Last night, while gathered with my family for my Dads birthday, I made an announcement. Probably not an announcement my parents were expecting, or one they were particularly happy about, but a big deal for me nonetheless.

I announced I was going to buy myself a Chanel bag for my 30th birthday.

This was met with strange looks and amusing comments: ‘You are not supposed to buy yourself birthday presents’ said my Dad, to which I replied, ‘Are you going to buy me a $2,500 handbag?’ He quickly shut up. My brothers continued to make fun, all the while telling me about the new thousand dollar super dooper triple extreme power tool they had their eye on.

Apparently because my bag won’t actually make me any money, it’s pretty much deemed a waste of money. As I tried to explain to my fashion challenged family that a Chanel bag is not just any bag, I started to think about why the Chanel bag is pretty much the ultimate of the ultimate. It is the pinnacle of my fashion world, the aspiration of fashionistas the world over.

But to my family, that bag is just some leather, metal and stitching.

By way of a short history lesson, thanks to Wikipedia, the story goes that in the 1920s, Ms. Chanel became tired of having to carry her handbags in her arms and decided to design a bag that freed up her hands. Inspired by the straps found on soldiers’ bags, she added thin straps and introduced the resulting design to the market in 1929. After her successful comeback to the fashion industry in 1954, Chanel decided to update her bag for the modern woman. The resulting design was called 2.55 after the date of creation, February 1955.

The Chanel 2.55 is today a classic; a fashion staple; and an item I have coveted for many years. While many people choose their 30th birthdays to travel the world, buy themselves a diamond ring or splurge on a spectacular new car, I am earmarking this date (ironically, also a February, so obviously meant to be) as when I will finally own a piece of fashion history, and future.

The bag will be one for special occasions, for gifting to a daughter, an heirloom for a granddaughter. The 2.55 Chanel bag will be 59 years old when I procure mine, yet I imagine in another 59 years, when my granddaughter tells her friends about her Chanel bag; that this leather, metal and stitching will be just as iconic then as it is now.   

Just three and a half short years to go until the big day arrives. That’s approximately 1277 days. At $2 a day, that’s $2554. A Chanel bag and a spare $50! Now who says I don’t make my money work for me?  

How many black coats does one girl need? Every time I buy a new one, I ask myself this question, yet I am still no closer to the answer. It’s sort of like black shoes, (yes I know I am biased) – to the average Joe a black shoe is just another black shoe but to me, a black shoe has a thick or a thin heel, a pointed or round toe, an ankle strap, a Mary-Jane strap, no strap at all. It can be patent black, or matte. Maybe a suede or a shiny Melissa rubber version. The possibilities are endless, and the same is true for coats.

I have a number of black coats, the oldest dating back to when I was in Year 12 and I bought my first wool coat – a dark charcoal black with a grey fleck. I remember feeling so grown up and warm in that coat, layered over my school jumper and skirt. It was only from Target but I recall the satisfaction I got buying it, wearing it to school for the first time and while the other girls sat on the side of the footy oval at lunch shivering from the Melbourne cold, I was toasty warm.

Looking back now, I recall the coat was very straight up and down, a size too big and completely shapeless. Which further amuses me today about the coat I am currently wearing, a 2009 Wayne Cooper cashmere number that, in essence, is also pretty shapeless and ‘up and down’, yet has a timeless elegance about it, a 50s Audrey Hepburn style with a higher collar that gives it a classic feel rather than a dowdy schoolgirl one.

The Wayne Cooper coat also brings back memories of purchases past, an invite to an exclusive ‘one night only’ designer sale at my local Myer – an invitation not meant for me that ended up in my hands. A girlfriend and I tried on designer threads with no intention of purchasing, until I set eyes upon this coat and I was sold. It was, and is, an investment piece. That is the beauty of such a classic shape. Wear it season after season and just change your stockings. Worth every penny.

