My Strange Life

My life is a strange one. It's almost estranged from who I am. I did say almost.

I seem to have connections up the wazoo in the fashion industry and I have no idea why. I have a nice hat; people like my hat. I can teach people photography. I've also always had a thing for Texan girls. We're getting ahead of ourselves or rather, I'm getting ahead of all of you.

I'll just start where it happened.

Bowie was having a one year birthday party at The Strand last night. He wasn't turning one year old as that would have just been stupid; his store was turning one year old. The celebration — which wasn't as populated as I'd originally anticipated — came complete with gift-bags (filled with a scarf, cd singles, and Mentos among other things), happy & tall models, and Tempus Two wine. Sweet wine. The wine really should sell itself as "fizzy lolly water for rich people who don't actually like wine."

Anyway, Wendell was there by the time I'd gotten there. He introduced me to a friend of his named Kim who is a make-up artist. She's a nice girl. 

Wendell and Kim later on that night. You can tell it was me who took the photo because Wendell's flicking me off. :P

Now, people who know me or read my blog will have figured out that I'm not exactly the best socialite and ordinarily I'll just stand in the corner thinking amongst myself until someone comes over to talk to me.Well, last night Kim and I both stood and chatted from the best corner of The Stand. I'll have to reserve that corner the next time someone has one of these things as it really was a nice corner. Throughout the event, we even had people come up and talk to us. Model friends of Wendell's came up and chatted and Bowie — friend and client of mine — dropped by a few times too. Kim's a good person. That much I can tell from the few hours I spent with her last night. Wendell's friends are nice too.

Mind you, I'm still not used to the height of models. It's a bit jarring knowing that you have to crane your head up to see beauty. 

Anyway, I stayed with Kim and Wendell's friends the entire two hours that the event was on.

People there seem disjointed socially. In a way, it's like a school or uni event all over again with groups arriving and staying in their only little bits. The rich with the rich, the old friends with the old friends. The photographers all weave in and out of the groups for photos like bees bouncing from flower to flower looking for pollen. The models are all as free as the birds that normally hunt the bees, only that the models aren't hunting the photographers and are all about having a good time. It's interesting.

The birthday event at The Strand was set to end at around 8.30. It pretty much died at around 8.30… that really would be the best way of putting it. By then, it was Wendell, Kim, the models, myself and the crew from Cream Magazine drinking wine and chatting it up. It was time to retreat. Drunken retreats and whatnot back down Pitt Street Mall and to the Cream building… or at least the floor with the Cream office in it.

As we walk down Pitt Street, Lauren grabbed my hat and did some posing while Wendell snapped. Photo by Wendell Teodoro.

That's where the party went for a while. Mind you it wasn't late. I kept checking my phone thinking it was because, well, I was a bit tired having come straight from work. In my head, it was later than it actually was. But I stayed on because seriously, how often do I get to go out? And further, how often do I get to go out with people who don't want to throw me out of a window?! You think I'm kidding, but I think you shouldn't.  

It's hard to describe what being at a fashion party is like. The people are beautiful, but where you'd normally expect them to be up themselves they actually don't seem that way at all. Maybe it's a Cream thing. The people there seem like really good people.  Antonino, the editor, is a really nice guy. Very warm and friendly. Michael is cool as is Rachel. Rachel's also hot. Very hot. I could fall in love with those eyes forever. I think I already have, mind you.

Anyway, the party at Cream HQ consisted of a lot of vodka, Red Bull, and anything else that contained a lick of alcohol in it that the party as an entity could pretty much get its hands on. I guess that's an unusual Tuesday, a unique Tuesday, but a gorgeous Tuesday all the same. At one point Wendell went off in one of the clear rooms and was taking pictures of Lauren (a model) and Assia (another model, I think that's how you spell her name) doing… you know… stuff. Not THAT sort of stuff, but stuff in general. It's posing. I don't know what you write it as. I'm barely a journalist as it is and I'm tired as so I'm doing my best here at the moment.

Kim looks hard into the camera so she can take a picture…

…of these two together…

…which looks like this!

Not long after that random shoot was done, we went back to the office and there was more drinking followed by the decision to head to the editor's place for the continued party.

Remember that the group wasn't that big. Really it was maybe 10-15 people, and probably 12. I can't remember entirely and I didn't count so I really am guessing, but it's not a large amount of people. They're good people though.

We piled into a few taxis and made our way to The Cross. I was in the Cream Crew Taxi… that has a nice ring to it so I'm going to use it. I was in the Cream Crew Taxi — the CCT as I'm calling it for this particular moment in time — and headed for The Cross. What can I say about a taxi ride. Nothing. Geeze. Let's move on. 

We got out and Kim, Wendell, Lauren and I waited for the rest of the group. And as we waited, Lauren did spontaneous modeling. It attracts attention, but she seems to know how to get over the random guys driving buy who seriously think they have a chance with her. Seriously, if there are any guys who think this when you drive by in you pumped up piece of shit with your mates looking sick, mate, sick… do yourself a favour and just go home and jack off to the image you got when you drove by her. That's as close as you're going to get.

