On February 22^nd 2012 – ANDY X is born

Leading stage and screen director, Jim Sharman, will launch his new visual art film ANDY X, a 40-minute musical reverie about legendary artist Andy Warhol, exclusively online twenty five years after the exact moment of Warhol’s death on the 22nd of February.

Sunday Pictures, in partnership with DLSHS - online producers of cross-platform viral hit The Tunnel - and ScreenLaunch, will release ANDY X globally for USD$6.99 as a DRM-free (digital rights management free) download or streamed for a 72 hour rental period from its website:  www.andyxthemovie.com.

The film will also launch with a groundbreaking introductory offer for all Facebook fans of ANDY X. This offer allows fans of the movie to use their Facebook friends as currency when paying to watch the film. One Facebook friend equals one cent. Fans can login to Facebook to calculate the number of friends they have and their balance will be deducted from the ticket fee.

“Frictionless sharing has now become a ubiquitous form of free advertising for content  publishers such as Netflix or Spotify. We’re trying to say that it’s actually worth something, and we will reward our fans for helping us spread the word,” says DLSHS’s Ahmed Salama.

Director Jim Sharman says, “I essentially want people to experience this journey on whatever technology platform they prefer without restriction.”

ANDY X delivers a unique narrative through song, verse and montage, with Sharman exploring Warhol’s life from his death-bed in a New York Hospital on 22 February, 1987.  To coincide with the 25th anniversary of Andy Warhol’s death the film will be launched tonight, the 22 February, 2012 on the precise minute he passed away at 10.21pm in Sydney.

On choosing to launch the film in this way, Jim said;

“Online movies are a new art form and their potential is evolving, yet cyberspace seems the perfect place to explore the Warhol enigma.  I imagine Warhol would have loved the net, and we’ve enjoyed creating this unique 40 minute portrait, or ‘cinematic séance’ with Andy Warhol.”

This online film experience marks the return of iconic Australian director Jim Sharman to the screen, albeit an online screen.  Jim is famed for pushing conventional boundaries with his theatre, opera and cult cinema creations, including the musical extravaganza The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Esteemed film critic Richard Kuipers has described the film as, “a poetic and pulsating eulogy… Sharman takes us on a ride to stimulate and excite everyone from Warhol buffs to those who might have only heard the name and know it has something to do with soup cans.” The film was developed and directed by Jim Sharman from a script by Stephen Sewell and an original music score by Basil Hogios, with lyrics by Sewell and Hogios. ANDY X stars rising young stars Akos Armont and Sheridan Harbridge; with Nick Simpson-Deeks, Gillian Jones and David Denis.

To watch the ANDY X trailer, click here.

First published in 1955, the novel was recently rebranded as a Penguin Modern Classic. Of course, this immediately confused me so I did a bit of research. Books that are set in a time that is immediately recognisable to the reader are known as modern. Cultural beliefs, settings, political atmosphere and stereotypes are in line with the society that the reader has lived in and personally experienced. In contrast, Classics are set in a time where some or many of these things differ and as a result, the setting of the novel, or the practices within it, seem less familiar to the modern reader. The modern Classic is simply a novel that isn’t set too long ago that it is unfamiliar but is of such high literary merit that it is regarded more highly than other books of its time.

The Shiralee is about an Aussie swagman named Macauley who roams the countryside in search of work. All he carries with him are his swag (a rolled up bed with a few belongings inside) and a tuckerbag with his food in it. That is, until he winds up accompanied by his four-year old daughter, Buster. To Macauley she is nothing more than another swag; she is a burden.

Considering most of the novel follows Macauley traipsing around between Australian towns, as swagman of the time were wont to do, it would have been easy for this book to be quite straightforward and plain. But, the concise, to-the-point style of writing is deceiving in it’s complexity. As the novel evolves, tiny shades of detail round out each character, though none is so well shaped than Macauley himself. He begins the novel as a rough boy of the outback, repulsed by towns and the idea of being tied down to anyone but himself. He is a stubborn as a mule and as blunt as a hammer can be. Yet, as he is forced to play father to his robust and endlessly devoted daughter, a new side of Macauley emerges. It is a truly heartwarming story that confirms that love really can conquer even the stoniest of hearts.

Now this novel was most definitely Australian – in some places it was so Aussie that I questioned my own ability to call myself so. Yep, that’s how much slang was in there that I didn’t recognise. At one point there occurred an entire conversation, which despite multiple readings, I couldn’t make heads or tails of. This poses an interesting question in regards to its suitability as a modern classic. Modern Classics, as I mentioned above, have to be recognisable to the modern audience. While this was recognisable, it was in places impossible to understand. There were also many moments, which while integral to the novel were jarring to me as modern reader. In parts, Macaulay spanks his daughter quite viciously and if you think about society’s reaction to The Slap, you can see how this is not in line with acceptable conduct towards children today. I began to question why Penguin had decided to brand it as a Modern Classic.

Despite these reasons, the novel was written in such a beautifully intriguing manner that it has landed itself upon my list of all time favourite novels. That’s right, I enjoyed it that much. By the quality of the writing I would say that it definitely has to qualify as a Classic, however I wouldn’t call it modern. There are simply too many things about this book that, while similar, don’t align as much as they need to with society today.

Don’t rely on my word for it though – have a read and see what you think. Would you agree with me that it is an Australian Classic, or do you think Penguin has it right by calling it a Modern Classic?

How often do you catch up with the ones you love – friends and family – face to face? A quick poll around the Onya office revealed a ubiquitous response; not often enough.

Whilst the digital world may be bringing us closer together, a recent poll by Galaxy Research for Cadbury Dairy Milk shows that the main reason most people don’t catch up face to face is the tyranny of distance and a lack of free time, with only 7% of those surveyed being able to get together in person regularly with family and friends.

With our major capital cities sprawling and people finding themselves further and further from family and friends, Australia’s most loved chocolate brand, Cadbury Dairy Milk, has taken on the challenge to bring back the face to face catch up by offering up to 100,000 blocks of Cadbury Dairy Milk to send to someone special, and the chance to win one of five trips for four to the London Olympic Games.

