Face Furniture: Present-day perspective and retrospective

If there’s one thing Tutti’s always been known for, it’s her incredible collection of specs. She’s blind as a bat and a certified four-eyes, but wow she makes it look good. She’s always said that if you have to wear glasses, you might as well make them interesting, and as we all know, Tutti has interesting in bucketloads (and then some).

Enjoy this gallery of Tutti’s frames galore.

About 27 years old and rocking the owl eyes.

She even makes the '80s look good. That's me on her knee, less bald, still funny-looking.

She even makes the ’80s look good. That’s me on her knee, now less bald, but no less funny-looking.

Tutti (and the Guru) wearing what I used to call her Dame Edna glasses. People used to look at her like she was an alien when she wore these. She still has them, and they’re still amazing.

Matchy-matchy and resplendent in florals with Christian Dior on her face.

Tres Chic, Tres Tutti.

Beauty personified.

Asymmetry is the new black.

Not actually a cat person. Definitely a diamante person.

Typically silly in MiuMiu frames.

More of the MiuMiu. More is more.

Eye of the tiger (stripe).

Smiles and stares on the stairs.

Smiles and stares on the stairs.

Squares, in circles, in the sun.

Tiger scarf. Thierry Mugler sunnies. Alistair Trung Dress. Cock bag.

Tutti tried these on at an amazing glasses shop in Double Bay called Eye Scene. She looks like an alien in the best possible way.

Tutti bought these Paloma Picasso sunnies at a market in London for almost nothing. Lady Gaga has them too.  

Paloma Picasso again. I too feel that happy when I have a coffee in my hand.

LA Eyeworks in the hallway. 

Do my glasses look big in these? (Karen Walker!)

Drinking coffee, in her cool glasses, in a big hat. As you do.

Drinking coffee, in her cool glasses, in a big hat. As you do.

These glasses are a brand called Slow and Steady Win the Race. Loud and quirky also win the race! Tutti wins the race! I’ve stopped making sense now. Glasses.

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Tumbleweeds

I’ve been a terribly slack blogger lately – if slack can be defined as juggling a VERY AWAKE six-month-old baby, with a freelance job which I do from home – while simultaneously trying (and failing) to put the aforementioned sleep-averse baby to sleep. 

Anyway I decided I really didn’t want to go another week without giving you SOMETHING to look at, so please enjoy these shots of Tutti today, in all her bespectacled, black-hatted glory.    

         

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Absolutely Fabulous!

Last year, Tutti (and Tiggy) appeared in a story I wrote for Prevention magazine, for which I interviewed four fabulous, fascinating, incredibly stylish women who shared their outlooks on life and fashion inspiration. (You can see the original story HERE).

I thought I’d brighten up your Monday by sharing a few of the outtakes from the shoot (all photography by the talented Nick Scott)

Those wonderful pants Tutti’s wearing were made by my sister, Fluffy. I think you’ll agree Tutti shone like an absolute star in front of the camera. Tiggy, on the other hand, was fairly nonplussed by the whole affair. Until the liver treats made an appearance.Prevention_20140917_SHOT02-2 Prevention_20140917_SHOT02-3 Prevention_20140917_SHOT02-4 Prevention_20140917_SHOT02-34 Prevention_20140917_SHOT02-40

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Oh DEAR!

Yesterday, I had one of those days. As Marnie was crying on my shoulder (and I was crying on hers) I took a picture of myself.  I’ve always thought it’s important to remember the less-good times so that the truly good times are dazzling by comparison. There’s no denying positivity is my default setting, but no matter who you are, there’s no escaping those days when it feels like life has bitten you on the arse. Life has really sharp teeth, in case you were wondering.

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Sad face.

Tutti bought me a scratch card the other day, so I dug it out, found a 10c coin and prepared to turn my fortunes around. “Hello, $100,000.” I said to the scratchie (but not out loud, because that would be weird). “How nice to meet you. Please get ready to make yourself right at home in my bank account. It’s pretty sparse at the moment, and could do with significant renovating, but I have a feeling you’ll love it there.”

I like scratching the $5 crossword scratchie, but it always goes the same way. The same fleeting blink of hopeful anticipation; the knowing prediction of the outcome.

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Damn you, Crossword. Damn you to hell.

I scratch a star. Then another. I reveal a Q, V, Y and other useless letters bringing me no closer to scratch card success. But all I need is an O, E and R and I’ll be $100,000 richer! I cross my fingers. I pray a bit. I scratch the next star.

It’s a fucking X.

An X! And of COURSE there’s no xylophone, xylotomy or xerox on my stupid scratchie. (There’s always a silver lining though, as there is in everything. In this instance, it’s that I learnt a new word. Propound. It means to put forward (an idea or theory) for consideration by others. I will probably never use it in a sentence.

Anyway. It’s silly that taking a 10c coin and scratching away at a piece of card that is probably never going to win me anything more than the amount of a coffee gives me enjoyment. And sillier still, is that whenever I occasionally buy one, I never fail to have this paragraph from George Orwell’s 1984 lingering uneasily in the shadows of my memory.

