Muse: Audrey Horne

You may not recognise this Monday's Muse unless you were of Mentally Independent Age during the early 90's, or a hard-core David Lynch groupie. Twin Peaks was a deliciously odd, surreal television series aired during my MTV-and-Disney-cartoons phase, directed by the genius David Lynch, which I've only recently discovered with much relish and enthusiasm. It followed the story of the eccentric Agent Cooper investigating the murder of high-school darling with a dark side, Laura Palmer. This basic plotline is only a platform for convoluted, nightmarish visions from Lynch's amazing imagination, and one cannot help but become attached to the seemingly normal, but often disconcertingly twisted characters, alongside the unforgettable images of the Red Room, with its backwards-talking dwarf, the tortured one-armed man, the 8-foot-tall tuxedoed giant, Laura's violently hysterical father, the insane forest woman and her all-seeing log, and the frightening, blood-smeared Bob.

Our concern here, however, is the innocent yet daring femme fatale, Audrey Horne, played by Sherilyn Fenn. She wears 50's skirts and red ballet flats, with carefully coiffed dark hair, set against thick, arched brows above a small, perfectly placed beauty spot. She flirts masterfully with the gallantly unresponsive Agent Cooper, while privately delving into the sordid undergrowth of small town Twin Peaks' mysteries. She even has her own song, a dreamy 'Audrey's Dance' by Angelo Badalamenti, and I bet that scene where she applies for a seedy escort job by twisting a cherry stalk into a knot in her mouth had adolescent boys the world over instantly creaming their pants.

Aussie Access

Perhaps it is because I happen to live here and share the tastes and sensibilities of my nation, but I sincerely believe Australia has some of the best fashion in the world. Granted most of it is not exactly sartorial excellence or as forward-thinking in the way of Balenciaga or Hussein Chalayan as I would like, but it has the perfect amount of whimsy and kitsch, coupled with street-credible individuality to make some items particularly covetable. Australian fashion has a long way to go yet, what with the country being so young the paint has barely dried on the walls, but what I've seen so far of Aussie talent is doubtlessly impressive.

So imagine my delight when I stumbled across an online shop stocked exclusively with Australian catwalk designers. Ozdesigner.com has in its possession a collection of Zimmerman, Shakuhachi, Karen Walker, Camilla and Marc, and Alice McCall threads, among others, professionally photographed, packed, priced and ready to ship to your chosen international destination. Considering Australia's reasonably strong but comparatively inferior exchange, if you so happen to deal in Euros or Pounds then you are bound to discover an unbelievable bargain.

I know what you're thinking: "But what can we get for you, Eunice?". Well, although I've never given a shit about Christmas, I certainly wouldn't mind a bit if you were overcome with a sudden compelling rush of Christmas spirit and bought me the Shakuhachi black and white checkered pinafore pictured above, at a mere $220. (Be sure to consult among yourselves as I would rather not be in possession of 56 identical items of clothing). Thanks, guys!

Surrey Hills Markets, Ksubi (with a K) Modular

Well, my 2Threads newsletters are starting to impress me. Not only is the fashion becoming more interesting, but for two weeks in a row now, I have found photographs of people I know through acquaintances. It's all very exciting for this hermetic girl!

So here is some Aussie street fashion for you fuckers. I hope 2Threads doesn't sue me for these posts - what are the laws regarding such things?

Surrey Hills Markets

1st and 2nd pictures are Russell and Mariam, respectively.

Ksubi Modular Xmas Bash Party

And that's Ksubi with a K. My friend Stephanie has been eagerly informing everyone we encounter that Tsubi emerged out of a court case against some Tsubo wankers with a name change, and so any of ye olde "Tsubi with a T" threads will be worth alot in future - hooray for modern collector's items!

The Kubrick Look

That heavy-browed glare of insanity.

Alex from A Clockwork Orange, Jack Torrence from The Shining, Private Pyle from Full Metal Jacket,

and Stanley Kubrick himself.

(Way to scare to shit out of me, Stanley)

Soirée fétichiste à la Loco à Paris

Do you believe this? There recently was a fetish party in Paris, where ladies wore leather underwear, dwarves got their hair pulled by dominatrix sluts, half-naked submissives had a good old chat in their cages, and a hot bitch in vinyl platforms sipped her cocktail while a writhing, nipple-clamped man lay under her feet.