The Galaxy study surveyed over 1,000 Australians aged 18 to 64 years to look at ways in which they catch up given their busy lifestyles and trends towards digital communications. While email (80%), phone calls (mobile 75%, landline 73%), face to face (73%) and SMS (72%) were the ways Australians most like to keep in touch, only 7% of respondents indicated that catching up face to face is their most frequent form of communication, mainly due to living too far from friends and family (28%), other commitments (25%) and not being able to find a mutually convenient time (23%).

That’s why Cadbury launched the Cadbury Catch Up promotion, running to the 1st of April, encouraging Australians to catch up with family and friends face to face.

And that’s why they’re giving us five Cadbury Prize Packs, including one block of Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate, one bag of buttons and a 50g bar – so you can take some time out and catch up with the ones you love, properly.

To enter, simply email info@onyamagazine.com with the subject line ‘Cadbury Catch Up’, along with your name and postal address, and the answer to this question:

Who do you want to catch up with over a block of Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate and why?

The five winners will be announced at 5pm on Monday, the 27th of February.

Some stay for several months before returning home while others find themselves caught up in the London life and never leave.

The latter could be said for womenswear label Antipodium. The firm was established in 2003 by Australian ex-pats Geoffrey J. Finch and Ashe Peacock and is still going strong nine years later.

The label has consistently brought a unique Australian influence to its designs, often infusing earthy outback browns and gum-tree greens in its designs.

In many ways, these subtle influences shone through in Antipodium’s most recent collection, which presented at London Fashion Week on Saturday evening.

The label, based in London’s funky east, drew inspiration from a world of chaos and the, “natural habitat of the outsider” for its Autumn/Winter 2012 collection called VERMIN.

Antipodium said ‘vermin’ can be an incendiary word, but to the label, “it has a positive, authentic quality. It’s about the way you see things: opening your eyes to the beauty of the everyday.”

As such, the designs showed influences of personal style taken from the street, pristine sportswear, contemporary looks of the young and creative, and sharp clashes of class and culture, architecture and nature.

Models walked to bass-heavy beats in a salon showroom at London’s Somerset House which was flooded with stark, white fluorescent lighting. Hair was worn down at a simple centre part and makeup was sheer – pale skin and nude lips were key with a touch of bright blue and green on the eyes.

The range focused on a palette of camel, tobacco brown, lilac, black and nude with sharp accents of forest green and sky blue.

Luxurious textures of silk georgette, wool boucle and grosgrain – a fine ribbed fabric – were seen throughout the collection.

Designs included hooded ponchos in suede and trimmings in paper-thin nappa leather mixed with the simplicity of sheer print blouses and loose-knit mohair tees.

Pencil skirts also made for key items throughout the range appearing both in mini-skirt length and the more classic knee-length with a small split at the front.

A notable outfit included a pair of beige slim-fit trousers teamed with a soft blue print sheer blouse, finished with a sky blue collared coat and matching suede stiletto heels. The look was clean, sleek and sophisticated.

Creative director Geoffrey J. Finch described his design style as, “confident simplicity, subverted classics and a hint of kink.”

The show was also, appropriately, sponsored by British hair product brand Aussie – perhaps cleverly positioned to remind fans of their unique Australian influence abroad.

To view the Antipodium show seen at London Fashion Week, click on this media.

Image credit: Sharon Green

You are a photographer – tell us a little bit more about yourself, and the kind of work that you do.

I have never seen Star Wars or eaten at Nandos. I hear people talk about the characters from Star Wars as if they grew up down the street, and I know there is a cult following for peri-peri sauce – but that’s as far as my knowledge goes. I also have an autographed photo of Bert Newton. Everything I learnt in my early 20′s I owe to Good Morning Australia.

I grew up in a small country town in Western Australia’s Great Southern, called Tambellup. My family owned a Merino sheep stud and although I now live in Perth, I am still a country girl at heart. Ironically I’m allergic to sheep, cows, cats and grass, so I guess a move to the city was the right decision.

I would describe myself as an urbanscape photographer, whose style is marked as candid or photojournalistic. I travel to New York City every 7 or so months to photograph the city and then sell my work primarily as art. I have also been commissioned to photograph for clients as well as doing photo shoots for portraiture, head shots for actors/singers/dj’s and occasionally weddings, provided they don’t show any bridezilla tendencies. If the clients are delightful, I am happy to try any new project.

Tell us about your recent exhibition, New York Times.

New York Times was a project that was in the pipeline for three years. It seems crazy to think it was that long between solo exhibitions, but along with most artists – the inspiration and decision to embark on a new venture happens when it happens. I chose a huge public space in the Perth CBD (aptly named Central Park Tower) and showcased 30 pieces taken over the past 8 years in New York City. It is my proudest moment.

What was it like preparing for such a large-scale exhibition?

I’m not going to say there weren’t moments of feeling utterly overwhelmed just before the opening night, but as a whole it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. Normally I hire support staff to help with event planning and public relations, but for New York Times I decided to plan the entire event on my own. Even though it’s the biggest project I’ve ever done, I really wanted to organise and implement everything myself so that I had a complete understanding of how an exhibition is run. Most importantly, I wanted to discover how I would like my work to be showcased to the public.

The only thing I didn’t handle was the design of the invite. I spoke to my graphic designer (the incredible) Tom Hutcheon and let him create whatever he desired. I love that Tom knows me so well that I can give him complete creative license and the end result will be something spectacular.

You live in Perth, but you spend a fair bit of time in New York. What do you love about New York? What keeps pulling you back there?

I still recall the first time I arrived in New York as if it was yesterday. I remember it was raining and I was sitting in a yellow cab on 5th Avenue, stuck in traffic and I burst into tears. I had arrived in a city that had been ingrained in my upbringing through constant media saturation and I was completely overwhelmed. All of the iconic structures such as the Chrysler building, the Statue of Liberty and even the Brooklyn Bridge still bring me goosebumps, just as much now as they did ten years ago. New York is everything you could imagine it to be and more.

