Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Tuesday Tunes {Photograph by Ed Sheeran}
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
I realise I'm writing Tuesday's Tune on a Wednesday, but I've already missed a week and didn't want to miss another. This is the soundtrack of my life, after all.
So, last week was our eagerly awaited Caribbean cruise and the soundtrack to those wonderful seven days was Ed Sheeran's album 'X.' My favourite song, without a doubt, being Photograph:
Now I'm smiling, as I replay this, type out these lyrics and realise that for the rest of my life: this song - and my own photographs - will, somewhat ironically, remind me of our room/ our adventures/ our meals/ poolside cocktails/ the ship and the way it would sway/ Will looking dashing in nautical attire and everything else about the most perfect holiday we've ever taken!
So, last week was our eagerly awaited Caribbean cruise and the soundtrack to those wonderful seven days was Ed Sheeran's album 'X.' My favourite song, without a doubt, being Photograph:
We keep this love in a photograph
We made these memories for ourselves
Where our eyes are never closing, hearts are never broken
And time's forever frozen still.
Now I'm smiling, as I replay this, type out these lyrics and realise that for the rest of my life: this song - and my own photographs - will, somewhat ironically, remind me of our room/ our adventures/ our meals/ poolside cocktails/ the ship and the way it would sway/ Will looking dashing in nautical attire and everything else about the most perfect holiday we've ever taken!
playing in the leaves
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
There's something amazing about the different coloured, falling leaves of autumn. I've not met a single person who doesn't appreciate their splendor, even those who've grown up with it all their lives. In the part of Australia I'm from there are no visible seasonal changes, in fact aside from the varying temperature, there is no difference at all. Leaves stay on trees, beaches remain littered with surfers / sunbakers and for the most part, people still walk around in flip flops!
Here in Texas it's a similar situation. The only leaves that change are those belonging to sporadically planted maple trees - few and far between. The main landscape remains the same grey/ green it is all year long; unless a freak snow falls, like it did last winter.
That's why it was such a treat to see so many jewel tones when we visited Will's dad in Shreveport recently. His suburb was like the inside of a giant, living snow-globe - only instead of white snow; yellow, orange, brown and red leaves. A leaf-globe? Whatever, it was divine! The pups and I had a blast playing in, rolling in and throwing leaves all over the place.
good enough for the very best
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Randomly enough, after weeks and weeks of stifling, unbearable heat here in Austin; a thunderstorm moved in last night and has turned the weather cold and grey. With one more week left of summer, I didn't expect to be spending this weekend snug in bed under a blanket, but what could be better on a day like today?
Grey weather always makes me pensive and I've been thinking a lot about my week, this year, my life. On Tuesday something happened that made me cry the kind of deep, heaving sobs that come from far, far within: when the one person in my life I could ever call 'idol' paid me the highest compliment and gave me a shout out for yet another of her successes at New York City's Couture Fashion Week. I felt beyond humbled - maybe what I felt was closer to shock - that someone who's world renown as a leading couturier, someone I revere and feel honoured to just know, would remember one of the little people, like me. Since then, I've been reliving our entire relationship and reconsidering what she means in my life...
Her name is Nina Gleyzer and I met her for the first time in February 2011 as a fresh-faced, wide-eyed new-comer to New York City, the Waldorf Astoria, Couture Fashion Week and the fashion industry. I was asked to fill in for the editor of an Atlanta based fashion magazine, who was unable to attend the event due to a prior work commitment, and to say I was overjoyed is a serious understatement! I was flying higher than ever before in my life, seeing The City and the glitz and glamour of the fashion industry for the first time. There's nothing, ever, like the first time.
I remember everything: the freezing chill that winded me as I stepped out of LaGuardia airport; the sleet on the ground; the excited butterflies that swarmed the pit of my stomach as I was ushered to the cab line and finally witnessed with my own two eyes, the arrival of iconic yellow cabs of Manhattan, followed by the surreal ride over the bridge and the vision of that most worshiped skyline unfolding before me...
SIGH.
Of course, that was nothing at all compared to the fruit bats that promptly ate and replaced my stomach-butterflies when we actually entered New York City: where my expectations and everything I thought I knew of the buildings, landmarks and streets, dissipated. I realized in that moment that no matter how much you obsess over movies, books, webpages or magazine articles about New York - you'll never truly know the city until you visit. It's overwhelming. It's incredible. Indescribable. One of the best places on Earth.
I couldn't believe my luck when we pulled up in front of the Hilton on the Avenue of America's! I was staying here?! Never before had I seen such a grand hotel, such luxury, nor so much high fashion and evident wealth in one place at the one time! Louis Vuitton boots, Prada handbags, mink fur coats, tiny dogs wearing diamond encrusted collars... this really was like every movie I'd ever seen // and that was just the hotel lobby! I tried my best to act like I belonged, despite the neon THIS IS MY FIRST TIME HERE AND I'M UTTERLY OVERWHELMED billboard hovering above my head! But, it was New York after all, no one noticed or cared. Bliss!
After getting my key, I practically ran to my (beautiful) room, where I immediately flung open the curtains and just stood starring at the view before me with tears of joy in my eyes for several minutes. I took a much needed soak in the garden tub, had a meal and tried to compose myself, before I getting ready and leisurely wandering over to the Waldorf where I suppressed many excited squeals as I checked in as press for (you guessed it) the first time in my life! It was in this state of elated gratitude that I took my place in the second row, notebook on lap, and took in the show. Impeccable dress after impeccable dress flowed down the runway and the evening consisted of six designers total, two cocktail breaks and three hours. But two designers stood out to everyone: Suzie Turner with her feathered ballgown masterpieces; and Nina Gleyzer with her timeless, Chanel-chic.
While I had interviewed designers before, none had been of this caliber and I was nervous. Many prey upon that and act snooty. Not Nina. I can't really describe what it felt like to meet her, but I have always imagined it would feel like meeting Mademoiselle Chanel. She was so confidant, so poised yet so passionate, that I was overcome with emotion and immediately had to find a corner to draft up my article in a trance of admiration. That has never happened with anyone else.
After that, came the larger-than-life after party and two more magical, whirlwind days in Manhattan. Those were two days of snow, blistering cold and exploring the city. Two evenings of runways, interviews, canape's and cocktails. When I returned to Atlanta, I submitted my articles and, feeling somewhat deflated, carried on freelancing - business as usual and nothing as glamorous as high fashion or New York City.
