A Christmas Dance - by Norman Rockwell

Let’s be honest. None of us need more crap. We spend so much time looking at pretty things on the internet thinking, “Oh that is so shiny / lovely/ fancy etc..”, but really, when it comes down to it how likely is it that we’d buy it all even if we had all the money in the world and where would we put it? Which brings me to my point.

For Christmas this year I don’t really want anything. Well, I certainly don’t want for anything, and there is very little on the list of things I covet that friends and family would actually know enough about me to find as gifts. I certainly don’t want boxes of bath salts and more serving platters. I don’t want novelty aprons or more things I have to dust.

Here is what I would like.

People with less attitude.

Around this time of year, many media columnists think we will be entertained by their rantings of how awful Christmas is. How the drunk uncle always sets the cat on fire and how crap it is to have to sit there with people you barely know wearing a paper hat from a cracker that leaks dye down your forehead on a sweaty Australian Christmas.  Clearly, I am already familiar with these scenarios, but reliving them over and over again through the eyes of a jaded columnist does nothing to make me feel better about the situation.

Instead I would like to read (for a change), a family who doesn’t give a damn that their turkey was overcooked because they got to spend one last precious Christmas with 92 year old Nana. How the children sat in wonder listening to tales of her childhood that gave them a sense of just how lucky they are, before singing a Carol or two and popping off to bed.

I’d like to hear about how whole streets got together to pool all their Christmas cash to donate to a shelter instead of buying each other more of those bath salts again.

I’m no Pollyanna, but I do know one thing; reading about how crap things are all the time makes you feel just that – crap. And that is not the Christmas I choose to have.

People that don’t act their age

Sometimes acting your age is critical. Obviously we don’t want our Doctor’s skipping into the office and playing jacks while we wait. What I mean by not ‘acting your age’, is to rediscover joy in the simple things that kids love and BE OKAY about it. Do you really want a fancy new cyclonic vacuum for Christmas or do you actually want the Collector’s Edition Holiday Barbie? How about that beautiful but understated black cocktail dress, lovely for sure, but will it be as fun at 4am as tulle petticoats and a bracelet made of Christmas Bells?

Singing in Public

If only life were a musical.. perhaps we’d go mad.. but perhaps, just once a year at Christmas time, we could get past that and initiate some spontaneous singing and dancing. A co-ordinated number with dancing trolleys at the supermarket, a visit to the Hairdresser that actually involves a Barbershop Quartet. Sure, it may seem mad, but if only once a year we could get past that social stigma of insanity, I’d bet we’d have a much happier day.

Time

We all wish for more time, so if it is so precious too us why do we not consider giving some of it away as a gift? Occasionally you will see this practice being utilized by children or by those seriously strapped for cash, often in the form of little I.O.U’s; but how many of us that can afford to just go and buy gifts ever consider giving away our time instead? I’m not talking about the obvious things like volunteering to feed the homeless, but about giving time to those nearest and dearest.  Perhaps you have a skill that someone in your family has always wanted to learn. You may make a mean scone or even the perfect cappuccino (all creme not bubbles).  instead of putting that latest blockbuster novel under their tree, offer to teach them the skill they so highly regard. Set aside an afternoon, a day, whatever it takes, and go one on one to give a gift that money can’t buy and that is – to us- so priceless.

Yes, that’s what I’d like.

Happy people that don’t give me a pain in the ear and teach me how to tango.

October is Breast Cancer awareness month, and in support of the cause I want to share with you the very personal story of my friend Christine. Christine and her sisters grew up with the knowledge that most of the women in their family had suffered from breast cancer. They’ve now turned their story into both a moving documentary and book, written by Christine’s sister, Veronica Neave.  In support of Breast Cancer awareness, I’m offering all my readers the opportunity to purchase the book, with all the funds raised going straight back into breast cancer research, awareness and support. I urge you to take some time out for this one, it is a very personal, raw and inspirational journey. *Please be aware that this story contains confronting personal images, before scrolling down.*

You’ve recently created a documentary, along with your family, about your personal journey. Can you give us a brief synopsis of your story:

