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Thursday, 28 February 2013

Shoe Porn

Ever glanced south of someone’s ankles and found yourself in a pervy gaze over a pair of irresistible Nine Wests? No way… me too! More and more I’m noticing awesome foot candy that I just have to pay homage to.

Here’s some of the lovely finds that have been strutting around the office this month:

I know everyone rushes out to buy the latest mags, or logs onto E! to catch up on Oscar red carpet fashion but it’s tricky to see what’s underneath those beautiful long gowns. I came across an awesome site called Shoerazzi that has pics and details of all the latest red carpet celebrity shoes. Here are some of my fave’s from the 2013 academy awards celebrations and parties:

Send me your fave shoe pics and I’ll upload the best one’s –
Don’t forget to check out more of your fave celeb shoe snaps at
Happy strutting!

Tuesday, 19 February 2013

An Indian Love Story


Never could she have imagined that in the days leading up to her departure, all the electric anticipation for her exit would dissipate into the ether, like embers reaching up out of a fire pit. She found herself in a curious conundrum, wanting to stay in her room with the glow of her golden curtains blanketing the two of them in morning ambiguity. Serendipity is a funny thing, she remembers thinking.
Despite her resolutions, there was nothing that could hold her back… her spongy imagination had been drenched with stories of colour, chaos and compassion told through the eyes of her Grandmother. As a child, she remembers spending hours in her dressing room, running her hands along brightly coloured fabrics or holding Eastern trinkets and treasures up against her tiny 6 year old frame, picturing herself as a Himalayan princess or  Bhangra bride. Though she flirted with the idea of staying, she was unmovable in her quest for a spiritual awakening, hoping she would find it under a mahogany Indian sky.
He was as soft and golden as olive oil. His kiss was incandescent. He had an unusual balance of heart and head that made her want to know who he was… because in truth, she had no idea. She’d already passed the point of logical explanation which could only mean one thing – she had landed herself in a buttery and beautiful world of trouble. Even now, she laughed at how she was unable to make decisions with any other organ in her body, but her heart.
She pulled the old rickety backpack out from the top shelf where it had been impatiently waiting, and watched as he helped fold her clothes and pack them into the bag. She couldn’t really understand why he would want to spend his Saturday morning ticking off items on her checklist. Up until now they’d never even said what this was, if “it” was even a thing. She couldn’t remember how things worked anymore, she’d spent the best part of a decade enmeshed in broken people and broken things.
She knew she needed to leave for the airport soon but willed with all her might for the hands of her kitchen clock to go slower. I’m going to miss you. I’m going to miss you a lot. He said, for the first time revealing some vulnerability, as if by accident. They lay gazing out the window at clouds and an approaching night sky and she found herself biting into her bottom lip to stop from saying something completely ridiculous. She thought of all the things she impulsively wanted to ask him: Are we together? What do you feel for me? Where is this going? What do you want? She’d already broken a vow she had made NOT to do this dangerous dance again for at least a year. It had been 2 months, and here she was. Dancing away with a mouthful of questions she couldn’t say or even answer herself. I’m going to miss you too, would have to be enough.
And miss him she would, but not so much at first. From the moment her sandals had touched the ground in Delhi, she was enveloped in a cloud of warm sticky air and suddenly very aware of her bare, milky shoulders. As she walked through a maddening afternoon market, she was absorbed into an alternate universe, ripped out of her comfort zone like a torn off magazine clipping.
She was surprised at how easy it was here to shed the cautious covering that had been thickly coated on top of her spontaneous and open interior.  She reached into pots of curry with her bare hands, and filled her belly with exotic spices and handmade breads. She ran her hand along a wall of peeling turquoise paint, and felt how it tickled her fingertips. She breathed in air and filled her lungs right to the brim, right to the most bottom buckets. She felt wonderful, alive and free and it was utterly exhilarating. She wished that her heart could always be unfettered against the restraints of fear, that she could one day allow herself to trust someone else… or to begin with, trust herself.
As she snaked her way up into the Himalayan Mountains she felt a smile creep across her lips; it seemed as though the universe was pleading for her introspection. Confined to a toy train for most of the day, over-looking the most majestic views of snow-capped mountains, roaming sacred cows and luminous scatterings of shanty houses she wanted to look up and say: Yeah yeah, I get it, let go. She had started allowing herself to think of him. Sometimes she’d laugh and want to tell him when something funny happened. Sometimes she’d look up at the sky and want so badly for him to be looking up at that exact same moment. She’d almost let herself imagine that he might be falling in love with her and missing her terribly, but she’d always stop before the thought galloped away like a wild horse with her clutching at its mane, terrified. And just then, her phone lit up and there it was; his name.