Two weeks later, the Editor in Chief of the fashion magazine called me with the highest praise: Nina Gleyzer herself had read my article and wanted to thank me personally! I was floored! Anyone who actually reads what I wrote about her will see why! Of course, I instantly re-read said article and all of those feelings of awe I experienced upon meeting Nina, came rushing back. She is a force. And yet, she noticed me. Little old me: interviewing internationally renown designers for the very first time and stumbling horribly along the way. She wanted to thank ME for my praise - which was essentially putting down on paper how her composure made me feel self-conscious, unrefined and somewhat intimidated! Thank ME for esteeming her and her collection. That what my first glimpse at Nina Gleyzer: an untarnished soul that's remained humble and grateful despite decades in the corrupting high fashion industry which takes only months to destroy lesser beings.
Another few weeks went by when suddenly we were being re-introduced at a charity event in Atlanta. 'So you're the talented girl who wrote such a beautiful article about me,' she casually said, loud enough for our circle and bystanders to hear, while I turned a vivid shade of red! 'Come see me at my atelier some time, I would love to chat with you.' And just like that, began a life-changing, heart wrenching relationship between little ol' me and a woman of the highest strength and caliber I've ever encountered. We spent the next few months rewriting her website, because she liked the way I described herclothes artwork; smoking, snacking and drinking lots of coffee along the way. It was for these measly wesbite write ups that she remembered me, and thanked me, when her turn in the spotlight came once more and she received special accolades during last week's S/S 2015 Couture Fashion Week in NYC.
It blows my mind because while I gave her a few written descriptions for her website, she had given me something I can never quantify or fully express. It was always simply an honour being in her presence: she is a big deal and she knows it! But amazingly, she encouraged me. Inspired me. Believed in me. Loved and cared for me. Most importantly, she was always brutally honest with me. Her holler in my direction made me weep with humility and just awe of the woman I worship, but now that I think about it, I wonder why it came as such a surprise at all. I quickly saw, while working with her, that Nina has a tight-knit team of photographers, models, publications, buyers, students and so forth: all loyal to her and every one of whom she was loyal to in return. She treated them all just like she treated me: with genuine warmth, acceptance and beaming pride.
Before I met Nina Gleyzer, my impression of the big-shots in the fashion industry was that they were all exceedingly arrogant. That they dispensed of people easily and claimed the achievements of those around them as their own. Nina removed my prejudice, but still remains a diamond in the rough, who values relationships and quickly moves from being an inspiration, an extraordinary visionary and master couturier into the hearts and circle of family, to anyone fortunate enough to work with her. To me, Nina is like New York City: elegant, timeless, abundant, resilient and the height of style. Urging all those around to be strong, believe in themselves and become the best they can be, while utterly accepting them the way they are. Indeed I can't think of one without the other, both having made such dramatic impacts on my life: my first impressions of the Big City in which I was overcome when I met the only woman in the world I want to resemble.... and how they both forever changed my perception of freedom and blew my mind.
I remember reading somewhere once, that while people may forget your words or actions, they will never forget how you made them feel. Nina made me feel talented. Capable of anything. She used to tell me to follow my dreams and damn the consequences - to grasp what I wanted with all my might and never, never let go or give up. On gloomy days like today when I am full of reflection: I wonder at myself and my self doubt, for if I am good enough for Nina Gleyzer - then I know I am good enough for the very best!
NB// The link above to the aforementioned Nina article was indeed written by me and has been published completely unedited: but due to contractual loop holes, the Editor in Chief of the e-gazine has since claimed it as her own.
Grey weather always makes me pensive and I've been thinking a lot about my week, this year, my life. On Tuesday something happened that made me cry the kind of deep, heaving sobs that come from far, far within: when the one person in my life I could ever call 'idol' paid me the highest compliment and gave me a shout out for yet another of her successes at New York City's Couture Fashion Week. I felt beyond humbled - maybe what I felt was closer to shock - that someone who's world renown as a leading couturier, someone I revere and feel honoured to just know, would remember one of the little people, like me. Since then, I've been reliving our entire relationship and reconsidering what she means in my life...
Her name is Nina Gleyzer and I met her for the first time in February 2011 as a fresh-faced, wide-eyed new-comer to New York City, the Waldorf Astoria, Couture Fashion Week and the fashion industry. I was asked to fill in for the editor of an Atlanta based fashion magazine, who was unable to attend the event due to a prior work commitment, and to say I was overjoyed is a serious understatement! I was flying higher than ever before in my life, seeing The City and the glitz and glamour of the fashion industry for the first time. There's nothing, ever, like the first time.
I remember everything: the freezing chill that winded me as I stepped out of LaGuardia airport; the sleet on the ground; the excited butterflies that swarmed the pit of my stomach as I was ushered to the cab line and finally witnessed with my own two eyes, the arrival of iconic yellow cabs of Manhattan, followed by the surreal ride over the bridge and the vision of that most worshiped skyline unfolding before me...
SIGH.
Of course, that was nothing at all compared to the fruit bats that promptly ate and replaced my stomach-butterflies when we actually entered New York City: where my expectations and everything I thought I knew of the buildings, landmarks and streets, dissipated. I realized in that moment that no matter how much you obsess over movies, books, webpages or magazine articles about New York - you'll never truly know the city until you visit. It's overwhelming. It's incredible. Indescribable. One of the best places on Earth.
I couldn't believe my luck when we pulled up in front of the Hilton on the Avenue of America's! I was staying here?! Never before had I seen such a grand hotel, such luxury, nor so much high fashion and evident wealth in one place at the one time! Louis Vuitton boots, Prada handbags, mink fur coats, tiny dogs wearing diamond encrusted collars... this really was like every movie I'd ever seen // and that was just the hotel lobby! I tried my best to act like I belonged, despite the neon THIS IS MY FIRST TIME HERE AND I'M UTTERLY OVERWHELMED billboard hovering above my head! But, it was New York after all, no one noticed or cared. Bliss!