My Great Grandmother (Maud) & Grandmother (Elsie) both died a Breast Cancer having contracted the disease before the age of 50.  My Aunt & Mother (the only 2 sisters in that family) both got breast cancer, again, prior to 50 (Pre-menopausal).  Both having mastectomies and undergoing the normal radiation & chemo therapy for breast cancer, my mother again got breast cancer where the previously infected breast used to be, anyway My sister Ronnie with my Mum had been on a Breast Cancer Research program for about 10 years and it was about 3 years ago that they discovered the BRCAII gene in my mother which then set off a domino effect of testing on all her offspring.  It took many months to undergo the genetics counseling and testing but the end result was that all of us tested positive for the BRCAII gene which escalated our general population risk from 6-11% to be 85-90% risk rate of getting this dreaded heirloom.   Nothing had hit us at this point as it was all statistics and science..

As I was the eldest, my journey started first.  We sisters had long lived with the knowledge that there was a strong pattern that had formed with the females of our clan so it was always in the back of our minds, but it wasn’t until the facts & new scientific knowledge was presented to us on a silver platter that we confronted the real possibilities of what laid ahead of us.  I had been on the yearly cycle of ultrasounds, mammograms anyway but then I had to quickly ramp that up to include Breast Cancer & Endocrine Specialists as well as moving to 3 monthly checks… It was very costly and was increasing my anxiety over the whole issue.  My Surgeon (who I incidentally fell in love with – as you do with your life savior), put it straight to me… your not getting any younger and fast approaching “that time”  (what time was this I wondered!!) – it was PMT (Pre-menopausal time = danger time = opening the doors to welcome the heirloom that had been waiting for enter & infect my body time!!..What?  I’m too young (at just 41 at that time) BUT I did believe that to prevent yourself from ever getting that first cancer gave you even better odds as experience shows me that once you’ve had it, you are more prone to 2^nd primaries or even secondary’s and this wasn’t a risk I wanted to take.So I heeded Dr D’s advice and set a date   This was backed up by one of my closest friends who lived in Perth (only a couple of years older than me) calling me about 1 week later, to tell me she had Breast Cancer!!  I was floored… I flew over the next day and went through her operation with her and this cemented my decision to remove my healthy breasts post haste…She was BRCAII positive as well!!  I feel I am the lucky one…..

How did this knowledge impact you in defining yourself as a woman?

– The knowledge of the BRCAII diagnosis did not impact on me as a woman but rather a journey of these questions and definitions of me only started post op.. About a week after surgery I started crying and I did not stop for 2 whole weeks…  I cried for me as the woman I used to be, I cried out of guilt for all those women that did not have the choice and I did, I cried because I did not have cancer and felt like I did not deserve to feel this way,  I cried because I was mad at myself for not being strong enough to cope with the pain, I cried for all those women who could not afford to pay for this preventative surgery, knowing what they know and not being able to do anything about it…I cried for my missing breasts which had fed my child, made me feel sexy, gave me so much pleasure (I loved my breasts)!! And I cried because all my vintage clothes hung off me..  I looked hideous but then I cried because I was being stupid about feeling like that!!  You go through a massive grieving process; some do it with tears, some with anger… My sister did not cry but she had her cranky pants on for a couple of weeks and kept saying “I’ve missed the grieving process I’m fine,” but she was kidding herself!  Every one deals with grief/pain differently, but at the end of the day, its all the same process that we need to go through in order to overcome.  Today I AM a strong, confident, happy and blessed women who knows who she is and I still feel sexy!!

Can you explain the relationship a healthy mind and attitude plays in making us stronger?

– This is paramount, but sometimes overused or used in the wrong context.  Through talking to and asking many people their thoughts on the issue I found it quite amazing how some people actually thought (flippantly) I could overcome anything with the power of the mind. Don’t get me wrong I DO believe a healthy mind and positive attitude makes us strong, it helps us heal and alleviates most little things in life but there are some things that a healthy mind and positive attitude does not stop. BUT it is how we use that positive attitude that lift us up and get us through whatever it is we are faced with.

