sportsgirl.com.au

Lee quilted bomber in khaki, rrp $159.95, leejeans.com.au.

Vege Threads organic classic tee in rust, rrp $79, vegethreads.com.

Insight Tyler wide-leg crop blue jean, rrp $89.95, generalpants. com. Token Dion sock in mustard yellow, rrp $12.95, universalstore. com. Superga Linea Up and Down platform sneakers in white, rrp $99.95, gluestore.com.au. Pared Lime & the Coconut sunglasses in berry, rrp $250, paredeyewear.com

Arnsdorf Blanca blouse in white, rrp $380, arnsdorf. com.au. Limb July pant in caper, rrp $279, limbthelabel.com. Gorman Sun Flower ankle socks, rrp $14, gormanshop.com.au.

Dr. Martens Smooth 3-eye shoe in black, rrp $229.99, drmartens.com.au

Good Studios hemp jersey tank in bell pepper, rrp $75, goodstudios.com. au.

Kate Sylvester Claire dress in berry red, rrp $529, katesylvester.com.

CLDL Ethiopian sandal in vintage white, rrp $79, clientliaison.fashion.

Gorman Poppy earrings, rrp $69, gormanshop.com. au.

LoveHate hammered disc necklace in silver, rrp $69, lovehate.com.au. AĂƒRK Prism watch in blush, rrp $189, aarkcollective. com. Baggu canvas backpack in cobalt, rrp $25, vincentdesign.com.au

road test

crunch time DEIRDRE FIDGE AND CARO COOPER MUNCH THEIR WAY THROUGH SOME SALTY SNACKS. Illustrations Evie Barrow

AJITAS CHICKEN STYLE VEGE CHIPS I don’t want to overwhelm you with my successful adult lifestyle, but sometimes I eat vegetables. You wouldn’t know it from my sullen complexion, but carrots and broccoli frequently make their way into my digestive tract! (Sorry for bragging.) So, I don’t typically seek out the word ‘vege’ when I’m hunting for a packaged snack – moreso ‘fried’, ‘cheesy’, or ‘will momentarily distract you from the existential dread that permanently rests within your bosom’. Thankfully, the quasi-health element was counterbalanced with a promise of ‘chicken style’ flavour – yippee! Chicken is one of my favourite styles! But readers… this promise was not fulfilled. These chips had a strange aftertaste of wet dog, and my delicate mouth found the morsels far too big to crunch without feeling like a trash compactor. Sorry, Ajitas, you seem like such a happy and wholesome brand, but you’re not for me. DF

SAMBOY BARBECUE CRINKLE CUT POTATO CHIPS

SUN RICE BROWN RICE CHIPS Sometimes processed food comes in packaging so uninviting that it makes me immediately recoil like a frightened sea anemone. For example, anything in ‘earthy’ tones designed to signal ‘health’ will send me sprinting in the opposite direction (usually towards a packet of Twisties). I don’t want my potato chips masquerading as a healthy snack – just give me the crunchy, oily goodness, gosh-darnit. So, when I saw this particular brown bag of ‘wholesome’ chips with ‘added wholegrains’, I hesitated. I was pleasantly surprised once I got snacking, though. The dark, speckled squares tasted very similar to a plain corn chip – salty and satisfying. These brown rice chips are pretty much the perfect snack to bring to a casual gathering, if a grown-up-looking alternative to Doritos is what you fancy. BYO ‘homemade dip’ (supermarket hummus secretly scraped into a Tupperware container).

Healthy! DF

No taste invokes the image of those flimsy wooden serving bowls that dotted the tables at primary school birthday parties like these chips do.

(OK, Cheezels and Twisties are up there, too.) Barbecue Samboys taste like childhood, a time when portion control was not something that occurred to you, nor was it something your parents would dare impose on you – they knew the cost. Plus, they were probably drunk.

These chips have kick, and that’s what I love about them.

They’re not pretending to be anything but a highly addictive combination of salt and artificial flavouring.

I had to fight the urge to duck out for a can of SOLO while scoffing this bag. I also found myself dragging my finger along the bottom of the foil packet to scoop out the last of the magic Samboy dust.

Yummo. CC

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TYRRELL’S MATURE CHEDDAR CHEESE & CHIVE CRISPS My favourite thing about people from England (aside from how easily they get sunburnt in Australia) is that they call chips ‘crisps’. The word adds a bit of elegance to the rather undignified act of shovelling hardened potato into one’s gob. This bag of chips features a monochrome photo of three earnest-looking old women staring into your soul, so I was already won over before I’d even cracked open the pack. And once I did… dear reader, it was a magical experience. You know how every packet of chippies has one or two special chips that are extra crunchy, extra oily, folded-over special guys?

This entire packet was full of those primo angels. Every dip into the bag was akin to a trip to heaven (probably) – right down to the very last morsel, I was not disappointed. What a treat!

All hail Tyrrell’s! Long live the Queen, and her crisps. DF

road test

KETTLE SWEET POTATO SEA SALT CHIPS

INDOMIE CHITATO MI GORENG POTATO CHIPS

SMITH’S MEXICAN BURRITO POTATO CHIPS

The packet felt light. That’s always my biggest gripe with chips; there’s rarely any heft to the bag. Normally, Kettle Chips make up for it with golden, salty crispness, but not so much this time.

I found myself elbowdeep in a packet of sweet slivers of oil, with only the barest hint of salt. I kept eating in the hope of hitting some reservoir of flavour beyond the sweetness of the potato, but I was hardly even dehydrated by the time I reached the bottom of the pack. The sweet potato worked fine, but it wasn’t the stiff salt magnet the good old white potato is.

It was, and I mean this as a compliment, like eating the scrapings from a pan of roasted sweet spuds.

It felt like Kettle was so preoccupied with sweet potato as a wacky ingredient that they forgot the salt and flavour. CC

Like many millennials, I’m always on the lookout for new and creative ways to engage in self-flagellation, so you can only imagine the excitement I felt when I first laid eyes on this packet of Mi Goreng chips.

Inspired by the instant noodles favoured by broke students and divorced dads worldwide, the first thing I noticed upon cracking the packet was a pungent aroma. A unique waft combining the scents of mouldy takeaway containers and general fishiness filled the air. How could I bring myself to consume these stinky shavings? Was my life really at such a low point? Surprisingly, the answer was yes. Despite tasting like a confused herring, the salty crunch activated my taste buds in a primal manner and I somehow consumed the whole bag almost immediately. Would recommend to anyone who needs an extra little boost of self-loathing. DF

Mexican food madness is still rife in Australia. From fine dining to roadside trucks, if you add the words ‘taco’ or ‘burrito’ to your menu, expect a queue. I didn’t have to queue to get into this packet of chips, which is a relief, because that would be strange and off-putting. Something I did find a little off-putting, though, was the packaging – that fleshy, beef-filled burrito was quite confronting. And it wasn’t just the meat, either; it looks like a bad burrito, the kind a uni student (probably an engineering major) might make. Maybe that’s the market, and if so, good job, Smith’s. These are your classic ‘work farewell party’ chips. While I enjoyed the intensity of flavour, I wasn’t convinced it was Mexican I was eating, more spiced-up tomato. But maybe that’s what engineering-student packetmix Mexican burritos taste like.

I can live with that. CC

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SUNBITES GRAIN WAVES PLUS BEETROOT SWEET CHILLI JAM I still remember my first time with Grain Waves. It was around 2010, and every Friday night at work we’d convene in the boardroom to eat chips, lollies and drink cheap wine. Grain Waves remind me of being slightly drunk and saying inappropriate things to colleagues – I love that flavour. I was also quite a fan of the flavour in this pack.

Do I think they’ve improved the product by adding beetroot powder? No, not at all. They’re chips; we need to stop pretending they’re healthy in any way. I don’t buy chips to get abs and clearer skin. However, the very ’90s addition of sweet chilli jam was a delicious nostalgia kick. That moreish tang! While I’d be ashamed to serve these to guests at a party, I’d happily eat a whole packet in bed by myself after kicking my guests out. CC

a bit of history

brazen hussies in her next project, filmmaker catherine dwyer explores the history of australia’s feminist revolution.

WORDS BRODIE LANCASTER

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a bit of history

Forty-three years ago, at a pub in Brisbane, Merle Thornton chained her ankle to the bar and kickstarted a movement. Now known as the Regatta Pub Chain-In, this action was in protest of the Queensland law prohibiting women from drinking in public bars. When a minister laughed them out of his office the day before, Merle and her friend Rosalie Bogner took matters into their own hands. And feet.

“That was the first time Australian women took a militant action by being confrontational and risking arrest – it was inspired by what the British suffragettes had done,” explains Catherine Dwyer, a Melbourne-based documentary filmmaker whose debut feature, Brazen Hussies, will explore a decade of formative action in Australia’s women’s liberation and feminist movements. And it all begins with that Brisbane pub in 1965.

This wasn’t, of course, the origin of women’s rights movements in Australia – that can be traced back to what we now call the First Wave, when suffragettes around the world campaigned for the right to vote. In 1894, the colony of South Australia became the first anywhere in the world to grant women this essential right, with the rest of the country following suit. But 70 years later, things still weren’t exactly equal.

“Women couldn’t get bank loans; they couldn’t get credit cards in their name; they couldn’t get abortions,” Catherine says. “Marital rape was legal. Domestic violence was rife, but just not talked about.”

She ticks off a list from the top of her head, capturing just some of the inequalities and injustices women of the Second Wave sought to correct. “One of the most interesting things women did for themselves – without any support from our government – was starting women’s shelters for victims of domestic violence,” Catherine explains. “That was a grassroots thing women did just for them.”

The movement here mirrored those that had gained steam around the world a couple of years earlier. Catherine found herself becoming incredibly familiar with the feminist movement in the United States while working on the 2014 documentary She’s Beautiful When She’s Angry. Directed by Mary Dore, the feature- length film chronicled the birth and legacy of the women’s liberation movement. Catherine was living in Brooklyn, New York when she became aware of a fundraising campaign to aid in producing the flick, and immediately wrote to the team, offering her services. As an intern, she undertook research and organised photographs and archival material, all the while wondering what was going on closer to home during that period. “I thought, ‘There’s probably just as good a story,’ but I didn’t know any of it.”

Back on home soil, where She’s Beautiful When She’s Angryy played at the Melbourne International Film Festival in 2015, Catherine summoned the courage to approach stalwart producer Sue Maslin (known for flicks like Japanese Storyy and The Dressmakerr). “I told her my idea and she took me seriously. After that it was like, now I’ve got to do it!” Catherine says. “She’s really supportive of

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a bit of history

because they were so cynical about the government taking women seriously – and fair enough! But no one really realised just how progressive the Whitlam government was, and how he did really take the women’s movement seriously.”

we’re told we didn't do anything, when actually, we fucking did

Beatrice Faust, meanwhile, was the founder of a reformist group called the Women’s Electoral Lobby (WEL). “There were the radicals and then the reformists,” Catherine explains.

The reformists advocated for the need to work with the government to make change, “whereas the radicals were like, ‘We need to stay outside of it, otherwise we’ll be corrupted and sell out’. So that was a whole philosophical debate within the movement. It’s fascinating.”

In 1972, Beatrice and the WEL decided to survey candidates in the upcoming federal election, with a specific focus on any proposed policies that would affect the lives of women. Equal pay, employment opportunities and access to education; free contraception; and access to abortions and childcare were the topics up for discussion in the survey, which drew its inspiration from the first issue of Ms. magazine, the American feminist publication Gloria Steinem and Dorothy Pitman Hughes launched in 1971.

“It just took off like wildfire,” Catherine says. “All over Australia, women got together around this project, surveying every political candidate about their views on women and how their platform took women into consideration – which most of them had not thought of at all.”

Not content with only circulating the results amongst themselves, the WEL worked with the media to publish the survey’s findings in a special lift-out section of Melbourne newspaper The Age. “They were really clever about it; they did survey matrixes and ranked all the candidates to show which ones were really sexist,” Catherine says – and, unsurprisingly, a lot of them were. Pat Etoch, a leader in Canberra’s Aboriginal tent embassy, rated best, while the eventual winner of the election, Gough Whitlam, also scored well. In his first three days in office, as a significant and not-justsymbolic gesture, he removed the 27 per cent tax on contraception that had previously classed it as a ‘luxury’ item.

women filmmakers and just makes you feel like you can do it.”

Sue suggested Catherine connect with Andrea Foxworthy and Phillipa Campey, two highly skilled and experienced documentary producers, who jumped on board as well. “I’ve never directed a film before, so it’s amazing that they’re coming on this journey with me,” she says.

This was the first of many successes for the movement that improved the lives of Australian women, and nudged us ever closer to achieving gender equality. The introduction of the Single Mother’s Pension (now called the Parenting Payment) also contributed to a decline in illegal – and dangerous – abortions that women felt obliged to carry out because of the lack of financial control they could exercise. And in 1975, the Family Law Act established the principle of ‘no-fault divorce’, making it easier for women – especially those in abusive marriages – to separate.

“We still don’t have equal pay,” Catherine reminds us, “but there were laws put in place that gave it to some women and tried to correct the imbalance.”

It’s essential for Catherine that her crew is comprised of women – not only because of the historical under-representation of ladies in the film industry, but also because the era they’re dealing with had the catch-cry, “Jobs for women!” echoing throughout.

“It was amazing for me to work with all women on the film in the US,” Catherine says. “I didn’t feel like it was easy to get into that industry and feel comfortable, but working alongside these incredible ladies really inspired me. So many of the stories we consume, especially films, are made by men. It’s really important that more women make films and tell stories.”

In She’s Beautiful When She’s Angry, audiences were introduced to central figures in the American women’s lib movement, including Susan Brownmiller, Rita Mae Brown, Judith Arcana and Jo Freeman. In her Antipodean version, Catherine will ensure the likes of Elizabeth Reid, Pat O’Shane, Zelda D’Aprano, Lilla Watson and Beatrice Faust are household names, and that we know who to credit for our modern freedoms.

As much as Brazen Hussies will enlighten us all about this formative and revolutionary period in Australia’s feminist history, it’s also making a larger statement about the stories we value and prioritise. Not teaching these stories, Catherine says, contributes to an erasure of women from history. “Because we don’t value what women do, their work doesn’t become part of the greater narrative of Australian history. And then we feel like we didn’t do anything, and we’re told we didn’t do anything. When actually, we fucking did.”

“Elizabeth Reid was the first women’s advisor to a head of state in the world – ever,” Catherine says in amazement. She wells up while talking about the effect Elizabeth had on Gough Whitlam’s Labor government from 1972 to ’75, clearly affected by her legacy. “To be in that position was incredibly challenging. A lot of the women liberationists, especially the more radical side, were very skeptical about it having any actual benefit to women,

It’s about time we honoured the ones who put their jobs and lives and bodies on the line just a few decades ago. The ones who knew that changing the course of history required they be loud, difficult and brazen.

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look what i made

that’s a wrap MANDI SMETHELLS TAKES WEAVING TO A BOLD AND COLOURFUL PLACE.