I love that in a city that has survived the events of 9/11 and barely escaped financial Armageddon, New York still remains the capital city of the world. My body lives in Perth, but my soul stays in New York.

What do you love about Australian culture? What do you loathe?

I love that we live in a country with so many opportunities and a unique freedom that should be cherished and celebrated every single day. I love that we boast some of the most amazing beaches in the world (I’m looking in your direction, Cott). I also love that all of my English friends tease me about being a convict, but let’s face it we’re so much better at sport. Which in the end, is what counts the most.

Spending so much time in the States I definitely am drawn to the patriotism and confidence of Americans. If there was one thing I could bring back from America, it would be their enthusiasm; I love how they encourage others. The tall poppy syndrome is not something they are familiar with!

What does being Australian mean to you?

Being Australian means values of optimism and determination in a country where I really would like to believe that we all get a “fair go.” Where January 26 means far more than any other holiday and December 25 is simply a day to rest before the Boxing Day Test.

Where are your favourite places to travel to and visit in Australia?

My favourite places in Australia are often connected to the people I love. I adore country WA for all the memories of my childhood, I love Sydney as a city of views and Melbourne as a city of experiences. Melbourne is where my heart lies above all else. When I land at Tullamarine, I feel like I’m home.

I realised it when grocery shopping…

One of the two major chains had a special – two 8 roll packs of toilet paper for $9.00. At first I thought ‘bargain’. Then, after closer inspection, I turned up my nose, and made a bee line for the dedicated toilet paper aisle, and was promptly rewarded. There it stood. One 8 pack of extra-long toilet paper – equaling 16 rolls, also $9.00. THREE PLY. A MASSIVE WIN.  I caught myself smiling, and I might have done a little fist pump (perhaps not though, more for story-telling). Yes, that’s right, I’m a 3 ply toilet paper girl, and I will not compromise on this fact. Ever.

And, this soon had me thinking – what else do I refuse to compromise on? What else am I precious about? That I flat-out, heels-dug-in, refuse to sign up to? There’s not much seemingly. I’m happy to buy no-name products; I can rough it camping; I’ve shared time with ‘interesting’ (read ‘gross’) company, and, I’ve worked crappy jobs. But fewer than 3 ply toilet paper? That to me is the equivalent of waterboarding. Absolute cruelty.

I surveyed my family and friends to find out what they won’t compromise on. Fiancé, not surprisingly, offered “Tyres.” He’s been looking at them for the last week – at the shops, on the computer, on his phone, in private. They’re his porn, which as far as I’m concerned is quite brilliant. Molly, our dog, well, she refuses to eat My Dog from the can – she’ll only eat it from the individual (and far more expensive) sachets. There’s no fooling her. I’ve tried.

My dad – he refuses to eat cooked tomato in restaurants – he wants it uncooked, and infamously purses his lips if served opposite. My brother does a wonderfully entertaining impression of Dad’s face and swearing. One girlfriend will not buy togs with padded bra bits, even if there’s no other option. Another will not cross the road, no matter how completely abandoned it is, or urgent the situation, unless the little green man is flashing. One friend will not leave home without his mobile fully charged – no compromise, whereas another offered ‘wine’ as her response to my enquiry, without any explanation. Rightly so.

And these little quirks, these standards and refusals, I feel, are what make us, us.  Yes, they might make us momentarily difficult and odd, but as they say, if you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything. And, I stand for comfort. My jiggly, pale backside, despite its ‘interesting’ appearance, deserves it.

What will you not compromise on? 

Image credit: Kathryn Sprigg

This Five in Five deal was supposed to ‘break me’, in a sense, and prove that my cynicism wasn’t warranted. That my previous experiences (usually falling into the horror category) were bad timing, bad luck or just those ‘once in a million years’ examples.

Halfway through this social experiment in dating, I don’t feel like I have been swayed to a life of romance and happiness. A number of events have led me to believe that my cynicism is warranted and that without it, I may very well end up ‘in a freezer’ (according to my very, very cynical friend).

This is a special edition column about Ryan Gosling. If you read my column last week, you will know that just over week ago (while I was still open minded), my friend Lola had given my phone number to a guy at a BBQ by the Yarra and that after a shaky start, many text messages had been exchanged and we had plans to catch up for a drink this week.

All sounding okay so far, right?

The day of the date rolled around. While we had made plans to meet at his place for a drink (don’t judge me yet!), I did have my reservations – where was the effort? The tradition? Any semblance of romance?

Now, I’m a modern day girl who is prepared to go to a guy (three whole suburbs over!), however my better judgement eventually got the better of me and the going to the house of someone I didn’t know seemed like a not very bright thing to do (and the very, very cynical friend made the freezer comment).

I requested a change of venue, being completely honest about the fact that I didn’t know Ryan and it really wasn’t a smart thing for a girl to do, to go to the house of a man she didn’t know.

And he understood – that’s fine – he said, before confessing that in the interests of full disclosure (and since I was being honest), he wasn’t actually the guy my friend had given my phone number to the week before. He had been at the same event, yes, but essentially he was the friend of a friend of the actual phone number recipient.

Pause for reaction.

Yep, no longer are girls being openly rejected by someone they have got up the guts to talk to (and yes, I realise I didn’t do the talking at the time, but I was there at least) but they are being bandied about among friends – possibly some kind of amusing yet cruel joke among the males of the world.

So, Ryan Gosling’s ‘friend of a friend’ – let’s call him Steve Carrell (this has a bit of the Crazy Stupid Love thing going on), asked if I still wanted to go for a drink. Last chance to back out, he said.

While I did feel a little out of my comfort zone – ok, a lot – I had to figure, nothing ventured, nothing gained, and so with a pub selected (no way was I doing a house visit now!), I went out for a drink in the interests of Five in Five in mind.