So often we are driven by competition and keeping up with others when it comes to defining our priorities. What motivates you and how do you feel your story has shaped that?

– My priorities changed when we started on this journey. My life before was all about competition, getting ahead, getting what I want, keeping up appearances (Huge)  and having more more more etc etc… Through this I have found more compassion that I ever thought I could possibly have for others, less need for all those things unnecessary, am able to let go of the unimportant things more easily, I try harder to think before I speak, I spend more time with myself and those I love and appreciate them and life more…  I make an effort each and every day to be nicer, control moods and try not to be selfish, greedy or have the “Oh woe is me” thing take over. I listen, I empathize try to understand others more. Going through this is a bit like being a very successful career person, having the best of everything at your feet with Louis Vitton & Moet Chandon as your companions (been there); to childbirth and poops & vomits and no time to shower or no money to spend (been there too).  The smile on that babies face when it looks at you makes all the rest pale to insignificance… I felt the same way.….

My motivation is my family and the fact that I now believe I have something to offer/give/share to help others.  This is why we did the documentary and book which were highly invasive and raw and confronting and personal; but I kept thinking how upset I was when almost no-one knew of this BRCAII. When I started,  I was almost a test dummy, there were no visual aids to answer those millions of questions you have, no personal journey story to relate to to make you feel like its all going to be OK at the end. They had endless amounts of stuff for cancer survivors but not for cancer “previvors”, which is what we are labeled as now.  I wanted other women who were going to be faced with this (and there are many) to have some idea of what their in for and to see its all OK on the other side..

There is much contention and argument surrounding us as women and the priority we place on looks.  What is your understanding of the role that image plays in defining a sense of self?

– Simple; value yourself and feel worthy enough to be beautiful inside and out.  A great quote I read once “Before she allows the world to judge her face, a woman is entitled to create it! – That goes for the whole package in my eyes.  We can’t avoid the judgments, stares & comments from others but we can stand tall with confidence if our intention for attention is not one of borne out of competition, malice or arrogance; but rather to feel good about oneself, then what’s the problem? We have a right to embrace ourselves and if wearing red lipstick defines me out in the image world, then who has the right to judge that. It’s personal choice.  If you haven’t got anything good to say about someone then don’t say anything. If I see an amazingly beautiful women dressed to the nines then I compliment her, I also note her appearance and take tips to better my own!  We all should take more pride in ourselves as we do our homes, our cars our gardens and everything else material. These days, we “pimp” almost everything, even our phones have bling, why not ourselves! As flowers brighten the world, so do women.

It can be a simple yet eternal struggle to get up and get fancy every day. Where does time spent on yourself fit into your daily priorities? – One thing I have learned through doing the Lindy Charm School for Girls is to refine my most comfortable, yet individual, look and get it down pat in 10 minutes flat given I’ve always had to juggle (like almost all women)  either single parenthood with the usual morning activities, careers, relationships, housework. Then later in a marriage and blended family, with even more kids,  I always found that at the very least with some lippy and a flower in the hair, it would always brighten even the most trying of days. It is essential to me.

Where do you find inspiration each day?

– My belief in God, my Family, from every woman that went before me to pave the way for me being the women I am today.  From all the women I meet today that are doing amazing things that I can learn from.

“Pieces of me Genetically flawed – surviving the breast cancer I may never have” is the book written by Christine’s sister Veronica Neave. You can purchase this book here or from the link in the side bar. Until Christmas, $10 from the purchase price of $24.99 AUD, will be donated straight back into  the Breast Cancer research and awareness fund. All you need to do is enter the code “MAMA” upon checkout to ensure that your donation is allocated. They are happy to ship internationally, so all of you have an opportunity to experience this amazing story and make a difference.

That poor old horse is being flogged to death again.  Thanks to an article in this weekends news, a “light hearted” piece looking at competition at the school gate of ” Slummy Mummies vs. Yummy Mummies”; we are back to the same old argument being sparked in the comments.  The so often spouted clap trap that if you give a damn what you look like then clearly you have nothing better to worry about in your life.  I’m sorely tempted to just say, “grow a brain people!” and leave it at that,  but clearly the topic deserves more attention or it wouldn’t keep cropping up.

