Monthly Archives: June 2012

There’s loads of cyberdross that finds its way to La InBoxiata.  God knows how.  Los Minions have been directed always to tick that “bugger off and don’t contact me” box.  Maybe finger goo has gummed up our mice and made them  jumpy, as the ticks seem to be ending up in the “show your love by spamming me” box instead.

This, however, is not an example of that dross.  It’s a sunny, welcome notification that it’s J Crew sale time.  La Jenna decrees it, thus it be so.  Happy, happy days here beneath the dusty, pigeon-poo dotted rafters of Palazzo Trivialista.

Of course, a bugbear is the fact that prices charged by J Crew to Australianos are significantly higher than those for our Americano amigos.  J Crew tells Triv it’s “the cost of doing business internationally.”  WOT-evah.  So to get around that, La Triv — a wily shopper since she sprang from the la loins of La Mamma back in the day — engages the services of the fabulous Fiona, Shopper and Shipper to the stars.  Fiona is a top chick, and a Real Flesh And Blood Person.  La Triv had a clandestine meeting on West Broadway in NYC just over a year ago, which may or may not have involved the handover of a black patent pair of those urban shoe myths, Manolo Mary Janes.

Fiona is popping some cut price goodies into her virtual cart on behalf of La Closet as we type.  God bless her, and once again, God bless the www.

Another member of the permanent collection of the Trivialista Spunk Yurt is Mr Don Hany.  Here he is, in all his smouldering glory.

“Step away from the gorgeous man,” Nina Proudman remonstrated with herself…

Where is he and why is he currently not on our screens, I ask you?  There’s a Hany-sized hole on my Sony* and no amount of IMDB-ing or Googling appears to be helping me feel it less.  Did Don take a sabbatical?  Is he literally in a yurt?  In Mongolia?  Has he taken up welding or scrapbooking?  Or — egads — has he permanently turned his back on the fickle flame of fame?

Theories please, Treeps.  Or cold hard facts even.

*As I’ve noted in an earlier post, it seems a bit weird and pervy to go on about Other Men, but, happily, whenever Signor Seriousimo peeps up from beneath his pile of legal briefs, he never seems to get ruffled by said pervage.  Obviously very secure in his relationship.

Triv loves Her Royale Garanceness, and holds several truths about her to be self-evident.  First up, she’s a deadset legend.  Talented (but not precocious), humble (but never faux so) and stylish (she sticks with what works on her).  She also loves a sparkly clodhopper, as do we here beneath the dusty, pigeon-poo splattered rafters of Palazzo Triv.  And sometimes she even blogs about having fat days and her love of wearing yoga sweats.

We know too that she loves Scott Sartorialista.  He, however, is also talented (and very precocious), not humble and stylish-because-he-wills-it-be-so.

Recently, at the Triv Media Control Console, we YouTubed some Garance-and-Scott clips, mostly brief vox poppy grabs.   Garance comes across as gracious, helpful, earnest, wanting to be respectful to the interviewer.  Sartorialista comes across as an ‘angry gnome’ who’d just been bitten by an ant.  But was angry even before the ant.  And check the physical mismatch:

The long and the short of it… Garance and the Angry Sartorialist at the CFDA Awards

Maybe he be an angry gnome because he knows he’s punching well above his height weight.

Personally, on the subject of the ant bite, I think he should have been less angry and more happy that he’d found one of God’s Own Creatures that was smaller than him.*

* Let it be hertohenceforth known that La Triv holds nothing against small men.  Not even a tape measure.  It’s just this small man she finds objectionable.  And she thinks that, unless he smiles more, he’s on borrowed time with his legend girlfriend.

Ah, caramel slice.  The happy, happy situation of chocolate, cooked sugar and cream, plus biscuity sweetness, all rubbing tasty shoulders in such a handy, portable unit.

Sadly, too many of these head down La Triv’s hatch on a semi-regular basis, and Lean, Mean Diet Queen (LMDQ) is not impressed.  She is the person charged with reminding Triv weekly, on a fee-for-service basis, to eat-less-move-more.  BOR-RING.  One might think the ongoing paying of the fee would serve as a disincentive to downing the slices, but nej, as our Swedish friends would say.  That means tasty things mean more to La Triv than money.  Weird, but true.

And, if you think I Posti Trivialisti are a load of inconsequential fluff, you should read the Food Diary proffered weekly to LMDQ.  Worthy of the highest honour bestowed on fiction.

Meanwhile, buon appetito.

I love my Louboutin Simple 70 pumps in black patent.  Here they are, posing with Frangelico.

Muscular-shouldered Italiano love-stud sidling up to coquettish French style icon.  I’m doing my bit for harmony in Europe.  God knows they need it right now, with all that quibbling over who-owes-who-what, who-diddled-what-balance-of-payments-data, whose-bank-duped-whom etc etc (sheesh, sounds a little like life at Palazzo Trivialista when Triv and Signor Seriousimo grit their teeth for the Bi-Annual Come To Jesus Financial Summit).

I have loved these cloddies half to death;  thus they recently had to go into the Heavy Maintenance Hangar for a bit of TLC.  The noice lady there suggested some re-soling, which concerned me.  What would happen to the signature redness, the internationally-recognised signifier of sole style?  I fretted in vain (which, the older I get, seems to be the only way I fret).  I present to you…

…red replacement soles!  Evidently, a certain class of clodhopper maintenance hangar is willing to cater for those of us to whom the original shade of CL sole is important.  Love it.  Happy treads, happy Triv.

The La Triv Manifesto (a work in progress, it has to be said) states that this is not the blog for people looking for commentary on the big themes of the times. That’s why I’m posting about how much I’m loving myself sick over two recent purchases — my Scanlan & Theodore longline navy cardi with black trim, and my Bianca Spender splodgy print silk cami.

“Why’s that, Triv?” I hear the world (not) ask.

Because, my cami has traces of navy and black in it, and tones in perfectly with my cardi.  The happy happenstance of finding two items of clothing so in sync with one another, and which also subvert the old don’t-put-navy-and-black-together fash sacred cow, was as unlikely to happen as another Transit of Venus in my lifetime. Love it when a plan, or even a non-plan, comes together.

La Triv Mothership happens to be hangared in a wide, brown land.  AKA Australia.  One of Australia’s flagship high street fash brands used to be Country Road.  Back in the day, a vast proportion of La Triv’s closet comprised items from CR.  Mind, this was in the era of shoulder pads under bra straps under tees, teamed with shiny white leather Reeboks *shudders*.  But, back then, for a certain type of would-be Antipodean preppie, CR was The Bomb.  That was then.  This is now:

What Were They Thinking does not even touch the sides.  How does something this hideous even find its way under the doozywotsits of a sewing machine in China, I ask you?

Two words:  Jon Hamm.  This man is anything but trivial.  However, he’s officially part of the permanent collection in the  Trivialista Spunk Yurt (no need for snickering from UK friends — we all know spunk means Good Sort).  Some come in and out of the yurt — and some stay for good.  Here he is stylin’ it up in LA.

And here he is as our fave Mad Cad About Town, DD.

I feel slightly pervy posting this, and slightly disloyal to Signor Seriousimo (hubby), but what’s La girl to do, I ask you.  Seriousimo doesn’t believe in blogs anyhow, so I’m unlikely ever to be busted.