The Year 12 wool number recently made an appearance when I was stranded at Mum and Dads, coatless and freezing. From the ‘I’ll wear it again one day’ storage facility (aka the rumpus room at my parents) I emerged with the coat, now 2 sizes too big and still shapeless, but warm. With a few turns of the sleeves, a waist cinching belt, a flick of the collar and oversized sunglasses, all of a sudden I was Jackie O and ready to take on the world (or at least the crowds at the Hawthorn v Western Bulldogs game).

My recent trip to Sydney again emphasised the beauty of black in Melbourne. While my other black coats range from fitted trenches to typical blazers, there is no shortage of black coats and jackets on offer in Melbourne to fit nicely into every fashionistas wardrobe, regardless of how many are already there.

Image One: Soia & Kyo black wool ‘Anissa’ short belted coat $230.00$206.99 by Soia & Kyo at Bluefly
Image Two: Narciso Rodriguez Wool-Mohair Dolman Coat $2,375.00 by Narciso Rodriguez at Neiman Marcus
Image Three: Knit coat  $850.00 at Emporio Armani

In a recent edition of Marie Claire magazine, an excerpt from a book Elton John has contributed to was published, a collection of letters celebrities had written to their sixteen year old selves. These celebrities had put pen to paper to reflect on their lives, to wish they hadn’t spent so much time dieting or taken as many drugs as they had. I thought the idea of writing a letter to your sixteen year old self was novel – at just twenty six myself, ten years is not a long time in the scheme of things but its amazing how much you can reflect on in such a short time. I too wrote about how I wished I had spent more time enjoying myself and less time worrying about my weight or what other people thought of me. But the one thing I wrote that is perhaps something lot’s of teenage girls might write – I wished I had been nicer to my mother. 

Every teenager goes through a rebellious period; some make it through to the other side of adolescence, older and wiser, while others fail somewhere along the way and lose their direction in life, not picking it up again until sometime in their 20s. I was one of the lucky ones and I attribute a lot of that to my mother. When I wanted to be left alone, she talked to me. When I told her I hated her, she loved me. When I cried, she hugged me and when I felt like I couldn’t get out of bed, she helped me get through the more difficult days. She made decisions I didn’t agree with at the time but that I now know were the right decisions. She knew me better at sixteen than I knew myself.

Do you remember the first mother’s day card you made yourself? The first gift you made for her or your nana in kindergarten or prep class? The first present from the primary school mothers day stall? Most likely mugs filled with chocolates or photo frames made out of macaroni. Gifts your mum has probably treasured and looks upon fondly – years of memories of your childhood, of when her children where just her babies and before the angst of the teenage years began.

Don’t wait another year to show your mum just how much she means to you, remember the painful teenage years and what you put her through and start repaying the debt now. Hand picking her favourite flowers requires thought and effort, a home cooked meal for the woman who has spent a good part of her life cooking for you is a winner and doing her garden or cleaning her house are similar ideas that require little capital but go a long way. Use your imagination – what would make her life easier, give her some time to herself or help her relax?

At twenty six years old; the age my mother was when she gave birth to me; I certainly didn’t need to write a letter to my sixteen year old self to realise how much my mum means to me or that she is one of the best people in my life. I can’t possibly imagine being a mother at this age and am in awe of all those who are. Every time I go to a concert, eat out for dinner or spend a whole day shopping I am reminded of what my mother gave up to spend her 20s bringing up babies. If I can give my mother something back that lets her have a little time to herself after more that twenty five years of putting her children first, then that is the best mother’s day present money can buy – and time is a gift that requires no money at all.

Happy Mother’s Day Mum, love you always.

Image One: Mum and I at my best friends wedding, October 2008
Image Two: My paternal grandmother and I at a cousins wedding, April 2009
Image Three: Dad and I, Christmas 2008 – just so he doesn’t feel left out
Image Four: Mum and I at my brothers deb ball, May 2007

A little while back I became the proud owner of a Limited Edition Mimco Vampirella satchel – you can read about it here.

While this bag is just gorgeous, divine, amazing, stunning – a vast number of ever descriptive words – I find that it’s not really of my personal style and I hate to see it go to waste.