After getting my key, I practically ran to my (beautiful) room, where I immediately flung open the curtains and just stood starring at the view before me with tears of joy in my eyes for several minutes. I took a much needed soak in the garden tub, had a meal and tried to compose myself, before I getting ready and leisurely wandering over to the Waldorf where I suppressed many excited squeals as I checked in as press for (you guessed it) the first time in my life! It was in this state of elated gratitude that I took my place in the second row, notebook on lap, and took in the show. Impeccable dress after impeccable dress flowed down the runway and the evening consisted of six designers total, two cocktail breaks and three hours. But two designers stood out to everyone: Suzie Turner with her feathered ballgown masterpieces; and Nina Gleyzer with her timeless, Chanel-chic.
While I had interviewed designers before, none had been of this caliber and I was nervous. Many prey upon that and act snooty. Not Nina. I can't really describe what it felt like to meet her, but I have always imagined it would feel like meeting Mademoiselle Chanel. She was so confidant, so poised yet so passionate, that I was overcome with emotion and immediately had to find a corner to draft up my article in a trance of admiration. That has never happened with anyone else.
After that, came the larger-than-life after party and two more magical, whirlwind days in Manhattan. Those were two days of snow, blistering cold and exploring the city. Two evenings of runways, interviews, canape's and cocktails. When I returned to Atlanta, I submitted my articles and, feeling somewhat deflated, carried on freelancing - business as usual and nothing as glamorous as high fashion or New York City.
Two weeks later, the Editor in Chief of the fashion magazine called me with the highest praise: Nina Gleyzer herself had read my article and wanted to thank me personally! I was floored! Anyone who actually reads what I wrote about her will see why! Of course, I instantly re-read said article and all of those feelings of awe I experienced upon meeting Nina, came rushing back. She is a force. And yet, she noticed me. Little old me: interviewing internationally renown designers for the very first time and stumbling horribly along the way. She wanted to thank ME for my praise - which was essentially putting down on paper how her composure made me feel self-conscious, unrefined and somewhat intimidated! Thank ME for esteeming her and her collection. That what my first glimpse at Nina Gleyzer: an untarnished soul that's remained humble and grateful despite decades in the corrupting high fashion industry which takes only months to destroy lesser beings.
Another few weeks went by when suddenly we were being re-introduced at a charity event in Atlanta. 'So you're the talented girl who wrote such a beautiful article about me,' she casually said, loud enough for our circle and bystanders to hear, while I turned a vivid shade of red! 'Come see me at my atelier some time, I would love to chat with you.' And just like that, began a life-changing, heart wrenching relationship between little ol' me and a woman of the highest strength and caliber I've ever encountered. We spent the next few months rewriting her website, because she liked the way I described her
It blows my mind because while I gave her a few written descriptions for her website, she had given me something I can never quantify or fully express. It was always simply an honour being in her presence: she is a big deal and she knows it! But amazingly, she encouraged me. Inspired me. Believed in me. Loved and cared for me. Most importantly, she was always brutally honest with me. Her holler in my direction made me weep with humility and just awe of the woman I worship, but now that I think about it, I wonder why it came as such a surprise at all. I quickly saw, while working with her, that Nina has a tight-knit team of photographers, models, publications, buyers, students and so forth: all loyal to her and every one of whom she was loyal to in return. She treated them all just like she treated me: with genuine warmth, acceptance and beaming pride.
Before I met Nina Gleyzer, my impression of the big-shots in the fashion industry was that they were all exceedingly arrogant. That they dispensed of people easily and claimed the achievements of those around them as their own. Nina removed my prejudice, but still remains a diamond in the rough, who values relationships and quickly moves from being an inspiration, an extraordinary visionary and master couturier into the hearts and circle of family, to anyone fortunate enough to work with her. To me, Nina is like New York City: elegant, timeless, abundant, resilient and the height of style. Urging all those around to be strong, believe in themselves and become the best they can be, while utterly accepting them the way they are. Indeed I can't think of one without the other, both having made such dramatic impacts on my life: my first impressions of the Big City in which I was overcome when I met the only woman in the world I want to resemble.... and how they both forever changed my perception of freedom and blew my mind.
I remember reading somewhere once, that while people may forget your words or actions, they will never forget how you made them feel. Nina made me feel talented. Capable of anything. She used to tell me to follow my dreams and damn the consequences - to grasp what I wanted with all my might and never, never let go or give up. On gloomy days like today when I am full of reflection: I wonder at myself and my self doubt, for if I am good enough for Nina Gleyzer - then I know I am good enough for the very best!
 |
| one of my all-time favourite Nina Gleyzer creations |
 |
| all audience eyes upon her masterpiece creations <3 |
 |
| I've always felt extremely honoured to be considered part of the team |
celebrate the small things | Aug 1
Friday, August 1, 2014
July celebrations:
- getting to know Denese
We have been blessed time and again with real estate agents and our current one is no exception. It has been such a pleasure working with, and getting to know, Denese // who's super patient with us and our constant time restraints due to Will's travelling.
- looking at (what feels like) a hundred different houses
Despite not finding the right one for us yet - I'm really enjoying the process! Looking at different houses and suburbs is always so, so fun to me
- Dorothy got over her vet-phobia
This one is huge in our family!! Just last week little D had to go to the vet for a check up // usually this is a horrible experience that stresses her out and makes her sick - she foams at the mouth, shakes, vomits and breaks out in dandruff instantly... but this time she didn't do any of that! Of course there was still a little crying, complaining and desperation to leave // but thanks to the continued effort of the entire vet staff (who spoiled her with cuddles and treats), she did marvelously in comparison. I can now safely say that her full-blown phobia is gone! Now it seems to be no more than the usual dread dogs feel at the vet! YAY Thank you so much to the Nrth Austin Banfield - the best vet ever!
- spontaneous trip to Atlanta
It's always nice going home and this was my first trip back in nine months! I enjoyed seeing (some of) the people and places I love // in truth, it blew me away a little because by the time Will and I left we'd become desensitized to the beauty and uniqueness of Georgia, which I got to appreciate all over again on this trip and I'm very thankful for that :)
- finding a house/ pet sitter
Somehow everyone I meet in Austin turns out to be amazing! I'm super grateful that I met my new friend Susanna, who loves the pups and whom I trust to watch them and our house while we are out of town // this will come in super handy! Thank you universe for sending me such amazing friends <3
This week's celebrations:
- changing seasons
Now that we're firmly in summer, I'm grateful to experience the infamous Austin heat for myself // which truly is as unbearable as everyone says. I can hardly walk outside without getting a tension headache // but at least I can now bitch about it with everyone else and feel like I'm becoming a local :)
- kitchen experiments
Being super hot means we're inside a lot more and I've taken to experimenting in the kitchen with various meals, drinks and salads :) this makes me very happy - I feel like a regular Hannah-housewife!
