hardwood floors and slamming doors

I went to a certain party Bounanza with every intention of taking photos of everyone and thing I saw. Sadly I must have been having too much fun to document the night properly. My camera was devoid of any images but for some mysterious shadowy textures - and these:

I guess that says it all, really.

Check her out. She'll treat you right: http://bou-themadones.blogspot.com/

I know what you mean, man.

Wow, so are political t-shirts back? Are we here again?

No.

Filth of the city.

I was walking home from a night out when I got the distinct feeling that something strange was happening to Sydney....

Just kidding. It's only art

follow the waves

These feetsies belong to a lovely regular at the Bank Hotel, Newtown.

Everything is something.

Jewellery made from cutlery? My goodness...

Kids!

Dead hearts.

Men have an easier time with looking cool in t-shirts. I think because they have more flat space to work with.

Not a palindrome. Still good.

WIM are an amazing local Sydney band who are currently recording in La La land. The music is wonderful (listen to some of it here) and I'm therefore embarrassed to admit that when I saw them earlier this year at the Hopetoun, I was quite distracted by lead singer Martin Solomon's sensational boots and jodhpurs.

Rockin' beats and mad steez. What more does a glam/ folk band need?

but a goodie

This photo is a bit of an oldie but I just noticed several interesting things in it. Firstly, this girl was rocking thigh-highs and sheer fabric WAY before anyone else. Secondly her geometric bakelite-esque bracelet is mad hot, and thirdly the seated girl in grey is pulling of a look I have an enduring soft spot for - the decorative exposed bra.

Pip pip to you, ladies.

Taken at a WIM concert at Oxford Art Factory.

They call me the wild rose.

Like Nick Cave and Kylie Minogue, this is an example of a weird combination just totally clicking.

At the Gaslight on Crown st.

south side does it better

I met this gorgeous girl at Pastizzi's on King st, Newtown.

The scarf is Akira and the best thing I've seen in a while.

And I definitely recommend the Vodka pasta.

The kids are alright.

Plane trees are the new Oak.

This is where the night went.

I was here once. Shit got real. Real shit.

Lovely prints on solid fabrics. I heart you.

Leopardsprung.

I'm all for surprise lining and anything Marc Jacobs (dah) so this one was always going to work for me.

Baby, I'll leap into the past with you any day.

Is it Ears?

Sadly, thanks to The Man, these two little souls are no more.

Nice one, Sydney Uni.

Campaign Chic.

Hmm, I didn't notice until pretty late in the day that all these first ladies are sporting belts with tailored coats. Noice.
But they'll have to try harder if they wanna out-chic my campaign-trail garb:

Plasticism fantasticism.

Piet Mondrian. Utter bliss.

The extremely talented Sophie Hopmeier pimped the laptop (and I'm told the lego keys do in fact work.)

BYT

This guy is wearing some sort of necklace/ beaded-collar. On top of a black t-shirt.

What a Dude.

Mondo

You know what I think is really cool right now? Planet Earth. Not in an environmental kind of way, but more like a United Nations aesthetic, if you know what I mean.

LOOK AT THESE FABULOUS NECKLACES.

They're by Kali Arulpragasam (MIA's sister) for her label Super Fertile.

And on second thoughts, environmental chic isn't all bad. Here is Ksubi's sad earth t-shirt:
- though I think I would have preferred it if there was a speech bubble coming out of the Earth's mouth saying 'Don't tread on me'. If you know that pop culture reference, you deserve a biscuit.

It's just jenga.

I'm not sure how appropriate this t-shirt was for playing a game of jenga (it's a little distracting to say the least).

... is it Jeremy Scott? I don't know. Here's another:

EDIT: sarahjane, whose blog Fashion Polaroid is full of luscious sartorial yum yums, tells me that the sex-tee is actually Ksubi. Oy vey, I should have known.

Shocking.

It was a pleasant surprise to discover that Dean's in Kings Cross is not only a place for hip drunks to putt putt, but also acts as venue for the display of modern art.

Meet Pandora and her creator/ pimp, Humpadick Pimpernipple III:

If you treat Pandora with the respect she deserves, tequila ejects from her mouth, and water from her lady-zone (I might have got the orifices mixed up, my bad.)

And should you fail to display adequate reverence for the wire woman (and note, this includes trying to engage with her in doggy-style intercourse), well...

You gonna get zapped, son.

I shit you not, she's fitted out to send a mild electric current into the fool who don't treat her right.

Party til you Puke

This guy and his friends shouted something about who the girl on his t-shirt was, but to me the face is a dead ringer for Andrew WK on the cover of his album I Get Wet (just minus the nose bleed, though that's nothing a Vodka Grenadine couldn't fix):