The bag is brand new, in a dust bag, with certificates of authenticity and is number 11 of just 50 that were made – very exclusive! Valued at $699, I am putting it on the market and asking you, dear fashionistas, what you would be prepared to pay for it.

The bag was designed in conjunction with LMFF and includes leather, chains and dark suede – it’s all about midnight dreams and twilight fantasies.

If I get an offer I’m happy with, which is basically enough to buy the Mimco bag that is of my style, i’ll be happy (and so will you!). If this little experiment see’s me getting offers of $50 though, I’ll keep my bag til I’m old and grey and it’s worth $1699 because of it’s vintage value.   

So if you are keen, let me know via comments or the contact me form. If you want me to take more pictures, let me know that too.

The first image on the current www.mimco.com.au shows the model on the right holding the bag.

“True friends are like diamonds, precious and rare.False friends are like Autumn leaves, found everywhere.”

Author unknown

I was very lucky on my trip to Sydney to stay with the lovely Jennie (aka Miss J), a Melbournite via way of New York. While we shared plane trips, a hotel room, meals and the ups and downs of Fashion Week, Jen took my Chanel virginity by taking me to the Chanel boutique for the very first time – I think that makes us friends for life.

Jen’s latest blog post from backstage at RAFW has well documented the ‘ups and downs’ of being a dresser at Fashion Week. While I got to be front of house watching the glamour set take their seats in the front row, Jen got to deal with models, designers, hairdressers and make up artists – a much tougher job if you ask me!

You can read Jen’s side of the story here, and have a chance at winning a RAFW prize pack.

For more of my photos, view the albums here, here and here. 

Image: The fabulous Jennie!

My footy team isn’t doing so well at the moment. It’s quite depressing. Especially after spending a week in Sydney where they don’t even really care about football and I had no one to sympathise with. Yesterday we didn’t play so badly, but still didn’t manage to get up. Everyone has an excuse – injuries, a young play list, no ruckman, the weather – but at the end of the day when my team goes home empty handed, there is only one way to get over it. A fine dining experience. Preferably with company who are also drowning their sorrows and wine. Lot’s of wine. We chose Breezes at Crown.

The Crown complex at Melbourne is almost a city in itself, it’s easy to get lost in and you could probably live there and never want for anything. Bright lights, endless corridors and floors as far as the eye can see. It’s dazzling. But Breezes, located in the hotel complex on the third floor, is quiet, with subdued lighting and a peaceful view; a location where it would you could forget the din of poker machines and the food hall downstairs. Although located next to the Crown hotel pool facility where the smell of chlorine does initially hit you, this is quickly taken over by the smell of delicious food and the distraction of the Crown fire feature right outside the window.

We drank a lovely Pinot Noir and while my friend enjoyed the soup of the day for an entrée, the rest of us went straight to main. I ordered chicken breast with wild mushrooms, chestnuts, madeira cream and coffee syrup, which was delicious and also timely given that I spent a good part of today in Melbourne’s most outer eastern suburbs where chestnuts are as common as (insert appropriate commonality here). My friends dined on grilled sirloin of pork with choucroute, apple sauce and cider jus and the Victorian Farm tenderloin 220 grams steak. Sides of greens and fries were a great accompaniment to a wonderful meal.

When you are onto a good thing, you should keep on it, so of course we ordered dessert. Lemon tart with yoghurt ice cream, valrhona chocolate mousse, chocolate brownie and candied orange, and vanilla crème brûlée with berry compote, poppy seed sable. Fantastic.

The staff were quite brilliant in their gluten free knowledge and ability to adapt the menu – they even had gluten free bread on hand! By the end of the evening I was thinking, what football team? – But that probably had more to do with the wine.

Breezes at Crown
Level 3, Crown Towers
Southbank
(03) 9292 6896
http://www.breezesatcrown.com.au

Yes, it is in fact, the end. After just 5 days, RAFW is over for another season and I am currently at the airport waiting for my flight home – back to my shoes, clothes and accessories, my apartment, my job and my friends. It’s been a long week but has really gone by so quickly. I have seen thirteen shows, eaten endless cheese and lettuce sandwiches and as much as I would like to think I have lost a few kilo’s, I have a sneaky suspicion I may have put some on with Miss J’s cooking. Yes, it’s finally home time.

