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Monthly Archives: June 2012

Offshoring

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La Famiglia Trivialista/Seriousimo is off soon to the Troubled Eurozone.  We’re doing our bit.  The Phenergan-laced caravan will pass through only London and Paris, but there’s much excitement right now beneath the dusty rafters.  Both male and female Junior Cost Centres are excited about seeing La Mamma and Il Papa Seriousimo, who happen to live in a Site of Historical Significance with first-grade dusty rafters.

La Triv, in contrast, is anxious — not just about managing the Junior Cost Centres’ jetlag alone until Signor Seriousimo lands in Blighty, blinking at the light and probably with a few legal briefs still stuck to his person.  But also about a possible Grexit during transit.  Fact is, the whole concept of austerity gives Triv Les Creeps.  No word scares her more — except maybe “offal” or “colonoscopy”.

This aside, a highlight will be seeing Ms A, aka BFFFFS (Best Friends Forever For F**** Sake).  She intones the latter phrase often and earnestly, like a prayer or a tick.  Heston B may or may not be cooking us lunch at Dinner at some stage, hopefully offal-free.

Not just another brick in the wall

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sandstone

Sydney sandstone. Just ’cause.

Kaftastic

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Treeps:  I know our relationship is fresh.  After all, this is only my 9th post (so sayeth the WordPress Overlord), and I know there are only two of you reading this blog.  And one of you is, it has to be said, a blood relative.

I haven’t even yawned theatrically and finagled my arm across the back of your seat yet.  But…you’re beginning to feel like you know La Triv, non?  We’re working toward a scenario of mutual respect, aren’t we..?  Baby-stepping our way towards full-blown trust?

If so, you should follow one of the diktats of La Triv Manifesto (sadly, still a work in progress), which is:  Cover Yourself in Kaftastic Glory.  And the best way for you to comply with this diktat is by pouring your form into a Tallulah & Hope kaftan.

Srsly, if La Triv had a choice between one of these and a lifetime supply of caramel slices, caramel slices would be the wallflower at the disco, looking longingly at La retreating back swathed in gloriously floaty T&H gorgeousness.  (Goes without saying that the nice thing about kaftans is their highly Forgiving Shape, which means one could literally ingest nada but caramel slices for a lifetime and still look chic — if well accessorised).

I thank the wonderful Liberty London Girl for introducing me to T&H *nods slowly in direction of LLG HQ in respectful manner of Japanese person*.

And, for Australianos and anyone else outside the Troubled Eurozone, the lovely Zoe and Lisa at T&H (the latter of whose status as a Real Flesh And Blood Person La Triv can attest to; our meeting in Shoreditch in September 2010 may or may not have involved the clandestine handover of a marine/sandgrouse Hero kaftan) always seem to deduct the UK’s evil VAT.  That’s 2000 basis points off the listed price.

Their new n/hemi summer range is online now…and looking for a dance partner.

J(oin the) Crew

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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.

Hany-sized hole

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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.

Smile, Scotty!

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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.

Bella caramella

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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.