Memoirs of an English (and French) adventure...the Royal Borough of Windsor

St Georges Chapel.  Resting place of many known Monachs
and English nobility including Henry VIII and his BFF Charles
Brandon.  The little people liked it too...so many statues

Dr Love had picked up something nasty on the flight abroad and barely made it through the Oxford adventure. So the following morning, my cousins B and G, myself and the little people left him on the couch and set off for a fabulous girls’ day out at the Royal Borough of Winsor. Ah Windsor. A little town so entrenched in British royal history –I am almost obsessive when it comes to the British, that it almost made up for the fact that despite being in the UK for three whole days, I had yet to shop! So unlike me I know but there was so much to see and so many old buildings and castles to do that I was strangely content to bide both my time and my ahem...budget! Visiting Windsor and particular Windsor castle for the second time in seven years was just shy of receiving a Prada handbag at Christmas on the Richter scale of excitement. Not only was I walking the very same stones that were underfoot kings and queens a hundred times over and greeting the tombs of the known and not so known monarchs and their favourite nobility – hello Charles Brandon, I feel I know you so well - but there was a palace shop on almost every corner! And I love a palace shop nearly as much as I love a shoe shop! Go figure that one out!


The stroll up the hill and onto the Castle itself had us all breathless with the majesty of the imposing grey stones that towered and curved above and around us. If I was hoping for a leisurely stroll through the embellished and stately apartments that escorted us back to a time when heads rolled as often the fashions of the season, I was mistaken. The youngest of the little people, baby cub, had relinquished her pram at the cloak room upon admission and although was happy to be free from its restraints did not like being told where she could and could not run and oh wow, didn’t that gold gilded sideboard and big tall bed look inviting to an excitable dare devil! So, with screaming babe in arms it was a quick meander through the hallowed halls and a fleeting glance at Queen Mary’s dolls house and the centuries old portraits of monarchs for whom stories are told and television shows are made until we reached the end and could divulge ourselves of her not so pleasant nappy!


From the castle, we strolled through the pretty streets nearby searching for the Crooked House of Windsor; our chosen venue for an afternoon tea delight. Imagine our excitement when we found the tiny 16th century building right alongside the columned facade of the guildhall, the very place Charles and Camilla tied the royal knot five year before.  Believe it or not the Crooked House really was crooked and once inside rather discerning to those of us climbing the narrow stair case to the upper level in order to partake in a spot of tea.

We had some spare time before our train arrived in the afternoon so we popped into a few of the shops that lined the station concourse; an exciting experience on its own. It was here that I first discovered Hobbs, a sophisticated high street retail heaven that offered classic cuts and elegant silhouettes for the chic fashionista in all of us. When I considered the closest Australian alternative, the best I could do in comparison was Veronika Maine, only more refined and colourful with a cascade of rich teals, blues, greens, reds and purples. It was fair to say that I was in colour wheel heaven and would return to Hobbs many times over the coming weeks.

Vale Grandma...my style inspiration, gone but not forgotten

Have you ever had one of those moments when you have no idea what to wear and then suddenly a flash of inspiration passes over you like a glossy vogue fashion spread and you find yourself launching into your wardrobe for a little bit of style heaven? No...bummer. It happened to me the other day. Wednesday. I was standing in the middle of the bedroom in my intimates considering the contents of the smallest-wardrobe-in-the-world and feeling a tad sorry for myself. My grandma had died a week earlier and I had just returned from an unscheduled visit to Perth where amidst the support and love of my family I rode the gauntlet of emotion and memory. She was 91, although if you fancy yourself as a bit of ghost whisperer, pleased don’t tell her I said that...she really didn’t like anyone knowing how old she was except the year she turned 90, at which time she had a ripping party and told everyone who cared to listen. Gran, as most of us affectionately called her was a very big part of my life despite not seeing or talking to her as often as I should since I crossed the Nullarbor Plain all those years ago. Her influence on me however,...particularly the influence that involved those cute little lipstick samples from Avon (ding dong) has been and will be ever-lasting. The temptation in my sadness to drag a plain pair of brown-wide legged trousers and predictable shirt had been great. I was only going to work after-all, so what did it matter? So what if I vowed in public circumstances in January to glam it up for work, it wasn’t as if anyone noticed or cared (!). I even reached for those completely over-worn black patent shoes that had rather unwittingly become my staple AND by-passed the bling! I was tired... extreme emotion and a three and a half hour flight that arrived into Melbourne 45 minutes late and well into the night on my own with two grumpy and irrational children had done nothing to improve my darkened demeanour and the ensom I had chosen to wear that day was a clear reflection of how I felt. As I stood there fighting back tears, I thought of Grandma and was hit with a force of inspiration so powerful (remember the Prada handbag to the head), I practically ripped the clothing from my body and within two minutes (I had to leave the bedroom to retrieve the magic knickers from the suitcase in the dining room otherwise it would have been sooner), I stood in front of the mirror in an outfit that felt so glamorous it was almost a surprise to find out I wasn’t French!