Tell us, what do you do? I’m a fibre artist living and working in Saint Paul, Minnesota.

How did you start out in the crafty biz? About four years ago I picked up weaving after wall hangings started popping up all over the internet. My twin sister had originally shown them to me, and I set out to make one as a birthday gift for her. I immediately fell in love with fibre work, and exploring more colourful and abstract designs than I had previously in print-making.

Tell us about your weaving technique. Being quite new to this medium, I had to put in a lot of time – thousands of hours – to realise I wanted to be more illustrative in my work. Once I began working with this more dimensional wrapping technique, I just built upon some basic knotting, and through trial and error developed my assemblage approach.

What materials do you use? My studio is filled with cotton rope in various sizes; many varieties and weights of yarn; steel wire; and occasionally other materials such as trim and beads. I periodically walk around craft and secondhand stores looking for new material ideas, as I’m constantly driven by a desire to innovate.

How long do you spend on each piece? This can vary quite a bit depending on size, intricacy and the materials used. Generally, it’s anywhere from one to 12 hours.

Do you have a particular fondness for rainbows? I do… for many reasons. Firstly, I admire the magic that happens when all the colours of the rainbow come together, and the impact of their relationship.

For a long time, I’ve been drawn to curves, scallops and arches.

The joy this symbol carries for so many – and for so many different reasons – makes it powerful to me. I feel honoured to be working with an icon that represents positivity, pride and happiness.

What makes your work unique? I think, if you make something that truly comes from inside, and you’re not too inspired by other artists, the result will be unique. I have a very personal connection to the work I create, and I’m often influenced by my experience as a mother, my lifelong interest in nature, and my obsession with bright colours and bold patterns. I’m just trying to make art that reflects my insides, not necessarily a ‘product’. I’m so pleased people want to buy them, though!

What shape would you like to make next? Our family recently acquired a new kitten, and it struck me that I haven’t created a cat yet (I love cats). I have an idea in mind, and am just waiting for a little free time to execute it.

Where can we see more of your work? mandismethells.com or on Instagram at @mandismoothhills

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rant Photo Getty Images

he shrugged. I think he shrugged, anyway – it was hard to tell with all the restrictive lycra. Either way, it wasn’t the convivial connection I’d envisioned. A stressed-out silence settled in, and I realised the error of my ways: we now had to wait for and ride in the lift together. Just us, connected by a yawning sinkhole of failed conversation. Do you know how long it can take to wait for a lift, then ride 25 storeys with a stranger you made an unreciprocated attempt at chit-chat with?

Technically two minutes, but for me, about two hours and 17 seconds.

for old time’s sake CARO COOPER WONDERS WHY A FEW SECONDS CAN SOMETIMES TAKE SO LONG.

We stood in silence; tick tock, tick tock. Inside the lift, I thought maybe I should try again, shovelling some words into the sinkhole.

Ideas raced through my mind. It was too late to loop back to the topic of riding – it would look desperate, which I was. I could talk about the building, bomb threats, fires, emergency exits, broken lift cables, my period, Barnaby Joyce? Tick tock, tick tock. I nearly tore my neck out of its socket (I was a top biology student) staring up at the lift numbers. Brightly lit numbers, have you ever seen anything so fascinating? Tick…tock...t...i....c...k. Finally, time got bored and relented. The lift arrived at his floor and he exited without even a nod. I swore I could hear a distant patchouli-laced cackling.

Time is a fickle mistress. I picture her as an ageing hippy – thick silver hair, bare feet and long patchwork skirts with dirty hems.

She messes with me a lot, speeding up and slowing down as she pleases. She never slows when I’m eating ice-cream, though – rather, she moves so fast that the human eye can’t see the cone fly from the cashier to my hand, to my mouth. Bystanders only spot my pupils dilating as a brain freeze hits.

We’re all putty in time’s hands. She messes with us constantly: those moments after you send an insensitive text or email to the wrong person; while you wait to disembark a plane on the tarmac; the moment you realise you’ve forgotten your best friend’s birthday for the second year in a row. Plus, when you accidentally fart in yoga and the sound ricochets off every hard surface in the hot, silent room; while you walk down an interminably long corridor towards a work colleague; and the moment the doctor’s mouth forms the words to deliver your test results. The list goes on, and time, well, she stretches on with it.

Then, there are the situations when she throws on the brakes, bends in the middle, flips back on herself, and taunts me by agonisingly dragging her feet. If you’re puzzled and thinking, “She’s making this shit up, time is consistent,” let me be clear about two things: 1. time is not the same for all of us; and 2. you’re right, I am, just go with it. Everyone has their own time hippy, and she will slow the hands of your clock or warp your perception of time independent of those around you. (If you’re not heaps mad for science, just trust me. If you are a scientist, don’t steal my work, please.)

There’s no happy ending to this story. All we can do is surrender to time and amateur science. So, when you next find yourself stuck in a painful, slowly unfolding situation, just picture her, Time: a nasty, middle-aged hippy dancing around a bonfire as she taunts and teases you. It won’t speed things up, but it might at least evoke the calming scent of ylang ylang oil.

I’ve been noticing time slowing a lot of late – maybe she’s getting old, or maybe she’s decided she enjoys my suffering. This morning, for instance, I tried initiating a conversation with another cyclist as we waited for the lift at work. “Nice day for a ride!” I chirped. “Sure,”

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entrepreneurial spirit. “We’re taking it upon ourselves to make our own opportunities,” Janie explains. “It’s quite exciting.”

the independence collective

Inspired by an ad Neville saw for a homebrew kit, they settled on beer as the first Independence Collective project. “A lot of people enjoy beer,” Janie says, “so we figured that was going to be the biggest market we could get into.” Joining forces with George Duncan – the head of Duncan’s Brewery, a local craft brewer – the team did a series of blind taste tests to work out which direction they wanted the beer to take. Once they’d narrowed it down, they let Duncan loose on the brewing proper. The result is a crisp pale ale called The Neville. “It’s not named after him,” the group says, laughing. (“It is!” Neville protests.)

FORGET SYMPATHY. THIS GROUP IS AFTER SOMETHING FAR MORE PRECIOUS: FINANCIAL INDEPENDENCE. Words Luke Ryan

The NPA (Neville Pale Ale) is already making a splash. The crew have been doing the rounds of New Zealand’s print and TV media, and recently had a visit from the Minister for Commerce. “We’ve been getting a huge amount of support,” Janie says. “People keep getting in contact to ask where they can buy the beer, and we’re like, ‘We haven’t even started the brew yet!’” Perhaps more importantly, they’ve scored a national deal with one of New Zealand’s biggest liquor outlets, ensuring that The Neville will soon be available country-wide.

For adults with an intellectual disability, the prospect of finding a job can be a daunting one. In Australia, the rate of unemployment for those with a mild intellectual disability is around 35 per cent; for the rest of the community, it’s 5.4 per cent. Those who fail to find employment not only lack financial independence, but are also starved of the additional benefits of heading to work: community, intellectual engagement and a sense of worth.

If it’s a success, the Collective are eyeing off a second brew called Jolene, as well as ventures in fashion, chocolate and coffee. (The hats and t-shirts are already in production.) “We’re hoping this first thing gets people on board with what we’re trying to do,” Janie says.

“Then we can start growing it.” The dream is to eventually take the company national and become a leading employer of New Zealand’s intellectually disabled community. “We want to show other people with disabilities that they can join us, and we can work together to take control of our own futures.”

Yet, an increasing amount of research suggests that the assumptions underpinning these dismal employment figures are misguided.

Employees with intellectual disabilities are motivated and eager to learn, creating a positive impact on businesses by encouraging creative and unbiased thinking. Employers who bring on intellectually disabled workers almost universally say they’d do it again.

-piti Coast, four young adults have grown tired of On New Zealand’s Ka waiting for the world to catch up. “All my life, I’ve struggled to find a job,” says Janie Martin, 27. “A few months ago, I put out 20 CVs and not a single person got back to me. That was very frustrating.”

However, according to Janie, the Independence Collective isn’t intended as an activist endeavour. It’s a real business, and a way for the team to try and build their own financial freedom. If a few stereotypes can be dismantled along the way, well, all the better. As Janie says: “The Independence Collective shows that even though we have an intellectual disability, we’re pretty much just like everyone else.”

The latest rejection was a turning point for Janie. Together with three of her closest friends – Cameron Stichbury, Neville Pugh and Nathan Martin – they decided to create their own company, the Independence Collective, a tribute to their shared

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writers’ piece

THINGS THAT GO BUMP four writers remember the creepiest thing that’s ever happened to them.

By Caro Cooper I’ve had scary things happen to me, but reading the news puts my ‘scary things’ into perspective.

The creepiest things I’ve experienced have only resulted in heightened anxiety, a few calls to the police, and sleepless nights spent clutching baseball bats. I’m grateful for that – it hasn’t made me any less of a wuss, though.

I was never brave when it came to intruders or the supernatural.

After my sister terrified me with ghost stories in year 6 (from her recollection, they were “ghost jokes”), I slept in her bed every night until I graduated. I’d fall asleep in my own bed, then wake in fear and creep into her room.

Anxiety was my hometown.

In my final years of school, we lived in a big, empty house with our dad; two useless, lovable dogs; and a cat with scabby, fly-bitten ears. The cat would scratch his scabs off and shake his head, leaving knee-high blood splatters on the white walls at the very height I imagined blood would spray if one were to, say, stab a person on the ground. Our

blood-splattered house was in the middle of suburbia, but isolated enough from neighbours to be the site of a horror film – at least, in the imagination of a real wuss.

By the time I reached my senior years, my sister was at university and Dad worked long hours. This often left just me, the bloodied cat and lazy dogs at home. If Dad was home, he’d work upstairs while I studied downstairs. Whether I was alone or just separated by rooms and stairs, the house scared me. I was convinced every creak was a ghost or the footsteps of an intruder intent on slaughtering me and stealing my maths textbook.

My fear peaked while I prepared for my exams. I was stressed, on edge and overtired. I sat at my desk in the empty house, hearing the tip-tapping of a killer working their way down the hallway. I did what any sane kid would do: grabbed a baseball bat and the decorative sword-and-dagger set my parents had smuggled back from Madrid. Then, I waited.

Crouched in the gap behind the study door, I unsheathed the sword.

I’m not sure what I intended to do – stab them? Conk them on the head with the bat? Wield sword and dagger for a double-pronged attack? My heart was pounding in every limb; my throat closed over and my mouth pooled with spit.

071

I stayed in that spot for over an hour, convinced the killer was crouched on the other side, waiting for me to make a move.

I could hear his breath, feel his presence. I considered running through the house, weapons drawn, and straight out the front door, but each time I prepared to launch, my knees locked, keeping me in that painful position.

Finally, I heard the cheery call of my dad arriving home. The intruder’s breathing vanished.

My heart stopped pounding and my knees unlocked. I sheathed the sword and returned the weapons to the shelf, before skipping out to greet Dad, acting as if nothing had happened.

I knew I couldn’t tell him about my panic because, even in my heightened state, I was aware there was something wrong with my behaviour.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been paralysed by the fear of an intruder in our house. It was becoming regular. Too regular.

Like big feet, I’ve grown into my anxiety – it fits me better now, but I’m still the same scaredy-cat at heart. I don’t keep decorative weaponry in my house, but that’s entirely an aesthetic choice. I do still have a baseball bat handy, though. Some things you just don’t outgrow.

writers’ piece

By Eleanor Robertson For a year or so, I was completely obsessed with abandoned buildings.

In retrospect, this was probably a projection of my internal state at the time – I was depressed and rudderless, not quite sure what to do with myself. My usual coping mechanism for these feelings – compulsive reading – had stopped working. I bought piles of books and read a few lines of each before discarding them. The desired effect, which was to occupy my mind so fully that it had no room for misery, did not materialise. I was suffering from tinnitus of the soul.

I can’t remember how abandoned buildings initially took their hold over me, but I fell hard and fast.

I spent hours researching spooky old hospitals, prisons and colonial houses close to where I was living.

One in particular caught my eye.

It had been used as a children’s mental hospital, a juvenile detention facility, and a reform school. It was a 15-minute walk from my house. I don’t know what I was hoping to find, but I had to get in there.

Tragically, I’d missed the annual open day by a week. I wasn’t the only person keen to step inside and have a rubberneck – I came across several blog posts by urban history nerds showing photos taken inside at the previous year’s open day.

Under a carpet of fallen leaves, the floors were tiled in a beautiful pattern of blue and orange. This seemed far too cheery considering the thousands of ill, unloved and delinquent children the place had held over its hundred-year history.

Undeterred by common sense, good taste or trespassing law, I recruited a friend to help me enter the building. Neither of us were seasoned housebreakers, so our plan was to skulk around the perimeter

in the early hours of the morning and see if we could find a way in, using only our wits and a pair of sharp pliers I’d borrowed from my housemate.

Even having visited the building during the day, I was overwhelmed by just how eerie and menacing it felt at 1am. The weeping willow on the driveway, so beautiful in the afternoon sun of the day before, was terrifying in the cold light of the moon. We headed around to the side entrance, trying to stick to the shadows. Possums parkoured in the trees above us, and every time a leaf rustled, my heart rate increased by 10 beats per minute.

As we approached the heavy wooden door, I heard a woman’s voice over the anxious heaving of my friend’s breath. I froze on the spot. My mind was perfectly divided between the urge to run far, far away, and the urge to follow the noise to its source. Reasoning that I’d already come this far, I crept along the wall into the courtyard.

I tried to peer around the corner unobtrusively. The fear was acute and consuming. My hands tingled numbly, announcing that this was the time for fight or flight. Despite the chill, I was bathed in so much sweat that my feet slipped around in my shoes.

I counted to three and inched my head forward to look into the small grassy yard. I couldn’t see a human shape, so I crept further along the wall. As soon as I was in the courtyard, I spotted the source of the noise: a juvenile magpie, warbling sadly, under a thicket of weeds.

As I turned on my phone flashlight, the young bird cried out in fear.

My friend bent over and carefully picked up the magpie. It was in a bad state, too weak to resist. I called the wildlife rescue number and left a message, then we sat with the bird until the rescue volunteer arrived at six in the morning, watching the rising sun transform the willow from spectral horror back to verdant beauty.

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By Jo Walker If a misspent childhood watching terrible schlocky horror flicks taught me anything, it’s that the world is full of misunderstood monsters. Gore-splattered chainsaw maniacs out for justice. Draindwelling clowns desperate for a bit of human contact (and maybe a balloon or two). Man/fly hybrids who just want to do good science.

When I was 23, I became one of those monsters. Shambling; incapable of coherent speech; oozing rancid waste products; fearful of human touch. Because the creepiest thing that’s ever happened to me was becoming an adult with chickenpox.

Trust me, my friends – it’s a horror show. You get sores everywhere.

OPENING MONTAGE: I’m working in a music store at the mall. I tell my boss I’m feeling sick, but she makes me work the end of my shift.

(And fires me when it becomes clear I’m ill – yes, the real horror here is the casual job economy!)