“The Lottery, with its weekly pay-out of enormous prizes, was the one public event to which the proles paid serious attention. It was probable that there were some millions of proles for whom the Lottery was the principal if not the only reason for remaining alive. It was their delight, their folly, their anodyne, their intellectual stimulant. Where the Lottery was concerned, even people who could barely read and write seemed capable of intricate calculations and staggering feats of memory. There was a whole tribe of men who made their living simply by selling systems, forecasts, and lucky amulets. Winston had nothing to do with the Lottery, which was managed by the Ministry of Plenty, but he was aware (indeed everyone in the party was aware) that the prizes were largely imaginary. Only small sums were actually paid out, the winners of the big prizes being nonexistent persons.”

 

 

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A Celebration of Love (and colour)

Tutti, the Guru, Matty, Marnie and I went to a wedding yesterday. It was truly lovely – a celebration of life and love and a brilliant excuse to get dressed up. (Not that one ever truly needs an excuse for that. Wear your best frock to the shops to buy milk, I say. Not that I do. I went out with Marnie the other day looking horrible. “At least put some lipstick on,” said Tutti, kindly ignoring the brooch of baby vomit on my T-shirt and my hair which looked at best like a curly, fluffy hair-nest, just waiting for a sparrow to take up residence.)

Anyway. We did what anyone does at a wedding. We danced and laughed and ate things and cooed over the bride who was wearing a sparkly, almost-60s-style shift dress and looked absolutely divine. In short? We had fun. But then, we almost always do.

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Here I am with my beloved Matty, wearing my Francis Klein glasses, outfit by Et Al Melbourne and flower corsage that I found in Tutti’s wardrobe (score!) Matty’s wearing his beautiful Clifford Gordon jacket that he last wore five years ago when we got married and skinny pants by ML Denim.

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What can I say about Tutti except that she is always a colourful feast for the eyes. I recently bought her that jacket from an op shop in Melbourne for the princely sum of $12 and yet it looks a million bucks.. Love her Miu Miu glasses, Alistair Trung skirt and bright sandals by Django & Juliet.

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Tutti the beauty.

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Giving good shoulder.

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The Guru and Tutti. I had probably just said something HILARIOUS.

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I art directed this shot. “Look romantic,” I said.

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Power pose.

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Even Marnie got in on the action, partying the night away. Well, until 10pm. Which is pretty rock’n’roll for a baby.

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Here are Tutti and Matty standing in front of a chalkboard of random words. #catatonic!

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Looking alert and economic. Apparently.

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The couple of the moment. Nathan and Elly. Wishing them a lifetime of health, happiness, laughter and all good things. It’s a bit of a photographic fail from an iPhone point of view, but you get the gist. They looked gorgeous.

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A Tribute to Tutti

Twelve hours before I gave birth to my daughter, Marnie, Tutti made me a midnight snack. Cheese and butter soldiers, lovingly stacked, Jenga-style, for me, her 33-year-old daughter, who has never grown out of thinking that toast tastes better, bite-sized.

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Marnie-in-utero and cheese toast soldiers.

In hospital, as I was pushing, feeling sure I was soon to expire from exhaustion, she held my heavy, anaesthetised leg, to help my baby emerge. Matty offered solid encouragement well away from the business end. (“Don’t go there, mate,” a friend had warned him. “It’s like watching your favourite pub burn down.”)

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In the maternity ward, where the food is not always edible, Tutti brought me my favourite Chicken Tandoori Za’atar toastie and a vanilla milkshake from Café Zivelli, so I could have a delicious lunch and feel momentarily removed from the dreary room, with the call bells constantly beeping and the babies wailing in corridors.

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This is what hospital food looks like.

When we came home with the baby, bleary eyed and shell-shocked, Tutti wielded her brilliant bub-soothing powers to quell the pterodactyl-shrieks of our perfect newborn, ensuring it wasn’t nearly as stressful as it could have been. And when Matty moved upstairs so he could get some much needed sleep to fuel his busy days at work, Tutti stayed up with me way past midnight until baby fell asleep.

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She’s done infinite loads of washing and ironing and grocery shopping and cooked delicious healthy meals and laughed in the face of endless vomming and nappy changing (the baby’s, not mine) and has been instrumental in ensuring that I don’t turn into a pyjama-round-the-clock-wearing, scarecrow-haired, makeup-free hermit. (The refrain of ‘Put some lipstick on!’ ever ringing in my ears).

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And I think that if I can be even a quarter of the mother to my daughter that she has been to me, Miss Marnie will be a very lucky little girl indeed.

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Tutti, me as a baby and Tutti’s mum – my darling grandmother Minnie, who Marnie was named after.

 

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So… my baby is due today…

… but she’s under strict instructions to continue baking, because Tutti and I are going to the preview screening of Advanced Style, the movie named after both the inspirational blog and subsequent book by Ari Seth Cohen.

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I am so excited to see this film, not least because I have so much respect for Ari’s work. In this age where there’s such fixation on youth, it’s so refreshing to see age portrayed in such a fun, vibrant and vital way – which is exactly how it should be.

The platform Ari has given to wonderful women over 60 is nothing short of inspired. After all, you can bet they have more wisdom, style and sass than most women half their age. There’s plenty we could learn about living and loving life from the ladies of Advanced Style.

This is one movie you HAVE to see. In cinemas around Australia from October 2.

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