But what of the last day of RAFW? Only two shows in Cargo today for the morning shift, an 8.30am call time, not so bad really, and finishing up on the dot of 2pm. A really easy day that didn’t involve any room swapping fun and only minimal gift bag packing antics. Upon arrival this morning and being, I like to think, handpicked to work in Cargo for the day (Chip was looking for vollies he had worked with during the week) we entered the theatre that had been transformed – or at least slightly modified – into a dreamland. Cardboard clouds hung from the ceiling, beautiful floral and lattice works lined the entry to the catwalk and a backyard swing, think The Secret Garden, hung from the roof. A chalk hopscotch board was drawn on to the floor, with hearts and curls and other embellishments. It was surreal. The Miss Unkon label was due to show at 11am and we still had 2 hours to fill before the curtain came up.

I got sent backstage to participate in one of my other most favourite fashion week jobs, shoe taping! Readers will remember my joy at spending endless hours taping shoes during LMFF so you can imagine my excitement when allocated this task. We were taping the Sportsgirl Shia wedges, in grey and tan, and some lurvely sparkling (read: porn star) shoes with glitter and platforms. I did worry about what the clothes would be like when they came out! I was commended for my shoe taping expertise, passed on some wisdom to some virgin shoe tapers (one was 16 – how old did I fee!!) and got outta there before anyone else could command backstage tasks from me. I wanted to be out the front! Back on deck front of house, I was again made a ‘paddle pop’ girl and I prepared for the second last show of my week. Miss Unkon was actually quite good with lots of pastels, pinks and ruffles. The show also had some theatre – a ballet dancer/gymnast-esque girl who performed some contortion, ribbon dancing and a general amazing display of aerobatics. The models were allowed to smile (shock, horror!) and be playful and girly, a sweet change from the blank stares we have gotten all week.

I had a great possie right up the end of the runway and vowed that for my final show I was aiming for the same position. White Sands was to be my last show and preparation in the form of gift bag packing was required. Finally a show with the same floorplan layout! I folded 300 programs and laid them out on the seats, then helped with the final gift bags and distribution. Does anyone else think that the White Sands label looks like the logo from TV show, Bewitched?? The White Sands designer was seemingly everywhere at once (Laugh Out Loud moment of the day was when someone asked a fellow vollie if they had seen the designer and they replied with ‘that girl with the short black dress, lot’s of boobies? Yeah, she went that way’) and by 1pm we were roaring to go. Then we waited. And waited. And waited for the show upstairs to finish. We were close to 1.45 when announcements were made that we were close to starting and Miss J walked in just in time (having finished her shift at the upstairs venue a touch earlier than I) so that we got to watch our first, last and only, show together. The White Sands swim and resort wear wasn’t bad, probably a bit too Miami for me but there was a black one piece with a ruffle shoulder I thought was pretty cute.

Just like that, the models did their final walk and exited to backstage for the last time, the irony of the White Sands models disappearing off into the sunset backdrop at my last show not lost on me. We signed out for the final time, collected our volunteer gift bag and headed back to the hotel to collect our bags and return to where it all started – Sydney airport.

So here we are, waiting for the 6.30pm flight, tired (read: exhausted) and over it but so looking forward to being home, sleeping in our own beds and seeing our loved ones. There’s no place like home, and for me, Melbourne is it and a bit. I don’t know where fashion will take me in the future – from Sydney to Siberia (it could happen!) – but there is nothing like coming home. More fashion week stories and reports are to come (including special make up and hair reports) so stay tuned to the Style Emporium in the coming week. Shoes and smiles, Sarah xx

Image One: Miss J and I at Sydney Harbour waiting for our shift to start, looking horribly tired
Image Two: Miss Unkon models and staging before the show
Image Three: Miss Unkon finale
Image Four: White Sands ruffle one piece swimsuit
Image Five: White Sands models walk into the sunset

Visit Miss Unkon and White Sands in the coming months for thier SS10/11 collections