I realise my stomach is covered in spots and drive myself to a medical clinic, where a doctor confirms the worst: I am toxic, and will soon be covered in pus. Also, since I’m an adult chickenpox-haver, there’s a small chance of developing brain damage from the raging skin herpes that now inhabits my body! Then, the itching begins.

MOUNTING HORROR: I hurriedly vacate my sharehouse. My mother, who is living overseas, flies home to care for me as I cannot be trusted to take a shower without falling on my head. We move into my old childhood home. I am unemployed, my mum has to bathe me, and I have blisters inside my vagina.

Actually, I have blisters everywhere.

My face, inside my nose, eyelids, ears and mouth, all over my body; on the top of my head and the soles

writers’ piece

of my feet; up inside every possible orifice a human being can provide.

I ooze, then crust over, then ooze again. Mum covers me in special non-scarring band-aids, and I wear slippers all the time because my feet bleed when I walk. The only thing I can eat is cold soup, since my mouth is full of sores. The meds mess with my brain, so I talk funny and sleep a lot. I hurt, I groan.

I’m also on the dole, or so I thought.

Having diligently collected doctor’s certificates and mailed them to the government with a note basically reading, “I am infectious and cannot look for a job right now,” I thought I was covered. I am informed otherwise. Apparently, Centrelink needs me to present myself in person at its local branch office. So, reluctantly, I do.

THE MONSTER EMERGES: I am vengeance! I am fury! My mum dropped me here on the way to the shops! My hair is matted, and I’m covered in weeping scabs. Wearing blood-specked slippers and a stained nightie (no bra or undies – they hurt too much), I smell faintly of soup and strongly of despair. This is my lowest moment. And when the woman behind the counter attempts to deny my claim, I’m reduced to incoherent moans and rage tears. A Frankenstein monster in Brisbane’s northern suburbs, with only slightly nicer scars.

I want to tell these strangers in this awful place that I was once like them! I too enjoyed non-creepy skin and working feet! I was not always this wreck of humanity they shudder from now! And, most of all – goddamnit Centrelink, I want you to know that visible contagion is a pretty good excuse for hitting pause on the job-seeking.

Finally, some sort of sanity prevails.

A supervisor is called over, and my social security reinstated.

I am grateful, and repulsive.

I snatch my forms and shuffle to the car. A small part of me hopes I infected every unhelpful bureaucrat in the joint. Maybe I really am a monster.

By Sinead Stubbins For someone who was never allowed to watch scary movies – and who still avoids them, even as an adult – I sure do spend a lot of time thinking about the ways supernatural beings could murder me in my sleep. Beds that will suck me inside an alternate dimension full of monsters with claws; a ghostly creature hiding underneath my mattress, waiting for me to place a single bare foot on the ground; a murderous hundred-year-old poltergeist who appears to me in the mirror when I brush my teeth – these are the kinds of things that occupy my late-night thoughts.

When I was younger, this fear consumed me as soon as it was time for bed. Every night while I was being tucked in, like clockwork, I’d ask my parents, “Will I be safe?” – a ritual I recited for years like a prayer.

(I wonder if they were ever tempted to say, “No idea! Good luck, though.”) I just felt so strongly that my demise would occur once darkness fell. It didn’t help that, at the time, I was sharing a bedroom with someone who I had a strong suspicion could be a demon from the beyond.

When she was young, my little sister looked like a classic creepy horror movie child. She was pale, with big blue eyes and long dark hair. It wasn’t that she had the personality of a horror movie child – she didn’t casually converse with invisible spirits at the dinner table, mutter nonsense under her breath, or walk down the staircase like a spider (though we didn’t have a staircase; perhaps she just didn’t have the opportunity).

But I felt as though the universe was trying to warn me I should be on guard, nonetheless.

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When I was eight or nine, I used to have nightmares about my sister. It felt like I dreamt about her for at least a year, but it was probably only a few months (when you’re little, time can only be measured by school holidays and Harry Potter book releases). In the dream, I would wake up and she’d be standing at the foot of my bed, wearing a long white nightgown that looked like it was from the 1800s. Her long hair would partially hide her glazed face, but I saw a hint of a narrowed eye. Her head was tilted down at a menacing angle that told me, “I intend to haunt then kill you with my supernatural demon child powers.” I never went back to sleep after those dreams.

Was I so dumb to believe that the late-night visions were the work of a higher power trying to tell me something?

It’s said that dreams come from the unconscious during the ‘theta brainwave stage’.

Some people think that when we’re in this stage, our brains pick up cues, like the energy of places and people around us. Our subconscious tries to provide us insights, and even give us spiritual guidance. Both Abraham Lincoln and Joan of Arc predicted their own deaths in a dream – perhaps I wasn’t so different from Abe and Jo? Eventually the dreams stopped.

My sister’s hair was cut into a short bob (quite fashionable, I must say). I didn’t need to confirm with my parents if I would or would not be slain in my sleep. It’s easy to see now that the dreams were probably a manifestation of all the anxiety I was feeling, transitioning from being an only child to the eldest of three. When you’re a kid, the idea of getting less attention is akin to doing battle with a supernatural tormenter. But a bit of me always wondered if there was something spiritually iffy going on there.

There’s no harm in checking under the bed now and then.

looks we like

no muss, no fuss IRISH LABEL 31 CHAPEL LANE IS ALL ABOUT KEEPING THINGS SIMPLE, STUPID.

When did you start 31 Chapel Lane and how has it developed since then? Damien Hannigan: We started 31 Chapel Lane in 2012, initially focused on homewares and soft furnishing products only.

Over the years, what we offer has evolved and expanded – we now make both homewares and clothing (ready-to-wear and bespoke pieces for private clients).

What were you doing beforehand? Joi Hannigan: My career was in banking and finance. I’ve also worked in the non-profit and social service sectors. Damien is an architect.

Tell us a little about your current collection and how it came to be.

DH: All our pieces begin from the same place: a recognition that there’s nothing new to create. Never a blank page, as such. We start with the goal of improving a basic item – a shirt or trouser, for example. It may be motivated by a practicality or an aesthetic, but in all instances, the initial motivation is the uniqueness of the fabrics we're working with.

Talk us through the fabrics and silhouettes you’ve used. JH: We use pure Irish linen and Donegal tweed exclusively, looking after them with thoughtful craftsmanship. They’re the two things our customers keep coming back for – it’s important we let them do the talking.

How has your personality worked its way into this collection?

JH: We’re low-key, private and attentive people – we don’t like drawing attention to ourselves, and I think the shyness and quietness translates into what we make. We encourage customers to focus on the inner workings of our garments. They don’t ‘scream’ for attention – they’re quite plain at first glance; we don’t print on our fabrics; and embellishment is not our strength, either. So, until customers actually have a feel of our garments, observe them and think about them, they probably don’t understand why they’re special.

Which part of designing a range do you enjoy most? JH: Definitely the elimination part, having a clear conviction on what not to include.

Sensing the right timing for when to put the pencil down. If a garment doesn’t need an extra button, then we won’t add one. If it doesn’t need a pocket, then no pocket, and that’s that. Respecting the quality of the fabrics and being thoughtful about construction is so much more important than adding more of ‘my’ design.

Whereabouts is your studio based? DH: Our studio is based in the Georgian quarter of Limerick City, on the west coast of Ireland.

It's a small, quiet city. Unassuming and without scene.

Where can you imagine the pieces in this collection being worn?

DH: We like to believe the clothing we make is of a modest sensibility. The pieces are quiet to the point of being background, therefore can and should be worn anywhere. JH: I tend to romanticise stories related to our garments a lot – how they’ll travel with our customers, what journeys they’ll embark on with their future owners. I’d like to think they become treasures taken wherever they go, like toddlers and their teddies.

Where can we see more of your items? 31chapellane.com

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nine to five

A few years ago, I was looking for more ways to get involved in the queer community. I’d recently come out, and was looking for spaces to volunteer and meet new people. Switchboard appealed to me because it was all about connection. Currently I sit on the board and am chair of community engagement, so I’m taking a break from the phones while I do that work.

on the job AMELIA ARNOLD VOLUNTEERS AT SWITCHBOARD, HELPING PROVIDE PHONE AND WEB COUNSELLING FOR LGBTQI FOLK IN VICTORIA.

The Switchboard phone line is operated by people who identify as LGBTQI – you don’t have to have formal counselling qualifications to do it. What Switchboard is about is connecting with people with shared experiences. It may not be the exact experience that you have – for example, we may have a trans caller and I don’t identify as trans, but I do understand some of their experience in that they’re a member of the LGBTQI community; they’ve experienced varied forms of oppression; they’ve experienced discrimination; they’ve had to come out in some way. So the idea is that you’re a peer to the community, not that you’re necessarily a certified expert.

As told to Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen

The training is six full days going over content you’re likely to come across on the phone – coming out; families and relationships; dating; sex. We’ve started to integrate intersectionality into the training as well, because that was something that was missing and shouldn’t have been. We do a whole week on grief and loss and suicide.

Not all the calls we get are crisis calls – we’re not a Lifeline kind of thing. We’ll get calls from people who are looking for resources, like queer-friendly therapists or “Where can I go for a club night?” or “I have feelings for a friend of mine, what do I do about that?”

Families call in, as well – it’s not just for people who identify as queer themselves. We’ve had parents call; we’ve had siblings call; we’ve had people who are questioning their sexual or gender identity call in, too.

With last year’s marriage law postal survey, we had a 40 per cent increase in phone calls. Switchboard had to put on an emergency training course to recruit more volunteers, because we weren’t able

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nine to five

it’s about being there for another person

to keep up with demand. There were more calls coming through in that period and since then, too, and they’re more severe in nature – more distressed. That was such a difficult period for so many people in our community, and it continues to be.

I would have loved something like this when I was younger. We have young people calling to talk about their experience at school, their experience with their friends, their experience with love interests, and I would have loved to be able to call and talk to someone about that – it would have made things a whole lot easier.

Because Switchboard is anonymous and run by peers and volunteers, people really have to care to be involved, to give their time, and a lot of people were looking for something meaningful they could do while the postal survey was happening. The beauty of Switchboard is that it’s nameless and you don’t have to go to a professional or clinical person if you don’t want to – you can just call and chat to someone about how you’re feeling. I think that’s why we had an increase in calls, but also an increase in people wanting to volunteer.

I came out in my mid-20s – it’s a part of myself I knew existed for a long time, but was not something I felt comfortable exploring in my hometown of Brisbane. When I moved to Melbourne, suddenly I felt like I could not only explore that part of myself, but celebrate it in this open and inclusive community. Having this kind of service in that phase of my life would have been super-handy! We operate a web chat as well – it’s run in the exact same way, by peers. When I was growing up it was MSN, so imagine having had some kind of MSN chat for questioning queers! It would have been incredible.

Because we’re a not-for-profit, we don’t have a huge budget, and rely 100 per cent on funding. The more funding we have – from the community, from donations, from the government, from grants – the more we can spread the understanding of the service.

My role on the board is community engagement, so I’m trying to get the message out to people who need it. A few months ago, I went out to Castlemaine for their Pride celebration, set up a stall with my dog, handed out a bunch of stickers and chatted with people there. In regional and rural areas, the service is especially important – in smaller communities, it’s harder to find people who are like you. What we’d really love to do is have more of a presence in regional and rural Australia, so that people who want to talk about their identity can have that opportunity.

When I started as a volunteer, I was worried I wouldn’t be good at it, and that I’d screw up, or people would call and I wouldn’t be able to help them. But the more I did it, the more I understood it wasn’t about that at all – it was just about being there for another person.

The most common feeling I’d have when I left a shift was joy and connection; I didn’t leave feeling exhausted or down or anything like that. People’s assumption is that this work is really difficult and exhausting and tough. Sometimes it is, but most of the time it’s not – it’s wonderful to connect with people in your community and just talk about your shared experiences. Any call I’ve taken, at the end I’ve felt happy about it – I’ve gotten to talk to a person, and that conversation may have been positive, it may have been negative, but that person picked up the phone.

Working on the phones can be a big job. When I was doing it, I would be smart about when I picked shifts – making sure I didn’t have a big day at work the next day, for example, and making time for myself before a shift to clear my head. Even just having a nice plan for when I got home: having dinner organised; taking my dog for a walk; listening to music. Just having a space where I could process what had happened over the shift.

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To talk about identity-related stuff, you can reach Switchboard on 1800 184 527 or chat online at qlife.org.au

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not-quite-right advice Photo Lukasz Wierzbowski

normality, so your ex knows you’re capable of achieving the irrational and arbitrary milestones that our culture considers markers of social success. Pat your belly like there’s something in there other than the box of Jatz crackers you ate for lunch at 4.30pm. Mention your involvement in a book club, neighbourhood watch patrol, or children’s sporting team. Do not shout, “It’s all lies!” or “My life is a shambles,” no matter how much you want to.

case of the ex WHAT TO DO WHEN YOU RUN INTO A FORMER FLAME? ELEANOR ROBERTSON HAS A FEW IDEAS.

USE A DOG Countless medieval wars were won using the human shield strategy, where an individual (or a few hundred) endowed with undeniable personhood sacrifices their life to protect some inbred feudal despot from the violent death they so richly deserve.

Taking a dog somewhere you’re likely to run into an ex is just like that, except it’s even worse, because the innocent dog loves and trusts you. That’s the downside. The upside is that it will almost definitely defuse tension – that’s just the power of pups.

On the list of random happenstances that can ruin a perfectly good day, running into an ex is right up there with getting a catastrophic haircut; locking yourself out of your house; or getting bitten by a werewolf. One minute you’re going about your business, feeling OK about your life and choices, the next – bam. When there’s no option to dissolve your body into a puddle of unobtrusive liquid, how do you handle this rude imposition?

BE VERY IMPRESSIVE If you know beforehand that your ex will be present somewhere you will also be present, you can always give yourself a good preening and strut around like a prize hog to let them know they absolutely do not still live in your mind rent-free.

Have you been putting off learning how to apply false eyelashes?

Do you own a gaudy, bedazzled outfit that makes you look like a sexual disco ball? Now’s the time. The real trick to this tactic is taming the little voice inside you that says, “Why do you even care what this person thinks when you dumped them a year ago for having awful personal hygiene?” Shut up, little voice. Just let me get on with being devastatingly attractive and extremely pathetic.

RUN A few years ago I was browsing in the supermarket, innocently comparison-shopping different brands of jelly crystals, when I glimpsed an ex through the gaps in the shelves. I froze like a hunted deer. As soon as he turned around, I dropped my basket and sprinted out of the building. Propelled by a wave of adrenaline, I ran two blocks down the street and stopped inside a convenience store to catch my breath. Only ancient hunter-gatherers escaping capture by roaming apex predators know the high of relief I felt at that moment. Three minutes later, as the fight-or-flight response wore off, I discovered the downside of panicking and fleeing when you see your ex at the supermarket: a bone-deep sense of shame.