It would seem that this would make an excellent ‘how I met your mother’ story, the kind of tale you tell your grandkids about the quirks and calamities of the dating game. I had a lovely night out with Steve, however I don’t think this will be a story we will be telling anyone in years to come.

Three dates down (speed dating totally counts as a date night), two to go. Stay tuned.

To support Sarah, and raise funds for Concern Australia, visit her fundraising page here.

Missed the first three columns? Read them here, here and here. 

A lot has been said about fire ants in the media – clear evidence of their popularity. So, drum roll please… we’ve decided to cater for such demand, by getting into fire-ant breeding! When an opportunity like this presents itself, you really must take it as a sign. We were up all night talking about the possibilities!

We’ve called this one Andrew.

Seriously – just think how wonderful a Christmas present they’d make (we’re actually anticipating a massive rush after publication of this piece), so if you want fire-ants as a Christmas gift for your loved ones – best to get in now. We’ll have so many back-orders, I just know it.

I couldn’t think of any better pet to have around the home. They’re so cuddly, interesting, and they feed themselves. Plus, they have personality! They’re quick, and have true zing to them! Forget dogs…fire ants are far more exciting!

Plus, I guarantee that if you buy two, you’ll get several million for free.

There really is no better investment.

To test just how big the demand is for this pet breed, this weekend we’re going to pop down to the local country markets. We’ll pile our fire ants into the car, and when we get there we’ll charge $5 for children to pat them. I might even let them roam around the markets as a ‘teaser’. I know the other market stall holders will really love it. Our being there is going to attract HUGE crowds.

They’re very affectionate. 

How quickly time flies when you are having fun. Or when you are not. On Tuesday, it was St Valentine’s Day – the traditional day when lovers share with each other their undying passion and desire to spend the rest of their lives together.

I just heated up a microwave meal for one.

But all is not lost, because after much soul searching – well, actually, not much – I am finding that I am quite enjoying the Five in Five concept and the way it is actually expanding my horizons and introducing me to new people. It feels okay to take a risk, to jump in the deep end or take a leap of faith. Who knows what might happen? Perhaps next year I’ll have someone to share my microwave dinner with.

Unfortunately though, in terms of dates, I don’t have too much new information to share with you. Officially, I haven’t been on another date, however, I have had much interaction and the prospects are definitely there.  Come to think of it – perhaps I do have a bit to share.

One of the best parts about the Five in Five concept is that is provides a talking point, not only with those people you have just met, but also with those whom you spend a lot of time with. It seems everyone knows someone single once you start chatting about it; all you need is a conversation starter.

While chatting with the people you know is a great – and easy – start, finding ones you don’t is a little harder. However, if you have a confident friend, she (or he) is the perfect wingman. For example, last weekend while crashing a friends barbeque by the Yarra on a Sunday morning, my confident friend, let’s call her Lola, decided to randomly approach the guys at the BBQ pit next to us.

A simple smile and a handwritten phone number later, Miss Lola and I were giggling like we were in high school. And, after a minor false start (boys who have been drinking all day can be excused) a date was set and a string of text messages with Ryan Gosling followed. Stay tuned for the date.

Meanwhile, the power of Twitter saw me set up a lunch date and I was actually feeling pretty good about the Five in Five deal. While the date with Kevin Rudd didn’t go ahead (the guy cancelled but he had good reason – massive respect to Kev for giving me the truth straight up) I hit Valentine’s Day with a massive case of the singles.

The speed-dating event I had so been looking forward to seemed like a pain the butt: time when I could be reading Vogue, eating Thai or simply having an early night. The persistence of a certain barman and friends (yes, Lola was there) encouraged me to come out and I headed to the event despite my own reluctance.

And this is what I learnt. I love meeting new people. It doesn’t matter where or how, I just love new people. And if it so happens that I am in a room full of them who are single? All the better for me.

If you are open to the idea of meeting new people, then almost like magic, opportunities present themselves – be it because you strike up a conversation with friends, or because your wingman decides to take matters into her own hands.

Speed dating was fun – Come back next week to read the next instalment of my Five in Five experiences to see how many matches there were, how the catch ups went and whether Ryan Gosling was as good in real life as he was via text.

NB: Brad Pitt finally got back to me. Two weeks to the day after saying he would call next week. His excuse? He did text – I didn’t get it. Should I follow up? Vote now.

To support Sarah, and raise funds for Concern Australia, visit her fundraising page here.

Missed the first two columns? Read them here and here. 

Image credit: Kathryn Sprigg

I’ve been suffering from an identity crisis for most of my life – I keep forgetting that I’m Indian.

I’ll be wandering around, doing something completely ordinary like shopping for groceries, or going to see a movie, and then I’ll catch a glimpse of myself in a window reflection or elevator mirror and suffer a jolt of realisation when I see my skin and remember that I’m not a white Australian like the hordes around me.

You may be wondering how vague I must be to not remember such a basic aspect of my make-up, but if you met me, you’d understand. My whole life has been defined by a constant dissonance between who I am, and who I look like I should be. Being Fijian-Indian by birth, I have all the physical trademarks of my race – brown eyes, black hair, skin the colour of a caramel latte (what, self-flattery isn’t allowed?), and the kind of face that reeks of those postcards of Indian women carrying pots of water on their heads.

Inside though, I’m as anglo as they come – I watch trashy American TV Shows, dress in nothing resembling a sari, and speak almost exclusively English. I am the opposite of a ‘good Indian girl’ (though by Western standards, I’m an über goody two shoes, and am in no way rebellious – try telling my parents that). I’m Indian on the outside, but so un-Indian on the inside that I often don’t realise the disparity until confronted by it at some unlikely moment.

I recently started blogging about my experiences of being a migrant living in Australia. My blog is called The Coconut Chronicles, because I feel a strong affinity to that bizarre fruit – brown on the outside, white on the inside. Its true nature often obscured by the first impression caused by its skin.