Nothing to see here. Move along people. Nothing to see here but models posing for no apparent reason in Kings Cross. Move along…

Try telling this guy to move along. He had his camera out and just– oh wait… that's Wendell. Nah, he's fine.

When the rest of them got there, those of who now existed and weren't up in the party clamored into the elevator and made it a sardine can comparatively speaking. We got up to the level and rushed out into the arms of awaiting party friends. Shit seriously, I've got no way of writing about this sort of thing. Really, if I thought
it was hard to describe a fashion party before, you have no idea the hell I'm going through right now in trying to twist and mangle words to make them fit how I need to describe this.

Antonino and Assia in the bathroom. What are they doing? Fucked if I know. Looks ciggy related. Why don't you ask them? Photo by Wendell Teodoro (and very Nan Goldin Wendell… good work).

Let me try it like this: there was dancing, drinking, holding, touching, grabbing, smoking, talking, photographing, laughing and that was only what I saw. At points, the bathroom was locked with a few people in it doing who knows what (well they do, but I'm working with what I got here) and at one point I swear I saw breasts in the kitchen.

"Breasts in the kitchen! Breasts in the kitchen!" the reader of this blog says wildly. "Why the fuck didn't you invite me if there were going to be breasts in the kitchen?!" Well geeze, how was I to know. I didn't even realise there were breasts in the kitchen when there actually were breasts in the kitchen.

Cut me some slack here and meet Rachel. I think I'm spelling it right. I've got no idea so I'm winging it but Rachel isn't a model but she is gorgeous. She's a Dallas girl… which is a brilliant coincidence for where I lived in America. She's a North Dallas girl, but she's not a Plano girl. And she's gorgeous and stunning and she's got a brain which is great too. I quite liked talk to her.

And then there was this guy (he's the non-blurry one):

I never got his name, but I have his mobile number and he has mine because he wanted me to teach him photography. So I showed him some that night with Wendell's camera. He got some basic camera operation, some flash bouncing, and some composition lessons that night. And he used them when Rachel and I were kissing. She's wonderful. Like… fuck, I hadn't kissed anyone in ages. Not by choice, just because people don't generally want to kiss me… and she is a breath of fresh air. Great lips to go with the already stunning eyes. 

Anyway, I've now got a sort-of-crush…!..!…..!– THIS BLOG IS BEING INTERRUPTED BY LEIGH'S SCHIZOPHRENIC EVIL CONSCIENCE — Fuck Leigh, who the fuck are you kidding. "Sort-of-crush"… shit man, don't make me beat you with my schizophrenic evil conscience bat motherfucker, cause I'll do it. And then how the fuck are you going to explain that one, biatch. You walk into a wall, motherfucker? That's what I thought–

*Leigh flicks his schizophrenic evil conscience into the oblivion that is the dark recesses of his untouched soul… or at least to the PM's residence…* 

I didn't think I'd escape a blog without a visit from the evil… whatever it is…

Anyway, yeah. So there was that side of things. I heard there was other stuff going on as well.

There was also a sweet lady by the name of Melissa who is a fashion designer. Nice lady… wanted me to dance… but I don't dance. She persisted and persisted and eventually I had to go because… FUCK! It was late and I have a day job that requires me to do a lot of writing and is in a part of Sydney that requires an early get up time and what not. So I said goodbye to the nice people, the warm Antonino, the gorgeous Rachel, the friendly Michael, and anyone else in the main bit of the room that was there. I didn't say goodbye to Kim or Wendell. They were in one of the other rooms doing something… who knows what (well yes, they know what, duh) and once I'd started to leave, I didn't want to make a big thing out of it because really, it's just me and my hat that's leaving.

I had fun. That's the aftermath. I did enjoy myself. I didn't actually expect any of what happened to happen so it was a nice change from what normally happens on a Tuesday night for me: go home, dinner, surf the web, do whatever it is I do on a Tuesday before I try the mind boggling task of falling asleep.

I would like to do it again. I'd like to meet up with Rachel again if I could. I'd like to meet up with a lot of them. They're nice people.

Maybe we'll do it again soon and this time I won't have the responsibility of work the next day to keep me from getting slightly more tipsy. :P 

More photos in the "continued reading" bit… 

Wendell gives Emily a nice kiss on the cheek. Photo from Wendell Teodoro's camera, but who took it… no one knows…

Assia and Lauren come out of the bathroom. Photo by Wendell Teodoro.

Assia and Lauren pose on Ikea furniture for Wendell. Photo by Wendell Teodoro.

…and Michael joins in on the action. Lucky bastard… Photo by Wendell Teodoro.

Drink up, Wendell! The night is young! Image by me! Yay!

Assia and Kim makes faces. Yeah. That's hot. I even remember taking this image. There were 3 or 4 or 5 I had to do of em… 

The gorgeous Ms. Rachel live… err… well… in a photo anyway

And now for some more crappy images from my phone camera…

Back at Cream HQ…

Lauren! Wave your hands like you just don't care! Yeah baby, yeah!