That’s me off to Oz, flogstars. At time of scheduled publication, Chloe and I will be kicking back in the business lounge at the Glasgow International Airport, supping down free cocktails and eating all the free cheese and chocolate like the high-rollers we are.
See you again in January. Maybe I’ll flog while I’m away, maybe I won’t.
Don’t miss me too much 🙂
A very good tune for the beginner air-drummer. Enjoy! And seriously, don’t you forget about me.
xX
Admire my Santa-claws.
I accidentally scratched the cashier at the supermarket on the way home
After tomorrow, I’ve got three weeks off from my Qwik-e-Mart job, so thought I’d get my bitch slappers buffed and primed for the festive season down under. Anyone who has a job that involves doing stuff or touching things knows that it can leave one’s mitts looking less than glamorous.
before
I kind of wish I’d packed before getting my nails done. Also typing this is really hard.
Speaking of packing, I’m starting to think about panicking about it. I just feel… so organised. In that peaceful way you do when you find yourself with an unexpected free day, before realising at 5pm you’ve missed a christening or something. (Just kidding, friends with kids. I might have drunk a 12-pack at a baby shower once but I’ve never missed a christening).
deer me
I have gifts for the immediate family under control, all my laundry is done… apart from the ongoing problem of not knowing what to actually wear in forty degree heat, I’ve done everything I can. Super organised.
Not really sure what/how much makeup to bring either. Just the basics? LOL. I’ve got the tiger facepaint in already, and made a shortlist of the top five foundations. I reorganised my makeup the other day actually and geez I’ve got a lot. A collection spanning many many years.
Chloe sometimes looks at me rummaging through it all and says “don’t pretend you know what you’re looking for in there” – referring in particular to a massive glass salad bowl I have, filled with identical MAC lipsticks in their beautiful black matte tubes. But I do know them all, I do. Their names, their finishes, their colours. Don’t worry, I’m not about to call a bunch of lipsticks ‘my babies’ or anything vom-worthy like that… but my love is real.
Anyway I really had better make a start on this packing business. Here is a CD I won’t be listening to while I do it:
As you can see I really made an effort to get into the spirit of things, but if I still hate carols even when they’re sung by the greats of classic rock and metal, then it’s just not going to happen.
Hope your pre-festivus run up is fun and stress-free etc. Don’t forget to call someone you haven’t spoken to in a while and give some money to homeless charity too, just so it’s not all about unimportant things like whether the tinsel clashes with the baubles or whatever.
Here’s The Darkness with Christmas Time (Don’t Let The Bells End), because this one’s not so bad.
I did a makeup, y’all. Three makeups actually, but so far I only have photos of two.
This was for hair magician Stephen Doran of Vidal Sassoon in Prince’s Square (Glasgow).
Photographs by Bryce Lowrie.
Models are Yasmin Coll and Darnell Starks Jr.
Check their foxiness:
It was loads of fun working with all of them 🙂
Speaking of having amazing hair and being extraordinarily attractive, here are sexy noo yoikas Station with their bangin’ tune Everything. Seriously, I feel sorry for you if you don’t click on the music clips I embed to pleasure each and every one of you aurally. You’d be missing out.
This song is one of a very small handful that I can always rely on to put me in a good mood, no matter what. It was also my go-to ‘sound check’ track for whenever I moved the speakers 1mm in any direction at the backpackers, and would need to put something on at the highest volume just to make sure they were working OK.
So press play, and enjoy the next 4:40 of your life, kids. You’re welcome.
this silicone practice finger for nail art.
um.
That is all.
No song either. Just kidding, here’s Bonj.
Or, a love letter to Irish makeup artist Maria Malone. (www.instagram.com/mariamalone1122 – twitter @mersartmakeup)
Bob Marley
Robert DeNiro
Elvis
Jack Nicholson
Marlon Brando
HELL’S BELLS, that is some amazing face painting right there. Mad skillz, Maria (I really hope that is your name, I just kind of assumed from your Instagram name…) – I want to be like you when I grow up *Admiration and disbelief face*
Keep practicing, Imo. One day, grasshopper.