I am a coconut, in many ways, and there are bushels of others like me – first, second, third generation migrants from any number of different countries, leading double lives where their two cultures, so often in opposition, come to reside inside the one person, battling for first place when it comes to choices and experiences.

It can be a difficult road to travel at times. I have found, personally, that there is a lot about my family and my lifestyle that don’t entirely match up, and certainly through adolescence it was difficult to combine my parents’ notions of traditional behaviour and what I saw, felt and did while at school.

I have made the choice to step away from my culture in many ways. Unlike my siblings, I never had the arranged marriage, I let go of the religious beliefs with which I was raised, and I moved out of home so that I could have more control over my life and how I lead it.

However, in doing so, I’ve realised how much my Indian upbringing has affected me as a person and the way in which I interact with the world, without me ever truly being aware of it.

This column is a chance for me to explore some of the issues that come up when you’re a migrant navigating the thin path between two cultures, neither of which is particularly willing to embrace you. It’s also a chance for me to (hopefully) amuse you with tales of my trials and woes as I wander through life being spoken to SLOWLY and CLEARLY in case I don’t speak English, and suffer the constant nagging from my parents for me to get married. In doing so, I hope to illustrate some of the main difficulties or differences faced by migrants in Australia that are often overlooked, or not entirely understood.

I think it’s important, though, to state from the outset that these experiences are personal, and very specific to me. Other Indians will have had different experiences, and other migrants may have completely different views. I don’t pretend to speak for anyone other than myself, and I’ll try to keep generalisations to a minimum.

I hope that people gain something from my musings, whether it be a giggle, a new view on cultural differences, or just the feeling that maybe other people go through the same things you do.

And if it doesn’t make sense, don’t judge too harshly – I’m not from here, you know.

Ruby Rabbit has been on the Darlinghurst scene for many a year; there are ancient Mayan calendars that foretell its changes of ownership and relaunches. You couldn’t want for a much better spot, a sequin’s throw from Taylor Square. The aim here is quality, lovingly prepared food in a casual dining setting. The Rabbit, rubbing its foot for luck, is keen to try things. A point of difference is that you can take home the sumptuous, made-in-house infused oils, balsamics, jams and relishes it uses ($12.50-$18.50) – par exemple, a sweet, zesty lime balsamic or a lemon oil that makes baked bread taste like madeira cake.

The mains are (in the main) priced affordably for this part of town, although the sirloin steak ($26) is a little smaller and thinner than the price demands. The dish is redeemed somewhat by finger-thick chips sprinkled with Tuscan seasoning. An intriguing chicken salad with blood orange balsamic, strawberries and crispy garlic crouton ($18) promises a great deal but falls just short, the livelier fruit flavours overwhelmed by a too-acidic base. More pleasing to the palate is the sumptuous grilled salmon fillet (also $26), the flesh moist and tender, infused with lemon oil and chilli jam and resting on a bed of watercress and baby chat potatoes.

This new incarnation has all the elements in place to be a success, and seems to be working hard at achieving it. It’s not quite there yet, though give it time – in a few months this review could be terribly out of date.

Ruby Rabbit, 231 Oxford Street, Darlinghurst, Sydney

(02) 9331 0633

Wed-Sun, 5pm ’til late

My rose-coloured glasses I’ve unwittingly been wearing are truly off; I thought you should know.

We’ve had a fire; were chased by cows, and we were physically abused by a neighbour. In this same week, I was also very rudely accused of exaggerating…

FIRE

Last Tuesday Fiancé was cooking dinner, and I was swanning about the kitchen, sharing entertaining and hilarious anecdotes (I’m certainly not exaggerating here). Within minutes of putting food on the stove, a breeze blew a massive cloud of smoke into our home. We panicked. I knew it wasn’t my hair iron on fire, having previously checked it 78 times in 3 minute intervals (best to be thorough), so Fiancé bolted down to the front of our property to inspect, and I stood at the front door, taking photos of the man burning off rubbish on his property. A very close call.

COWS

A few days later (as if we needed more drama) we almost got trapped in a stampede of cows. Granted they were on the other side of a barbed wire fence, and we had enough time to check what breed they were on our iPhones, but they were running alongside us, very, very quickly. If we had jumped over the fence they would have approached us and stood in our way. I’m sure of it.

ATTACK

The scariest incident though was still to come. SECONDS after we had caught our breath from the running of the cows, we were attacked by our neighbour. Our own neighbour. It unfolded as follows… A very manly-looking man pulled up next to us in his ute and asked, “You do know this is private property don’t you?” To which we replied that we were new to the area, and therefore we didn’t. He then shook our hands with the FULL grip of a farmer’s handshake, rubbing my mosquito bite.

Another thing I should mention is that sometimes when I’m driving the two hours to Brisbane, and when between two mountains, I can’t hear Triple J very clearly, which is very traumatic.

My message to city slickers about country living is this: if you’re going to move to a place, 10 minutes out of Australia’s non-capital largest city, be prepared. Sometimes the reception crackles. And sometimes you find dinosaur eggs in your backyard and the local rangers refuse to come and investigate.

A dinosaur egg.

You’re a fashion writer, fashion presenter on Network Ten’s The Circle and a writer and editor for The Slattery Media Group. Tell us a little bit about your background, and how you got the great gigs listed above.

I’m a print journalist by trade.

My first journalism job at 18 was writing columns about women and young people in harness racing for an industry newspaper. My father is a racing journalist and I grew up at the track, so it was natural that my first little gig was following in his footsteps.

I studied journalism at RMIT University and at 19, I got my serious break.

I submitted a racing story, about a priest blessing champion racehorse Northerly, to the Herald Sun newspaper. I wrote it as a feature for uni but thought I’d have nothing to lose by emailing the copy to the Herald Sun’s then editor-in-chief Peter Blunden, offering it for publication. Peter published that Northerly story, my first news yarn, invited me to intern in the newsroom, and has been a supporter of my career and a great mentor for the past 10 years.