It's actually scary to think how fast the past seven months have gone by. Here we are in August, (pinch and a punch for the first day of the month! No returns! :P) with only four months to go until we're in 2015! Should I be celebrating? Perhaps so... but I'm so happy in life right now that I want it to drag on and on! Does anyone know of a pause button on time?
reflections
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
I apologize for being M.I.A once again! It's been a whirlwind around here for the past couple of weeks with family members graduating! As I mentioned here, our four day trip to Dallas for the graduation of Will's little brother was immediately followed by the arrival of my cousin, Rita, her mum and mum's boyfriend: all celebrating Rita's graduation from Illinois' Bradley University by relaxing and touring the country before returning home to Kazakhstan.
I met Rita for the first time (in my conscious, adult life) in 2012 - shortly after she'd moved to Illinois for her studies - when she came to stay with Will and I in Atlanta over Christmas. Of course we've known of each other our whole lives (just as I know of many other relatives) and used to play together as children in the city of Almaty, Kazakhstan, where we were all born. But those memories had long faded and I grew up feeling estranged from them all, often discussing with my brother how simply knowing of family or calling them thus, doesn't stir any of that associated warmth within. I always felt much closer to Will's family who I saw constantly when we lived in Atlanta and with whom laughter, experiences and help of any nature were often exchanged. Now I'm truly grateful for the chance I've been given to get to know Rita and her mum, my aunty Natasha. To experience a connection of that long estranged part of me, my relatives in Kazakhstan and to be able, for the first time, to really mean the word family in reference to them!
I remember how I felt when Rita had left after her first visit with us. Strange that I feel it all over again. It's some kind of sadness, loss and emptiness... with the faintest flame burning deep in my rib cage, of hope for the future. I know meeting her and her mum was a wonderful thing! Our friendship and strengthened family ties are unbreakable and the world seems somehow smaller now that we have somewhere else we are welcome to visit. But I'm plagued with a few aching questions that swim around my otherwise presently hollow skull over and over... just as they did before: what if my parents had never moved to Australia? What if I had grown up in Almaty? What would have become of our family? What would have become of me?
Our political and civil convictions are so different to theirs! Our dispositions are so relaxed and carefree that surely we appear ignorant and lazy. They seem more educated and worldly than us, yet we seem more at peace and happy. Free from social pressure, free to live without judgement. I know our way of life is as puzzling to them as theirs appears to us; yet the love, the bond of blood and history is so strong that I swear there were moments I was with them that I felt a closeness I've never felt with anyone. If we'd stayed in Kazakhstan with them, would the gaping holes my father, mother, brother and I each have inside of us even be there? Surrounded by all that family and all that love, how could they have formed?
Dad's hole begun to form after a couple of years and several attempts to translate his qualifications that would allow him to practice medicine in Australia failed. An inferior job status and male ego caused that hole to expand for years until finally defeat kicked in. He has never been happy with his job. Mum's hole was caused immediately by cultural difference, bitter loneliness, un-relatability and cruel distance away from the very family bond I'm just now beginning to understand. She was lucky with her job. As for my brother and I, our holes are of a different nature: holes caused by not understanding our Soviet parents as we turned into the Australians they did not understand. Holes that would have been filled by acceptance and being able to relate to one-another. Each of our holes have, in varying degrees, impacted so much of our lives.
It's beyond tough, moving overseas. Now that I'm older and have done so myself, I can understand it much better than I ever did before. But I wonder, if we'd remained in Kazakhstan, would my parents' marriage have survived their explosive arguments, when each actually had somewhere else to go every time either one threatened to leave? Would my dad have made it to the height of his profession, as was always his dream, or would he have been utterly shattered if he had failed? Would my mother have been happy with all the constant bickering between her husband and her family? Would my brother have met a woman who cares for him as much as his wife does now? How would I be different? Would I be in a career I hated with no means to change? Would I have found happiness in marriage? Would I have met a bestfriend that utterly completes me, the way Emma does? Perhaps we'd have different holes, watching our family and friends struggle financially and professionally, maybe would we have struggled too...
I know I never would have met Will. My chest tightens at the thought of a life without him - the thought of a different life in which I am not grateful 1,000 times a day as I am now! Without puppies, or writing, travel or all of the other wonderful things I've successfully filled my own hole up with over the years and with Will's help. Even if soul mates somehow find their way together regardless of circumstance (like in Sliding Doors!), I cannot envision Will falling in love with me if my political convictions were like my cousin Rita's. Convictions that are surely a result of upbringing, society and individual experience. Had I remained close to Rita growing up, it figures that we have thought somewhat alike.
Political opinions matter so much in relationships. Not just between a man and a woman, they matter between families and friendships too. I do not talk of my own convictions often. In my life, I've walked upon three radically different political fences and I have strongly come to distrust them all. My earliest childhood memories involve a communist lifestyle: no running water in the house, lining up for hours in front of shops to buy groceries only to be told they had none or we'd missed out and not knowing a single person with a car because they were impossible to get (unless you were KGB, of course). Next was the 'democracy' of Australia that anyone who understands socialism would agree is in fact closer to the truth. And now, the capitalist America which bares hardly any difference to socialist Australia.
Once you delve past our similar qualities of free-spirit-ness, determination, love of adventure and nature: it's plain to see that Rita's political and civil convictions are almost opposite to my own. On more than one occasion I have felt that my own opinions are perceived as ignorant, indifferent or lazy. I will not argue my opinions because I don't see the point, but Rita enjoys to and I've often wondered whether this is a cultural difference since I know many Aussies (and Americans too actually) that wont as well. I was raised in a system that harbours deep distrust of government, the parties, representatives and agendas in a country that (for the most part) regards politics as impolite dinner conversation, since it's not worth getting upset over something you cannot change. I wonder if we'd stayed in Kazakhstan, would I believe I could make a change? Would I openly discuss politics at a dinner table with a nice bottle of wine, as if I may be heard or as if my personal opinion matters in any small way?
