The Departure Lounge

Yes, i am changing the side info thingy thre ---------> to "almost daily" blog or something like that; being inspired everyday to write about something is bloody hard work! And, after collapsing in an exhausted heap yesterday and spending the afternoon in bed with cups of tea and the Flight of the Conchords dvd, I am under strict doctors orders to take it easy and spend a month sunning myself on Santorini. Admittedly I wrote that particular prescription but I do feel it would work wonders. At any rate, the "taking it easy" vibe is a definite for summer. Getting through winter on minimal sleep and eating mainly coffee and nuts (as in, cashews and the like) has done wonders for a sz 8 figure but not so much for my state of wellbeing. It'll be a tie-dyed yoga and wheatgrass summer, baby. Oh and speaking of which, well sort of, I have just been in Melbourne to do the Winter 09 buying (not as fun as you might think, in fact it is quite stressful, especially when taxi drivers leave you stranded in random outer suburbs and quite a long way away from the safe confines of the sleek showrooms one becomes accustomed to); and come Jan/Feb you'll be in for a treat, all the ranges so far have been fabulous. A lot of them have been focussing more on modern designs, rather than rehashing "vintage" over and over again, and GRAB in particular have done the best winter jackets, like, ever. Get in early for those, they are smokin' hot. Everything seems a bit more grown up for 09 as well, less ditsy prints and girly cuts, and more of the effortlessly cool, softly tailored looks with lots of sheer, lace and zips thrown in for good measure. Exciting!

Actually one of the best and worst things about going to Melbourne is the observations one can make in the airport/on the plane. You can always spot the departure lounge for the flight headed to Tassie, one doesn't even need to look at the screens to find the gates. Just follow eitehr an RM WIlliams hat, bogan tracksuit, loud swearing or the over-hairsprayed/too much eyeliner/cheap jeans crowd, and you'll be on the flight home in no time. You might also end up in Adelaide, but it's a nice place to visit. Luckily on my flights there and back I did not get seated next to any smelly/loud/annoying/talkative locals, but they were definitely there. Oh, boy were they there. Behind me in fact. One particualrly attractive oversized lady with token scraped back hairdo and cigarette tucked enticingly behind her over pierced ear had two kids who climbed over each seat to get to theirs and kicked the back of our chairs the whole way home. I ignored this, knowing that kids and travelling don't always mix well. What I couldn't ignore was this woman's ridiculously loud swearing, at everyone else and her poor kids, her comments that "there are problems with the landing gear, I know it, I know thats what it is" when we had to circle around the airport twice (a common occurence when descending into Launceston, the runway is short and pilots can overestimate it. Alot, apparently); her loud chattter to herself apparently about how she has a 26 hour flight to San Diego at the end of the year, we can only hope it's a one-way flight and pray in unison for the people who get stuck next to her; and her oversized carry on bag, possibly in proportion to herself which she left in the middle of the aisle halfway up the plane while she chased her kids; meaning everyone behind her had to wait around to get to their seats for like 5 minutes til she moved. OH MY GOD. There's always one, isn't there. At least it was something to amuse me, there's not a whole lot of scenery on a night time flight over Bass Strait. I did have the latest issue of Madison ready to devour but couldn't concentrate enough. No matter, I'll read it on my newly leisurely evenings off. Bliss.