GO NUCLEAR Statistically, most people are likely to forget all pretense of holding it together, instead losing it in a spectacular fashion. The options here are many: fall at your ex’s feet, sobbing and begging to be taken back; fly into a rage and kick them in the shins until police are called; run screaming into the toilets and refuse to come out until the venue closes. Sure, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life, and any third parties who witness your awful display will be hardened against you, but sometimes you just have to speak your truth. Try not to do this if your current partner is present.

PRETEND TO BE MARRIED AND PREGNANT Obviously this approach works best if you have the right biological configuration to support pregnancy, but there are probably some womb-free folks out there with enough natural charisma to pull it off regardless.

The objective here is to present a gleaming mask of middle-class

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Illustration Caitlin Shearer

learn something new

training monkeys to climb trees and pick the precious fruit for them.

The fig held a mystical importance, you see – Egyptians believed Hathor, the goddess of joy and motherhood, would emerge from a fig tree to welcome them to heaven, so Pharaohs were buried with dried figs in their graves, ensuring a safe journey to the afterlife. While these divine qualities are questionable, there’s no denying the fig’s medicinal value – packed with fibre, vitamins and bacteria-fighting compounds, even chimpanzees have been observed self-medicating with bark and leaves from their trees.

fruits and all GIANT SLOTHS, POISON AND TESTICLES: THE NOT-SO-SWEET HISTORY OF YOUR FAVOURITE HEALTHY SNACKS. Words Sophie Kalagas

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PINEAPPLE The longstanding debate amongst pizza-eaters is whether pineapple makes a suitable topping (it doesn’t), but a more crucial question may be whether a pineapple-topped pizza should truly be called a ‘Hawaiian’. After all, the tropical fruit isn’t native to the US state – it’s simply the first place that pineapple was canned.

A more accurate name would be the ‘South American’ (it’s not quite as catchy, sure, but more historically accurate). Eventually the pineapple found its way from South America to the Caribbean, and in 1493, explorer Christopher Columbus discovered the spiny, sweet fruit on the island of Guadeloupe. Impressed with this new exotic snack, he packed up a bundle and shipped them back to Spain.

The pineapple was an instant hit, but there was a problem – it needed a tropical climate to grow. Though farmers attempted to recreate the warm, humid conditions, it took nearly two centuries to perfect. Even then, pineapples were in high demand and low supply. They became a symbol of wealth and prosperity (apparently King Charles II of England commissioned a painting of his gardener presenting him with the fruit). Too fancy to eat, pineapples were rented out as decorative pieces for dinner parties, used again and again until they began to rot. At that point, an affluent buyer would take it home to devour.

But never atop a pizza with mozzarella and ham, of course.

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APPLE An apple a day may keep the doctor away, but the crunchy fruit wasn’t always such an appealing snack. In their early days, apples were smaller and far more bitter than those we chomp on for morning tea – naturalist Henry David Thoreau described them as “sour enough to set a squirrel’s teeth on edge and make a jay scream”. A process of natural selection was the fruit’s saving grace.

Travellers through Eastern Europe – where apples originated – picked the larger, sweeter fruit to eat, spreading their pips across the continent and north into the Baltic regions. As it became more palatable, royals latched on to the apple’s goodness: Henry VIII established a dedicated orchard growing many different varieties; Queen Victoria developed a fondness for baked apples; and Catherine the Great had Golden Pippin apples shipped over to her palace in Russia, each wrapped individually in paper made from real silver.

When folks weren’t taking bites out of them, they drank apples as cider – the most valuable, accessible tipple in early America.

(It was even considered healthier than water since sanitation was so poor.) Farmers rode this tangy wave through till the 1920s, when the Prohibition put a stop to cider’s demand; as a result, marketers turned their attention back to the fruit’s nutritious, health-bringing qualities and yumminess as a stand-alone snack. .

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WATERMELON According to Mark Twain, “When one has tasted watermelon, he knows what the angels eat.” But the writer may have thought differently had he noshed on a slice of the earliest fruit. A far cry from the refreshing snack we know today, the flesh of wild African watermelons was pale, hard and bitter to taste. It took centuries of selective breeding across the globe to produce a fruit folks were actually fond of eating – but they may have taken it too far. A specific variety known as the Bradford watermelon was prized for its supersweet flesh and soft, buttery rind; so much so, farmers were forced to take extra precautions to ward off sticky fingers. Some camped out with shotguns, while others randomly poisoned certain melons, like a vitamin-rich game of Russian roulette. (As you can imagine, this lost some appeal when they forgot which fruit they’d tampered with.)

Another popular security measure was hooking the watermelons up to electric wires, leading bandits to a nasty shock, and in many cases, death. Perhaps that’s what Twain was referring to when he linked angels to the sticky, sweet treat – but either way, it’s worth pondering next time you nibble on some watermelon at a summer picnic.

KIWIFRUIT These days, it brings in billions in profits for our chipper pals across the ditch, but, despite its name, the kiwifruit is no New Zealand native. Rather, the fuzzy fruit began its life as the ‘macaque peach’ in mainland China – so-called for its popularity with the local macaque monkey population. It wasn’t until 1904 that a dame by the name of Mary Isabel Fraser – principal of Whanganui Girls’ College on New Zealand’s North Island – took a trip to China to visit some local mission schools. While there, she took a liking to the tart, green fruit, and brought seeds back home to NZ, tucked away in her luggage. (Presumably border control was more relaxed back then.) They were planted in Whanganui in 1906; four years later, the vines began to fruit. Noticing a similarity in flavour, locals named the plant the ‘Chinese gooseberry’ – until they began exporting it to the US in the ’50s. At the height of the Cold War, China’s Communist connection was a marketing nightmare, so produce company Turners and Growers threw around some other options – namely ‘melonettes’ and, eventually, the ‘kiwifruit’, after the country’s flightless national bird. And so, a major horticultural industry was born, and the kiwifruit was established in the public mindset as a quintessential New Zealand product. .

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AVOCADO Next time you sit down for brunch, spare a thought for the avocado smooshed across your toast: it very nearly died out 13,000 years ago. In the Cenozoic era, mammoths, giant sloths and other prehistoric megafauna munched on avos whole, like small, buttery bar snacks – they then travelled long distances and pooped out the seeds, enabling a new crop of avocado trees to grow. When the Ice Age wiped out the colossal creatures, this could have spelled the end for avocados, too. Luckily, industrious humans stepped in (presumably forseeing the deliciously overpriced meals that lay ahead of them). Folks in Central America began to cultivate the avocado, naming it ahuacatl – translated: testicle – for its dangling, egg-shaped look. This sexual undertone extended beyond the name, as well – the fruit was considered such a potent aphrodisiac that virgin daughters were locked indoors while Aztec farmers went out to harvest. Over centuries, the avocado – which is technically a berry – was bred to have a greater ratio of flesh to pip. Though consumers were confused by the savoury fruit for some time (some even tried stewing it and serving it with custard), eventually an avocado appreciation caught on, resulting in the ‘superfood’ – and millennial housing crisis – we know today.

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FIG The humble fig has a long and prosperous history, beginning all the way back in prehistoric times. According to fruit-loving boffins, wild figs first sprouted in Africa, West and South Asia, and around the Mediterranean Sea about 100 million years ago, meaning they may well have been scoffed by herbivorous dinosaurs. But it was humans who took the fleshy fruit from strength to strength: believed to be one of the first domesticated crops, folks in West Asia began growing fig trees long before staples like wheat or barley. In the first centuries AD, fig farms popped up throughout the Roman Empire and, supposedly, Ancient Olympians earned not gold, silver or bronze, but figs for their athletic prowess. Meanwhile, in Egypt, farmers were

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the thing about auronzo di cadore photographer natalie mccomas recalls her time in the italian holiday town.

around the world

The thing I first noticed: After a winding, hectic drive up from Venice through fairly rugged terrain, we came round a blind mountain corner to see a neon aqua lake beaming right up from the centre of the Auronzo valley. For the next two weeks, I looked out our apartment window multiple times a day, just to catch glittering glimpses of that aqua.

The thing about the locals: There was a laidback feel about the people of Auronzo. Most would nod and greet you as you passed by, and it seemed like they were making the best of being outdoors in the warm summer weather, sunbathing in beach chairs or hiking in the mountains. One day there was a lively group playing cards next to the lake, and they made grand gestures for me to come join in their fun.

I loved listening to the rhythm of the Italian accent while they were deep in conversation with each other.

The thing about the colours: Every hour of the day, the mountain colours changed around us. Silver-blue in the early morning, then grey and dusty towards noon. Just as the sun went to bed, they’d turn into fluoro, peachy peaks. There were brightly painted, larger-than-life gelato cone statues on the sidewalks, and profusely blooming pink and red flower boxes hanging from nearly every windowsill and terrace.

The thing about the food: Natural yoghurt-flavoured gelato was a favourite indulgence for me, as was nibbling on forest berries while hiking in the woods. There was plenty of fresh, local produce available, and most nights, dinner was several rounds of hearty food cooked by Aunty Maria. I particularly enjoyed her rabbit stew, lasagne and roast capsicums.

The thing that surprised me: There were multiple water fountains with large, stone basins placed throughout the village, continuously running with chilly, fresh water straight from nearby mountain springs. I spotted neighbours washing their fresh veggies and fruit; we’d fill up our drink bottles for the day. It felt so bizarre to walk away from a running tap you could never turn off. I couldn’t believe how plentiful their water supply must be!

The thing about the architecture: Auronzo is in the northernmost region of Italy, only a short distance from Austria, Germany and Switzerland, so there’s a mixed influence on the architecture.

During winter, the village is covered in snow, so the buildings are mostly steep-roofed chalets with slender terraces, small windows and brightly painted timber shutters. The older style residences are charming log cabins with carved details on their timber balconies and little brick chimneys. I would have given anything to peep inside!

The thing about the landscapes: Mount Tudaio watches over the village from the east. Early in the morning, Lake Auronzo was perfectly still, mirroring rows and rows of old pine trees and the towering mountain range that rose steeply behind the village.

Auronzo is a short drive to the Dolomites, a UNESCO World Heritage site of limestone alps. We hiked into some breathtaking scenery there.

The thing I fell in love with: A baby goat in someone’s front yard that I passed most days on my walks into the forest. He had a little bell around his neck and a tiny black kitten in his pen, too. They were best mates, and I had a smile on my face the whole time I watched them frolicking together.

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[ shop directory ]

EMELDO

PLUME CLOTHING

IN A SENTENCE: Like a good friend, Emeldo is welcoming to all, with fun jewels to suit everyone // WHAT WE SELL: Rope necklaces, perspex and acrylic earrings, and lots of jewellery featuring tassels // PRICE POINT: From $20 to $60 // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: As a one-woman show, I put so much time and effort into running my shop, from managing the online store to making products and helping out our lovely customers. I also stock a selection of other brands on my website // FIND US: Online at emeldo.com

IN A SENTENCE: An independent womenswear label based in Melbourne // WHAT WE SELL: Cute and fun women’s clothing with a focus on natural fibres, timeless silhouettes and quality construction // PRICE POINT: From $70 to $280 // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: We try very hard to reduce waste, buying only small amounts of fabric; sewing garments as they are ordered; and making scrunchies and hair scarves out of leftover cloth.

Everything from the rubber in our stamp to our recycled tissue paper is sustainable // FIND US: Online at plumeclothing.com.au

LITTLE BUMBLE

BEACH AND BANDITS AUSTRALIA

IN A SENTENCE: A range of beach products for kids, combining a love for the ocean and wild children // WHAT WE SELL: Cool, sun-protective swimwear for children, including rashies, swim shorts, ponchos and backpacks // PRICE POINT: From $24.95 to $59.95, with special deals every season // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: Our cool, illustrated designs will make your littl’un stand out on the sand. The quality is top-notch, too – you won’t easily find a similar product around // FIND US: Online at beachandbandits.com.au

IN A SENTENCE: A food storage solution that won’t cost the earth // WHAT WE SELL: Beeswax wraps that keep your food fresher for longer! The sustainable wraps shape around food items and kitchenware with the warmth of your hands – simply wrap, rinse and repeat // PRICE POINT: From $4.40 for DIY kits and $6.60 for Little Bumble wraps // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: Proudly certified Australian Made and Owned, our scientifically formulated ingredients help our wraps outperform and outlast other products // FIND US: Online at littlebumble.com.au

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[ shop directory ]

MAKIN’ WHOOPEE GIFT SHOP

SHY HERO

IN A SENTENCE: An emporium of all things Australian and handmade // WHAT WE SELL: An ever-changing range of products, including jewellery, homewares, skincare, books, cards, and arts and crafts // PRICE POINT: From $2 for a postcard to $350 for an original artwork // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: We only stock locally made and handmade products, many of which are limited edition and can’t be found in other shops // FIND US: Online at makinwhoopeegiftshop.com or at 58 Shields Street, Cairns City, Queensland

IN A SENTENCE: Handmade women’s clothing for heroic women // WHAT WE SELL: Classic pieces that are shaped for practical comfort and a range of women’s figures. Our ensembles can be mixed and matched with the option of choosing your own fabric from our textile range // PRICE POINT: From $60 to $280 // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: Through Shy Hero we hope to celebrate women, their lives and values – not just how they look.

Our hand-illustrated fabrics are made from 100 per cent natural fibres, and built to last // FIND US: Online at shyhero.com

GOOD AFTER NINE JEWELLERY

HUNTER CANDLES

IN A SENTENCE: Novel, fun and unconventional jewellery designed with no rules in mind // WHAT WE SELL: Whimsical and unique jewellery that’s ready to be a part of your everyday adventures. This includes statement rings, earrings, necklaces and bangles featuring animals, florals, skulls and abstract designs // PRICE POINT: From around $37 to around $195 // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: Highly skilled and delicate craftsmanship. All our jewellery is completely handmade in our Bangkok-based studio // FIND US: Online at goodafternine.com

IN A SENTENCE: A sensory experience celebrating Australian natives // WHAT WE SELL: All-natural, earthy, hand-poured soy wax candles, melts and atmosphere sprays. No sweet stuff here! // PRICE POINT: From $20 to $65 // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: Each scent has been designed with an inspiring person in mind, and a splash of Newtown’s art-filled streets.