I applied for a Herald Sun cadetship when I graduated uni in 2003, but I missed out. I was young and green. Instead, I was given a full-time job as the copy kid in the paper’s sport department. I researched stats for the senior writers’ stories, ran errands, covered AFL training, wrote about the country and VFL leagues and had one of the best years of my life.

I completed a Herald Sun cadetship in 2005, and worked across the bread and butter rounds—police, courts, education, state politics— but it took several years for me to discover fashion journalism. I loved fashion by way of a hobby. I kept scrapbooks of beautiful photography and outfits that intrigued me. I studied shapes and proportion and learned all I could about designers, but I was a newspaper journalist and there weren’t the same opportunities for fashion writing in Melbourne that existed in Sydney. I didn’t imagine it could be a career for me.

A change of editor created a prominent fashion department across news and features, and suddenly I could combine two passions—style and journalism. I put my hand up to be fashion editor for 12 months as a maternity leave position. When the editor returned, I resumed as fashion reporter.

In 2009, the Herald Sun asked me to audition for Network Ten’s national morning show The Circle, to promote the newspaper’s fashion department to a new audience. I have done two seasons with the show, entering my third this year, and it has changed my life in many ways, for the friendships I have made at Ten to the confidence I have gained through learning to do live television and seeing the production side of the program. I chat on the couch weekly about trends and how everyday women can interpret them in an affordable way, and sometimes I film stories in the field.

I left the Herald Sun in May last year but continued with The Circle and joined The Slattery Media Group, a Melbourne publishing house. I am a writer and editor in the books division and have projects due for release later this year. On the side, I have a blog, emilypowerfashion.com, as an extension of what I do at SMG and The Circle.

I would not change my path to fashion journalism. Working as a news reporter taught research, interviewing and writing skills I otherwise would not have. I know it is strange for a fashion writer to come from a background such as mine, and I am not sure what some parts of the industry think of me—a fashion writer who started in footy and used to cover court stories—but it was the best possible training ground.

Backstage at The Circle, last show of 2011

What is it about fashion that you love?

I love the theatre and the transformative effect of dressing up. The creativity and talent in the industry amazes me and you can’t match the sensation of putting on a piece of artistry that changes your body and evokes an emotional reaction. I had that experience a couple of years ago. I’d been unwell, with a large borderline malignant ovarian tumour and I gained weight after the surgery and during the six months of rest from work.

When I shed the weight, I ventured into sass and bide to try on a few dresses for a David Jones cocktail party. I wasn’t expecting to be able to pull off of their designs.  I hadn’t been in great shape and there were side affects from the surgery, like hot flushes and scarring, that left me feeling uncomfortable and unattractive. My self-esteem was pretty low. I’d had to wear baggy clothes before and after the surgery because I couldn’t wear garments that pressed on my abdomen.

For experiment sake only, I put on a gown with daring side splits, exposing the full leg. I was surprised how well it fit and suited my body. I got emotional, because I’d felt unwell and unhealthy for months. The sales assistant came in and I explained to her, “in this dress, I feel good about myself”. I want readers of my blog, or my books, or viewers of The Circle, to have those same moments of feeling terrific about themselves when they wear a piece of clothing. It is my main motivation and the reason why I select certain products to endorse or feature and not others. Fashion isn’t frivolous and it has nothing to with spending a lot of money, or silly remarks like “orange is the new black”. For me, it’s about admiring the mastery of the designers and knowing what cuts best suit you so you can experience wearing something that makes you feel wonderful.

I am not different to any other shopper. I have a budget and my own body quibbles—I just commentate and communicate about fashion for a living.

The best part of my job is when a women tells me she feels better about herself after trying one of my tricks or tips, or buying an affordable piece of clothing I recommended.

You’re currently writing your first book – the ultimate Melbourne fashion shopping guide. What’s the process like? What inspired you to create such a book?

The idea for The Fashionista’s Guide to Shopping in Melbourne belongs to my boss, publisher Geoff Slattery. He approached me after I resigned from the Herald Sun to discuss a vintage fashion guide to Melbourne. During those discussions we realised there was potential for the book to expand beyond vintage and embrace the city’s best retail.

I have been inspired by the personalities in the industry, who I collaborate with and who have shared their knowledge with me. The book is a celebration of unique and special retailers, a style profile of the city, with directory listings of the finest stores across a range of shopping categories, celebrities sharing their favourite Melbourne shopping haunts and broader profile pieces on interesting and significant personalities in the industry—bloggers, retailers and stylists.

The concept has been embraced by the industry and we are exploring possible partnerships. The process has been exhaustive—months of research and talking to people in the know about what should be included, making lists, and shuffling and tweaking.

The manuscript is a pleasure to write—I’m learning so much as it as develops, because it is not possible to know all of the city’s shopping secrets. Slattery Media looks forward to launching Fashionista in September this year.

I’m also working with a dynamic young team to grow new look Mag, a street press music, culture and lifestyle publication created by SMG, which has a new editor, a new vision and a new fashion section.

Do you have any favourite Australian fashion labels?

I adore Gary Bigeni and Fernando Frisoni. I love the uncomplicated drama and impact of their tailoring—it is so smolderingly sexy. I am also mad about Toni Maticevski (one of his garments was the first designer piece I splurged on) and Alexi Freeman, a very exciting young designer whose high-octane fabrication and glam rock aesthetic—like his reversible sequin tux jacket from last winter, or his gold foil mini from this season—is so fun to wear. I am also a fan of White Suede, Yeojin Bae and Leonard Street for everyday. I like their shirts, jackets and skirts for workwear. I wear a lot of a young designer Jacqueline Hunt, who is giving her business a break after having a baby. I am eager for her to return and create a new collection. I also have a lot of respect for Julie Simonelli, a talented bridal couturier in Melbourne’s Fairfield who every year creates show-stopping, sophisticated Brownlow medal gowns that aren’t chintzy.

At the moment, I am obsessed with Trelise Cooper’s Dakota Chopper Girl black leather, slim-fit jacket with knitted panels and gold studs on the sleeves. I intend to wear it on The Circle soon.