Her fingers slid back and forth clicking and clucking over the buttons of her phone, it seemed like she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. You should be here, it’s crazy! I’m having the best time. I had chapattis and chickpea curry with peach chutney for lunch. Now I’m squashed up in a train in these mountains and I’m shaking like a leaf! Though she was the one having an adventure, she wanted to know all about his day, she wanted to know everything about his world. And slowly, like a tap that can’t close properly, small pieces of him trickled into her graces. He was kind. He was a dreamer. He was a little odd, just like her. He was passionate. He was clever and sometimes he was tricky.
The sky in Shimla could inspire poetry. I could write songs out here, she thought. It was tough to narrow it down, the things that made her the most cheerful. There was so much to take in, absorb and set free but she couldn’t help feeling a little divided at times, about India and also about her heart. There were days she’d wake up with her mind set on being alone. She’d tell herself it was better, that she wasn’t ready to love again, that everyone she’d given her heart to had sucked it and spat it out like one of the market stall shop owners who so comfortably catapulted cannon balls of mucus onto the pavement. Like it was no big deal, like her foot wasn’t just a few centimetres away from its landing strip. She sometimes hated that she gave her love so easily and she always hated at who had ended up with.
Dalhousie was situated between some of the highest peaks that Northern India has to offer. The small town sits nestled between a course pine carpeting that gives the area its nickname, little Switzerland. She’d spent the day hiking through thick forest and clinging heat to get here and as she reached her small, 2 star hotel room, she flopped down on the balcony with nothing left to give. She was so tired, tired of the terrain and tired of climbing up all kinds of mountains. For 2 hours she just sat, no book to read, no music to move to, no international texts to respond to. There was something about the piney air and the meditative pace that moved her into a space of clarity as she watched a woman hanging up washing on a chalky white roof. As the woman reached into her basket and wrung out a bright magenta sari to pin on the make shift washing line, she began to unravel. I picked them, she thought, about her mistakes. I handpicked each and every disaster myself.
The moment resonated with bittersweet realism leaving one half of her feeling softly sad and the other half invigorated. She now had a choice and a power she never expected. The power to do things differently, to make better choices and to always, above everything else, place herself at the front of her own queue. She listened to her heart and to the sound of the wind in the trees, admiring how quickly it was able to change direction and re-stream with strength and conviction.
The descent to Delhi felt like a long, well needed exhale. She’d spent three days with no itinerary and no boundaries. She’d meditated with a Guru who’d helped clear her head. She’d opened her hands to a mystic who foretold a wild and wonderful path that lay ahead of her. She’d nourished herself on organic food made with only the purest kind of love and she’d finally learnt that the best answers are sometimes revealed by just asking the right questions. She leaned her head against the temple of Khali and asked: Let me realize my power as a woman. Whatever I do and whichever path I choose - let me be the best of myself in that moment.
She sometimes wondered if the man she had begun to sweeten to would laugh at her childlike curiosity with the magic of the universe. For the first time she could feel it again, like she was a part of a whole, like she’d stepped back onto stage to take her place in the production of her life. She decided that he could laugh, or he could just love her for being extraordinary.
The phone rang in her crumbling hotel room back in Delhi. It was room service. No it wasn’t. It was him. I can’t wait to see you; I haven’t stopped talking about you. Her hands went weak as she clutched the phone, putting up an immense effort to sound nonchalant.
She boarded the plane, sad to leave the mythical land that had disentangled her like a brightly coloured piece of silk. She wondered if there had ever been a love story told where the two main characters were miles away from each other. She wondered if it was possible for falling in love to be a direct result of distance, of solitude and of soul defining self-aperture. She wondered if she would return home as the same woman who had left only a few weeks ago, or if she was returning as something new. She wasn’t sure. But she couldn’t wait to find out.

Friday, 15 February 2013

One of the Boys

Sup Okes.
In celebration (strong word for some of you) of Valentines Day I’m offering you a beautiful bouquet of market research ala the opposite sex. I’ve asked a bunch of the sexiest, smartest, savvy woman I know to tell us what it is that they really want, in life, in bed and in a relationship. Here is what they had to say:
What do Woman REALLY Want…
“I want friends who inspire me, family that supports me and a man who is holding my hand every step of the way - placing a loving push on my back every now and then.”
“Money and a room of one's own  - first articulated by Virginia Woolf”
“Beyond having a good job, a nice car and a white picket fence family - I want to wake up, excited to do what I love.”
“In life I want to make my mark, stand out and be important to a universal ecosystem.”

“In life,  women want a bra that fits. High heels that don't hurt. And a job that pays you to lay there and be made to feel good.”