Our candles invoke memories and create new ones, too. Each is poured by one pair of hands, and made with thought and love // FIND US: Online at huntercandles.com.au

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[ shop directory ]

NORTHSIDE SOUTHSIDE

MSI

IN A SENTENCE: Bold, laser-cut earrings for women who want to make a statement, but aren’t into glitter and novelty shapes // WHAT WE SELL: Statement earrings in a refined palette, made from lightweight, laser-cut acrylic, with surgical steel posts (clip-on options are also available) // PRICE POINT: From $30 to $65 // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: Every single pair of earrings is designed and made by hand by a one-woman outfit in Byron Bay // FIND US: Online at northsidesouthside.com

IN A SENTENCE: The MSI PS42 is a member of the Prestige series from MSI, the leading manufacturer of premium notebook computers // WHAT WE SELL: The PS42 modern laptop, that’s not only super-lightweight and portable with a true-colour screen, but also has 10+ hours of battery life // PRICE POINT: From $1599 to $2199 // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: MSI is the most trusted name in gaming and eSports, and our Prestige series of products provides folks with more quality choices // FIND US: Online at au.msi.com

T H E L OYA L W O R K S H O P

AULIEUDE

IN A SENTENCE: Sustainable fashion for a new generation // WHAT WE SELL: Ready-to-wear pieces that can travel seamlessly from day to night, with a strong focus on cut and colour. We stock string bags, slinky dresses and lots of cute linen sets in between // PRICE POINT: From $20 to $220 // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: Aulieude’s garments are designed, made and sampled in our Sydney studio, using only plant-based materials and fabrics (that makes us vegan and plastic-free!) // FIND US: Online at aulieude.com

IN A SENTENCE: Quality, ethical leather goods crafted in India // WHAT WE SELL: Hardy, vegetable-tanned leather goods, including satchels, wallets, belts and wristbands, all hand-stitched by our artisans // PRICE POINT: From $70 for a wallet to $450 for a pack of 50 wristbands // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: It was founded as a way to offer alternative employment to women trapped in Kolkata’s sex trade. Each item is made from start to finish by a brave woman fighting for her freedom // FIND US: Online at theloyalworkshop.com

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[ shop directory ]

MUSTARD

HOMELEA LASS

IN A SENTENCE: A range of sweet-looking metal lockers made by sisters living on opposite sides of the world // WHAT WE SELL: Lockers for your home, kiddos and workspaces, in an assortment of on-trend colours. It’s a soft industrial vibe mixed with everyday usefulness; the perfect blend of form and function for your abode // PRICE POINT: $199 for the Shorty and $299 for the Skinny // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: Two sisters living far apart dreamed up a brand that would add some spark to your storage! // FIND US: Online at mustardmade.com

IN A SENTENCE: A way to find creative happiness through chunky crochet and knitting // WHAT WE SELL: Chunky blankets, scarves and other goodies you can make yourself, or have made for you // PRICE POINT: From $5 for stitch makers to $2400 for a custommade chunky blanket. My popular chunky crochet starter kit is available for $75 // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: I love everything I stock, and helping customers to make something beautiful // FIND US: Online at homelealass.com

SPUN MUD

MIES THE LABEL

IN A SENTENCE: A colourful, vibrant and remarkably fine range of ceramic homewares and decorative sculptures /// WHAT WE SELL: Stoneware serving bowls, platters, water jugs, cups and tableware, plus hand-built ‘zen heads’ and porcelain adornments // PRICE POINT: From $15 to $500 // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: People love to meet the maker and find out about my practice at my off-grid studio in the hills of the Sunshine Coast // FIND US: Online at spunmud.com.au or at a number of Queensland markets

IN A SENTENCE: A Melbourne-based fashion house specialising in customised dresses // WHAT WE SELL: Dresses! We encourage the consumer to be involved in the design process, so they can own something special and unique to them // PRICE POINT: From $330 to $395 for customised pieces; $360 to $420 for our boutique range // WHAT MAKES THE SHOP SPECIAL: Our website is made of modular dress parts that can all fit together, allowing the customer to design their dream dress // FIND US: Online at miesthelabel.com or on Instagram at @miesthelabel

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pretty pictures

an artful tale italian artist toni hamel tackles the big issues with pencils and paint.

Hello! Tell us a little about yourself. Hi there! I’m a visual artist from Oshawa, a suburb of Toronto, Canada. I’m originally from Italy, but I’ve been in Canada since 1984 and loved every minute of it.

between my work and that of a writer or playwright – the difference lies in the tools used for each craft.

Are there any messages you’re trying to convey through your work?

My work confronts us with the absurdity of our exploitative approach to the environment – both social and natural – and its repercussions. Our constant pursuit of self-gratification has trapped us in a corner from which it will be very difficult, if not impossible, to escape. I investigate the factors and motivations that led us here, while offering (at times) some levity and (always) food for thought. Humour is used to sweeten the pill. Since I don’t have the political power to effect change, I use art to raise awareness about the urgency of this and other matters.

What kind of art do you make? My art practice currently focuses on painting and drawing, but I dabble in small-scale sculpture and large-scale installation from time to time.

What are your favourite mediums to work with, and why? I tend to work mostly with oils, graphite and watercolours. For my drawings, I’ll either use regular lead pencils or graphite powder.

I apply the latter as if it were pastels, using my fingers or a sponge-tipped applicator (and sometimes even make-up pads or whatever else might do the job). I like my paintings to be ‘painterly’ rather than too precise. Oils, due to their slow drying time, allow me to paint wet-on-wet, or alla prima – a technique that welcomes a more relaxed approach.

What’s the creative scene like in Canada? The art scene in Toronto is quite vibrant. There’s a plethora of artists at every stage of their career, seeking to make their mark, but unfortunately there aren’t too many galleries willing to take them on. Nowadays, though, artists are taking matters into their own hands, self-representing online, in pop-up galleries, and at annual art fairs and open-air festivals.

What puts you in the mood to create? It might be the right music; a stanza from a favourite poem; a book I’ve read; a documentary I’ve watched; or just the daily news. It’s not one specific thing – it could be anything and everything. For that reason, I make sure to always have a sketchbook handy.

What’s one thing we should know about you? I’ve noticed many of my online followers assume I’m a young man. At the risk of disappointing anyone, I’m proud to say that I’m actually a middle-aged woman.

Do you have a back-story in mind for each of your scenarios/ characters? Yes. Absolutely. I work in series, and each tackles a specific topic or issue that I feel needs to be investigated. The title dictates which stories will be told, the scenarios in which they’ll unfold, and the characters that will inhabit them. There’s an affinity

Where can we see more of your work? I’m not too diligent in keeping up with social media (or the Kardashians), but I try to post new works on tonihamel.net, ingramgallery.com, or on Instagram at @tonihamel_artist

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popcorn

around the world in eight films sinead stubbins takes us on a cinematic tour of the globe.

ITALY: CALL ME BY YOUR NAME // Why are filmmakers so obsessed with Italy? Is it the ancient monuments that somehow, through war and weather, have managed to stay standing?

Is it the dark, cobbled streets that lead to crystal blue waters?

The sing-song language, full of emotion? The delectable food that makes you want to cry because it’s so darn good? (Sorry, projecting a bit there.) Whatever it is, it’s hard to go past Call Me

By Your Name as the quintessential ‘Italy’ film. Apart from giving us a touching love story that will make you cry a thousand tears, director Luca Guadagnino also inspires deep travel envy with his lavish shots of bike paths winding through green hills; glittering, secluded lakes; towering villas; and vast town squares complete with wine-swilling locals. It’s less about the big tourist spots and more about the feeling of being totally immersed in rural Northern Italy. Ah, bellisima.

SOUTH AMERICA: THE MOTORCYCLE DIARIES // Based on the memoir of a then- 23-year-old Che Guevara, The Motorcycle Diaries depicts a famous route through South America that many travellers pursued long before the film’s release. Guevara and his friend Alberto Granado’s 1952 expedition took eight months, with the pair riding from Argentina through to Chile, then Peru, and on from Colombia to Venezuela. Supposedly, the trip solidified Guevara’s politics, exposing him to social inequality and economic disparity that was rife across Latin America. The cinematography in The Motorcycle Diaries is pretty staggering, with visions of sparse deserts intercut with lush forests and foggy mountains. But that’s not the only thing that makes the film special. Like a young Guevara, who’s drawn by a sense of adventure and exploration, the audience must negotiate beautiful sites like the Amazon River, Machu Picchu and the Andes, as well as the extreme poverty the travellers witness along the way.

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JAPAN: LOST IN TRANSLATION // If you’ve visited Japan, you’ve probably been asked by someone, “Did you go to the Lost in Translation bar?” Even for the most tourism-adverse traveller, the thought of sinking a Suntory whisky in a dimly lit bar, illuminated by the Tokyo city lights 52 floors below, is hard to resist. Sofia Coppola’s film is about the hum of loneliness you can feel in even the most bustling spaces, but she also paints the picture of a warm city of insomniacs who flock to tiny fluorescent restaurants and karaoke bars when the sun goes down. The flick invites you to see what Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) sees on her solo trips around Tokyo, absorbing the clash of old and new, busy nightclubs and calm temples, just as she does. There’s a reason Lost in Translation has inspired hundreds of travel guides, ya know?

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FRANCE: AMÉLIE // Often in movies set in France, we see montages of erudite monuments and traditional landmarks that paint an impressive (and kind of intimidating) portrait of the country. But Amélie shows a less polished and more contemporary view of Parisian life, full to the brim with quirkiness (and raspberries). In between her matchmaking and general meddling – but like, in an adorable way – Amélie takes us down the winding alleyways of Montmartre, past endless flower stalls and markets overflowing with colourful fruit and veg, before stopping off at cafés for cognac. We still lay eyes on icons like the Notre-Dame and Sacré-Coeur, of course, but we’re offered a more personal look at an extremely well-documented city. Sure, it might be a nice, sanitised view of Paris, but it’s a very charming one, no doubt. Few would knock back the chance to skip stones in Canal Saint-Martin, or crack the top of a crème brûlée while church bells ring in the background.

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popcorn Photo Columbia Pictures

HONG KONG: IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE // Put some curlers in and make sure to starch your shirt, because we’re going back to 1960s Hong Kong, baby! (PSA: if you’ve recently given up smoking, do not watch this movie. They’re basically punching darts in every scene.)

Wong Kar-wai’s In the Mood for Love is a sad and atmospheric story about relationships and betrayal, that will make you want to buy a plane ticket – and probably a time machine – immediately. Chow (Tony Leung) and Su (Maggie Cheung) are very attractive neighbours who separately spend time wandering aimlessly around night markets and tight alleys, then, as they become friends, hanging out together in ruby-red diner booths and impeccably furnished, smokefilled apartments. This movie is beloved for its ‘shot-within-a-shot’ style of framing its two stars, but is also interesting for its portrayal of competing cultural influences in the Asian metropolis.

NEW YORK: WHEN HARRY MET SALLY… // One of the most iconic romantic comedies of all time, When Harry Met Sally… presents New York as a city where you’re just as likely to bump into your sworn enemy on a crowded sidewalk as you are the love of your life. The New York-iness of this movie is almost incidental, but inescapable – it presents the city as a sleepless microcosm with its own rhythm and beating heart, where millions of people are looking for love, avoiding it or ducking around street corners to dodge the ones who got away. Anything is possible in Ol’ New York! This sense of possibility is built into scenes where Harry and Sally hang out in boutique bookshops, vast hotel ballrooms and chic brownstone apartments. Who doesn’t want to take strolls in Central Park among autumn leaves, or order from the renowned Katz’s Deli? Heck yeah – I’ll have what she’s having.

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NEW ZEALAND: THE LORD OF THE RINGS TRILOGY // The best fantasy worlds are the ones that feel complete; when the viewer can truly believe that this fictional universe is as tangible as the real world. And it’s hard to compete with the level of detail that exists in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings realm. Since the release of the film trilogy in the early 2000s, New Zealand has become synonymous with the story of “one ring to rule them all”. This association could have been annoying, if not for the fact that the LoTR films showcase the New Zealand landscape in such a breathtakingly stunning way, they could pretty much serve as a 10-hour Bureau of Tourism ad.

From the emerald green fields to the Jurassic-looking forests and snowy mountain peaks, it’s hard not to feel like you’re breathing in the same chilly air as the hobbits and elves while watching these movies.

(If you want to go a step further, you can actually visit Hobbiton and duck into a hobbit hole or two on a trip to NZ.)

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THE ARCTIC: ATANARJUAT: THE FAST RUNNER // The eeriness of the sun hitting an endless expanse of snow and ice is something that can inspire great awe or great terror, depending on your emotional disposition. Atanarjuat: The Fast Runner was a groundbreaking film in a few ways – it was the first feature film ever to be written, directed and acted entirely in the Inuktitut language, and remains one of the few films exploring Inuit legend. Set in Igloolik in the Eastern Arctic wilderness, it follows Atanarjuat (Natar Ungalaaq) who is forced to leave his community after his brother is murdered. Apart from the thrilling story of love and betrayal, it’s safe to say that Atanarjuat is an excursion into a world very few people have experienced first-hand. Filmed entirely in natural light (which lasted through the 3pm-to-3am filming schedules), try not to be blown away by the film’s blinding white ice and howling winds, we dare you.

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signs of the times ROY SIMS COLLECTS VINTAGE ADVERTISING POSTERS.

I started collecting vintage advertising in 1983 – my main passion is Coca-Cola advertising from the 1910s to the 1950s. When I first began there was no internet, so the hunt was on. I became interested in the ads because I liked the artwork, and it’s the most affordable way to own original art pieces from those times. You can find copies or reproductions for similar money, but they’re just copies. I want the real deal, as they have a history.

Long before TV commercials, printed advertising was the only way to get to the consumer. The ads were rarely the same – if one appeared in a magazine, it had to be different the next time to capture the reader. Companies changed their artwork regularly – sometimes weekly – and all this was done by hand. In the now-famous Mad Men era of the ’60s, photographic ads became the way to go. Chainsmoking executives in offices made decisions for us all!

At last count I had around 10,000 pieces, including about 1000 stock items that I have on display at the Camp Hill Antiques Centre in Brisbane. I also sell original pieces through my eBay store, ad*retro.

Most of the collection is stored flat in acid-free sleeves, which take up two rooms in several plan cabinets at my house. If I run out of space, I just build another one! I’ve also custom-made shelves to hold all the smaller pieces – they’re grouped in vignettes like ‘speed and power’ (early aviation, gas and oil) and ‘French bistro’ (Evian, Cinzano vermouth, Dubonnet aperitif and more).

I’m always looking to find rare items. I have an original advert for the Moulin Rouge in Paris dated 1906, and early light bulb ads with striking Art Deco design from 1908. One of my favourites is for Van Heusen shirts – it shows a flapper girl from the 1920s with stunning art by Rolf Armstrong. I just love the piece, it’s so beautiful.

I’ve never found an Oilzum print ad selling motor oil; they must exist, but a good one has never surfaced.

Finding ads isn’t such a challenge now with so much stuff available online – the big problem is making sure they’re real, not copies.

Back in the ’80s I’d make trips to markets in France, Amsterdam, Germany and London to hunt. You had to do the footwork to get a look at anything back then. Some secondhand stores have the odd magazine, which is good but becoming rarer, especially in Australia.

In such a hot country, most old paper didn’t survive. It’s hard to find anything with good illustrations pre-1960.

I love seeing the old-style cut-and-paste artworks that were originally put together on boards, then hand-painted by artists who usually weren’t allowed to sign their work. Over the years, I’ve learnt to spot their artwork when it’s unsigned, and managed to get pieces to the families of the original artists. It brings them a lot of joy.

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real life

my mothers told me stories maeve marsden shares tales of love, heartbreak, and a queer family.

playing with us, reading to us. When Louise arrived home from long shifts at the pharmacy, she would climb into my bed exhausted and, still in her white uniform, she’d read to me, often falling asleep mid-chapter, glasses perched on the end of her nose, snoring gently.