On a fashion shoot at Werribbe Zoo in 2010

You’re an ambassador for the Melbourne City Romp. Tell us what that’s about.

I am honoured to be part of the Melbourne City Romp, which is the first time I have been involved in such a way with a charity. The March 25 event around Melbourne is part race, puzzle and treasure hunt, and the money raised by Romp teams goes to the Burnet Institute, a communicable disease research organisation.

I will be judging the Romp’s fashion competition. Rompers are encouraged to dress up in their zaniest costumes and I will dish out prizes for the most creative.

Funds raised by the annual Romp help Burnet’s research into vaccines for HIV, TB and malaria, which afflict poor and vulnerable communities

My fellow ambassadors are Burnet Institute ambassador Harry O’Brien (Collingwood Football Club), Nick Bracks (model and TV personality), Em Rusciano (The Project), Mike Larkin (weather presenter, Ten News) and Leah di Niese (Offspring/TwentySomething).

I am hoping to get support from retailers and friends in the fashion industry for the Romp costume competition—they can contact me through my blog to learn how we can use their assistance.

Will you be attending the L’Oreal Melbourne Fashion Festival? Any hot tips?

I will be attending this year for the first time without an evening newspaper deadline to meet, so it will be for both work and pleasure—to get across the significant aspects and trends of the new collections, but also to enjoy the spectacle. The festival’s new CEO Graeme Lewsey was one of the first executives I met (he was then the marketing and communications boss for IMG in Sydney) when I started in fashion. He is a gentleman, I hold him in high regard, and I am looking forward to the direction he takes LMFF this year.

My hot tip is for fashion lovers to try to get a seat to the Alex Perry parade on March 9—his catwalk events are more rock concert than fashion show, and it will be a who’s who spectacle. I am looking forward to L’Oreal Paris Runway 3 on March 11 with Gorman, Neveka, Limedrop and Leonard Street, and Runway 4 on March 12 with Dion Lee, Gary Bigeni and Josh Goot. I also recommend the annual Herald Sun Marketing Breakfast. The keynote speakers are always spirited, fascinating and engaging. The Sofitel bento breakfast is not bad, either. It is great networking and learning opportunity.

Other tips—wear ballet flats so you can zip from show to show (you will see most media are wearable sensible footwear), enjoy the champagne, sneak in a burger because canapés in the evening don’t count as a meal, and share your goodie bag haul with your friends.

What does being Australian mean to you?

To me, being Australian is to be patriotic but not blindingly so and at the expense of our sense of fairness.

Being Australian means appreciating the fortune we have—prosperity and peace—and being rightly proud of the community we are, but not resting, settling or accepting it when all are not afforded the same fair go, such as marriage inequality, which disgusts me, and the unacceptable treatment of refugees.

Where are your favourite places to travel to and visit in Australia?

Several years ago as a junior reporter, I followed the Commonwealth Games baton relay for weeks around Victoria to cover it for the Herald Sun. I saw beautiful parts of the high country and stopped in tiny towns I might have otherwise driven through. I had the chance to meet the locals, try the parma in every country pub and see so much of my home state.

I love the Mornington Peninsula around Red Hill and I recommend the Peninsula Hot Springs for an indulgent break that is only a short drive from Melbourne.

I intended to sail the Kimberley coast with my family last year, but I was unable to have time off work. I would still love to do that trip.

I know it is not adventurous, but as a big city girl I really love Sydney, especially Hyde Park. Whenever I visit, I like to take a moment to sit quietly and enjoy it.

Any Questions for Ben?

M15+, 114mins

Directed by Rob Sitch

The first film by the wildly successful Working Dog production house to hit our screens in twelve years comes from a peculiar place. Some fifteen years ago they were winning audience charm with The Castle, a tale of suburban “Aussie battler” pride and the miracle of a simple sponge cake. With Any Questions For Ben? the gears have shifted 180 degrees to observing inner-city woes of the affluent. It’s hard not to be taken aback by the sudden lack of audience perspective, especially at a time when phrases like “the 1%” and “occupy” have entered our daily lexicon and sympathy for the rich withers on the vine. While it’s hardly unacceptable to make a film about a handsome 27-year-old man who earns a six figure income by seemingly doing little at all and expect us to feel compassion when he realises that loft apartments and bar-hopping just isn’t satisfying anymore, it’s also not hard to see why so many people will cringe and dismiss it as the out of touch follies of three well off middle-aged white men – director Rob Sitch and his co-writers Santo Cilauro and Tom Gleisner. I enjoyed the movie and even I can’t put up a proper defence to the scorn that others have heaped upon it.

Josh Lawson (The Librarians) stars as twentysomething Ben who appears to “have it all.” However, upon being upstaged at a careers day lecture at his former school by classmates who have gone on to do far more worthwhile endeavours (UN ambassador, Olympian), he begins to suspect his life isn’t quite all he thinks it is. Such begins the quarter life crisis of Ben as he tries to find meaning in his meaningless existence and discovers… well that would ruin the limited amount of surprises this film has in store. Needless to say, that discovery involves sexy women, hip bars with free-flowing booze, and expensive sports cars. I guess that’s the price he has to pay, yeah? That I was smiling by the end is a credit to the cast, who really do elevate the project beyond its meagre premise.

It’s not hard to figure out that audience appreciation of Any Questions for Ben? will boil down entirely to how they react to the titular character. Thankfully Lawson’s breezy and dryly-comic performance counter-balances his characters unfortunate whingeing qualities. He’s funny and sincere in equal measure and he works well opposite Rachael Taylor (Red Dog) who, really, should have been in the movie more. Was it considered too American to make a more standard rom-com, rather than the “comedy about romance” that its creators have called it?

