Thanks beautiful
The week that was
Dear diary,
It’s Sunday evening and I’ve made it through nearly a whole weekend of solo parenting, as Simon was away for work. It went pretty well, better than any past such experiences I suppose. Seren went to bed with no troubles, I watched a movie of my choice each night and had a glass of wine. The 4.30am wake up calls we are getting at the moment were… manageable-ish because I’ve been going to bed freakishly early, and I did go to my parent’s house today for a nap to catch up on some ZZZs. Will I ever get to sleep-in again in my whole life? Even just to a respectable 6.30am, or 7am? It doesn’t feel like it, but I suppose this is one of those things that seems like it will never ever end and then one day it just will.
Simon’s home now so I’ve got some time out the back in the studio to myself to write this. I better do it now, too, because quiet time in the near future is never guaranteed. I never used to be a big procrastinator, really, but having such limited time to do anything productive has made me much more likely to bite the bullet. I used to have to make sure my environment was perfect, that everything was *just so* before I could begin my tasks or artworks. Now it’s just get in and go and maximise literally every minute on the clock that’s constantly counting down.
Yesterday I took Seren out and about a bit, outside of our usual wheelhouse of the local park, my parent’s house, Savers, and the local shopping centre. It was great, but challenging, and as always it feels like I’m the only one having these challenges in a sea of what seem like obedient toddlers. I can’t get him to get in the car seat, to get in the pram, to leave the park, to even accompany me somewhere in the park he doesn’t want to go. Getting him to leave this new park we tried out yesterday was an ordeal which went on and on. I was juggling the pram, him kicking and screaming and dropping to the ground. I’ve said this before but physically I am hardly a match for him. How is he so strong? I had to do the one arm hold with him horizontal, still protesting physically, and carry him out. People looked as their children quietly played. I’ve Googled a hundred times “I can’t take my toddler anywhere without him having a tantrum” and all that spits back at me is that tantrums are developmentally normal. It’s normal. He doesn’t really have tantrums when we’re home or anything, just out. Mostly with me, and mostly in new or exciting environments. Normal, I guess. But another thing about being a Mum is that all you do is question what normal is. I feel relief if I see another toddler in public having a tantrum. Evidence to file away in my brain that we might in fact be normal.
When I finally wrestled him in his car seat from the park I sat in the car for a minute just to literally catch my breath. I was imagining a great fun and relaxing outing, not having him kicking and screaming for half of it if I ever dared guide him on what to do, or god forbid - say we’re going home. I had planned to put him back in the pram and walk to a nearby ice cream shop, but I just turned the music up in the car and headed home. As I drove I thought that I can’t let this affect my confidence with taking him places. If I go straight home, the afternoon will be long, and I’ll feel like I failed because I didn’t execute my initial plan. While blasting This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody) I made a very last minute turn to park the car nearby another (albeit not as good) ice cream shop.
Sure, he had another tantrum about getting back in the pram, but I got him in. At this point come hell or high water I was getting my ice cream. We shared a single scoop of cookie dough. He loved it and couldn’t wipe the smile of his face. I got him transferred back into the car seat without a fuss and we headed home to play outside. Bliss. I was proud of myself for persevering. Sure, I was questioning the correlations he might be making between tantrums and getting ice cream, but I’m hoping he’s still too little for that yet…
Looking ahead this week I’ve got the second session of my NGV workshop on Saturday, which I’m looking forward to. Of course I had to curate a whole new outfit. It’s also my sister’s birthday that day, so we’ll be celebrating that evening. And then, Sunday is Mother’s Day, during which I am hoping to do as close to nothing as allowed when one has a toddler. The weekdays go so quickly with work both part time and art wise, but I am feeling productive and creatively excited. I also love being able to tell people that I’m working on an exhibition, because, to put it simply, it reminds me that I am smart and capable - a feeling which Motherhood doesn’t often give me.
Working on a rainbow for my exhibition. This is a small start, but a start nonetheless.
Wishlist:
Okay, here is the outfit I’ve got for Saturday’s workshop at the NGV. I got this Ganni dress from The Outnet, and then I got those Bared Footwear shoes I’d mentioned. I want to wear slightly sheer black tights. Obsessed. Well hopefully, I haven’t tried it all on yet and I’ll definitely just wait till the morning of to actually put any of these items on my body. Have I talked about how I hate trying things on? It’s so annoying.