In other news, I’m in love.
no, not with myself. OK, maybe I am, a little bit.
![DSC_0004[1]](https://imogenmaxwell.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/dsc_00041.jpg)
This guy! My new gadget, my first DSLR. Scream! Regular readers will be aware that I have a pretty jizz-worthy collection of photographic hardware… all of it analogue, except my Samsung smartphone and the new Nikon.
Where the love affair with 35mm film photography got serious; the first camera I owned that wasn’t disposable. My NIkon FG, a gift from my parents on my 19th birthday. Sexual 70s strap came along years later, pilfered from my Olympus OM10
![DSC_0011[1]](https://imogenmaxwell.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/dsc_00111.jpg)
THE Fisheye. Watermelon print, cos that’s how we roll here at imogenmaxwell.com
get your own (but not watermelon, stop copying me, also they were limited edition and they don’t sell them any more, HA) from Urban Outfitters in the UK, or http://www.lomography.com for all you international flogstars
And Dad, if you’re reading this and cross-checking Amazon for roughly how much I spunked on this, can I just say most of my student loan went on clearing my overdraft and credit card, and paying my rent right up until March. And I NEEEEEEEDED it, amazing photos for my professional portfolio aren’t going to take themselves! 😉
You might think I’m about to sign off with Girls On Film, but I have an irrational hate for Duran Duran. I would elaborate if I could, but I really can’t explain it. So instead, not photography related, also not my usual 80s hair/glam metal crapfest, but glorious nonetheless. Here are the Troggs, With A Girl Like You, cos it’s my favourite love song today.
Sweet dreams, lovers Xx
I must admit I’m almost as out of touch as Tony Abbott… when it comes to matters of what to wear ‘down there’. In Australia, I mean.
Big chunks of the conversations I have on a daily basis centre around my Australianism. Obviously, once people tell me I’m tall and I reply with “yes I know”, the cat’s out of the bag – they’ve heard my accent. They then tell me they have a friend or relative who emigrated to Australia, can’t remember the name of the place, something creek? Something hills? Something flat? Near Perth, or Melbourne. Are Perth and Melbourne near each other? …and look at me expectantly. Sometimes, people just recite lists of well-known Australian people and things to me.
“Vegemite! Cathy Freeman! Sydney! Koalas!”
You’ll have noticed, cos you’re clever like that, that people like to TELL me things about Australia, not ask me. Which is fine, whatever. What I really need right now, though, is for a personal stylist to materialise and tell me something about Australia that I’m dying to know – what to take with me for my holiday.
You see, in less than two weeks, Chloe and I fly back to Australia for Christmas.
This marks the first time in FOUR YEARS that I’ll be in the same place at the same time as both of my sisters.
And the first time in 4 years that our family – Mum, Dad, us 3 girls – have been all together, although there was no suitable cat GIF for that.
Courtest of awkwardfamilyphotos.com (not my actual family)
Anyway. I have lived in Scotland for close to six years now. In that time, I haven’t aged a day obviously, but I’ve gone blonde, lost three stone, gained one back, and completely forgotten what to wear in temperatures above 15 degree celcius.
Scotland is cold. Even in Scottish summertime, the water that comes out of the cold tap… is cold. It’s rare for me to be bare-armed… ever. I can actually tell you the last time I wore something sleeveless, I felt so naked. I remember it vividly. It was when Chloe and I were in London for the David Bowie Is exhibition at the V&A.
let’s GIF just quickly
the abominable snowman
It was hot that week in London; it actually soared to 34 degrees one of the days we were there. And boy did I feel it.
So forgive me, Australia, for returning to your golden shores looking every inch the Brit abroad, ill equipped to deal with the heat, paler than a fish belly. And forgive me, Scotland, my home away from home. I love you, I do, but I’m really looking forward to thawing out for a couple of weeks! Rest assured, all of you – whatever I end up wearing (or not wearing, waaaaaaaa-heeeeey) down under, I’ll be very vocal about how effing hot it is.
In terms of partaking in the UK’s treasured national pass time of complaining about the weather, I’ve gone native.
digital imologue 