As always tends to be the case with these type of films, the busy supporting cast help make for light work. Dotted with recognisable faces – I can’t recall a recent Australian film with more – like Daniel Henshall (Snowtown), Lachy Hulme (Offspring), Ben Cousins lookalike Christian Clark (Neighbours), Rob Carlton (Chandon Pictures), Ed Kavalee (The Joy of Sets), Alan Brough (Spicks and Specks), Tracy Mann (Laid), John Howard (Jindabyne) and Jodi Gordon (Home & Away), looking frightfully malnourished as a “the face of harness racing” punchline might I add, the filmmakers certainly can’t be accused of squandering local talent. However, it’s Felicity Ward who emerges out of Ben looking rosiest of all. Promoted from an ensemble day player on Working Dog’s improvisational TV hit Thank God You’re Here, Ward’s warm performance is perhaps the film’s strongest asset as she eschews cartoonish caricature for a more relatable, poignant piece of workmanship.

Even if Ben does fall victim to the curse of an unrelatable lead – well, unrelatable to anyone who can’t tell the difference between one vintage of champagne from another, I suspect – it certainly does it with bright-eyed enthusiasm and a refreshingly radiant visual style that Australian cinema is not frequently privy to. Don’t let it be said that Sitch doesn’t take every possible chance to show off the city of Melbourne as he and cinematographer Stefan Duscio all but stroke the southern capital’s eye-popping architecture with their camera. Whether they’re admiring the towering skyscrapers, weaving about throughout the city’s treasured laneways, parks and bars, or simply ogling the skyline from the banks of the Yarra River, they’ve made Melbourne look a million bucks. Not that I’m complaining about that, I love this city and it is so very rare to see it put on display in such a glamourous way. In fact, it’s so lovingly filmed that I have to wonder why so few other films have done it. Maybe they couldn’t afford the overhead helicopter prices.

It’s hard to truly compliment other areas of technical note though. The film would have been, I feel, infinitely stronger if the editing had been more rightly reigned. A long, protracted sequence involving Ben dating a Russian tennis player (Lilaya May, a finalist from Search for a Supermodel) with an aggressively competitive father (Alex Menglet, Killing Time) appears to be little more than a chance to shoehorn a celebrity cameo or two and to give them a reason to visit Rod Laver Arena. Music selections, too, are at times absolutely baffling with the constant soundtrack of pop-rock tunes from all over a time travelling FM dial inflicted upon our ears – from Zoe Badwi to The Dandy Warhols to Boston – it does little to change the perception that the filmmakers are stuck in some alternate time zone universe.

Still, I can’t deny that I left the cinema with cheer. It’s curious to admit on one hand to liking a film and then on the other hand admitting to completely understanding why others would not. It’s rarely hilarious – although Sitch keeps the funniest role for himself as a bored high school principal – but generally content to cruise along at its own pleasantly chucklesome pace. It’s certainly got the slick polish of an American production, which was an obvious pitch, but done with a more natural edge. That the characters have such a nagging lack of conflict is down to the frustrating screenplay, but what’s on screen is something occasionally quite sweet and affectionate. As life crises go, Any Questions for Ben? is a rather nice one.

Any Questions for Ben? is on national release from the 9th of Feburary through Village Roadshow.

Book Two: Picnic at Hanging Rock – Joan Lindsay

Having now read two of the Australian Classic Novels on my list I have realised that deciding whether a book is a classic or not is no easy task. Most classics only come to mind because so many other people have proclaimed them to be so in the past. I’ve certainly never read a novel and known that it was a classic without looking it up. Novels in this category don’t carry a label, or jump up and down trilling their own worth; they look on the surface like any other novel. The difference according to the late Italian journalist Italo Calvino is that, “a classic is a book that has never finished saying what it has to say”.

However, after reading Picnic at Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsay, I can’t quite put my finger on anything the book mightn’t be finished saying. In the story, which is a fictionalised account of a 1900 Aussie mystery, three girls and a schoolteacher go missing after a picnic at Victoria’s Hanging Rock. I won’t ruin the ending but the novel starts off like a detective story and it compels you to turn the pages in the hunt for the all-too elusive clues. It paints a picture of what life was like for girls boarding at the expensive Appleyard College and of those who lived in the nearby towns. The imagery is no less than beautiful and it was clear that Joan Lindsay had spent a lot of time in the surrounds of the bush.

Despite the beautiful writing and the way the words pulled me over the pages, the story was frustrating in the way it was told. The first half of the novel was exciting, engaging and all about clues and mystery. The second half, in contrast, slowed in pace to show the effects one afternoon can have on an entire community. While this was indeed interesting, I felt robbed of the chance to discover the truth, which had been so often hinted at throughout the story. Now, having finished the novel, all I am left with are my own haunting speculations about the veracity of the events. Perhaps though, this is the message the book intended to leave – in which case it did so brilliantly.

While it was a fabulous read, I don’t think that I would call it a classic. Classic novels are said to transcend time. They are so much better than other literature of their time that they are placed high on a pedestal and whisked off to readers of the future. In labeling Picnic at Hanging Rock a classic I would be saying that I think people will still be reading it in 100 years time, and I don’t. This is largely due to the fact that it is not strictly true and that the real happenings on February 14th 1900 were only the inspiration for the novel. Rather than picturing the events as described in the story I pictured Lindsay sitting at a desk and wondering how to make the real events seem more exciting. This was frustrating and I wished instead that it were a truly factual account complete with the newspaper articles and paintings that were referenced occasionally. Now, that novel is something I might call a classic.

Despite not labeling it a classic, it was still a bloody good Australian story. The characters were drawn and described with absolute precision, particularly the downward descent of the schools headmaster Mrs Appleyard. It was a joy to watch the characters unfold and there was just enough suspense to keep me reading as fast as I could. After describing the events at the picnic the novel rippled out to explore the effects that one afternoon can have on an entire community. While this was very interesting, the way the book simply ended was a little disappointing.

Australian, yes, but a Classic? No. Joan Lindsay’s Picnic at Hanging Rock was a curiosity-grabbing read but it won’t be sitting on my bookshelf forever. Don’t take my word for it though, have a read and let me know your thoughts.