Perhaps it was Grandma talking to me from beyond...we did share a birthday and Grandpa often remarked that we were very much alike. Come to think of it there were times when he said that, I’m not sure he thought that was a good thing ...usually when Grandma and I were paralytic with laughter over something he did not approve...AND she was a very stylish woman (even though she did insist on wearing her Australian-made inspired Avon wind-cheater and Fremantle Dockers cap when gardening). In her younger days, and believe me it wasn’t all that long ago she was always immaculately presented with a full face of make-up that was so skillfully applied you’d swear she wasn’t wearing any. She favoured top and tailing...her handbags matched her shoes and her clothes were always feminine, complimentary and coordinated. She loved belts...they were her accessory of choice and she sewed as though she was born cradling a Jenome in her slender hands. She had a walk-in-robe that my grandpa built for her...ah Dr Love??... which she always threw open whenever we visited for dress-ups and play and she would sit with me and my cousins and tell stories of years gone by as we went through her jewellery piece by piece. As far as my grandma was concerned, standing in front of one’s wardrobe regardless of size whilst seriously contemplating compromising one’s style because one was in a bit of snit simply would not do. So I took action, and here is what I did:

I took a black...yes black, but it’s a statement piece so its allowed, a-line Cue skirt with cleverly hidden pockets in the pleated waist band, which incidentally had received two last minute reprieves from ebay just because its Cue, and teamed it with my new orange and marble grey striped Veronika Maine jersey knit top with three quarter sleeves and neck detail. I added black tights...supporting statement piece (no pun intended) and patent black Steve Madden peep-toe heels with blood red mary-jane strap. My accessories consisted of a dangly pair of triple strand ear-rings with multi-coloured beads, which I made when making jewellery was the in-thing to do and two bangles in beige resin and black wood. To round it out, I added my burgundy Lucca bag and caramel coloured overcoat, also from Cue.

I call it my ‘Outfit by Grandma’...she was my style inspiration in so many ways for so long and although she may now be gone...she will never be forgotten. MFSxxx

I have a plan

It’s been nearly two weeks since my last post and I have no excuse other to say that I have completely blow up my reverse saving budget and have been drowning in my own guilt. I even tried to hide the evidence from the latest spend (Tuesday) but Dr Love found it (Veronika Maine bag), which to be quite frank wasn’t very hard...I left it sitting on a chair the back door. What was I thinking?...I have a lot of clothes...he probably would never have noticed the new stuff! I know I’m weak. I know I have no staying power and even less self-control, but I simply couldn’t help myself or wait the remaining 37 days until I hit the UK and high street heaven. But it’s not all my fault. I blame Stacey and Clinton too. Really I do. I’m still catching up on the 30 plus episode marathon of TLC’s What Not Wear...there is a new ep everyday and I desperately needed to re-stock the upper-half of the smallest-wardrobe-in-the-world with something other than tee-shirt material because without the magic knickers tee-shirt material clings and I need suitable backups that float away from the body! I know my wonderful friend Mel understands. She went through something similar before her own holiday to New York earlier in the year and between us we firmly believe it’s an illness. Both of us are sick of not having anything to wear! I know, I know. It was failed attempt at humour but I couldn’t resist. The problem with spending money before you go on holiday during which you are sure to shop some more...Hello Zara, so nice to make your acquaintance... is that you have less with which to spend and more opportunity for credit card guilt.  That said however, I have assured Dr Love that I have a plan, and if it’s one thing you can always guarantee about me...it is I will always have a plan. No kidding. I even had plans to give up smoking 11 years ago that included graphs and pie-charts (thank you to Lovely Lynda from Lilac and Lavendar for that long forgotten but amusing memory). I am to plans what Dr Love is to lists...he practically makes them in his sleep and it drives me mental. Anyway, my plan is this...

...if you (me) are a tad short on cash and bit long on buyer’s remorse (even if it was on sale) and you (me) lack suitable suitcase space in which to spend large because you remember you are also required to pack and shop at Gap Kids for the little people, then make a list...yes Dr Love, a list... of things you really want to supplement or replace in your existing wardrobe with and stick to it. Take the Calvin Klein jeans for example. They are a bit outdated and look sad, so on the list goes a new pair of bootleg jeans. I also would like a couple of good quality cardigans...cashmere in fact...dot point two and dot point three. Get the idea? It’s easy, right? Wrong! I am completely freaked out over the prospect of stifling my shopping prowess. What if I blow the list in the first three days? Then what? Three shop-less-weeks with two female cousins dying to experience an MFS experience? I don’t think so...! Right, quite clearly, I need to go back to the drawing board and think about this some more. Talk to you later...MFSxx