y.u.p

when piero and i were discussing our life-to-be-in-sydney , we came up with a phrase: young, urban, professional. that was who we wanted to be. we would use these three words to dictate purchasing decisions and to make lifestyle choices.

12-months-ago, when we were looking for a flat to rent, a friend was helping us. we told him about our mantra and he gave us ‘that’ look. in fairness, i understand how people might be reading this and are also mentally giving us a similar look, but 12-months on, our mantra has worked.

i’ve seen enough friends move back to australia to know what i wanted. 

i want to be successful, i want to be part of the beating heart of the city and i want a life that an older version of me will look back on and think ‘that was a life well-lived’.

part of our grand sydney plan was to buy a flat. in the end, it came down to two real possibilities. the sensible one and the one  young-urban-professional one. we stayed true to our mantra and are now the proud owners of our very own darlinghurst flat-of-dreams (down under)*.

now all we’ve got to do is furnish it in y.u.p style! piero... are you getting a bonus this year???

*flat-of-dreams (down under) is a trade mark of the fod franchise.

no more drama... just some fun memories

a group of us took the eurostar to paris one saturday night. we thought it was one of those fabulous-because-we-were-young-and-in-london moments. we wandered the streets of pigalle looking for a club and stumbled across les folies pigalle: a former theatre now decorated like a 30s bordello. it wasn’t the paris that i was expecting, but the best travel is rarely expected.

the place was heaving with 20-to-30-something frenchies, tourists, repressed people who go outrageous on the weekend and a huge number of drag queens and transvestites. there was an upstairs area that overlooked the dance floor which was pumping out your typical dancey-rnb-pop-funky-house mix.

and there were the most bizarre stage shows. a young woman came out and stripped to her underwear and a man did the same. an older woman – probably the age i am now as i write this – came out and stripped all the way and i remember thinking that she must have gone all the way to make up for the fact that she was the older, less pretty one.

and then the main show started. half-way through, cynthia leaned over to me and said ‘it reminds me of aerobics oz style’. a large drag queen dressed in lycra whirled around the stage as mary j bilge belted out no more drama from the speakers. the drag queen and her boyfriend then had an o-t-t argument complete with american-reality-tv-style hand movements before a policeman came and arrested him. for some reason, a nun was then on the stage holding a crucifix which the drag queen grabbed and held above her head as she closed her eyes and mouthed no more drama.

the night ended with us in a random cafe trying to stay awake as we waited for the morning return train to london.

sorry for the ramble. i felt the need to share this as the lycra-crucifix-drag-queen imagery is once again dancing around my head as mary j blige’s no more drama is playing in the background.

colour me purple

this morning was another pound-the-streets-in-search-of-the-dream-flat-morning. we saw five; two are potentials. as always, we broke it up with coffees here, green tea there and even a spot of lunch. but it wasn’t the flats that got my attention today, it was the jacaranda trees.   

as this city edges through spring, the jacarandas are bloomin’.

there’s something spectacular about one of these trees in flower. their loud-in-your-face-purple yet delicate flowers spectacularly clash with the hard-sharp-gray urban landscape. even when you see them amongst other trees, they shine spectacularly making their green neighbours seem almost bland.   

i’m loving discovering sydney. it seems every season has something beautiful to offer. 

P and Riley St 

View from over Darlinghurst & Paddington from one of the flats we viewed

building blocks

when the first of my friends bought their own home in their early 20s, i was excited for them but i just didn’t get it. why would anyone want to buy a house and lock themselves down? life is to be lived! travel beckoned. adventures were to be had. my saturday mornings were to be spent nursing  hangovers not mowing a lawn.


ten(ish) years later, i do get it. a house is a physical representation of a life you’re building with someone. it’s a financial investment in your future. and frankly, it beats paying i-dare-not-even-contemplate-exactly-how-much-i’ve-shelled-out-in-my-lifetime rent.