My parents have 'relaxed' a lot in Australia. A concept which is foreign to many in this world but important to Aussies and Americans a like. Politically, they no longer get worked up over governmental scams, games and deceit. In a cultural sense, they are no longer shocked by invitations to BBQ's that require bringing one's own meat. They still (and perhaps always will) remove their shoes upon entering anyone's house and never visit empty handed. But they are happy to switch off the telly during a political debate and call them all 'a bunch of wankers.' No doubt shocking to my cousin, yet completely the norm for me.
It's scary to consider the unknown. What would have happened to me if we'd stayed in Kazakhstan, a country and family I know so little about? We left when I was young and it was still communist, so I've always assumed we left because it was bad. Now I realize that isn't true. The country of my birth boasts many beautiful places and a booming economy. While it is true that I seem happier to myself than my dear, sweet cousin Rita (despite her being surrounded by the family that I've never had but always wanted) I think she would be just as afraid considering the thought 'what would have happened to me if my parents had moved me to Australia with Lena's family?'
I'm sad that she's gone. Once more I feel like a part of me is missing and as I reflect upon our differences, I feel grateful as well. I am grateful to my parents for my upbringing, even if it did create a huge divide between us and often cause friction. I'm grateful I got to wear and say and do and be everything I wanted, whenever I wanted with carefree friends just as silly as me. I'm grateful for those life experiences, mistakes and triumphs that lead to my meeting Will who then took me to America, where I have overcome many personal struggles and can now sit with a coffee, after a day's work doing exactly what I love and contemplate the what if questions of my life. Above all else right now, I'm grateful to Rita, Aunty Natasha and her boyfriend for a wonderful three days that created a bond of family I will feel for the rest of my life and all of their differences which will make me more open minded and curious about the country I was born in.
I met Rita for the first time (in my conscious, adult life) in 2012 - shortly after she'd moved to Illinois for her studies - when she came to stay with Will and I in Atlanta over Christmas. Of course we've known of each other our whole lives (just as I know of many other relatives) and used to play together as children in the city of Almaty, Kazakhstan, where we were all born. But those memories had long faded and I grew up feeling estranged from them all, often discussing with my brother how simply knowing of family or calling them thus, doesn't stir any of that associated warmth within. I always felt much closer to Will's family who I saw constantly when we lived in Atlanta and with whom laughter, experiences and help of any nature were often exchanged. Now I'm truly grateful for the chance I've been given to get to know Rita and her mum, my aunty Natasha. To experience a connection of that long estranged part of me, my relatives in Kazakhstan and to be able, for the first time, to really mean the word family in reference to them!
I remember how I felt when Rita had left after her first visit with us. Strange that I feel it all over again. It's some kind of sadness, loss and emptiness... with the faintest flame burning deep in my rib cage, of hope for the future. I know meeting her and her mum was a wonderful thing! Our friendship and strengthened family ties are unbreakable and the world seems somehow smaller now that we have somewhere else we are welcome to visit. But I'm plagued with a few aching questions that swim around my otherwise presently hollow skull over and over... just as they did before: what if my parents had never moved to Australia? What if I had grown up in Almaty? What would have become of our family? What would have become of me?
Our political and civil convictions are so different to theirs! Our dispositions are so relaxed and carefree that surely we appear ignorant and lazy. They seem more educated and worldly than us, yet we seem more at peace and happy. Free from social pressure, free to live without judgement. I know our way of life is as puzzling to them as theirs appears to us; yet the love, the bond of blood and history is so strong that I swear there were moments I was with them that I felt a closeness I've never felt with anyone. If we'd stayed in Kazakhstan with them, would the gaping holes my father, mother, brother and I each have inside of us even be there? Surrounded by all that family and all that love, how could they have formed?
Dad's hole begun to form after a couple of years and several attempts to translate his qualifications that would allow him to practice medicine in Australia failed. An inferior job status and male ego caused that hole to expand for years until finally defeat kicked in. He has never been happy with his job. Mum's hole was caused immediately by cultural difference, bitter loneliness, un-relatability and cruel distance away from the very family bond I'm just now beginning to understand. She was lucky with her job. As for my brother and I, our holes are of a different nature: holes caused by not understanding our Soviet parents as we turned into the Australians they did not understand. Holes that would have been filled by acceptance and being able to relate to one-another. Each of our holes have, in varying degrees, impacted so much of our lives.
It's beyond tough, moving overseas. Now that I'm older and have done so myself, I can understand it much better than I ever did before. But I wonder, if we'd remained in Kazakhstan, would my parents' marriage have survived their explosive arguments, when each actually had somewhere else to go every time either one threatened to leave? Would my dad have made it to the height of his profession, as was always his dream, or would he have been utterly shattered if he had failed? Would my mother have been happy with all the constant bickering between her husband and her family? Would my brother have met a woman who cares for him as much as his wife does now? How would I be different? Would I be in a career I hated with no means to change? Would I have found happiness in marriage? Would I have met a bestfriend that utterly completes me, the way Emma does? Perhaps we'd have different holes, watching our family and friends struggle financially and professionally, maybe would we have struggled too...
I know I never would have met Will. My chest tightens at the thought of a life without him - the thought of a different life in which I am not grateful 1,000 times a day as I am now! Without puppies, or writing, travel or all of the other wonderful things I've successfully filled my own hole up with over the years and with Will's help. Even if soul mates somehow find their way together regardless of circumstance (like in Sliding Doors!), I cannot envision Will falling in love with me if my political convictions were like my cousin Rita's. Convictions that are surely a result of upbringing, society and individual experience. Had I remained close to Rita growing up, it figures that we have thought somewhat alike.
Political opinions matter so much in relationships. Not just between a man and a woman, they matter between families and friendships too. I do not talk of my own convictions often. In my life, I've walked upon three radically different political fences and I have strongly come to distrust them all. My earliest childhood memories involve a communist lifestyle: no running water in the house, lining up for hours in front of shops to buy groceries only to be told they had none or we'd missed out and not knowing a single person with a car because they were impossible to get (unless you were KGB, of course). Next was the 'democracy' of Australia that anyone who understands socialism would agree is in fact closer to the truth. And now, the capitalist America which bares hardly any difference to socialist Australia.
