This blog was also published on Mamamia 

THERE I was sitting in the middle of my childhood bedroom surrounded by a sea of clothing strewn around my room. It looked like a giant clown had thrown up multi-coloured spew with chunks of shoes over my bed and across my floor.

I was in my mid-twenties and trying to pack to leave home. I needed to sort the high school fashion disasters from the potential work outfits because I had only two suitcases I could fill.

There, in the middle of my room as I conducted an inventory of my wardrobe I had a fashion epiphany: I was done. There was nothing left I could buy. I had bought everything.

Here’s what brought me to this conclusion. Among the mass of cotton-poly blends I counted: three mauve singlet tops, two one-shouldered sunlight yellow tops, four pairs of black capri pants in varying lengths, two pairs of white capri pants in varing stages of decay, half a dozen floral dresses – all similar but not quite the same – and a singlet top in every colour of the rainbow. So, you see I had not only bought one of everything I was starting to buy multiple versions of the same thing.

Now all the shoe fetish girls out there I’m not talking about having lots of shoes. Not having lots of a kind of item but rather having lots of the exact same thing.

As I went through and analysed my wardrobe I realised there were a number of serial offenders. I have in my shopping life bought brown capri pants at least three times, each time deciding after the purchase that I hated brown capri pants, throwing them out and then a few years later buying a new incarnation of the same item of clothing. Black skirts of varying lengths are a common theme as is anything in a shade of purple.

I mean seriously, who needs three mauve singlet tops? And, when has mauve ever been on trend. There was a reason behind all of this mauve madness. I had this floral skirt I really liked and I couldn’t find one that matched it just right. And, I reasoned, mauve would be a lovely colour to wear to a wedding some day. But then the next three weddings that came around that mauve number never saw the light of day. Of course,  I had to have something new for each of those events.

What amazes me is that each time I buy such an item I seem to have fashion amnesia. This is even though I could tell you every single thing in my wardrobe, where I got it, how much I paid for it, how much discount I got on it and the resulting price. But somehow when I am in a shop and especially at the check out I completely forget the fact I’ve got two other black wrap tops at home and simply must have this one.

It’s funny how many fashion excuses we women can come up with at such moments. I don’t know how many times I’ve come home with something too big, or stretched out a top accidentally or lost weight and instead of returning, donating or returning the offending item I decide to keep it. Why? Because I secretly tell myself I will wear it one day when I am pregnant. That’s right, pregnant. And I have been doing that for years, even though I am no closer to being knocked up.

It’s the same with “wedding clothes”. What are these? Well these are clothes, like the offending mauve tops, that seem too pretty to be smart casual and too pretty to be work clothes so again, instead of dumping them, they go in the cupboard. And, I tell myself I could wear that to a wedding one day. Because of course, I get invited to so many weddings.

Added to this are painting the house clothes (I’ve never painted a house and if I ever intended to I’m sure my boyfriend would dive tackle me to prevent that kind of atrocity), potential pyjamas, possible gym clothes, could be an art-smock shirts,  “when I lose 5kg” clothes (otherwise known as skinny jeans), ugly-but-could-wear-that-under-a-jumper-in-winter-tops, “If I ever go to the football” supporter coloured gear and “my kids could wear it as dress ups one day” clothes (that’s right, still don’t have kids).

Lastly, my favourite group of “excuse clothes”, as I have come to call them, are “it could come back into fashion one day” clothes. This group of clothes started the first day after I ever threw something out only to decide I really did need it to complete thay day’s outfit. Yet, this feeling only ever applies to the things that I throw out. The things I keep never seem to make a comeback. Among that group are bumster jeans, peasant tops and 90’s era bodysuits.

What are your “fashion excuses”?

This blog was also published in the Newcastle Herald

AS a former Sydney-sider and later Central Coastie I have to admit sometimes I find some things very weird about living in Newcastle.

To begin with:

– There’s an above-ground train line running right into the middle of the city. Whether you want it to go or to stay this was one of the things that first struck me about the town.

