So today, I once again re-entered the realm of writers.

I interviewed a person. And not just any person: a professor at Melbourne University, whose knowledge of online media and journalism has provided very interesting and useful concepts for my up and coming article. That's right, I have actually decided to DO something with my time and research an article (coming out in the next Farrago edition, hopefully, unless I really screw it up), so people, stay tuned for more wise words from Caroline.

Overall, the time is going simultaneously slowly and quickly. I spend it with friends, watching Sailor Moon (shh), reading literature and trash, magazines, looking at fashion and dreaming about the lovely things that will be happening a month from now. March really is the loveliest month of all: FINALLY, I return to my beloved studies, where I can finally exercise my mind beyond the wonders of Sailor Moon and Twilight.

It is also my birthday. Not as significant as the last, and yes, I am becoming older, however, until the day I am told I actually look my age, I will be satisfied to age gracefully and cosmetic- surgery less :D

Also, March is the month I have schedules my internship with The Herald and Weekly Times, so folks, perhaps you will have the chance to enjoy an article or two in the always credible MX, or perhaps even The Herald Sun itself!

And lastly...one more wonderful thing is happening, but that shall remain a secret. Let's just say that it will be the most pleasant occurrence of all. :)

ta ta!

So today, I had a bit of a rude awakening. Technically, this has happened before, so I thought it wouldn't hurt so much again: I was wrong.

Throughout life, we all go through stages of friendships. We begin with primary school, where we first become exposed to relationships based on our level- age, interests etc. We form bonds with other children, primarily those of our own sex, and believe them to be the strongest ties in the world.

But then comes high school, and those we thought we could not live without become largely forgotten. This is the time when we are really introduced to the fragility of friendships, and where we gain the knowledge that not everyone we hold in high esteem reciprocates. We find out people talk behind our backs; we find out they lie. We find out how transient human relationship really are, how much they depend on context and the smallest of decisions to either continue, or dissolve. However, a lucky few of us manage to find friends which reverse the trend; over time, the friendships become stronger. They are cultivated into something substantial. They become a permanent fixture of our lives, and they usually remain there.

That's why it hurts so much more when these friends leave us; it is not quite so easy to forget them as it once was.

I want those boots, and that hair.

lookbook.nu

lookbook.nu

Nirrimi Hakanson, a 17-year-old Australian photographer, is truly an amazing talent. Although I only discovered her recently, her photography is absolutely magnificent: whimsical and etheral it focuses on small details of beauty, such as succulent lips, bright, startling eyes or freckles dotting a petite nose.

When I was looking through her gallery, her shots made me feel as if I was looking in on a world filled with precious, delicate details and doll-like beauty. They are unique in possessing antique properties, combined with the freshness of nature and the burnished.

Although I've given a brief preview, see for yourself at nirrimiphotography.carbonmade.com

I made that. I am a chef.

So, two days ago, I got a fringe.

And not just a side fringe- that was a few weeks ago. No. It is a wispy/ blunt fringe which cuts across my forehead in jagged lines, seeking entry into my eyes, yet failing. Ha ha, that's because it's too short to reach.

But alas, I digress.

I have determined that I have a love/hate relationship with fringes. My last adventure into the fringe-world was in year 10, when I was at the tender age of 16. Back then, I had no income (except for the measly $20 my parents dished out reluctantly every week, almost always threatening to take it away if I did not clean my room/house properly), and therefore, no money to spare for such necessities as GOOD HAIRDRESSERS. So instead, I allowed my mother to cut my fringe. I thought I looked nice. I thought it was cute and pretty and became me.

No.

Looking back at those photos, I now see that I, in fact, looked like a little oompa loompa, with red hair (sigh), and a short fringe that curled inward, curtsy of my wavy hair. I had a shoddy hair straightener, no style and no income- think about it.

So what persuaded me to go for the front-chop now, you say? Simple. 'The Devil Wears Prada". Those who know me are by now nodding their heads, rolling their eyes and saying 'of course'. Let me explain; that movie, although 4 years old (which is about a century in fashion), is still, nonetheless, a representation of the world which I wish to enter. The characters, although 'technically' wearing outdated clothes, have true style; they are chic and elegant, and yes, they have fringes. And let me tell you, that a fringe, done WELL, can be the difference between Couture and Supre. Audrey Hepburn and Paris Hilton. You get the drift.

So, although I was horrified at first, I now have come to accept my fringe, and even slightly delight in it. I look shaggy, I look different, I look ok.

Thumbs up for the fringe.

These.clothes.are.amazing.

That's right, I made this. It may be Viet-My's talent and camera that captured my moment of glory so perfectly, but the raw material was all me.

Yum. I am addicted to croissants, smeared in butter and strawberry jam. Add a creamy hot chocolate with marshmallows, and you have a mind-bogglingly delectable breakfast.

I have finally started catching up with the news (which is really despicable, considering that my ambitions lie within the field of journalism), and let me tell you, it's not easy to be constantly reading about the tragedy and horror that is occurring in the world.

Take the recent example of Haiti. It is incomprehensible, especially to those lucky enough to be living in not only a 1st world country, but also a land mass (such as Australia) that is rarely, if ever, affected by natural disasters. And certainly not earthquakes. (Those who claim that the 'shake' which occurred in Melbourne last year was an earthquake should go and live in Haiti, California or Japan. That would probably give you some perspective of what a natural disaster actually is, instead of focusing on something that possibly shook a lamp.)

The flood of images and stories detailing a city saturated with death and disease, anguish and uncertainty tug on my heartstrings every time. Broken homes, broken families, broken hearts; that is mostly what remains of Port-au-Prince, as well as certain rural communities such as Leogane, where the desire for survival is slowly turning people against each other, and even themselves, changing them into people who can only think and feel with instinct, rather than compassion. And why should they not? Food prices are on the rise, water and supplies are scarce, disease and the threat of infection rampant.

So people who can, give. Give something that will ease at least the life of one person, for maybe one day. It's still helping.

I know I will.

Ok, even though I haven't paid much attention to the designs of Emporio Armani over the years, I believe I have been converted. The designer is a GENIUS. I have never, in all my years of intense interest in the world of fashion, been exposed to such luxurious, decadent and wonderfully wearable couture as offered by this label.

In particular, it is the Autumn/Winter 2009-2010 Women's Collection which has me begging for more. As I mentioned before, the theme is based on luxury, sophistication, with influences from the baroque era evident not only in the clothing, but also accessories.

The collection focuses heavily on the use of (patterned) knee high/ ankle socks, (think Blair Waldorf from Gossip Girl), usually made from wool or a sheer material. Combined with heavy woolen/cotton dresses, designed to accentuate both an hour-glass, womanly shape and of course, the standard coltish body of a couture model, these beautiful creations come in a palette of muted tones, ranging from navy blues, blacks, dark greens, grays and the occasional purple/ brown finish.

The fabrics are simply breathtaking- velvet jackets trimmed with faux-fur and silk, butter soft leather jackets accentuated with elaborate details such as frills, military buttons and diamante chains, delicate little wrist gloves and intricate winter hats, crafted out of smoky olive velvet.

Makeup is also highly do-able: luscious berry lips and smoky eyes, offset by purples, greens and mud browns.

Heaven.