Once you delve past our similar qualities of free-spirit-ness, determination, love of adventure and nature: it's plain to see that Rita's political and civil convictions are almost opposite to my own. On more than one occasion I have felt that my own opinions are perceived as ignorant, indifferent or lazy. I will not argue my opinions because I don't see the point, but Rita enjoys to and I've often wondered whether this is a cultural difference since I know many Aussies (and Americans too actually) that wont as well. I was raised in a system that harbours deep distrust of government, the parties, representatives and agendas in a country that (for the most part) regards politics as impolite dinner conversation, since it's not worth getting upset over something you cannot change. I wonder if we'd stayed in Kazakhstan, would I believe I could make a change? Would I openly discuss politics at a dinner table with a nice bottle of wine, as if I may be heard or as if my personal opinion matters in any small way?
My parents have 'relaxed' a lot in Australia. A concept which is foreign to many in this world but important to Aussies and Americans a like. Politically, they no longer get worked up over governmental scams, games and deceit. In a cultural sense, they are no longer shocked by invitations to BBQ's that require bringing one's own meat. They still (and perhaps always will) remove their shoes upon entering anyone's house and never visit empty handed. But they are happy to switch off the telly during a political debate and call them all 'a bunch of wankers.' No doubt shocking to my cousin, yet completely the norm for me.
It's scary to consider the unknown. What would have happened to me if we'd stayed in Kazakhstan, a country and family I know so little about? We left when I was young and it was still communist, so I've always assumed we left because it was bad. Now I realize that isn't true. The country of my birth boasts many beautiful places and a booming economy. While it is true that I seem happier to myself than my dear, sweet cousin Rita (despite her being surrounded by the family that I've never had but always wanted) I think she would be just as afraid considering the thought 'what would have happened to me if my parents had moved me to Australia with Lena's family?'
I'm sad that she's gone. Once more I feel like a part of me is missing and as I reflect upon our differences, I feel grateful as well. I am grateful to my parents for my upbringing, even if it did create a huge divide between us and often cause friction. I'm grateful I got to wear and say and do and be everything I wanted, whenever I wanted with carefree friends just as silly as me. I'm grateful for those life experiences, mistakes and triumphs that lead to my meeting Will who then took me to America, where I have overcome many personal struggles and can now sit with a coffee, after a day's work doing exactly what I love and contemplate the what if questions of my life. Above all else right now, I'm grateful to Rita, Aunty Natasha and her boyfriend for a wonderful three days that created a bond of family I will feel for the rest of my life and all of their differences which will make me more open minded and curious about the country I was born in.
j is jelly vs jam
Friday, April 11, 2014
Originally I wanted to write a 'J' post on jurisdiction - the laws and police are very different in America, but it's Friday and if you're anything like me, your mind is already on the weekend so I thought a post that was more fun and didn't require that much brain power was in order. Hence, jam vs jelly.
If you look the word jam up in an American dictionary (or simply on American Google) it is defined as: a verb for the action of squeezing or packing tightly; another for becoming stuck; a noun synonymous with 'paper jams' in a machine or a gathering of musicians who improvise together.
While we also use all those definitions, the most common jam noun in Australia is defined as a sweet preserve made from fruit and sugar boiled to a thick consistency. To an American, this would simply be called a preserve or (very logically) fruit spread.
Americans also have something called jelly: this is a type of jam/ preserve/ fruit spread that has a smooth consistency, free of any chunks whatsoever. I don't know that there is an Aussie word for this... or even if it exists! Perhaps it's a blasphemous concept? Does everyone like the fruit chunks in Australia? Hmmm... Maybe it's like ying and yang... can't have one without the other/ can't have jam without fruit chunks!
Moving on, in Australia jelly is a flavoured gelatin dessert, most commonly fruit flavoured. And that's what Americans call Jello. I seriously can't talk about jelly vs jello without thinking of the iconic JELLY ad in Australia (one that every Aussie kid knows at least as well as the Happy Little Vegemite ad).
Ahh memories! Well I'm off, hope you enjoyed this little bit of nonsense and hope you have a great weekend!
If you look the word jam up in an American dictionary (or simply on American Google) it is defined as: a verb for the action of squeezing or packing tightly; another for becoming stuck; a noun synonymous with 'paper jams' in a machine or a gathering of musicians who improvise together.
While we also use all those definitions, the most common jam noun in Australia is defined as a sweet preserve made from fruit and sugar boiled to a thick consistency. To an American, this would simply be called a preserve or (very logically) fruit spread.
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| mmmm chunky and spreadable |
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| can't spread it on bread so just eat it with a spoon, but mmmm... so smooth |
Moving on, in Australia jelly is a flavoured gelatin dessert, most commonly fruit flavoured. And that's what Americans call Jello. I seriously can't talk about jelly vs jello without thinking of the iconic JELLY ad in Australia (one that every Aussie kid knows at least as well as the Happy Little Vegemite ad).
a is for Atlanta
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
To start this America from an outsider's perspective theme I need start with my own emigration process and I'm so glad A goes first because A has to be for Atlanta - my very first landing point in the US of A. We lived there for three years from October 2010 to October 2013, building our home and life in the blocks between 10th and 17th streets. These streets eventually contained my place of work, grocery store, dry cleaner, movie theater, favourite restaurants, hair and nail salons, the puppy's grooming salon and parks, the cafe I would often write at and many more things that constitute a lifestyle. These streets became very dear to me.
As anyone will tell you, foreign emigration is hard. Beyond hard. It's almost impossible. Will and I had so many rough times in Atlanta - particularly during the first year - and I lost count of the times I begun packing my things to return to Australia. Although many of the struggles were expected (like missing my friends, family and place of work) so many frustrations became full-blown tragedies that we weren't expecting at all. I'll never forget crying over laundry detergent. Until that point I had taken for granted how much knowledge, trial and error and weeding out rubbish I had under my belt in terms of cleaning products back in Aus. Or indeed how important this knowledge is when you go to a grocery store until you stare blankly at the shelves full of packages and brands that are completely alien in nature. At that time I didn't have anyone to advise me on sauces, detergents, hygiene products, food or anything so I would often cry after a trip to the store and call my mum to vent. After a particularly nasty tantrum involving deodorant and me crying 'they all either don't work or leave nasty marks on my clothes' she very sweetly mailed me a bulk pack of good old Nivea pure invisible.
