IN BETWEEN

For those in need of soulfood, inspiration, a good giggle

Blanc ‘n Spanx 

You’re gonna be blogging about “Dîner en Blanc” right? Asked my fellow revellers. ‘Natch!’ said I between sipping bubbles, savouring our Hors d’oeuvres and quelling potential table envy. ‘Oh look! They’ve umbrellas dripping with fairy lights! How plump are those oysters? I want a pair of those fabulous wings! How sharp are those white Venetian masks? Row upon row of white swathed tables, their owners tweaking a flower here, rearranging  candles there, trailing fairy lights, settling in. A white linen napkin wave signalling the evening’s commencement. My god that table has an entire Eiffel Tower! Mon dieu! Je’adore!



The scene, viewed from afar, is quite spectacular. White on white enhanced by lush spotlit greenery and a city skyline backdrop bathed in the glowing warmth of a setting sun softly shrouded by a misty sprinkle making for a slightly surreal air. This year the Botanic Gardens. Sparklers optional. Ok! ok! Enough of the waxing lyrical, let’s take a look at the practicalities of this gig.


Name into a Ballot, fingers crossed, yea, accepted! Pay membership fee, entry fee for self and partner, make sure buddies are doing same at the same time, must have gang on the right bus, in the right departure location with the right leader at the right time. To where exactly? Well that’s a surprise, discovered upon actual arrival on the eve. The logistics associated with simultaneously ferrying all 3,000 participants into a sizeable venue requiring a fleet of mega buses and a strategy that positively makes my brain bleed.

But wait! Supply own table and chairs – must be white. So too table cloths, napery, picnic basket, table decorations. (Umbrellas too for the gig takes place regardless of weather) Real linens, crockery, cutlery. Plastic and paper a no-no with just one exception – glassware. Wine preordered and collected at the event. Complete package can be hired. So too extravagant picnic baskets but hey! Where’s the fun in that when several pre DeB Champers fuelled luncheons to bespoke our menu, decor and attire will do it. Now speaking about that attire!

White! Formal attire. White. Blanc. Damn the French! Yes, white can strike fear in many a heart belonging to a voluptuous body. But fear not fellow squidgy bit worriers! Spanx to the rescue. I’m talking ‘suck it in garments’ and I’m pretty sure the company itself could be sponsoring this insistence on white apparel! Department stores anticipating a heavy run on squidge corralling garments in the weeks leading up to the gig. I grabbed mine, felt like a trussed Turkey on thanksgiving but just look at that form!

Now many have asked why one would bother going to all that trouble to attend a gig where you’re paying for the privilege of bringing your own everything?

Well it’s the sheer fun of the planning, the trauma of finding the perfect white outfit, the thrill of an unknown destination. Assembling a pop up party, sharing food and wine with loved ones and table neighbours, admiring everyone else’s own ingenuity, dancing on bare grass to a cruisy band ’till your feet blister. Then dismantling and disappearing back into suburbia leaving nought but a footprint and a fond memory.

It’s about being a member of a secret, coveted fine dining flash mob that meets just once a year. Originating in Paris, now held in over 70 cities across six continents, Brisbane the first to debut the gig in Australia, Canberra and Melbourne soon following suite. Hats off to the fabulous folk who make it happen: Diner en Blanc Brisbane
Now what a clever Parisian was François Pasquier huh? A man who, over 25 years ago, simply wanted an elegant and special night with old friends. With a garden too small to entertain at home he invited them to meet at a public place, wearing white so that they could readily find each other. Thus was born Dîner en Blanc;  the anniversary of which recently attracted 15,000 guests to the event, held in its founding city.

Did you attend? Tell us about your favourite memories..

Sweet mantra ‘o mine

As most of you, my lovely readers, know  – I get myself into crazy messes, don’t seem to do things by halves, but do believe in grabbing life by the…um…’testicles’…this year an absolute classic.

My home makeover for instance. Executed by my lovely friend James who morphed my humble abode into such a creative realm, friends were left grasping for platitudes…’um, wow, er?… no wait!  I LOVE that mirrored door!’ A home with a ceiling of midnight blue, where white Picasso mistrals drift across bedroom walls of forest mulch, where voluptuous vases of pink peonies and dusky roses require 6am, puffer jacket clad Rocklea flower market forays in search of the perfect bloom. (About to be photographed by some magazine, stay tuned for images). Oh yes, this house is certainly not for the faint of heart.