So before you get all indignant and start writing me nasty comments (I say this not to my regular readers who already know what this is all about), let me give you a quick snap shot of my life.

Firstly, I work. I work both in the home and outside the home. I work more than fourty hours a week.  I have two children (2 & 6), whom I dote on, play with, sing with, get dirty with. This blog focuses pretty much solely on fashion related issues as it is my interest; just as gardening, scrap booking or collecting toy trains might be yours. My family didn’t sign up for this blog and so I don’t expose them or other non fashion related things here. And most importantly, I’m not interested in competing with you.  Which brings me back to the heart of the issue…

Don’t make the mistake of assuming that just because someone is “dressed up” that they do it to make you feel worse about yourself.  Yes, there are always those groups who are motivated by being the top of the pile in their social group and use fashion as a means of belittling others.  (Which I believe was the ‘light hearted’ topic the article wished to cover) But it would be unwise to tar everyone you come across with the same brush, no matter how conditioned you may be.  In the simplest sense this can be boiled down to one key problem – ascribing moral values to people based on what they look like. Just as certain ethnic minorities in your city are often targeted as being sinister based on their skin colour or choice of religious dress, the same principle of discrimination is at work here. For myself and many others, we dress up because it is fun and it makes us feel good. It doesn’t come at the expense of  “a life” or a happy family.  Dressing well and having happy kids /rescuing puppies/ or whatever other “better things to worry about”, are not mutually exclusive.

Back to the school gate competition issue.  Yes it does exist, but you have to choose to buy into it or NOT.  It is just another adult version of teen peer pressure and generally those that give in to it were the ones that behaved in the same manner in high school. You’d hope that we would have matured beyond that. When it comes to the big “What to Wear at the School Gate”, it is entirely up to you. Dress up, dress down – but figure out what makes you happier and WHY you are doing it. If it is to make other mothers feel inadequate – just don’t, and by the same token if you deliberately break out the old trackies  as a non verbal form of  “well f#$k you!”; then it is time to take a step back and consider the impact of that attitude on both yourself and others.

It’s only a war if you choose to be in it.

That’s enough pot stirring for a Sunday afternoon.

image by .ash on Flickr

Last night I attended an exclusive photo exhibition launch event here in Melbourne for some very talented people. It was the usual crowd of names, faces and a sea of black. Official photographers walking around taking crowd shots,talking to you and taking details. (I don’t mean that to sound wanky, it just is that way at some events)  In amongst all of this was one chap walking around with his little digital happy snap camera, taking photos.  Now being a blogger, I am all too usually doing this myself – cool lighting = photo op, great style = photo op, amazing typography = photo op. You get my drift.  So I generally have no problem with people taking photos or asking to take photos of me.

What got me though was this – as I was standing talking to a friend, she whispers to me, “Don’t look now but there is a chap taking a photo of your shoes.” I casually remarked that that was cool and didn’t bother me, until I noticed that said chap was lying down on the floor at foot level snapping away at my feet WITHOUT EVEN ANNOUNCING HIS PRESENCE! Seriously, if I had taken a step backwards I would have stood on his head!  There was nothing official looking about his photo taking activities, he just melted away into the crowd. I thought this was pretty rude given his intimate knowledge of my toe nail polish shade, but I decided to forget about it and carry on enjoying myself.

After some time, as I was leaving the event, I stopped by the door to pick up some marketing leaflets for the gallery (I had my back to the room). I should mention here that I was wearing a backless dress, so a little of my back tattoo was peaking out. Anyway, I turned around to leave just as a flash went off – and there is this guy again with his hand just about inside my dress to move it back!  He stammers and says, “Oh I just want to get a shot of that tattoo  if that’s ok?”, So trying to remain gracious I say alright, thinking that there will then be an introduction, the usual handshake (however awkward) etc..  But no.  He strokes, snaps and leaves!!

