Lure of the Label

Lately, the call of the high-end fashion label hasn’t just been a little Chinese whisper circling my head. In fact, there’s nothing Chinese about it at all. Think more along the lines of: made in Milan.

Whether it’s the impending due dates of assessments which make me dream more, my newfound interest in horoscopes or my burning desire to be SBS’s Lee Lin Chin’s stylist; I have suddenly taken a liking to high-end labels.

In the past I though Chanel was a neologism of the more correctly spelt ‘channel’. I thought LV was a popular pattern my family in Vietnam liked to use for their manchester. And I thought Targét was a rather reputable brand.

Clearly it doesn’t take anymore than daylight savings and the colour of Michael Jackson’s face to tell me times have changed.

There is some justification of my new love however.

If we all bought one Prada bag, instead of five or Proda bags- the world would be a better place.

Buying good quality items not only makes you consume less as the item’s versatility and longevity will outlast the item of inferior quality, it is also more likely that the better quality bag supports workers and companies who work under ethical conditions and wages.

High-end shopping can be seen as a boycott to all third world, child and sweatshop labour. I guess you could say we’re doing little three-year-old Chakrabandhu from Thailand a favour.

It does make me wonder though… How else will he and his family find a source of income?

Anyway, back to Louis Vuitton. I believe cravings and guilt are what makes us live. It’s probably the only way to live.

Our craving for the weekend gets us through work. Our craving for sex with remotely attractive people pushes us out the door and into a nightclub. And the guilt we feel when we bite into that Sparkle cupcake makes the chocolate icing and strawberry pieces taste that much sweeter.

There’s a lesson to be learnt in the economic crisis- desperate times call for desperate measures.

For example, Kevin Rudd swears on national live television and is almost heroically portrayed as just a normal human being. Right, because his apologies for yelling at a flight attendant for serving an incorrect meal and using taxpayer money to fund a striptease American holiday didn’t quite tell me that he’s a bit dodgy.

Even president Obama attempted to tick all the popularity boxes when he became the first American president to appear on a late night talk show. He then of course decided to insult people with special needs. O ma ma, Obama (couldn’t help, had to include that one!).

Next thing you know, Amanda Vanstone will try to regain popularity too by joining Dancing With the Stars. Yeah- not pretty. There’s a fine line between being obese, and being an insurance liability.

My point is: spending is good. As the government hands out $900 to most of us, we deserve to spend it on luxuries which will make us feel better. We’ve worked damn hard for it. Nothing cures exam stress like a brand new leather jacket. Right?

Now, back to facebook…

Sex and Tonsillitis

To borrow a metaphor from Australia’s well-travelled Prime Minister- life is a whirlwind. Whether it’s a storm, a flood or Pauline Hanson clutching at the expired crumbs of her political career, life and all of its friends- love, family, career, health- just keep on pushing.

Nothing screams “time out!” more loudly than shaving all your hair off, dangling your children of a fourth-floor balcony or letting your R&B superstar boyfriend bash you and not saying anything about it. Either that, or tonsillitis.

I thankfully (I hope for now anyway) have only had to deal with the latter.

All modesty aside, I do very well. I go on lengthy overseas holidays, I have nice clothes, I have awesome friends and I have jobs people would die for. I do well.

But to keep all this going, is like being a hamster running on a wheel. Instead of knowing where you are when you get off, it scares the living daylights out of me every time I even think about stepping off. Funnily enough, that’s what tonsillitis does to you.

And unlike the first homebuyer’s grant, the only thing stimulating about this push is that you get to watch Sex and the City, the movie, again.

In addition to revamping your career (hello Delta Goodrem), illness makes you think. Not being able to speak, I actually realised I had a voice inside me and was finally able to hear it.

With your body so weak, what’s the first thing you want to do? With your mouth unable to move, who would you sacrifice the pain to speak to? With days out of action, what will you attend to first when you’re 100 percent?

Taking time out makes you a watcher. It makes you a listener. You become an observer. You realise that small things become big arguments. You learn that some of your grievous concerns are just natural doubts. I’ve learnt, that Carrie Bradshaw looks fabulous in a white boob tube dress and an oversized flower dangling off her shoulder.

We complain. We complain all the time. But distance does make the heart grow fonder. We do love our lives.

Yes it’s winter and the rain pours down. But instead of winging (unless of course you live Coffs Harbour and are drenched in a drought- apologies), grab a hot chocolate, sit down with your girlfriend/s and welcome that wintery gust of fresh air.

Life is what it is and you can choose to be the bum at Redfern station, make cameo appearances at Central station, and monotonously ask, “Change please ma’am. Change please sir”.

Or instead, if you have any of it left- you could let your hair down. That job will still be there. That degree will still be there. Those friends and family will still be there.

From the designer label silver screen to the pages of this uni magazine, loving life is the only label that never goes out of fashion. Go on, colour away.