So too, leaving the country for four weeks with just $4 in pocket (something to do with that interior design gig and a holiday application mix up) to indulge in a holiday  in ‘cash preferred’ corruption central Greece. The Greek islands to be exact. Where a 5 minute cab ride might cost €25 and a 25 minute ride €15. Oh yes, where tax dodge cash is king and credit cards cause consternation, an environment not one for the timid negotiator.

And then there’s the quest for romance. The search to find THE one. Where 25 date site frogs, kissed in an effort to find a ‘Prince’ has resulted in a number who remain great friends, a couple with whom I may  just have fallen a little in love;  still more where a mental ‘damn where’s my wing man when I need her’ has verbally translated to ‘Oh! Sooo sorry, must run, parking meter about to expire!’ And possibly, just possibly, a match. Oh yes, this game definitely not for the ego sensitive.

When life gets beyond sane, I remind myself of the late great Lou Reed’s words ‘She said hey babe, take a walk on the wild side’. And with that mantra, comes wonderful life lessons. An interior makeover that encouraged me to think beyond mainstream decor;  the holiday ‘credit card or nothing’ necessity that encouraged me to demand ‘ya’ want the sale or not!?’ The sweet dating match who mentally encouraged me to reconsider my 10 ‘must have’ deal breaker characteristics for the 20+ ‘nice to have’ on offer.

Lou Reed, I intend on keeping those words alive if that’s ok with you sir. So too my friends, I just know it.

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Packing according to man…

My buddy and I will soon be sipping cocktails at sunset on the other side of the world. This means endless chats about what to pack. You see, my bud packs as if she’s on a one way ticket while I argue the case for whittling my wardrobe into just one Airline authorised carry on. Yep, I wanna pack like a man. Throw open a bag, shove a bundle of fave t’s ‘n jeans in, spare pair of sneakers, top off with a toothbrush, razor, after shave and Bob’s your uncle. That’s packing according to man. Good for them I say. Bastards.

As for we girlies…an outfit for breakfast, another for lunch, and for shopping, and sight seeing, beach, snow, dinner, concert, night club…per day. Every day.

imageI once spent two weeks in Bali surrounded by an explosion of outfit possibilities from which just three items lived on constant rotation. Sticky, yucky, hot, hot, hot. I left trails of sweat in my wake, not to mention the added discomfort of that post Brazilian experience. Errr let’s not go there. Let’s just say the enticing concept of the ‘Emperor’s New Clothing’ was thwarted only by a desire to protect the locals from visual trauma.

Similar situation on the opposite end of the temperature gauge while on a winter sojourn in Europe with late hubby. We lived in just two pairs of jeans, t’shirts on rotation under a woolen knit, a jacket, fur lined leather gloves, weather proof boots and two scarves. Wore the cute dress just once and froze my ass off. Didn’t help when matching one off heels threw me face down in a sleet filled gutter (nothing to do with that slight excess of mulled wine). Must admit, the jeans did make their own way home.

Which brings me to my point…

Pack light…seriously! Whether stumbling up stairs, hobbling across cobbles or streamlining across a smooth terrazzo, it just makes life easier. Period. Are you listening my lovely friend?

Only your travel buddy will know you survived in just two pairs of jeans, mixed it up with a couple of t-shirts and knits, a few fave scarves, a jacket and sweet little ankle boots. A water resistant hooded puffer jacket for inclement weather, or a $5 plastic emergency raincoat which makes for a bloody good laugh, your choice. Only she will know you wore the same little black dress, kitten heels and touch of bling for those glam evenings over and over. And will she care? No…’cos she’s being just as savvy!

Same goes for beach bound breaks. A pretty sarong and swim suit or two by day, a cute singlet cover up to sass the look in time for late afternoon aperitifs; a cotton shift, sandals and bling for lounging around beach side bistros sipping cocktails at sunset while batting lashes at bronzed hunks…oops, am I thinking out loud?

Inspired to pack light for your next holiday? Stay tuned! A few handy hints coming up cos’ for this trip? I’m gonna pack like a man!

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