– When a Newcastle person talks about South’s, they’re not talking about the South Sydney Rabbitohs. As I discovered the other day the only Souths known to the Newcastle-man is the South Newcastle Rugby League Team and leagues club of the same name. The same goes for Wests.

– The term Novocastrian. Who made this up I don’t know, but when I first heard it I thought people were talking about a whole city of people aged in their nineties. Not even Wikipedia can explain it.

– The ‘‘Our Town’’ phenomena. Look up our ‘‘Our Town’’ in the white pages and you will see it is a prefix business name for everything from car batteries to mobile dog washes in Newcastle.

– Going ‘‘up’’ to Sydney. This is a personal pet-hate of mine. Sydney is south of Newcastle, you’re headed down. However I am told it used to be a vernacular convention to go ‘‘up’’ to a capital city. But to me, this just doesn’t make sense.

– Its exceptionally insular and parochial nature. For example I had never heard of Newcastle Herald until I went to university in Newcastle, even though I only lived about an hour away.

– There’s a nightclub called ‘‘Fanny’s’’. It’s main landmark is “Nobby’s”. And, people like to go swimming in the “Bogey Hole”.

– There’s more than one ‘‘Great Northern Hotel’’. There’s one in Newcastle and Teralba. It can’t be too great can it? After further research I’ve discovered there’s at least six Great Northern Hotels in NSW and more than 10 around Australia.

– The council runs it’s own Zoo called Blackbutt Reserve. It’s nice but an odd thing to do.

– What is Mattara and why is there a festival celebrating it? Not to mention a registered club named after it? Turns out it’s an Aboriginal word meaning hand.

– Coke isn’t just a soft drink. Apparently it’s some kind of byproduct of coal.

– There’s an “old gasworks” and apparently everyone knows where it is.

– Radio stations, radio ads and even worse.. television ads. There’s a big demand for industrial size water tanks, farm sheds and a pirate who promotes recycling in Lake Macquarie.

– Newcastle really likes the name “Lambton”. There’s Lambton, North Lambton, New Lambton and because they couldn’t get enough of it New Lambton Heights.

– Henny Penny. I thought this place when out of business last millennium but here it is alive and well in Newcastle.

– The Hunter is festival mad – in any one calendar year it’s got Mattara, This is not art, Darby Street, Catalina, Bitter and Twisted Beer, RevFest, SurFest, Spirit of the Vine, Shoal Bay Food and Wine, Tastes at the Bay, Festival of the Sea, Blue Water Country Music Festival, Dungog Film, Hunter Semillon and Seafood Festival

– It’s even more market mad, The Junction Olive Tree, Islington, Adamstown, New Lambton and Farmers Markets. It even hosts a World’s Biggest Car Boot Sale.

– There’s a place called The Store but there’s not much for sale. There’s a Newcastle Post Office but you can’t buy stamps there. There’s The Royal Theatre but no movies playing. No beer is brewed at The Brewery ( I really thought there was), rather it’s a pub. Customs House is not part of the port, it’s also a pub. There’s no gardens at Garden City, it’s actually a Westfields and Charlestown Square is a shopping centre not a town square, or square-shaped for that matter.

– It’s one of the few places outside Egypt with an Obelisk.

– Super Hubert. Here is a guy who has never had his own show or any reason to be famous but just turns up in Superman-style to suit, red hair and all to community events, Christmas Carols or the opening of an envelope.

– Big Dog.

– The university is its own suburb. If you live at Callaghan then chances are you’re sleeping in a lecture theatre.

– If you go up the street behind the Anglican Cathedral there’s a turret. A big old-fashioned medieval turret, just standing there between all the wealthy houses. No sign, no explanation, nothing.

– People call Newcastle a town. I’m pretty sure it’s bigger than that.

– The way NBN edits in Channel Nine news stories like no-one notices. Does everyone in Newcastle think Laurie Oaks has worked for NBN all this time?

– The Screaming Jets are hometown heroes while Silverchair only seem to get a cursory play on local radio.

And worst, and most worrying of all, the longer I live here the less weird it all seems.