My mothers told me stories in the filtered London light of our lounge room, in our brightly wallpapered kitchen, in their tiny bedroom, in that gentle way most parents do: “First I must get the baby to sleep, and then make some dinner, but after that I’ll play with you.”

Three- part narrative structures that helped me understand the tiny world I inhabited. Teresa, my British mother, told me her stories of growing up in working class Essex; from Louise came stories of her family’s raucous pub in Catholic Campbelltown. And we knew the stories of their friends, too – warm, funny, strong-willed women who were so quick to laughter that I thought all the laughter in the world was within my reach.

Other families’ histories are mapped out in genetics, in bloodlines.

For other kids, the connection of shared blood holds such weight that a deep sense of belonging is contained in a simple, “Oh, she has her father’s smile.” Or her mother’s eyes, her aunt’s chin, her grandpa’s nose. We examine babies for evidence. We joke, “She’s definitely yours,” or, “Maybe the postman paid a visit.” This sense of belonging through DNA feels so natural and inevitable to most people that even now queer couples embarking on parenthood ask me with fear in their eyes whether I loved my parents equally, whether I ever felt lost, or like I didn’t belong.

The walls of our home were covered in bookshelves teeming with Sadako and her paper cranes, Patience and Sarah and Looking for Alibrandi, the Ramona stories and The Worst Witch, and Bread and Jam for Frances, a beloved childhood book about a charmingly strong-willed raccoon. All lovingly dewey-decimaled by librarian Teresa, as though this library of books and the echoing laughter of clever women could fortify us all against the world. Stories as armour.

In our family, we didn’t have the unquestioned security of blood.

My mothers mapped out our connections in every retelling of their love for me. When I was small, they told me the story of how we were made in blunt and clear terms, easy for a child to digest. They told us so many times that I don’t remember the not-knowing, I only remember from when I could already tell it myself.

We left London in 1988. That same year, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher introduced a bill to ensure local authorities didn’t “promote the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship” – but this wasn’t something I knew about at the time, and it could hardly have been my mothers’ motivation for leaving, considering queer families weren’t offered a much warmer welcome Down Under.

Now that I’m grown, I tell the story of my family with the benefit of hindsight and perspective, weaving in my politics, my adult sense of humour, a little sarcasm if I want to disarm the questioner. I have my own queer politics now, built through fierce debate with friends, lovers and, yes, my family. But I’ll tell you my story as I told it when I was small, with simplicity and honesty, told so many times, to friends, teachers, and curious strangers.

We arrived in Australia to a country grappling with the bicentenary of invasion and colonisation, a country where my family – three kids born to two women – was not recognised, and where Teresa was forbidden from working. Partner visas for lesbian couples weren’t an option, so Teresa spent her days cleaning houses for cash, and looking after me and my siblings – teaching us,

“I was born to two mothers, Louise and Teresa, in 1983 in West Hammersmith Hospital, London.”

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“Which one’s your real mum?”“They both are…” I always knew what they were asking, but I’d still leave an awkward pause before giving them what they wanted.

quick-witted woman nicknamed Nanny Bingo due to her skill in the game, responded with characteristic bluntness and the perspective gained through years living in a cruel and difficult marriage. As far as she was concerned, as long as Teresa’s partners weren’t hitting or hurting her, they were welcome in Nanny’s home.

“Teresa had Rowan. Then Louise had Grainne and I. Rowan and Grainne’s donor is Graham. My donor is Dave, a New York Jew who lived in the same housing co-op as them in London. Louise and Dave were born on the same day, January 8th, Elvis’s birthday. They used to run the finances at the co-op and everyone would steer clear when they were working because things got a little noisy. Genetically, my family makes a big W – well, a big zig-zag if you draw us out.”

My parents took up space in the community, protecting us and ensuring a place for our family, marching into the school grounds to confront ignorant teachers or quietly speaking to parents who didn’t want us coming over to play with their kids. Louise got a licence so she could set off the fireworks at the annual Summer Hill Primary School fireworks night; her small frame encased in bright orange coveralls, racing across the field to light spinners, rockets, Catherine wheels. Nearby, Teresa (wo)manned the veggie burger stand, her secret recipe growing ever more popular till finally, when I was in year 6, victory was ours: we outsold the sausage sizzle.

I drew that jagged line so many times, sometimes in the air, sometimes on paper. I drew it because I knew that’s what people wanted of me. They wanted to know who shared blood with whom, whose sperm went in where. People are so horrified at the notion of children understanding sex and bodies, but their fears are quickly overwhelmed by morbid curiosity when faced with an eight-year-old who fully understands her own birds and bees.

I am 34 years old, I’ve travelled to strange and wonderful places and loved strange and wonderful people; I’ve had more misadventures than adventures, hilarious, heartbreaking and true. But I come back to this queer family history time and again because I’ve been telling it so long it’s become my heart. I feel it at the far reaches of my ribcage, in the pit of my stomach and in loud blood rushing, this family of mine.

From Louise, I inherited a wanderlust as she told me tales of backpacking round Norway with her best friend; the big ship they sailed on from Australia; travelling through Eastern Europe before the wall came down. Louise told me how she met Teresa at a job interview for a women’s shelter in London. Teresa asked her out and she replied, “What?! I hardly know you!” But soon she was writing a letter to her parents to tell them she’d fallen in love with a woman.

Her father wrote back, “As parents, we teach you how to brush your hair and brush your teeth, and we teach you how to love. But it’s not our job to teach you who to love.”

When my parents split up in 2005, this story was disrupted, this tale I’d told over and over till I grew into someone who spoke and spoke and had to be reminded to shut up. I was facing not only the pain of my family’s separation, but also the destruction of the public image and identity we’d constructed. And I wasn’t alone. Some of their lesbian friends were remarkably angry. “What will we tell our kids?” they said.

It seemed my family had become part of their story, too – the example they held up when their fears took over and they wondered if this new way of parenting was OK. “Look at Teresa and Louise, they’ve been together 28 years. Look at their kids. Look how happy they are.”

Considering they both came out in the 1970s, it’s surprising that Louise and Teresa’s families were fairly supportive of their daughters’ sexualities. But, despite fears for my mothers’ safety in a homophobic world, they were. Teresa’s mother, a staunch and

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real life

society was scared of a family without a mum and a dad

The year after Teresa moved out of our family home, and I moved back from uni in regional NSW to live with Louise, was the worst of my life. I’d held on to my family’s unity to build myself up as a person.

It was my identity and I had lost it.

parents’, but because broader society didn’t understand us, and were scared, inexplicably, of a family without a mum and a dad and a nice, neat family tree. We performed our successes for others because we were afraid if we weren’t perfect, people would blame my mothers’ sexuality. But we were all just flawed little people, and stories have conflict and drama and pain. And sometimes, resolution.

Also, my mothers behaved like total dickheads. Teresa lied and cheated, and in the midst of her heartbroken breakdown, Louise lost sight of her boundaries as my mother, told me too much and added to the strain on my relationship with Teresa. When I tell my story, I usually leave this part out, ‘the divorce’. I don’t tell people how we yelled and raged, how my mothers fought over money for two years, that I only found out how long it took because my ex-girlfriend, then a court reporter, saw them in court with their lawyers. I don’t tell people that in 2006, my first year of work, fresh out of uni and ready to take on the world, Louise would climb into my bed each morning and sob and sob and sob, grieving not only her relationship but also her oldest brother, John, who died that same year. I’d get into my little car to drive to work, playing the same song on repeat over and over while I sobbed as well.

With all the crying I did in cars that year, it’s a wonder I never crashed.

Now, 13 years later, we can all sit around a dinner table for birthdays.

My mothers come to the airport together to farewell me on my longer trips; they go to the opera together on occasion because everyone in our family has a passion for melodrama. No friendship or relationship is perfect, but my parents loved us kids so hard that they weren’t willing to leave things unresolved; they rebuilt our family in a new way and started a new chapter. And, thanks to all the lesbian emotional processing we did during the fall-out (some stereotypes hold kernels of truth), my understanding of adult relationships has progressed past what I knew at 22. Their break-up wasn’t the soapbox drama of infidelity I saw at the time – a simplistic explanation that hides the complexity of years, the complicated dance between two women over monogamy, sexuality, class, gender, pregnancy, birth, raising children, migration, intimacy with friends, family obligation, work, money, growing up and growing older.

I leave these stories out because they aren’t the ones my community wants to hear. They don’t fit the Love-is-Love narrative we’ve been selling to Australia for over a decade. People want to watch the adorable grannies, together for 50 years, finally getting hitched; they want the little boy desperate to be a ring bearer, or indeed flower girl, at his dads’ wedding; they want to hear how happy our childhood was, not how it all fell apart. My siblings and I were living in three different cities the year my parents split, and I still see us, sitting alone in Sydney, Bathurst and Canberra, not quite able to unite against our parents as they self-destructed. We fell so hard and fast from the pedestal I’d placed us on.

This is an edited extract from Queerstories, out now through Hachette. Find it at hachette.com.au or in all good bookshops.

When I don’t tell these stories, I do us a disservice. Stories aren’t press releases for a cause. We should have never been poster children, a position we held through no fault of our own, or our

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Marion Hall Best: Interiors is a travelling exhibition from Sydney Living Museums.

Exhibition partners: Supporting partner SEIDLER ARCHITECTURAL FOUNDATION Media partner THE SYDNEY MORNING HERALD

EXHIBITION NATIONAL WOOL MUSEUM 14 SEPTEMBER 2018—29 JANUARY 2019

EXHIBITION NATIONAL WOOL MUSEUM 14 SEPTEMBER–25 NOVEMBER 2018

‘A room for Mary Quant’, display room designed by Marion Best, 1967.

Caroline Simpson Library & Research Collection, Sydney Living Museums.

Photo © Estate of Mary White

Mudskip Transition Grinder by Karl Millard.

Photo by George Stawicki

Cross Grain Vessel by Philip Noakes.

Photo by George Stawicki

26 Moorabool St, Geelong T 03 5272 4701 nwm.vic.gov.au

Living room of Marion Best’s Darling Point apartment. Rodney Weidland, 1973.

Caroline Simpson Library & Research Collection, Sydney Living Museums.

Photo © Rodney Weidland

MSI LAPTOPS X FRANKIE

fantastic beasts ILLUSTRATOR PENNY ‘MIN PIN’ FERGUSON MAKES SOME WEIRD AND WONDERFUL STUFF. Words Jo Walker Photos Stephanie Rose Wood

Hi, Penny! Tell us a bit about yourself please. I’m an illustrationand craft-based designer. Making ceramics is a bit like 3D illustration, and that bleeds into doing textile design as well. I always say my work is like a mystery animal disco.

How did Min Pin come about? I’d just moved cities from Perth to Melbourne.

I put stuff on Etsy and started getting websites together, and I made a whole bunch of shrink plastic! Little badges and things – I had a lot of fun with that – and I was also doing illustrations and making jewellery and selling prints. Oh, I did the NEIS program as well. I found that really got the business side of my head more on track.

What’s your illustration process like? I usually paint first or draw something.

I paint everything freehand, but usually in black, and then scan them in, and then work with them on Photoshop. So, using those shapes, then cutting and pasting things and layering.

What is this doggy-themed work we can see you’ve been doing? Dog Park Adventures is a new textile print I’ve been working on. I enjoyed painting the plants, and putting some florals in. Then I wanted the dogs to be in there.

I painted all of those motifs first, then scanned them in, and put them onto the MSI modern laptop. I’ve been using Photoshop to play around with the composition and colours and things like that.

How did you find working on the MSI PS42 modern laptop? Well, I travel quite a bit. A couple of times a week I catch the train to town, about 45 minutes each way, and that’s a big chunk of time. I’m always working on a laptop, and I find the MSI really lightweight – it just feels like I’m carrying a book around in my bag. Also the battery lasts a really long time. There’s nothing more annoying than when a computer dies halfway through something!

I am safe from that. Also: the screen quality is very bright and clean.

What do you love about what you do? I love the amount of love that I get to experience! So, I really love illustration and design. I love colour and I love cute things. I’m so glad that I get to, for my job, create things that spread that love. I feel like it’s a very positive thing. Although there’s a lot of stress and deadlines and uncertainty sometimes, I feel like the base of it is really exciting and positive.

MSI’s new PS42 modern laptop has a thin bezel with 80% screen-to-body ratio, fingerprint one-touch accessibility, a truecolour screen with close to 100% SRGB standard, and up to 10 hours battery life. Woohoo!

To see more, head to au.msi.com

[ kids directory ]

BOTANIC BABY We’re a zero-waste nappy subscription service, here to drop off, collect and process your nappies. Offering cloth and compostable options, we also sell wet bags, cloth wipes and pail liners – everything you need to avoid sending waste to landfill. botanicbaby.com.au

LOVE MISS M Each and every Love Miss M photographic print is inspired by the simplicity of our natural surrounds. We want to charm your child with all that’s real, emphasising perfection in imperfection and the inherent loveliness in every bloom. lovemissm.com

GRACIE KEAL We sell a selection of unique characters – each with their own individual style – that don’t conform to the traditional idea of a ‘doll’. Based on actual children’s drawings, they’re made by hand using skills passed down from our dear old nan. graciekeal.com

PRAIRIE FOX Started by a pair of sisters living in different corners of the world, we stock a range of baby and kids’ clothing and gifts, suitable for newborns through to six-year-olds. From practical items to special pressies, you’ll find everything in one convenient, crowd-free place. prairiefox.com.au

BOBBY STITCH We sell practical and high-quality wearables for little people (and some for big people, too). Bibs, headbands, aprons, scrunchies and clothing – we strive to source locally and use natural, sustainable materials. bobbystitch.com.au

NATURE BABY Our stores are carefully crafted havens for parents and parents-tobe, stocking everyday essentials for little ones aged from newborn to four years. With a focus on all things natural and organic, you’ll find clothing, sleepwear, bedding, toys, skincare and plenty more. naturebaby.com

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[ kids directory ]

RED PARKA We’re a bright, colourful, happy shop in Hobart, selling lovely bits adorned with the original artwork of Tasmanian author and artist Jennifer Cossins. Items in our range include children’s books, art prints, stationery, tea towels, and cushion covers. redparka.com.au

MUMMA ETC. We make a range of hand-woven linen ring slings, woven in India in soft, earthy colours and light enough to be worn in the toasty Australian climate. Each sling is super-comfortable and supportive, as well as stylish. mummaetc.com

MY FAIR BABY My Fair Baby began as a way to sell children’s products with a story. Everything is ethically made, with a focus on babies’ clothes, toys and accessories – and all profits go to Restore India, to support community development. myfairbaby.com.au

LULO KIDS Based in Inverloch, Victoria, we create teepees that are perfect for a cosy reading nook or hideaway for busy little ones. We love using Australian and sustainably sourced materials where we can, and our goal is to promote creative and imaginative play. lulokids.com.au

M DREAMS Your one-stop shop for unique footwear and accessories for the whole family, as well as the ‘Mommy + Me’ footwear range, which allows you to twin with your mini through matching shoe styles.