This kind of event is really beyond my wildest dreams. Who on earth wants to attend countless boring backyard barbeques, beer in hand and gesticulating, cheaply-clothed mall rat in another, when there are sado-masochist orgies to feast your eyes with?

In all seriousness, I'm not really an S&M kind of girl, but if anybody happens to hold an Eyes Wide Shut-esque party in the near future, and are in need of a skinny blonde Asian chick to decorate their guest list, then give me a call. Fo shiz.

Chic Geek

Trendy lady and her footwear photographed by Yvan

Socks with sandals are cool now, you know.

Don't tell me you don't like it.

Azminag Dsocivrey

It's remarkable what MySpace chain mail bulletins can uncover:

I Cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae.

The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!

The last point made by the author regarding the importance of spelling made me slightly annoyed. It seems their remark was made to be kind and excuse those who are atrocious spellers or unable to read, but for some odd reason seemed incorrect and awkward. So I considered it, and realised that the human mind always skips over details in all things, such as those optic illusory illustrations that prove our brains are quite inventive in order to fill in visual gaps. Despite the fact that I become slightly disconcerted when encountered with incorrect usages of "their", "there" and "they're", among other extremely irksome errors, the reason we can all read quickly is because words are skimmed over, and a 'big picture' is formed of everything infront of us. However, those who can't read evidently have issues in learning this skill naturally, and tend to dwell on the symbols and literal formations, causing anguish and confusion, while those who spell like disabled animals clearly pay no heed to details (and are possibly even more aural learners rather than visual). I believe this is almost fascinating enough to research with more depth, but unfortunately I couldn't be bothered. I would be absolutely ecstatic to hear your thoughtful opinions, though, dear readers.

Eidecan & Heineken

Regular readers and social acquaintances will be aware of my recent awakening from a dull and mould-scented hibernation. It comes as no surprise then, that an otherwise contrived gathering of adolescent metal/punk bands competing for two-or-three highschool groupies infront of a sweaty, rigid audience proved wonderful entertainment for my usually lacklustre Saturdays. Ofcourse there was a little assistance (okay, alot) from numerous varieties of beverages and chemicals consumed from 11am until 4am the next morning, but despite only managing to witness two of the ten-and-some-fucking-number of bands, I had a rollicking good time and extended my inebriated self to capture some photographic evidence of my townfolk's trashy behaviour for your amusement.

Behold, the Toowoomba Eidecan Youth Festival!

Le Bands

Twist Oliver, Twist! , fronted by my fashionable friend Dave, the musical genius pictured blurrily above. I hate to get all salivating-fan on you, but they are going places and worth your attention if you happen to appreciate a quality intermix of electro-pop/rock, with moody vocals and catchy, repetitive beats that quiver against your sternum and drive your soul full-speed through busy red-light intersections.

Flamingo Crash failed to impress me, but perhaps that was due to their reputation of obnoxious backstage antics and my urgent need of a refuel, if you get my less-than-subtle drift. The keyboard player donned the ubiquitous black pencil skirt/pinafore with a rather covetable Campbells soup t-shirt, while the lead singer reminded me strongly of an early Jim Morrison. His moves were hot, my friends.

Le People

Le Toilet Humour

Exhibitionist Consumerism

Porno Marketing - it's worth it!

I have yet to conclude whether this is legitimate, but there is apparently a business pushing the idea of product placement in pornographic photographs to sell brands.

The low-down is that certain businesses hoping to induce in customers "emotions such as desire, excitement and arousal" for their brand can contact this website, where amateur exhibitionists submit sexy pictures of themselves, with the said product involved or placed somewhere within the frame.

I suppose it makes sense.

Lesbian chicks encouring teenage boys to brush their braces with Colgate.

If you drink Dasani, your girlfriend will get a brazilian. True story.

Pizza Hut won't make you fat - it'll give you a cute white-woman's booty, I tell you.

iPods double as sex toys. Also, chicks dig guys in bands, so it only makes sense to bring your iPod to bed, resulting in her believing that "music is your life, man".

Everyone already knew cigarettes were sexy. But here a horny single mother proves Marlboros aren't only for cowboys.