One of the more expected struggles was the difference in lifestyle and culture, although neither Will nor myself could ever imagine it would be so great. For an Australian who grew up in a very multicultural environment, moving to Midtown Atlanta is a guaranteed culture SHOCK. It took me a while to realize that most American cities have variances in culture and lifestyle (each city still oddly seems to reflect the values instilled from whatever particular European colony settled it, though obviously in a more modern way) and that Atlanta itself was no firm indication of the country as a whole; but before I did realize this, I often begged Will to take us back to Aus saying I could never live in a country with such outdated and racist idiosyncrasies.
The reason for this, is that people in Atlanta live in a happy little pretentious but fragile bubble - each ignoring the massive racial divide, caused and harboured by the city's tumultuous past. As a newcomer, this was always a big, fat, bright pink elephant in every room but (of course) once I got a job, begun to settle in and make friends, I became another one of those perfectly happy, pretentiously silent citizens - not wanting to rock the boat.
Now that we live in Austin however, I often look back at my time in Atlanta without any thought to its racial tensions or outdated policies. What I remember are my friends, Will's family who became like my own, those beloved and very dear streets. My home. There are many bittersweet memories of the hardship of emigration and assimilation but so many wonderful ones too as I realize the ways in which my courage grew and I became a stronger person able to let go, trust life, my husband and my own process of discovery.
Before you think I hate Atlanta let me tell you four amazing (and my favourite) things about it:
4) it is an incredibly beautiful city with clean streets, new buildings, bright grass and flowers everywhere you look. Actually, Atlanta is probably the most beautiful city I've been to in America.
3) its close proximity to nature: parks, mountains and lakes are all within an hour's drive from the city center
2) the four seasons. OMG I've never, never seen four seasons that are more distinct or elaborate anywhere else in my entire existence. This is one of the things (for sure) that adds to Atlanta's beauty.
And of course the (1) reason why those streets became so very dear to me: each one of them contains a first-time and best experience that I had in my American life, so far. I'll write about some of these in depth throughout this challenge but here's a few for now:
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| First taste of Southern cuisine! I was seriously addicted to fried okra for at least the first three months! (Thanks bos-bowl.com for this image) |
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| First time seeing a squirrel and other native wildlife |
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| First time on the (although this was more terrifying than awesome) |
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| First time seeing snow! |
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| First time at a baseball game! |
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| Just to name a few! |
those days are gone
Friday, March 28, 2014
I'm bummed because I'm not sure I'm ready to accept my age or what never fitting these shorts again means. I don't think I'm ready to give up on the chance to relive those super fun, super wild, out-of-control, impulsive years that I wore them, when nothing made sense and everything was a spontaneous ride with no pre-planned destination. The years I spent in these shorts were those of growth: that musically took me from angry rock to upbeat electronics and then mellow indie and reflective ballads; and emotionally from throwing my heart at the first attractive guy that liked me to locking that same heart away in a chest bound by chains so tight, Houdini himself would have struggled to open it.
I wore these shorts as I transitioned from wine spritzers to beer, to real wine and then, when I could finally afford to thanks to a real job, cocktails. Through the years of camping and bonfires, when my friends and I would laugh at retold stories or get lost in deep meditation as one of them strummed a guitar. The years of blissful sunny days, cruising with the windows down and hair billowing out, screaming Pussycat Dolls songs the top of our lungs. The carefree summers when days were spent sun-baking and nights were danced away because we had nowhere to be in the morning. The years I wore these shorts were the years of karaoke sing-offs, public displays of affection, nudie runs, pranks and complete and unabashed freedom ... Though at times I cried in these tiny shorts, I always took comfort in knowing that it was my decisions that caused those tears to flow and that I alone would fix the issues. Or perhaps with the help of my friends who were just as reckless and whose shorts were just as short.
Those years really are gone. That part of my life ended. I smile sadly to myself now here in this office in a still foreign city, one dog asleep on my lap - the other on the floor beside me, a pile of bills I paid yesterday that I need to stamp and file and a clock creeping onward to lunchtime when I will need make a meal for Will and finish the final load of washing before the weekend. It seems strange to think that those tumultuous years lead to this place of stability and peace. And that I spent my morning reliving them because of a ritual as mundane as packing away my winter clothes and replacing them with summer ones.
This ritual is the usual cause of my donation piles, when I stumble across those 'what was I thinking?' fashion choices from the previous season that will never be cool again and ruthlessly cull them from my wardrobe. When I came across these tiny little shorts (that have long since been nothing more than a weight motivating tool) they that acted like a portkey (Harry Potter reference) to my past and had me sitting on the floor in my wardrobe watching a reel of memories that included places, faces and many other 'what was I thinking' scenarios that I wish I could cull from my life. The biggest is my own self-perception. What was I thinking calling myself fat or being self-conscious about anything? No matter what bodily issues I convinced myself of having back then, these days I'm a mess in comparison. My stomach is no longer THAT toned and I for sure don't look THAT great in a bikini. Why couldn't I see how amazing my legs were until these shorts no longer fit? I wasted time feeling bad while wearing these tiny shorts! Shorts I would give anything to simply zip up again!
Now, here in this office and place of life, I should know better than to waste more time feeling bad about shorts not fitting. My waist may be 28 inches instead of 25 but someday that same waist might be 30 inches and I'll feel silly in retrospect again at the moments I'm wasting here. The days of fitting these shorts may be over but my life doesn't have to be. I'm not quite finished with those reckless, impulsive days yet. Nor am I done music festivals, hangovers or falling asleep on the cool sand by the seashore - even if my new shorts have to be a little longer.
this week's tip | find your signature fragrance
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
One thing I vividly remember about my great-grandmother is Chanel No.5. Even though she passed away when I was 10 - every time I catch a hint of that perfume, she's right beside me once more. To me, scent and sound are the most memory evoking senses. You know like when you hear a song you haven't heard in ages then you're suddenly right back in your high school boyfriend's car and feeling those exact same butterflies that have long since passed (partly due to hindsight).
But my great-grandmother was a very classy lady. Other memories I have of her include tulips, crystal ware, fine china, rubies and fur. None have that same emotive response of her signature fragrance though and I often think of how nice it would be to have someone remember me that way. To have my scent entwined with their impression of me for the remainder of their life. According to Harper's Bazaar, it's one of the top 10 things every woman (but I think men too) should have before turning 30.