“Living my life according to my own rules”

“Lightness and laughter and appreciation”

 “All I want is to be happy, whatever that means for me… If things I’ve hoped for or imagined for myself don't go as planned, all I ask is that whatever replaces it allows me to be happy and feel full within myself.”

“Balance is the biggest goal, balance between work and play, relationships with others and most importantly, with myself.”

“Great hair days, smiles from strangers, guilt free meals, more of that Friday feeling, a magical car cleaning fairy, nails that grow out pedicured, and a closet full of shoes”


“I need Support, respect, adventure, fun, friendship, lots of laughter and an abundance of love to handle my crazy!”

“Women want a man that adores us even after waking up with gunk in our eyes and dragon breath.”

“I want someone who will walk through life’s challenges and triumphs, holding my hand at a similar pace”

Respect, honesty, fun and attention”

“If a man can cook, clean and keep the toilette seat down we are happy for days”

“I want a great lover that happens to be my friend”

“A lot of attention”

“To be understood when we don't understand ourselves”

“Presents, surprises, letters, support, advice, wine, a friend”

“I want the romance, the roses and those intimate chats that I would have with a friend. I want respect, trust and loyalty. “

“Having every nitty-gritty, less than perfect part of u be a part of your make-up that someone would put together in the exact same way if given the chance to do u over”

“Someone who believes in my best bits, and understands my worst ones.”

“Someone who says everything is going to be okay, even if it might not”


“Communication, honesty and some sexy lingerie! When a lady is in bed she should feel safe, sexy and secure.”

“Girls just wanna have FUN! In whatever way it comes”

“I don't want excuses and boredom”

“Let's start with hygiene. Smell like summer and we can go on for days.”


“I want vulnerability, variety and a willing volunteer up for trying anything and everything.”

“Fun, bravery and lightness - and please listen and notice!”

“Flexibility – in every sense”

“Communication, excitement, an open mind, experimentation and a dash of playfulness”

“No judgment and no skalm!”

“Sexy talk, don't stop when I say don't stop…”

“I want someone who can’t keep their hands off me, who thinks I am the most delicious creature they have ever set their eyes on.”

“We need sensual kisses, whips and chain nights and we need you to speak up about what you want and listen to what we want.”

“I need a man to get that some nights I just need sleep.”

Tuesday, 5 February 2013

The Liquors of Love

There are some of you who just had a little puke in your mouth by merely reading the above title. Half of you are gagging at the inevitable Feb cheese factor and the other half are still recovering from the 27 beers ingested at RHCP on Saturday night. BUT I figure if you’ve gotten to line three of this little write up, you might as well read the whole shebam yes?
You may have noticed that I haven’t posted a martini review in quite some time; this is for three very respectable reasons:
1.       The overindulgence of Martini’s over the last year is starting to eat into my undying love for the short and strong cocktail. To put it plainly, my appetite for all things gin is drying up from over exposure. We can’t have that.
2.      Martinis are a pretty penny at most establishments, so unless I start selling organs on the black market you buggers will have to sponsor me a few.
3.      There’s so much more to appreciate than just a Martini or a cocktail of my taste – I want to do some exploring.
So today, as part of my overindulgent shmooshy Valentines month of blogs, we’re talking about – you guessed it – LUUURVE potions of the booze persuasion.
To Shoot
Red Headed Slut
1 ounce Cranberry Juice
1/2 ounce Peach Schnapps
3/4 ounce J├Ągermeister
Combine all ingredients in a cocktail shaker with ice. Shake to blend and chill. Strain into a large shot glass.

I’ve never tried this one before but I’m super keen. I know everyone expects something creamy and comfortable (for lack of a better word) but what are shooters for? In my opinion they are supposed to encourage a rush of blood to the head… and this one packs a punch. Kinda like the moment you first realise you’re in love. BAM! There it is.

To Sip

December 2012 saw me taking a fabulous holiday on the Champagne train and my favourite and most affordable was always a deliciously crisp Graham Beck. Nothing says romance like bubbly! It’s light and lovely and your inhibitions will float away a little more with each tiny delicious bubble!

To Share
I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again – the richness of a full chocolaty mouthful of The Chocolate Block just reminds me of late nights, long conversations and ruby stained kisses. This favourite of mine has become so popular it’s becoming hard to get hold of, but I think it’s the perfect addition to a romantic night in.  
To Go

For me, the best places to go out for a romantic drink are the ones where you can get a little privacy for hand holding and cake sharing. One of my fave places for this is The Michelangelo coffee shop overlooking Sandton Square. Order a big slice of cake to share and a bottle of vino while you people watch and get cosy in a corner.