A series of articles written for the inaugural edition of SMALL ISSUE, a magazine bringing you the hippest happenings in fashion, arts and modern approaches to life. Ironic hipster skew, just a tad.
The roach-brooch.
Nothing says forever like a cockroach. Monica M. Mulligan was completing her studies in arachnology and then thought hang on a minute let me pin one on you. Starting with snail trail stencils, a fondness for stag-beetles and finally culminating in her award-winning piece the roach-brooch, her jewellery range is a uniquely powerful melding of nature and avant-garde style.
PURGE is the latest installation by ouetreistic artist of the moment, Latvian born, Melbourne raised, Felix Lipsky. At the heart of this visceral and raw display is a somewhat whimsical comment on the accepted and almost applauded baseness of man when applied to the ritualistic hedonism of western society. The guts of our privileged existence. Over the course of several weeks the artist indulged in marathon drinking binges imbibing a different ‘colour’ beverage to the point of what can only be called spectacular spewdom. Every custard parked, chunk blown and yodel sung down the white telephone was recorded and then rigorously collected, snap-frozen and fashioned into a sculpture reflecting the tone of the night. I know this sounds totally like gross man, but overcome your sanitised, harpic-blue version of the world. We all shit, fuck and spew. And sometimes, all at the same time. These technicolour yawns are shit-fuckingly-spewingly raw beauty you have to see. Realism collides with the spirit world. Please take the time to view Grappa, Mextaxa One Star, Warm Liebfraumilch, and other homages to things that come in tots. Some say gross, we say Turner Prize is beckoning. Purge yourself, you’ll definitely feel better. Felix Lipsky’s PURGE exclusively showing for the month of October at underground gallery ‘Hung like a Gazelle’, 27 Brunswick Street (out the back).
Kinder Surprise.
I’m lactating with rage. Rage. I finally know the answer to Kamahl’s eternal question ‘why are people so unkind?’ Answer: Kinder Surprise. Went to a launch gig the other day, you know the ones where they serve cupcakes, the singer is a 50s red-lipped rockabilly, slightly buck-teeth, ex-anorexic with an acoustic guitar and a cheap Mexican hat, and there they were - Hipster kiddies. Pushed to the front, proudly announcing their parent’s ability to reproduce. Everyone continued to listen to the red-lipped rockabilly, whilst the kids screamed and decimated the coconut cupcakes. We all kept listening, because yeah we’re cool with kids being kids, yeah, yeah nooooooooo!!!... collectively I know we were all hoping and a awishing some gnarly baby-boomer would come out of the woodwork and slap that child silly.
Fark me, it’s a Ferret.
Yes, it’s the latest choice of pet for the knowing peoples of the North. Previously the choice of faraway red-necks who poke their cousin’s privates and love an ‘all you can eat carvery’ these rodent like creatures are now definitely rad. What was crazy bogan behaviour is now the epitome of what you want in your Christmas stocking. What was a ferret, is now a ferr-et (silent t). They’re cool, clean and heaps of frolickin’ fun. What’s not cool, is to keep ‘em in your back-pack. They over-heat and suffer feral ferret flatulence, not good on a packed 86 in the height of summer. Ferret-transporter of choice, Crumpler, have released a limited edition carry-on, a hand-tooled satchel with mesh air-vents in all the right places.
What do you pretend to read to pick up?
You’re alone. All alone. In a coffee shop. Having a flat white with one. At one with being one. Nonchalantly reading a book. Nonchalantly my arse, we know why you’re really here. To pull. So what exactly are you reading in case a prospective walks in? Miranda July, Kafka, Freud’s Funniest Moments. I know one guy who swears by Dr Seuss’, Green Ham & Eggs, it seems to have an irresistible charm s irrespective ofsexual persuasion. We’d love to know what literary piece scores best at scoring, let us know at smallissues.com.au
Gloria’s Grand Opening
With her virgin installation ‘Submit’ Gloria Obreht invites you to the opening of her Grant Application Response Opening. BYO Cupcakes.
Xtreme Spoken Word. Frozen Pea Poetry
Participants are invited to stand on pub rooftops, be held by their ankles (or a recycled bungee rope) and speak what’s in their heart. A stream of Woolfian consciousness that taps into primal rage, fear and a sniff of illicit chemicals. Performers’ mutterings are recorded and mixed in real-time by pirate radio DJ Dr. Shanique, then sent out to the world as subliminal lyrics you may pick up in the hijacked musac of your local Coles.
Jammin’
The newest way to impress your dinner guests, a selection of home-made jams.Fig & vegemite, cumquat & gherkin. The odder the combination the more it will stick. It’s memorable, it’s different and the labelling is the way to get you noticed.LADY MELADY MARAMALADY started off doing once-off afternoon teas for her quilting club and now visits several hi-end design firms in the city. Get stirring, jammin’s a piping hot bowl of ‘this is where it’s at’.
UserXperience: FACEBOOK FATIGUE
“Patted the cat today” epic status fail.
“look at #MelB’s massive baps”, Twitter Twat.
We’re constantly judged on what we say to the world, but what if what we say is boring, mindless crap that would drive an amoeba to tears. It happens to the best of us, in real life we’re ironic, articulate and piss-pants funny but our cyber musings don’t quite capture our true genius. Don’t worry you’re not alone, in fact FACEBOOK FATIGUE and TWITTER TWATTISMS are reaching epidemic proportions. As my ex said to me in bed, we can’t always be throwing away Wildean wit and poke at the same time. Never fear, there’s a cure. Contact therealme.com.au, tell em about yourself, how you want the world to perceive you, and they’ll status and tweet you the hottest, coolest, wittest lines to ensure everybody gets to know the real you. therealme.com.au
Pet Names.