so piero and i are on the market for a flat. we’re both quite aligned with what we want: central, good view and no lawn to mow. neither of us want art deco (or as it should be known: crap architecture that sydneysiders tell themselves that they love because it’s slightly less offensive than some of the other monstrosities sprinkled throughout this city). and as we associate the word ‘screwdriver’  with vodka and o-j; we defo need something easy to maintain. 


like so many who have walked this journey before us, our saturday morning are now filled with viewings. fortunately, we’re looking over a small geographical area so it’s easy to walk from property to property. 


last weekend, we found one that we really liked. it’s not perfect, but it ticks a lot of our boxes. perhaps soon, i too will be entering the world of grown-ups.

looking forward through the past

running through regent’s park i suddenly stopped. the bt tower towered in the background. it’s never been a monument that i liked, but right there, right then, it seemed suddenly beautiful. an almost tangible link with my past and a city that defined me. it seemed very london. 


the day before, we had arrived at heathrow. it had been ten-months since we had left the british capital and we were excited about our three-week european jolly.  


i visited old haunts, neighbourhoods i loved, new restaurants and places i never quite made it to. for three weeks, i ate and drank myself around the capital and threw in a couple of side trips to york (to watch laura and barry get married) and sardinia (to visit’s piero’s family and eat even more!).


the highlight, as always, was just spending time with old friends. some people made a massive effort and for that i am incredibly grateful. with many, you can pick up where you left off. there’s a feeling that those bonds – no matter how geographically stretched they become – will always be strong. 


we had some truly beautiful moments with friends – a moments glance over a glass of wine; the real excitement you both feel when seeing each other again; and that conversational moment when you hit something deep and realise once again that your exposing yourself, sharing truly something personal and significant with someone who you implicitly trust and who you know who gets why it’s important. 


but the truth is; friendship dynamics do change. some bonds become weaker, the relationship between couples is in a different place from when you last saw them and the energy between groups of friend shifts. at first this can jar, but you have to adjust. 


perhaps the biggest change i noticed was that there was a stronger vibe of ‘we’re in our (early) 30s, some life decisions need to be made soonish’. this is healthy, of course, because the thing with london is that it can fill your life with so much adventure, noise and excitement, that you have to make sure that life’s other gifts don’t slip you by unless you will it.  


leaving london this time, i was sad to think it would be a while before i would see some people again, but i was looking forward to returning to sydney. ahead of me, I saw: a summer of sunshine, time with friends and family, and the building of my life with piero. 


london will always be london: fabulous, exciting, evolving, challenging and the permanent owner of a little bit of my heart.  

(... more pics to come!)

a date with daytime tv

i didn’t work for six months. it was great. i went to the gym, i read the newspaper at my favourite cafes and i explored my new city.

it was also incredibly challenging.

i’m not sure when, but my identity has got mixed up in my employment. i found meeting new people difficult, almost like i had to apologies for not working. i found casual questions by sales assistants ‘do you have a day off?’ almost confronting. and I began to avoid emails and facebook messages from good friends who asked ‘are you working yet?’.

it’s an odd process to go through (even when it’s your choice). and I’d like to think it made me more sensitive to people who aren't working.

smelling the roses (and staring at the bridge)

piero lives in the present. i don’t.

i live in the tomorrow.

lots of ‘happiness’ gurus say living in the present is one of the best strategies to ensuring you are happy. and i think i agree.

living in the tomorrow has its advantages though. when you have 4 friends crashing at your place, you think about practical things like linen, towels and toilet paper. but even typing that sentence re-enforced the gurus theory: towels, linen and toilet paper don’t equal happiness.

at doyle’s fish and chips (watson bay), we had a magnificent view of sydney harbour,  the city skyline and the bridge. it was powerful. it was stunning. i was blessed to own it there and then. i could of sat and stared and it for ages but... part of me wanted to move on. to go and do the next thing. wanting to experience new things isn’t bad – it's a trait i rarely see in dull people – but not appreciating what you’ve got is.

fortunately, despite my internal discomfort of sitting and staring at the beauty for a long time, one of my dining companions asked to stay longer. they too enjoy experiencing the new, but they were wise enough to know the value of living in the present.