Remember when I used to write recaps of The Real Housewives of Melbourne?
Arena TV would send me advanced copies of the show and I’d devote a solid three hours of my life every Saturday afternoon to recapping the following night’s episode.
They were fun to write and things definitely hit a high point when my imaginary mentor, Chyka, started reading them. But after two years of dedicating hours to watching grown women yell obscenities at each other while drapped in faux fur, I was hooked out.
Call me, Chyka.
I stopped writing the recaps and invested my spare time to slightly more important tasks every Saturday afternoon.
I can’t really remember what those tasks were, but if I had to guess, scrolling mindlessly through instagram, binge watching The Crown and inhaling Tim Tams are strong possibilities.
Fast forward to 2018 and I became somewhat addicted to MAFS – that’s Married At First Sight for anyone reading who might not own a tv.
Then I discovered James Weir’s hilarious MAFS recaps – give him a google if you haven’t read his work. You won’t be sorry! – and my love for all things recap related returned.
But recapping a tv show is a bit 2016. At least around here it is.
So what does a blogger do who has found her love for writing ridiculous nonsense again but doesn’t want to commit to a tv series?
She recaps her life, that’s what!
And weirdly starts writing in the third person. That will have to stop.
Please welcome a new series to the blog, Kirsten and co recaps.
How long it will last is anyone’s guess. What it will actually recap is also a mystery. But hopefully these recaps will give you a bit of a laugh.
Because sometimes, laughter really is the best medicine x
Kirsten and co recaps: shopping at Westfield Garden City
AKA Shopping is DEFINITELY a sport
Last week my daughter and nine of her friends organised to catch up at our not so local Westfield. It’s school holidays, so the Work/Uber Mum juggle is real.
Getting from our place to Westfield Garden City takes about 40 minutes on a good traffic day. The kids were meeting for four hours, so there wasn’t really a lot of point in doing the drop off, drive home, turn around, drive back and pick up routine.
It’s also been a long time since I’ve done cardio of any kind, so basically the shopping stars were aligning.
After approximately 2.5 minutes of thinking and one Facebook post asking for hardcore enabling much deliberation, I decided the best approach was to take Friday afternoon off work.
I mean driving Soph to the mall, staying there and doing a bit of retail research while she hung out with her friends really did seem like the only logical solution, don’t you think?
I threw on an outfit that would be suitable for a few hours of shopping based cardio and off we went!
Ellis and Dewey Top and Pants – both size M – from Neon Laundry.
My first stop was Kikki K, where I spent far too much time deciding if I should ‘own my story’ or ‘get more sleep’.
I decided that I had the sleep thing covered and walked out with a book of quotes that I’ll probably never open.
I then wandered around for a bit while thinking borderline old lady thoughts
- “What is with that music? Do we really need it at ear bleeding level?”
- “Seriously slow walkers, can you not have your own lane already?”
and when old mate in the pop up shop that’s not actually a pop up shop because it’s always there, tried to thrust a sample of something in my hand while shouting “Can I ask you a question?” I was so tempted to reply, “I’m fairly sure you just did!”
But instead I replied with a polite, “No thanks” and kept walking.
Straight into Zara, where the prices are low and the help yourself tactics are obviously sky-high.
Upon entering the change room via a not so VIP roped off situation, I was greeted by a receptionist standing at a bar. It was quite the set up, let me tell you.
The receptionist asked me how many items I was carrying – six – handed me a tag for those items and asked if I was carrying a bag today.
Um yes, I was. Thanks for asking.
She pointed to a white thing attached to the side of her bar/desk/check in facility and instructed me to swipe.
Confused as to whether I was entering a change room or a maximum security prison for affordably dressed ladies, I swiped my bag and waited for further instructions.
I was told it was now time to board the plane to “go ahead” and so down the aisle I walked.
Once I was in my seat the safety demo had begun in a change room, I began my retail research.
Now you might think that rocking up to a change room with a handful of items and snapping a few photos isn’t research. Perhaps you’re thinking that it actually sounds like a lot of fun and something that you would like to do on a regular basis.
Obviously you are correct. It IS fun, but it’s also a lot of hard work.
I mean for a start you’re trapped in a tiny cubicle and you have to origami your way in and out of various items while trapped in that cubicle. You’re basically a modern-day Houdini.
Also, taking photos of yourself in a change room is STRESSFUL.
The lighting is never good and you have to remember to turn your phone onto silent so no one else knows you’re snapping pics of yourself.
On a stress scale of 1 – FFS WHY AM I DOING THIS? It’s right up there.
Bought this one. But now that I’m looking at it, it’s giving me major pirate sleeve vibes.
Is it a shirt or a dress? I guess we’ll never know.
It’s like Zara’s reading my mind.
When undertaking any sort of cardio, it’s vital to keep hydration levels up. So my next stop was a coffee shop. I also ordered a macaron – raspberry flavoured for those who like to know all the details – and in what can only be described as a major error, I forgot to take a photo of it.
I KNOW. I mean if you didn’t Instagram your coffee with sugar hit chaser, did it even happen?
After sipping on a coffee while thinking about how much my right hip was hurting from all the walking I’d done that afternoon and inhaling the macaron, I headed to Myer.
I desperately need a new pair of black shoes. Not boots, but not summer sandals.
I’ve been looking for a pair for ages with no luck – kind of like Jarrod and his quest for love on any reality tv show. It’s hard work and tbh, I’m a bit over it.
But Myer was having a sale, so my hopes were high. I tried a few pairs on, but couldn’t find anything I liked.
Knowing exactly how Jarrod must be feeling – although slightly disappointed that I wasn’t on a tropical island where the only resort facility is a bar – I had one last crack at finding my perfect match.
Bar’s open. Please leave your dignity shoes at the door. Thanks. Image Source
I circled the sale tables several times but they were filled with unattractive summer stock that nobody wanted.
But then something caught my eye. Something gold and shiny and OMG is it also fluffy?
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the Metallic Slipper Loafer Hybrid….
I’ve decided to call it a Sloafer. Half Slipper, Half Loafer.
Now as someone who suffers from really cold feet, even in the warmth of summer, I was VERY impressed with the design of the Sloafer situation.
I mean it’s not every day you come across a shoe that features a faux fur trim that continues all the way inside the half loafer shoe.
And if that metallic gold doesn’t scream 2018 Commonwealth Games medalist, I don’t know what does.
Well ok, an actual gold medal might, but you get my drift.
But sadly they’re not black and I’m not entirely convinced I could get away with wearing a pair of shoes that could possibly look like I’ve got a small rodent attached to the bottom of my foot.
But that’s the fun thing about fashion and style. It’s completely individual. One person’s “that’s a hard no” is another persons “OMG I need that in my life!”
So I left the gold sloafers on the shelf for someone else to love, checked the time and realised my time shopping at Westfield Garden City was over.
Leave a Reply