Friday, April 22, 2005

 
Magic cash. Apologies to David Bowie. Yes, I went shopping yesterday using "magic cash", aka "credit", and I bought a wonderful pair of white leather cowboy boots with gold stitching. They cost a lot of magic money. Today I am prancing about like a leprechaun going "Look at my boots! I got new boots!"

I have been wanting cowboy boots for ages and ages, ever since I read Wonder Boys by Michael Chabon and read his description of Hannah Green, the young writer who boards in the protagonist's house:
She had on a man's plaid flannel shirt, tucked imperfectly into a baggy pair of Levi's, and the cracked red cowboy boots I'd never once seen her go without, not even when she prowled the house in a terry-cloth bathrobe, or a pair of sweatpants, or running shorts. In idle moments I liked to summon up an image of her naked feet, long and intelligent, aglitter with down, toenails painted red as the leather of her boots.
I particularly wanted red boots, but if I could not have those I wanted white, and if I could not have those I wanted pink. I discussed this at length with Saige and Gemma. One of the reasons Gemma is a treasured friend of mine is that we can talk at length and with perfect seriousness about fashion. Anyway, Gemma knows her boots, and she said that cowboy boots must not look new - they must be old and worn, and preferably have a scrunchiness to them. And Saige, who has been into cowboy boots for years and owns about five pairs, says that the toe has to be pointed, and the heel has to be wooden and the right Cuban shape - if it's flat and chunky it's wrong.

But then cowboy boots came into fashion this season, and in some fucking ugly colours: candy pink and turquoise and mint green and tan. I don't really wear brown, and I did think about the pink ones, but they were always so shoddy-looking, and not made of real leather, or the heel was the wrong shape or height. I saw some great vintage cowboy boots in red and white in a shop on Chapel Street, but I baulked at the price. And now I have gone and spent twice as much as that on a pair of new ones.

In an aside, yesterday I was walking back into the city from VCA and I passed playwright extraordinaire Lally Katz, whose new play Smashed has just started at the Store Room. She was wearing some great hot-pink cowboy-style boots. Pink is her signature colour.

I am also very pleased with myself because I customised this black Bonds t-shirt that I always try on but end up not wearing because it makes me look dykey and there's nothing worse than false advertising. So I cut the cuffs off the sleeves and turned them into wristbands, and I cut it to be off-the-shoulder, and I ruched the sleeves. Took me all of ten minutes, and now I have a sexy new black top. Makes a mockery of the $43 I spent at Supre yesterday on the tomato-red number.

Did I mention that The Incredible Melk has her own clothing label, Melkwear? It never got off the ground during the festival, of course, but it consists of badges (that feature my mouth sucking on a cherry), trucker hats, leather man-bangles (so-called because they are unisex), earrings and necklaces, and of course the Melkwear T-Shirt Customisation Service, in which you fill out a comprehensive form and get a t-shirt that nobody else will have, cut, printed and sized to your precise requirements. I really do want to get that off the ground.

I would also like to do some live Melk gigs with a band. I really enjoyed doing the Shaked and Stirred nights at Kitten Club, despite the sometimes-rude crowds who would talk over any entertainment even though they'd paid to get in. It made me realise that the last time I sang with a live band was 1995. And I would like to resurrect my Piss, Shit and Vomit material as a Melk side-project. Does anyone know a funk-influenced band that would like to perform my smutty songs? Tristan just laughed at me when I asked him.

Damn, I look so hot today. I am out on the town tonight with Kate and Tash. I wish you could see me. If you play your cards right, maybe you will.

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