Is it wrong to call your cat Ivan Milat? Can you name your German Shepherd Adolf if you live in Balaklava? PC aside, what you call your furry friend is a reflection on you and your cultural aesthetic. These days a simple Whiskers, Fido or Trixie just doesn’t cut it. So when choosing, choose wisely my animal-loving friends. Gents, if it must be an old fave, make sure you have heart-felt, sentiment behind it. One that makes girls go ‘awe’ and simultaneously drop their pants at your incredible sensitivity. Gals, an important but oft overlooked consideration is what suits the timbre of voice, cos any hint of Pauline Hanson strine means a high-pitch ending is painful to everyone in a 2K radius. Coolest names overheard in Smith St, Sony & Cher for two wippets belonging to Matilda McPherson, wearing 70s floppy hat and a maxi-dress, props and tickle under the chin for Matilda.
ManCaping.
The ultimate transeasonal bikewear for men. Pedal languidly, try it side-saddle or dink a dyke, all whilst feeling the wind in your man-hairs. It’s liberating, it’s freedom, it’s a Prince Alfred check coupled with a monastic hood. If you’re brave, cos we know you are, try it free-balling with high-knee postie socks.
Knarveys.
Knee-scarves, aka knarveys, the latest from London High Street label ‘it’sAriot’ . Worn just below the knee, and to the side for those with an alternative lifestyle. So show us your patella fellas. Warning: Not to be worn with a high boot or girls who suffer a muffin-topish chunky calf (sorry fatties, it’s just not slimming).
Un-flash Mob.
Sick of happy people dancing in your face at train-stations? Sick of seeing happy people on YOUTUBE dancing in people’s faces in foreign train-stations? YES, YES, YES. Join the unflash mob, a street movement and protest at the homogenized, dancing, saccharine sacks of cuteness taking over our world. It’s easy. Don’t wash for a couple of days, wear the same tee for a week, develop your personal body odours to maximum, then hang outside Coles by yourself. The power of the collective individual starts with you. Join us at unflashmob.com.au
Doppelganger Couplings.
Who’s a pretty boy then? Duhhh…the one that looks his girlfriend. Same hair, same height, same germanic leiderhosen inspired hosiery. Hot off Europe’s high streets, the latest styling trend is THE BLEND. Sexually morphing couples are in. At first glance it seems a bit annoying, but as long as they don’t finish each other’s sentences and they look cool who cares. Hermaphrodite me sideways, I kinda like it.
Nothing but a Common Mole
Oh look at your moley mole from moletown. We were discussing moles the other day. The female variety. One girl blushingly revealed she had a mole under her armpit which despite multi-decapitations over the years from bic/gillette/venus thru to her first aggressive Gold Coast holiday wax (another story) was still there winking at her. Each girl then proceeded to raise her arm, revealing several girly moles glinting under the Australian sun. Is this a hidden body charm that we should be acknowledging rather than hiding? Is it a phenomenan of our modern world cultivated by Dove deodorant’s Dolly the sheep’sclonelike, resurrective properties? Anyway mine’s called Marie Antoinette. What’s yours? Now the common male mole, that’s for our next issue.
Trending: Barmen looking like Jesus
I know the beard thing is de rigueur but anyone noticed a lot of saviours of mankind serving up ciders at the moment. The slightly greasy middle part, the blank but somewhat creepy religious stare, the way they play the Jewish piano, the hint of a stigmata. Well I think it’s dead-sexy. Forgive me father, for I have sinned, I ended up shagging the Son of God after one too many jagerbombs last Sunday.
Danger, it’s Dangurees Season.
Do you come from a place where your mother regularly shaves, your pappy uses a spittoon and the pigs look very frightened? This ho-down look does nothing for me, but overall the girls seem to like it. Dang, string me up like a cotton pickin’ banjo player for bad puns, but that’s just how I feel.
Go Slow.
Slow, slow, baked eggs, the latest specialty at Camille Crepeau’s (previously co-head-chef at Prahran’s Reymond Reymond) latest Brunswick venture ‘The Goose & The Golden Egg’ is a breakfast aficionado’s lust-have. Order them the day before, and make sure you arrive promptly for your booking. Coddled for 24 hours in the micro-kitchen incubator, out hatches the ultimate mix of protein and googy heaven. The effect is mind-blowing, think red-bull and champagne in an egg, but healthy.
Tee-Spotter. Spotted in Smith St. 11.00am walking like an Egyptian, a plain egg-yellow tee with the following in Helvetica Bold ‘Take it like a Buddhist.’
Put Off. Put On.
A definitive no to:
put a bird on it
put a skull on it
put a moose on it
put antlers on it.
put a butterfly on it.
put fluffy white clouds on it.
put a triangle on it.
put an edwardian moustache on it.
And definitely don’t put googly eyes on it.
A Barry White yeah baby to:
Put a crucifix on it.
Put a monastic hood on it.
Put an umlaut on it.
Put a polygon on it
Put a locust on it.
Put a dwarf on it.
Put your pet on TWITTER.
Put an ancient Inuit saying on it