So my question is this – Apart from the infinitely inappropriate use of hands without introductions; do you think this kind of stealth, yet invasive, happy snapping is ok? I know as bloggers we often want to photograph everything we like, but there are times that we have to check ourselves.

How would you have handled this situation?    Is stealth snapping okay?

Image by Elineart via Flickr

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know that I have an ongoing project, a nemesis if you will. The quest to have a house filled with “nothing that is neither useful nor beautiful” in the words of William Morris.  Sure, it sounds simple enough, but for me it gets right to the heart of a daily struggle.  You see, I am a Maximalist Minimalist. There exists within me an eternal struggle for the bright,the shiny, the hoarder and collector; and yet I hate to dust and know that I would spend far less time having to tidy up if I had less stuff! Indeed, this is a luxury of a dilemma to have, but a dilemma nonetheless.  So this year I have been working ever so slowly towards getting it under control.

Being a vintage clothing collector, I often feel compelled to “liberate” pieces from their current situation. Find a beautiful vintage dress two sizes too big in an Op shop? I still have to have it in case it is ragged, or bought by someone to be cut up for a school play. There is little logic involved when it comes to collecting, and fashion even more so; as it is difficult to store, requires constant care and attention and it’s display relies primarily on your body remaining the same shape! Why on earth do we do it if not for love?  The problem is that when you start to attach such strong emotional values to your vintage clothing, it starts to extend into your regular wardrobe, which then extends into your family’s wardrobe… and on it goes.  So I find myself sitting it a storage room filled with three racks of clothes I no longer wear (or am ever likely too – maternity pants anyone?), boxes of baby clothes and toys, hats, purses etc… and each piece has a memory attached.  Somehow giving them away feels like a betrayal of those times.  As if by letting go of that little pink baby suit, I am letting go of the baby who wore it. Like I said, no logic.

It is at this point of having moved the unnecessary items into storage, that I must face this crisis of emotion and move onto the next level of enlightenment.  My very good friend Nicole has become my spiritual leader in this regard. Not to sound too serious, but unless you face a similar crisis yourself it is hard to understand its hold in you.  She tells me, (to paraphrase) ” I let go of clothes. Let them out into the cycle of clothing karma where they will find a new home and come back to me in the form of that perfect vintage dress I have been looking for all these years.” And then the penny dropped.  If I continue to hold onto all these things, they will only serve to be a burden for me.  There will be no space to let anything new in, and neither will the well be replenished for others if we all keep on hoarding it.

So I am letting go.  I have forgone the marketing or eBaying of this last lot, as it is just too much effort.  Instead, I have boxed things up and sent them on their way to new homes with my blessing.  Yesterday I took about 40 kilos of clothing and accessories to my local Op Shop. (Please – don’t ask why there was so much!) I make sure that everything is clean and well presented to allow it to hit the shelves straight away, and always hand it to the volunteers in person.  Part of my hesitation in letting many of these pieces go, is the rate at which they are simply put into land fill and treated as rubbish.  But my rational is that if I treat them with respect that the store will also, and then they will find a good new home.

After letting go of many of my personal pieces, I headed into some serious emotional territory and opened the boxes of baby clothes. I had sold off many at the local market, but still had a ridiculous amount remaining, and knew that I had to let them go to move on.  When it comes to baby gear, knowing that they will go somewhere that they are truly needed and appreciated is the only way I could part with them.  So I did a little research and found a small hospital that cares for mothers and new babies from disadvantaged backgrounds.  (The Caroline Chisholm Society in Melbourne needs your little baby gear if you have it to spare! ) Knowing that these pieces, so lovingly knitted by Nana,  would keep another baby warm, was all I needed to let them go.  I have kept a few pieces.  Things my girls wore home from hospital, heirloom pieces and one handmade piece from each family member.  The other pieces I found hard to let go, I photographed and then boxed up.

I know this isn’t the end of my quest, but just the beginning.  The day I master it I’ll let you know, but until then I will keep on working towards my goal;  heading off a future that sees me living as a  slave to stuff!