Less Dolce, More Vita

So I have a wedding to attend in a fortnight and it is very (bold, italics, underline) important I look presentable. We won't go into all the ignominious reasons here, suffice it to say it will be populated with eidolons from the past and it is depressingly important to me that in the game of, 'whose life is better', I don't take out the wooden spoon in an uncontested walk-over. A nice dress will help enormously with this objective (she says somewhat falteringly).

A sale at Myer provided a frock from a rather fancy designer I wouldn't normally let myself look at, let alone try on. It was a size too big but in my desperation to get this major hurdle out of the way I rationalised that it was perfect in every other respect and given the enormous savings I had made on the original tag price (highway robbery!) I could certainly afford to get it taken in by a tailor - in fact, wouldn't that be better all round - almost a bespoke creation!

Enter Mr Ricci. At a well-traveled 88 years of age, it would be facetious to claim he shows no signs of slowing down, but he still sits in the large window of his Carlton shop most days and deals with the steady trickle of clients with an energy I know I'm not capable of at 33. His curriculum vitae is as astonishing for this corner of the world, as it is glamorous. During the dizzy days of Italian neorealist film's ascendancy his hands crafted costumes for Gregory Peck, Sophia Loren & Anthony Quinn - can you imagine!? And this is the absolute duck's nuts for me - he worked on Roman Holiday. ROMAN HOLIDAY. 

On exiting the change room in my voluminous number I immediately clutched at the thigh area and apologetically mumbled that obviously not as much adjustment would be required in this region, to which he immediately replied, without skipping a beat, 'no it would just make your bottom look bigger.' At which point he also tugged at the back panel and nodded, 'or here either, it would only draw attention to the...' (insert gesturing hands making large air-buttocks in repetition of his point).

I thought I took it all quite well - charming foreign men seem to be able to say mostly anything to me without raising too much ire. Mr Ricci did take a step back at this point though and, gently checking to see he hadn't wounded any feminine pride, cajoled, 'but you are no silly girl, huh? You know how these things work. Now Sophia Loren -you know her? - she was crazy! And so much trouble with the husbands! (cue open palmed tap to the head in exasperation). The first and no doubt last time this short, white, flat bummed and small breasted lady will ever be mentioned in the same sentence as Sophia Loren - by a man that had taken the literal measure of us both, no less.

I will bicycle over tomorrow to pick up the dress and I do so hope he will be there. He mentioned that his son or daughter sometimes man the shop when he isn't feeling well and, whilst I'm sure they have inherited much of their father's graciousness, I want to ask him about Greg Peck; he was dreamy. 

I miss Aggie!

Read this terrifying article today and went into a slight spin.  The kitchen sink has been bleached and all sponges, dishcloths and scourers binned (with firm resolution to repeat task weekly).  Given we live in a small terrace house, space in the combo toilet-shower-bathroom is at a premium, so was in a little bit of a quandary as to what to do with the toothbrushes.  Eventually resolved issue by deciding they would now live in adjacent laundry annex. Blue Pie Piece not overly pleased as maintains (quite accurately) that we are very good at making sure seat it down before flushing... but I just don't know, you don't mess with Myth Buster results. The knicker kicker is still being workshoped.  Due to the, errr, delicate nature of some undergarments, washing at suggested temperatures will just not fly.  But a steam cleaner has been booked to sanitise every carpeted and upholstered surface next month.  I will sleep the sleep of the just tonight.

Look, I'm naturally predisposed to obsess over all things cleaning-related, so very aware I'm officially this author's target audience and as such, performed just like the tightly wound monkey I know myself to be.  Really, I do get the manipulation inherent in the fear-mongering tone these pieces take, and I acknowledge that I have survived living in far dirtier environs than my present situation just fine (hello share house with 5 Irish lads in their mid-20's), and going back further still, probably ate my fair share of kindergarten sandbox filth with gay abandon.  But God-damn!  It's like a trigger to some repressed specter of my mother, who rises up from my gut and turns me into a Pine O Clean wielding Carrie (but working the projectile vomiting thing in reverse... kind of... ok, I need a better visual metaphor here).  Issues; got 'em in spades.  

It follows then that I'm also the key demographic for a gem of a program called 'How Clean Is Your House?' and have just been acutely reminded that I miss it TERRIBLY!  Not only does it feed my obsession for industrial grade solvents, it also allows me to indulge in my second favourite pastime, judging people.  Oh please, please, please Australian TV programming executives - put it back on the schedule!  Promise to pop by and hover your house if you do.

BPP's Favourite Things - The 2013 Edition

Well, if it's good enough for Oprah...

Based on past versions of the great lady's annual inventory, I assume all items must be available for purchase, hence the omission of Chris Hemsworth. 

• Starburst snakes

• Anything from Alpha60

• Riesling

• Mad Men

• Aesop hand wash

• Tiki torches

• Ken Unsworth's sculptural work

• Lemon blossom

• MONA (not suggesting you buy out Mr. Walsh; invest in a ticket, hipsta)

• Grub food van

• This Suzanne Harward wedding dress

Princess Pippilotta Delicatessa Windowshade Mackrelmint Longstocking

"I am a Thing-Finder, and when you're a Thing-Finder, you don't have a minute to spare."

- true dat.