Fashion bloggers

I have been coming across some fantastic fashion blogs - really interesting and unique writing. I love the Man Repeller- its such refreshing writing

http://www.manrepeller.com/

But i'd have to say my favorite is The Cherry Blossom Girl.

http://www.thecherryblossomgirl.com

Her intimacy with fashion is like:

The most amazing chef in the world creates a palette delicacy, Alix - The Cherry Blossom Girl - gets to taste the amazing food - than there is surrounding people, including food critic's and photographers, who can smell and see the wonder plate, they take photos and return to the publisher, who gets to admire the pictures and decide where it will be placed in the this week cooking magazine - than some food fanatic see's the article, tears it out, copy's it to her blog - which is how I come across it - and theres my connection to the source!

Blogs have become very influential in the fashion industry and success of trends. Really great bloggers get vip invites to Chanel and Valentino - check out

http://www.thecherryblossomgirl.com/chanel-paris-byzance-part-3-the-show/12286/

Blogs like this save me money - my fortnightly magazine buying has dwindled to the point that they are becoming old news - why buy Vogue off the stand with a feature a month old, when I can check it out a fews hours after the event takes place online

http://www.vogue.co.uk/magazine/ipad/

And if you buy for the amazing fashion feature spreads - you can also go right to the source

http://www.thephotographylink.com/

The Man I Was Taught to Fear

There are people we grieve twice in a lifetime. Once for who they were. And once for who we were never allowed to know. My father is one of them. When I was a child, my mother told me he was a paedophile. She didn’t whisper it. She didn’t hesitate. She said it plainly, as fact. As warning. As control. When we misbehaved, she would drop us at the greyhound station and force us to spend sleepless weekends with him. I remember the noise of the station. The way my stomach would knot. The terror that would sit in my chest at night when the lights went out. I was absolutely terrified to sleep. He was a workaholic. Twelve-hour days. Long hours. Absence disguised as provision. He would leave cash on the bench, stockpiles of food in the fridge, and the television on - a wild luxury I couldn’t enjoy because fear had already moved in. At home with my mother, we weren’t allowed a TV at all. Looking back now, my father was unemotional, but never unkind. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t offer hims...

Versions, and “Versions”

I’ve already written about The Wiiyaan as a journalist. That piece lives in the Tweed Weekly . It’s careful, respectful, measured. It honours Bundjalung origin story, place, and the quiet authority of listening. It was written for a broad audience, many of whom - like me - come from settler families, carrying our own histories alongside the land we now call home. But after filing that story, I knew I wasn’t done. Some stories ask something back from you. This one did. So this is the version that doesn’t fit in a newspaper column. This is the version that explains why that exhibition cracked something open in me - why listening to Kyle Slabb speak about holding one version of Country, with care and restraint, felt like a mirror I wasn’t expecting. Kyle spoke about perspective. About how this telling is not the story, but a story - shaped by lineage, responsibility and law. He was clear, careful, and deeply respectful of other versions held...

The Story Behind the Front Page

When I walked into the Tweed Weekly office to meet Jonathan, the editor, I was mostly just hoping I’d find the right door. I’d been asked by my friend (and journalist) Madeline Murray to fill in for her while she recovers from surgery - my first little step into local journalism. Jonathan looked up, smiled, and said: “I recognise you, you’ll be in the paper tomorrow.” The week before, Madeline and I had worked on a story about a local collaboration - I had no idea it would end up splashed across the front page. Full circle moments have a funny way of sneaking up on you. I first met Dean three years ago at TAFE - I was studying photography, and he was in graphic design. We used to talk about how incredible it would be if students from different creative disciplines actually worked together , like we would in the real world. Fast forward to now: I’m wrapping up my Diploma of Fashion Design, and Dean has just completed the same Certificate IV Photography course I once did. Afte...

Rada Priya

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