Now, here seems the appropriate place to delve into the best Op Shop find I’ve ever had in my life (or was it). I went to Greensborough Savers with Seren and it was real dark vibes ($100 for an Alannah Hill dress). Then I found a self-portrait, brand new with tags dress for $18.99, which was insanely fair. That went in the bottom of the pram for purchase. On my way out, I looked in the coat section, which I barely ever check. There was this huge black puffy bomber jacket with Prada tags that looked pretty legit. It felt good, too. The zippers, the lining, the pockets. $49.99 and I figured I can always take it home and have a look and then return it. When I took it home and did some research online I was even sure-er that it was legit. Then I posted about it in a Reel and a TikTok and it went pretty *viral* (giving myself the ick saying the word). People pointed to a few things that could make it not authentic, people pointed to a few things that could make it authentic. Someone who said they worked at Prada said it was authentic. Someone else commented “What an idiot” (referring to me) I then went back to being on the fence about the whole thing.
The bomber in question: Prada Menswear Fall Winter 2021 by Raf Simons. There’s one on Ebay here.
What surprised me was that I was inundated with messages from men who wanted to buy it, regardless of it’s authenticity. I could’ve paid an authenticity service (like I did when I found the Gucci sneakers at Savers!) But I thought - I’d rather pass it on to someone who will wear it regardless (also didn’t want to sink more money into it if it was fake) People were offering me $250 to buy it which was crazy. I sold it to a super nice TikToker who wants to wear it to Sydney Fashion Week for $180. He just had good energy and I also didn’t want to be super gross and make like a tonne of money on it. Less postage and cost of the item I profited about $100. Can’t complain about that.
If it’s fake it’s a really, really good fake. If it’s real, maybe I’ll get good thrift karma for not selling it on Ebay for $2000. I’m just stoked with the self-portrait find, which, sure, I haven’t tried on…
Watching/Listening:
I’ll start first with my movie choices for my solo weekend. Movie one was Practical Magic, and movie two was When Harry Met Sally. I watched Practical Magic because I’d only ever seen bits of it, and I figured it was about time I watch it properly. My sisters and I were quite sheltered with what we were and weren’t allowed to watch - the consequences being all those movies that everyone has seen, I haven’t seen. It did preserve our innocence and imaginations so I have no qualms. But I am catching up.
I watched When Harry Met Sally because I am reading (listening) to Lena Dunham’s Famesick at the moment and she mentioned Nora Efron (who wrote the film). A name which I remember being thrown about affectionately in my Rookie Mag days but I never actually knew anything about her craft. Practical Magic I was into, When Harry Met Sally I found a bit Woody Allen-esque and rambling, but watchable.
And now to Famesick. I listened to it on audiobook during my many car trips this past week. I just finished it just as I write this so it’s very fresh in my mind. I really enjoyed it. As someone who was on the (literally further-est) periphery to these people and ecosystems at the time, I devoured every detail, every time stamp, every name. Did I like it purely for gossipy intrigue? I don’t think so. I genuinely love and really gel with Lena Dunham’s voice, her candour and storytelling abilities. I identify with the close relationship she has to her parents and how woven they are into her adult life. Descriptions of her experience with chronic illnesses have allowed me further grace and understanding for people I know with similar diagnoses. As someone who as a teenager genuinely thought I was going to grow up and live in New York as an artist and dance around in Andy Warhol’s Factory (that as a place, and a dream of mine, obviously, no longer exists) I enjoyed recounts of her various apartments, and jaunts - tragic and euphoric, with Manhattan as a backdrop.
I blushed when she mentioned the “beautiful illustrations” for Lenny Letter (My work as an illustrator at Rookie got me a commission there, too). At this time in my life I, somehow, living with my parents (just as Lena did when ‘big things’ were happening to her also) hundreds of miles away in Australia, was actually sort of making that New York dream happen, in my own stunted and more financially realistic way. The big players emailed me, as an outsider, in my bedroom, and I’d contribute in small ways to their aspirational New York worlds. Artworks for Rookie, Urban Outfitter stores, Lenny, Asos, Elle US, Marie Claire, and later - a dream come true - print designs for Rachel Antonoff, who, if you must know, was wonderful to work with. I enjoyed Famesick because (in obviously comparatively small ways) I related to the rise Lena experienced at the time, when she was so young and still so tethered to her parents. I will never know why at the time Lena Dunham followed and then after a year or two unfollowed me on Instagram, but after reading Famesick, I finally feel confident that - like most things - it probably wasn’t about me : )
Ins/Outs:
In: Madonna’s look for the MET Gala. Phenomenal.
Out: People who commented mean things on my videos on TikTok and Instagram about the Prada jacket? Ranging from calling me “pathetic” for using the term ‘thrift’ to accusing me of gatekeeping the location (It was Greensborough, my GOD) to saying that I must have bed bugs (As of another week having visited Brunswick Savers, I actually don’t). My toxic quality is that I reply and block. “Thanks beautiful” that’s about as close to Lena Dunham online bravery that I’m going to get.
Inside a book/magazine from my collection:
This is the second half of the 2006 Cleo Magazine I shared last week! What I would give to be able to sell the sneakers from the sneaker page on Depop now.
Best best best wishes, happy Mother’s Day, maybe see you at the NGV Saturday,
Minna