We have stores in Melbourne, Sydney and on the Gold Coast. mdreamsshoes.com

WILSON & FRENCHY An Australian-owned baby and kids’ brand specialising in huggable newborn babywear, beautiful bedding and organic cotton kids’ sleepwear. We’re especially known for our subtle colour palette, hand-drawn illustrations and super-soft fabrics. wilsonandfrenchy.com.au

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real life

everybody has a story alanta colley has a feeling in her gut – that public health education and poo jokes make perfect companions.

AS TOLD TO LETA KEENS

intimately acquainted with your workmates in that environment.

It’s so amazing how you can adapt to a new type of normal. It was embarrassing, but I also found it funny. My friends would get sick as well, and discussion of poo was a very common topic.

I love talking about parasites – that moment when an audience gasps, that sense of tension when you can feel them shrinking in their seats, and the release when they laugh. But if anyone told me 10 years ago that I’d have a comedy show based on the parasites I’d picked up while working in public health, I wouldn’t have believed them.

Giardia is a bit hard to get rid of. You take a broad-spectrum antibiotic that blasts your intestines. The antibiotic is like a bomb you send through the system, and for months afterwards I couldn’t eat wheat and dairy because the bacteria that do the work had been killed off. Even before I had giardia, though, I was morbidly fascinated by parasites. Their entire biology has been harnessed over millennia of evolution to take advantage of another organism, and without that other organism they can’t survive. It’s bizarre. It’s sort of a ‘train crash’ thing – I’d find ways to read more about parasites and horrify myself. I’m really interested in gut flora and gut bacteria, too – many bacteria are also our friends.

I come from a long line of teachers, so there was a bit of an expectation that I would be one too, but the greater world beckoned. It took a while to find my path: my first degree was in history, and I thought I was going to go into nuclear policy.

I was enrolled in a masters in international security studies, and shortlisted for a scholarship, but missed out. The people organising the scholarship told me to go out and explore the world, so, after backpacking for a while – including a job in Ireland calling newsagencies to see if they needed more scratchies – I found myself in Cambodia doing an internship with UNIFEM [United Nations Development Fund for Women].

I came home from Cambodia to study the masters of international public health at Sydney Uni, and then took myself off to a small clinic in eastern Uganda. For part of the time, I got a placement with an Anglican diocese in Kenya, and worked in health education with the church community. It was difficult, because after I’d talk, a preacher would get up and tell everyone that condoms were made in cold countries, and when they were brought to hot countries, the heat would crack them. Also, alcohol turned women into lesbians, because women would never be attracted to other women without the devil’s brew. It made me realise that, while the need was great, I was swimming upstream. So I went back to Uganda and worked with a small public health organisation

One thing we were working on was trying to set up a textile factory enabling women with HIV to work. It was the first time I’d really been aware of public health, which involves finding ways to work with communities to stop disease before it happens.

On a human rights level, I felt in my gut it was the right pathway, and something I wanted to be involved in.

Cambodia was also where I encountered my first parasites – giardia and blastocystis. They’re both amoebic parasites you contract through drinking contaminated water. For five months I had explosive diarrhoea and vomiting. I was working in a tiny office, and the boss sat just outside the toilet door – you get fairly

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real life Photo Phoebe Powell

for the next year-and-a-half, running initiatives with 10 villages.

We organised nurses to do testing and health programs, and also worked on sanitation campaigns – increasing the number of latrines and rubbish bins they had, that sort of thing.

After I moved back to Australia, I worked with Engineers Without Borders in Melbourne, and started reviewing comedy shows. I also went to storytelling gigs and did spots, and after two years I was ready to tell a joke. The first couple of times I tried to do comedy, I couldn’t even get on stage – I walked past the venue. I managed to get two minutes out the second time.

While I was there I got malaria twice. It feels like you’re moving through concrete; you get an incredible headache that’s like having a bowling ball in the back of your head. There’s fever and exhaustion and diarrhoea, as well. If it’s not treated it can kill you, but there are some very good treatments. Within half an hour of taking them you can feel it regressing.

Eventually, I wanted to see if I had what it takes to write a whole hour of comedy. A friend suggested the title Parasites Lost, and as soon as he said it, I knew the show I could write. I could talk about the parasites I’d contracted; how those parasites work; fun facts about parasites; and my adventures and misadventures along the way in dealing with them. I wrote it in 2016, and trialled it on an audience at the Melbourne Fringe. It was terrifying, very much like parasites – I guess that’s the attraction for me, and what draws me back.

I also got a ‘jigger’ in my foot – that’s a sand flea that lives in the dirt. When an unsuspecting barefooted host comes along, it latches on and digs into the skin. The pregnant female swells to about three times her body size and leaves her reproductive organs in the hole she’s created. As you walk around, you’re distributing her eggs. It felt like a blister, and I only noticed it when it hadn’t gone away for two weeks. Ugandans are very experienced with them, and my workmate removed it for me – he got a sterilised safety pin and stuck it in my foot and dug it out. The eggs are in the blister as well, so you have to burn everything you’ve wiped your foot with.

After Melbourne, I did the Adelaide Fringe and then Melbourne Comedy Festival – it sold out there, which I didn’t expect. But it ticks the box of morbid fascination, and talking about poo is usually funny. It’s an enormous act of faith in an audience that when you share some of the uglier bits of yourself with them, they’ll act with kindness and laugh rather than judging you.

So far it’s worked out.

And then I got schisto, or bilharzia, which is a waterborne parasite that’s so small it swims through your skin and into your bloodstream. There was a very beautiful watering hole that I knew had schisto, but it was too good an opportunity – sometimes you have to take the risk. I didn’t have any symptoms; that’s the thing with parasites, you can carry them around and sometimes not know you’ve got them.

One thing I’ve learnt through parasites is that we’re not the independent organisms we think we are – we’re part of a much broader ecosystem. We think we’re in charge of our bodies, but so frequently aren’t. Sometimes it feels like we’re just going along for the ride in these flesh vehicles of ours.

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Photographs Natalie McComas

mind your business

wartime 1930s called Jazzland. The floors are incredible, original and heritage-listed – can you imagine the stories they would tell if they could speak? Other favourite details include our luscious rust velvet curtains; four Turkish rugs; O.G. ’70s Willow money tin; custom-made clothing racks and herringbone counter; and dreamy Moroccan lantern and tassels.

i love my shop ROSE MADDEN AND VANESSA CAVE BRING ’70S GLAMOUR TO THE GOLD COAST WITH THEIR CLOTHING STORE, NINE LIVES BAZAAR.

Where did your fascination with ’70s style come from? VC: We’ve always found ourselves drawn towards clothing, décor and homewares from that time. We became obsessed with living a colourful life, and offerings today are really missing that embellished, bright charm. My mum and grandma also hoarded all their clothing and homewares from that era, so I guess you could say it’s an inherited obsession!

What’s it like working with your best friend? VC: It’s such a hoot!

We bounce ideas and gossip with each other all day long (and night long, over a million texts). Rose is the more tech-savvy one, teaching herself Photoshop and, with eyes like a hawk, picking if a colour or shape isn’t working in a print. It’s not often we argue or disagree, but there are times when we have to come to a compromise. It’s not worth arguing over a shade of orange, is it?

Where is it? 2/33 McLean Street, Coolangatta, Gold Coast.

Nine Lives Bazaar in one sentence? Rose Madden: Colourful threads inspired by the golden eras of freedom, expression and good times.

How did the label come to be? Vanessa Cave: Rose and I have always been op shop addicts. We started an Etsy shop selling epic op shop finds, then, with no design experience, we winged it in Microsoft Paint, drawing pieces we wanted to create, then flying over to Bali to hunt for fabric. We started selling our wares at the Village Markets in Burleigh Heads, and after a few years, we’ve been lucky to pick up a tribe of like-minded, loyal Bazaar babes who froth on what we bring to life!

Who are your regular clientele? RM: Our customers range from 16 to 70, with many soaking up our ‘more is more’ attitude. They’re drawn to the boldest of our cuts and colour offerings – to them, bell sleeves and warm ’70s tones are life.

What do you love about what you do? VC: The freedom to be creative; brighten the lives of our customers; build self-confidence; go to festivals ‘for work’; and be our own bosses.

Is there a story behind the name? VC: Rose always dreamed of buying a pub in the Byron Bay Hinterland, then opening a vintage store next door called Nine Lives. We wanted our name to acknowledge the fossicking that led us to creating the label, and I’d recently been to Morocco, so it hit me – bazaar. We make timeless items that outlast nine pairs of hands, and therefore have nine lives.

What’s next for Nine Lives Bazaar? RM: Our next collection, Rainbow Revolution, is launching with its own festival that we curated with local bands. We’re working on a swimwear line – launching in time for summer, fingers crossed – made from recycled fishing nets.

Please describe the space you’ve created. RM: It resides in the only authentic retro/vintage strip on the Gold Coast. We found out our shop and the antique centre next door used to be a dance hall in

How can we contact you? ninelivesbazaar.com.au

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my project

creature feature auckland-based stylist louise hilsz swapped high fashion for furry friends.

WORDS LUKE RYAN

There’s no mistaking a Creatures & Co. portrait: the luminescent, fantastical design; the hyper-saturated florals; the beloved cat, dog or guinea pig looking deeply confused about what’s happening to them. Half conceptual prom photo, half ’80s t-shirt design, this is Anne Geddes for the four-pawed set – with a healthy dose of magic forest psychedelia thrown in for good measure.

labradors.“I’m looking forward to getting a rabbit booking,” she says.

Her own rabbit, Munchie, sadly passed before Creatures & Co. began, so a shoot would pay suitable homage: “I adore rabbits, and they’d suit our set so well!”

Of course, photographing animals does come with its fair share of idiosyncrasies. Cats, in particular, pose a challenge. “Cats really don’t want to sit still,” Louise says. “We ended up having to fashion a tunnel so they’re basically forced to run towards the camera. It makes for some great action shots.” But in general, despite the timeworn adage, she reckons animals are far better creative partners than kids.

“With children, you have such a small window before they crack it.

Animals actually warm up the longer you spend working with them.

Also, they don’t cry. Worst case is you get a few barks.”

Creatures & Co. is the passion project of Auckland fashion stylist and animal lover Louise Hilsz. “After working as a stylist for so long, I realised the projects I loved the most always involved animals,” Louise says. “I thought it would be awesome to do something fun and creative with people’s pets.”

Drawing on her own personal aesthetic – “My style definitely has a more-is-more approach; I’m always wearing a rainbow of colour” – Louise builds her pet portraits from an ever-expanding collection of faux flowers, astro-turf and kids’ bed sheets. (“Professional drop sheets weren’t cute enough,” she explains.)

She works hand-in-hand with a photographer, shooting at friend and collaborator Julia Ford’s studio, where the concrete floors apparently come in handy in the case of unexpected accidents.

The owners themselves provide their own particular joys – “Those ‘manly men’ really get into it with their little dogs,” Louise says – but the best part of the job is, obviously, the critters, confused as they may be. “You get to spend quality time with a variety of animals and have lots of furry cuddles,” she says. “And there’s so much laughter on set. It’s so different to working on fashion or commercial shoots. This is work filled with love.”

The project is in many ways inspired by Louise’s own beloved dog, Pinky – a 16-year-old, clinically blind chihuahua-shih-tzu cross. “She’s a hard subject to photograph these days,” Louise says, “as she tends to wander around.” So far, Louise has shot creatures great and small, from long-haired guinea pigs to fluffy kittens, dachshunds, exotic shorthair moggies and big, goofy

As to why people should embrace the world of pet portraiture?

Easy. “Pets give us so much unconditional love and joy every day.

They don’t complain or fight, and all they ask for is basic care and companionship. They definitely deserve to be honoured with a beautiful portrait!”

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licenced by WWW.BIRKENSTOCK.COM.AU 1800 623 423 FOLLOW US

BIRKENSTOCKAU

stuff

all packaged up bundle together a bunch of lovely things to show someone you care.

WORDS SOPHIE KALAGAS PHOTOGRAPHS AND STYLING HILARY WALKER

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the ‘bye-bye australia’ care package 2

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There’s nothing more comforting than hearing Australian slang in that classic drawl, so why not send a traveller off with some cool-looking Aussie art to whack on their new wall? 1. Colourful Language postcard, rrp $10 for pack of four, rubymackinnon.com and 10. G’day Mate card, rrp $7.50, meandamber.com. Australia-themed duds will do double duty overseas: they’ll remind your pal of home when they wear them, and spark questions from fellow travelling types about where they’ve come from, which may = new friends. 2. Home Grown tee, rrp $89, ryderlabel.com and 8. Dreamtime socks, rrp $12, lifewear.com.au. Not only is our native flora lovely to look at, it smells so specifically Aussie, as well. Pack goodies featuring wattle, bottlebrush and the like and they’ll conjure up memories of springtime strolls. 3. Golden Wattle print, rrp $75, harperandcharlie. com and 11. Hand-embroidered Australian native wreath, rrp $85, ofthevalleycraft.etsy.com. An eye-catching luggage tag will ensure your friend’s suitcase doesn’t go astray en route. 4. Emotional Baggage luggage tag, around $45, theschooloflife.com. When you’re far away from your family and friends, watching a classic Aussie film is the equivalent of a big, friendly hug. 5. The Castle DVD, rrp $12.98, jbhifi.com.au. Why keep your travel odds and ends in a cumbersome bumbag when you could use a sweet Aussie purse instead? Just make sure it’s secure for long days out and about, with strong zips and straps to avoid pickpocketing. 6. Lamington clutch, rrp $60, alicenightingale.etsy.com. No matter where you are in the world, a steaming cuppa will make it feel like home – especially when it’s flavoured with fragrant native plants. 7. Lemon myrtle with Kakadu plum tea blend, rrp $13.50, kakaduplumco.com. Your mate will have lots to keep them busy when they arrive, like figuring out where they’ll eat, sleep and earn some dosh. Take one errand off their list by sending them off with some home-style toiletries. 9. Fresh mint toothpaste with tea tree oil, rrp $4.20, grantsofaustralia.com.au and 14. Birds olive oil block soap, rrp $7 each, melbournalia.com.au. A deck of cards is the ultimate tool for making friends overseas – language and cultural divides are no match for a heated game of UNO or Go Fish. 12. Golden Girls playing cards, rrp $15, happyvalleyshop.com. Wherever your friend winds up, they’ll experience things they’ll want to remember forever, so help them keep track of their journey with a handy travel journal. (Bonus points if it features Australia-themed art.) 13. frankie diary 2019, rrp $29.95, frankie.com.au/shop

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the ‘stuck in hospital’ care package 1