I'm sure if you asked my high school boyfriend what his fragrance association with me is, he would say Chanel's Coco Mademoiselle. He bought that perfume for me twice in the three years we spent together and I wore it most days (the great thing about Chanel is how long lasting it is - one spray is all you need). But sadly, my own association of him is now mingled with that heavenly scent so it's my fragrance no longer.
Maybe if you asked some of my girlfriends they would say Estee Lauder's Pleasures, Gucci's Flora, Ralph Lauren's Ralph or YSL's Babydoll. But I have spent most of my 20's with Will. He knows me better than anyone, so if you were to ask him (which I did earlier today) he says that while I often flirt with different fragrances, my true love in this arena and signature fragrance is actually: Sarah Jessica Parker's Lovely. Sort of anti-climatic I know. Maybe even a let-down... and although I realize it's of an inferior quality to an oil-based perfume, I adore this fragrance like no other! It's sexy for night-time, fun for the day and sort of comforting when I'm sad...
So Will's probably right and, unlike my great-grandmother's timeless elegance and class that lingers long after she's gone, what will linger after me is a musky, vanilla-ry, uplifting, one of a kind, pretty but inexpensive perfume. Fitting.
J.Crew's timeless bridal perfection
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
When I worked in J Crew Atlanta's bridal office I used to love getting sneak peaks at new collections before they came out. This was called product training but for me it was more like a fresh dose of a wonderful new fantasy. I couldn't wait to see the new colours and styles, feel the fabrics and swoon over the embellishments... oh and learn the facts too ;)
Now I have to wait as long as everyone else for the unveiling of J Crew's bridal and special occasion collections but despite no longer having to sell the dresses, I still feel the same excitement! The elegance of those understated dresses with their timeless simplicity, or the way they're tied together with quirky themed weddings never fails to delight.
Right now I'm loving:
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| the Sara Lace gown |
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| lace cami & tulle skirt |
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| hair circlet |
Blast from the past: Sydney, Australia
Monday, January 27, 2014
Sydney has often been compared to New York City and London but here are some things that make it completely unique and also one of my favourite places in the world:
1. The Rocks
Being the huge history geek that I am, I ADORE this area of the city for its rich history and thrilling stories of tunnel systems, bootlegging, naval exploits, piracy and kidnap... the buildings and cobbled streets here are still so authentically old that more than once I've felt like I'd actually gone back in time here. Also great bars and European style dining here.
2. Bondi Beach
Iconic. Amazing. Everything you think and more. Super close to the city.
3. Oxford St
Kind of like New York's East Village: Oxford St has everything for anybody! Dive bars and grungy tattoo parlors mixed with trendy restaurants and upscale boutiques located along one, long street that runs from the city center all the way to Bondi Beach. Best place for people watching!
4. Sass & Bide
Speaking of Oxford St, my fav Australian designer label has its headquarters in Sydney and the boutique on Oxford St is out of this world.
5. Centrepoint Tower
That lollipop shape sticking out of Sydney's skyline is a tourist must! Complete with 360 degree views in the revolving observation deck, a skywalk and 4D cinema - which simulates a helicopter tour of Sydney and is so realistic that it actually splashes you with water in some bits. Love it.
6. The Coachman
The best Russian restaurant I've ever been to. Part of its charm is the old-school decor and location in the heart of Surry Hills where the streets are lined with ancient terrace homes and European-style cafes.
7. Tourist
Sydney is super tourist friendly.
And if you love actually going on tours, the Sydney Hop On/ Hop Off tour is A.M.A.Z.I.N.G it's completely the reason we do them everywhere now. I highly recommend it. It's fun, informative and thorough - covering the city and Bondi Beach as well.
8. Hyde Park
Yep, just like London: Sydney has a Hyde Park! It's across the street from the beautiful St Mary's Cathedral and in its center stands a majestic war memorial.
9. The Opera House
This one is a no brain-er. It's basically the international symbol of Australia.
10. The library
Ok so most big cities have grand libraries but Sydney's one was the first I'd ever been to so it holds my heart
1. The Rocks
Being the huge history geek that I am, I ADORE this area of the city for its rich history and thrilling stories of tunnel systems, bootlegging, naval exploits, piracy and kidnap... the buildings and cobbled streets here are still so authentically old that more than once I've felt like I'd actually gone back in time here. Also great bars and European style dining here.
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| blogs.usyd.edu.au |
2. Bondi Beach
Iconic. Amazing. Everything you think and more. Super close to the city.
3. Oxford St
Kind of like New York's East Village: Oxford St has everything for anybody! Dive bars and grungy tattoo parlors mixed with trendy restaurants and upscale boutiques located along one, long street that runs from the city center all the way to Bondi Beach. Best place for people watching!
4. Sass & Bide
Speaking of Oxford St, my fav Australian designer label has its headquarters in Sydney and the boutique on Oxford St is out of this world.
5. Centrepoint Tower
That lollipop shape sticking out of Sydney's skyline is a tourist must! Complete with 360 degree views in the revolving observation deck, a skywalk and 4D cinema - which simulates a helicopter tour of Sydney and is so realistic that it actually splashes you with water in some bits. Love it.
6. The Coachman
The best Russian restaurant I've ever been to. Part of its charm is the old-school decor and location in the heart of Surry Hills where the streets are lined with ancient terrace homes and European-style cafes.
7. Tourist
Sydney is super tourist friendly.
And if you love actually going on tours, the Sydney Hop On/ Hop Off tour is A.M.A.Z.I.N.G it's completely the reason we do them everywhere now. I highly recommend it. It's fun, informative and thorough - covering the city and Bondi Beach as well.
8. Hyde Park
Yep, just like London: Sydney has a Hyde Park! It's across the street from the beautiful St Mary's Cathedral and in its center stands a majestic war memorial.
This one is a no brain-er. It's basically the international symbol of Australia.
10. The library
Ok so most big cities have grand libraries but Sydney's one was the first I'd ever been to so it holds my heart
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| in books lies the soul of the whole past time the articulate audible voice of the past when the body and material substance of it has altogether vanished like a dream |
Our vacation in Sydney remains to this day within our top 5. Will and I love it here so much that if we ever move back to Aus it's where we'll be living for sure.
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