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Need a reason to get your craft on? An encouraging banner for your hospital-bound chum is as good as any, we reckon. 1. Handmade felt banner. Between flashing machines, TVs on at all hours, and harsh fluoro lighting, a soothing eye mask won’t go astray during hospital nap times. 2. Gum Leaves eye mask, rrp $24, wheatbagslove.com.au. Also important for long periods spent horizontal? Comfy-as-heck PJs to sloth around in, while feeling a bit nice. (Loose-fitting duds work best, and short-sleeve tops for easy arm access in case an IV drip is required.) 3. Half Moons cami, rrp $55, and 4. Clay Banksia pyjama pants, rrp $65, nancybird.com; 12. Soxygen socks in Raindrops 2, rrp $18.95, tightology.com.au. When visiting hours are over, hospitals become mighty boring places to be. Choose a book your friend can sink into – something funny, fantastical, or that will take them away to a completely different place. 5. Ayiti by Roxane Gay, rrp $29.99, hachette. com.au. A simple way to brighten up an in-patient’s stay is to swap standard-issue, sterile toiletries for more personal alternatives (because even brushing your teeth can be cute). 6. Laneways cloud soap, rrp $18, viceandvelvet.com.au and 8. Marvis toothpaste in cinnamon mint, rrp $13.95, mitchellmccabe.com.au. If you’re down in the dumps and feeling shit, unsolicited health advice is the pits – leave that to the doctors and share your love and support instead. 7. Treatment on the Internet empathy card, around $6, emilymcdowell.com. Popping on some fresh undies can be surprisingly refreshing, especially if you’re lying around all day, feeling a bit stale. Plus, it’s kind of fun to know there’s a pair of cute knickers underneath your miserable-looking hospital gown. 9. Floral cotton knickers, rrp $46, foxinjocks.etsy.com. Go one better than the teddy bears piled up in the hospital gift shop with a hand-crafted plush pal for your under-the-weather friend. 10. Frog Friend, rrp $160, catrabbit.bigcartel.com. The first rule of recovery from any illness: hydrate and rest. Chances are your mate will be more likely to quench their thirst if the water comes from a spiffy reusable water bottle. 11. S’well Betsy Ann insulated drink bottle, rrp $59, petersofkensington.com.au

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the ‘oh shit, i had a baby’ care package 4 1

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A newborn baby needs tiny duds to protect them from the big, bad world outside the womb, so help kickstart their wardrobe with some itty-bitty accessories. 1. Cleo Alpaca baby booties in copper, rrp $74.95, millesimebaby.com.au; 4. Gumnut Buds Lunar baby hat, rrp $14, halcyonnights.com.au; 5. Pretty Wild Chloe bib in capel mustard, rrp $29.95, bigdreams.com.au and 15. Rosie Bunny stick rattle, rrp $17.95, alimrose.com.au. Fill some cute containers with freezable, pre-prepared meals, then drop them off to your pal. That’s one less thing they’ll have to think about in their new-parent fog, and they’ll love you for it. (While you’re at it, don’t forget the ready-to-eat snacks!) 2. Creatures snack boxes, rrp $17.95 for set of three, thewoodsfolk.com.au; 13. Bahen & Co. chocolate, rrp $9.90 each, bahenchocolate.com and 14.

Lightly salted faba beans, rrp $31.95 for four-pack, humanbeanco.com. With a tiny human needing their attention at all times, basic hygiene is the first thing to slip off a new mum’s daily checklist. Strategically chosen toiletries can refresh a tired brain and body, even if they haven’t brushed their teeth in a week. 3. Myrtle & Moss hand cream, rrp $12.95, myrtleandmoss.com.au and 16. evo Water Killer dry shampoo, rrp $37, evohair.com. A trio of slightly mismatched socks means less time spent hunting for the perfect partner to your cosy foot cover. 6. Pil socks, rrp $19 for set of three, oddpears.com. Parenting can be unpredictable, but one thing’s for sure – shit’s about to get messy. A super-soft towel at arm’s reach will always come in handy. 7. Waffle bath towel in lobster, rrp $39, kipandco.com.au. The number one gift you can give a new mum or dad? A little elbow grease, and help keeping their house (somewhat) clean. 8. Your time, energy and cleaning stuff. As far as we can tell, being a parent is just lugging lots of things around at all times. A nice bag will make being a packhorse a little more fun. 9. Alice large retro basket in pink, rrp $25, boysandivy.com.au and 12. Yellow Flags cotton & canvas duffel bag, rrp $90, fictionalobjects.com. There’s no better excuse to take a million happy snaps than squeezing a small human out your underpants parts. 10. instax SQUARE SQ6 in blush gold, rrp $199, instax.com. Give your pal a little pep and let them know you’re proud of them with a sweet and silly greeting card. 11. Able and Game greeting card, rrp $6, ableandgame.com

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the ‘i’ve just been dumped’ care package 3

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When you’re nursing a broken heart, sometimes the only thing to do is curl up in a ball and stare at the wall. Some cosy PJs and an adultappropriate blankie will make your friend’s misery cocoon a little less shit. 1. Zen Moon pyjama set, rrp $180 for shirt and pants, sukuhome.com and 12. Meridiana baby quilt, rrp $160, aneau.com. You know what helps alleviate rage and sorrow? Bashing things – like a homemade piñata – with a wooden stick. Also, giving the finger, and channelling your anger into sarcastic (but cute) accessories. 2. Homemade piñata; 6. Nope earrings, rrp $30, yippywhippy.com and 10. The Finger print, rrp $90, indigo-orourke.com. The downside is, there will probably be tears. The upside? The resulting puffy eyes are an excuse to wear dark sunglasses and stalk about like you’re Anna Wintour. Hook your friend up with some nice, dark frames and equally nice, moisturising tissues. 3. Marmont sunglasses, rrp $199.99, valleyeyewear.com and 11. Forest Friendly tissues, rrp $24 for 12 boxes, au.whogivesacrap.org. For obvious reasons, break-ups can make you feel super-alone, so make sure to let your buddy know you care. 4. Here For You card, around $8, madamefancypants.com. Music can help a dumpee make their way through the inevitable stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, sadness and finally, acceptance. Cater to all moods with a carefully crafted mixtape, or get your hands on a tried-and-true classic break-up album. 5. DIY mix CD and 8. Fleetwood Mac – Rumours, rrp $36.95, readings.com.au. Some say a bath can cure anything. Though medical professionals may not agree, there is something restorative about a long, steamy soak in a tub jazzed up with a fistful of bath salts. 7. Soothing bath product. Once they’re past the sick-to-the-stomach phase, a lovesick human wants nothing more than to eat their feelings – plus all the chocolate and carbs they can fit in a shopping trolley. 9. Mork Australian Natives hot chocolate, rrp $26, morkchocolate.com.au. If they’re so inclined, give your pal a grog-fuelled break from their broken-hearted reality. But make sure you stick around while it’s going down (the gullet) – you’ll need to let them vent, and join in for a drunken sing-along. 13. Booze hipflask x David Shrigley, rrp $40, thirddrawerdown.com

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pots and pans

dough the right thing nothing says ‘yum’ like banana golden syrup dumplings.

WORDS AND RECIPE HETTY MCKINNON PHOTO LUISA BRIMBLE

Unlike many Australians, I didn’t grow up eating golden syrup dumplings. Dessert at my house was a pared-back affair – maybe a piece of fruit, or a few slices of orange. Perhaps it was this dessert drought that made me into a non-dessert person. I can happily go days and days without eating anything sweet, but there are a few desserts that are my undoing. This is one of them. It was my husband Ross who first introduced me to these incredible pillowy sweet dumplings. He learnt the recipe from his mum, who is really the queen of simple, minimal-effort, maximum-comfort desserts.

These light and fluffy dumplings are perfect for soaking up the treacly, delicious golden syrup sauce. My personal touch is the addition of banana, which amps up the caramel flavour.

HOW TO Place the flour in a bowl and add the butter. Using your fingertips, rub the butter into the flour until the mixture has a coarse, sand- like consistency.

Beat the egg together with the milk until combined, then stir in the mashed banana. Pour the egg mixture into the butter and flour mixture and stir together to make a wet dough.

To make the syrup, in a large, wide saucepan, melt the butter over a low heat. Add the sugar, golden syrup and 500ml (2 cups) of water and stir until combined.

Bring the syrup to the boil, then use a tablespoon to drop a golf ball-sized dumpling straight into the pan. Repeat until you’ve used all the dough – you should have around 8 to 10 large dumplings.

Reduce the heat to low and simmer gently for 15 minutes, until the dumplings are puffed up and a skewer inserted into the centre of one of them comes out clean.

INGREDIENTS 150g (1 1/2 cups) self-raising flour 50g butter, at room temperature, cut into small pieces 1 egg

To serve, place 1 to 2 dumplings in a small bowl alongside some vanilla ice-cream. Top with some of the syrup from the pan and scoff immediately. Serves 4-5

80ml (1/3 cup) milk 1 banana (about 120g), mashed vanilla ice-cream, to serve For the syrup:

Family by Hetty McKinnon is out now through Plum. As a special treat, we have five copies (worth $39.99 each) to give away, so head to frankie.com.au/win to enter. Recipe has been tweaked a little to fit frankie formatting.

50g butter 165g (3/4 cup) brown sugar 3 tablespoons golden syrup (can be substituted for honey or maple syrup)

TIP: the dumpling dough is best made just before serving.

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music talks

Being a transgender person and playing music to new audiences is a challenging experience that I don’t have a lot of reference points for. I know that when we play, there are people in the room who are going to have a problem with me, no matter what I do. It’s a frustrating and sometimes scary reality, but it’s really important for me to be outside my comfort zone. I know when I throw myself into the deep end, I’m making things a little easier for people like me who are constantly ridiculed or ignored by the music industry.

things that matter to me...

WITH ROMY VAGER OF MELBOURNE BAND RVG.

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Interview Sophie Kalagas

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COFFEE I am obsessed with coffee. Sometimes I drink about 15 to 20 cups a day. I’ve got a very addictive personality and I need to have something to hold in my hands and sip, otherwise I start to feel strange. Being overseas this year was weird, because nowhere else apart from Australia knows how to make good coffee. It’s been real satisfying to get back home each time and buy a flat white on Sydney Road. Next time I leave Australia, I’m going to have to pack a percolator with me.

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MY GUITAR The guitar I play is a black Danelectro that was given to me as a surprise birthday gift at a time when I didn’t have a working guitar of my own. It really blew me away. I’m very prone to depression and self-doubt, and I think about quitting music all the time, but the guitar reminds me there are people out there who love me and care about the things I’m doing. It’s the most valuable thing I own. .

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WALKING There are all these alleyways in Melbourne’s northern suburbs that are really long and usually filled with cats, birds and lemon trees. It’s nice on a sunny day to follow them down to where it’s quiet and there’s no traffic or people anywhere. I really feel as if I’m the only person on Earth when I walk down there.

CROSSWORDS I adore crosswords. I don’t do the print ones as much as I’d like to, because all the good ones are in conservative newspapers and I don’t really want to support them. There are a few online that I like to do, though – they aren’t too easy or too hard.

Finding the right words is really important to the kind of songs I write; sometimes I’ll stress for days over a phrase just to get it perfect. I like to think that doing little things like crosswords keeps my vocabulary up and makes it easier for me to say what I mean. .

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THE BANK I used to live in this old bank in Preston. It’s just a building now, but for a few years it was a pretty amazing sharehouse/venue/recording studio. I wrote so many songs there, and my band played our very first gig in the studio space. I never used to feel like I was part of anything, and it gave me a real sense of community and energy that I’d never had before. It’s really important to have somewhere you belong and are free to be yourself. I’m grateful for the things I’ve learnt and the friends I’ve met while living there. It still energises me.

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TOURING THE WORLD This year my band has been lucky enough to play a lot of music overseas. I’d never been to America or Europe before, so it’s been amazing to travel and see the world while playing my songs to people. It’s great, but it’s also very stressful.

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s i m p ly r e g i s t e r a n d v e r i f y y o u r s t u d e n t s t a t u s w i t h U Ni D AY S a t f r a n k i e . c o m . a u / u n i d a y s

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THE WITCHES BY ROALD DAHL // Surely, surely you’ve read this book already? If not, then you should definitely stop reading the review and get to the library. On your way, keep an eye out for women in long gloves, wigs, and with spit the colour of ink. (Really, you should probably be wary of anyone like that anyway.) The Witches is a classic good-versus-evil tale, but I’d never considered an alternative evil... is this a misogynistic tirade? Apparently, the sexist undertones of the novel have led to it being banned from some schools. Nevertheless, it’s worth a gander, as most Roald Dahl tales are.

non-stop ’80s hits CHUCK YOUR HAIR IN A SCRUNCHIE AND CRACK OPEN THESE ’80s BOOKS THAT ARE ACTUALLY WORTH READING. Words Caro Cooper

THE ALCHEMIST BY PAUL COELHO // The Alchemist is one of those books that sits for so long on so many bookshelves that most people are convinced they’ve read it. That was me, anyway. Turns out I hadn’t. I’d never met the little shepherd boy Santiago; read about his dream; followed him to Egypt; learnt of the “Personal Legend”; or, let’s be honest, discovered my true self. The Alchemist isn’t for everyone, even though we all have a copy. If you loved Siddhartha, The Little Prince or The Prophet, maybe give it a whirl.

MISERY BY STEPHEN KING // Every decade has been good to King, but the ’80s were really his time to shine. After all, his visions of horror and psychological torture fit so perfectly with the coked-out decadence of the age. In Misery, we meet Paul Sheldon, a romance writer rescued from a car crash by a fan named Annie Wilkes. If you thought Taylor Swift fans were intense, think again – Annie is so upset when she learns what Paul has in store for her favourite character, Misery Chastain, that she holds him hostage, forcing him to rewrite the tale.

The climax is a litany of violent acts, schlock, psychological horrors, and all the terror you need for a month’s worth of sleepless nights.

THE COLOR PURPLE BY ALICE WALKER // Be warned: this is not a hedonistic ’80s romp. In fact, it takes place during the 1930s in America’s Deep South. It’s the brutal story of the treatment of several generations of African-American women at the hands of men and a grossly unjust society. Sexual, emotional and physical abuse are rife. Strong characters seeking salvation where they can, and fighting back when they cannot. Amongst the violence and trauma, Walker has crafted a magnificent story. Be prepared.

THE VAMPIRE LESTAT BY ANNE RICE // What’s better than a schlocky vampire book? A vampire book where the narrator takes the stage as the lead singer in an ’80s rock band, of course! I bet he could even walk on stage in the same billowing shirts from his 18th-century vampire days. Fashion really does come around again.

The Vampire Lestat tells Lestat’s story, from his humble beginnings in the mortal realm to his transformation into a fanged creature of the night, with a whole lot of violin playing in between. Lestat’s a jerk, but which ’80s frontman wasn’t? If this didn’t grab you at ‘1980s frontman’ and ‘vampire’, it probably isn’t for you.

THE BONFIRE OF THE VANITIES BY TOM WOLFE // The ’80s were a time of extremes – extreme hair, fashion, money. Wolfe captures it all from the comfort, and later discomfort, of Sherman McCoy’s multimillion-dollar Park Avenue apartment. The novel centres on the Wall Street executive’s misadventures – specifically, the way his life is turned upside down when he and his mistress are involved in the hit-and-run of a young black man. Wolfe cleverly captures the racism, egoism and sexism of the age in this tale of a man fallen from grace.

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