Fashion and shopping, Melbourne style

___________________________

Unless otherwise indicated, all photographs and artworks on this website are copyright
of So Not A Princess and must not be reproduced without permission.


Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

___________________________

Powered by Squarespace

Entries in men (14)

Saturday
Oct092010

Summer School

Click image for larger version

Aussie-boy

On beautiful sunny days like this in Melbourne, you can wander down to the beachfront and find your typical Aussie male specimen sporting about. On the hottest days he is most often seen in casual attire: a tank top, knee-length shorts and casual walking shoes (most often Havaiana thongs; occasionally runners). He is particularly noted for his laidback attitude towards life and liberal notions on the proper quantity of beer to be consumed on summer days. Very often he is to be found with his wrist attached to a surf- or body-board. When water sports pall, he amuses himself with a leisurely game of cricket on the beach. If heat or weariness overwhelms him, he may retire to his towel to sunbathe, during which time he will also enjoy the gentlemanly sport of birdwatching.

Eurogigolo

The Eurogigolo, on the other hand, is extremely concerned with image: firstly, his own; and secondly of any female who is lucky enough to be the object of his attention. It is of the utmost importance that his garments are eye-catching (like the plumage of the male peacock), his jewellery flashy, his hair rigorously under control and not subject to the waywardness of the wind, and his tan so dark thus ensuring by simple contrast his teeth are startling in their blinding whiteness. His native habitat is the Riviera, or the Greek Islands, where he likes to float in the shallows whilst he watches scantily clad young women saunter past. He does not play sport.

On very rare occasions, both personas may be embodied in a single man. Above, you will see an illustrated example with key identifiers that will help you ascertain the exact nature of the male under observation. Good luck!

Twice thanks to Volodya!

Friday
Dec182009

BTS: The Making of Prince Charmless

Click on image to open larger version.When I first opened negotiations with Kyle Steele to be my Prince Charming, he didn’t think for too long before he agreed. A moment later he asked suspiciously, “You’re not going to shrink me or anything?” referring to Snow White Part 1.

I laughed. “Prince Charming is definitely not a dwarf!”

Presently, Kyle grew thoughtful, and fearful that he might renege, I asked him what was on his mind. “I’m just trying to think what I could wear,” he murmured absently.

I knew what I wanted him to wear: the puffy-sleeved shirt of Seinfeld fame. I had my doubts as to whether I could find one though.

It was he who, after several fruitless excursions to op-shops, hit on the idea of a bogan Prince Charmless, and I immediately fell in love with the concept. Of course my sassy Snow White would not fall for a stock-standard Prince in a silk shirt!

I organised to borrow a sword from our taekwondo instructor Ivan; Kyle picked it up the night before, bundling it up carefully in a pashmina in case he had a run-in with a policeman on the street. His supplier of flannelette shirts unfortunately did not come through for him, so on the day of the shoot, Kyle made a detour to a local department store where he bought two flannies for the princely sum of $6 each.

… the actual shoot was a long series of gags and bloopers interspersed with a small number of fluke good shots

We soon found out why they were so cheap. “I think they’re made for really fat, short people,” Kyle grinned as he modelled the extra large one for me. The sleeves were about 20cm too short and the body could almost have held two of him. When he buckled on his studded belt however, it was perfect. The last touch was a pack of Winnie Blues, with one cigarette tucked behind his ear.

If putting Kyle’s costume together was not hilarious enough, the actual shoot was a long series of gags and bloopers interspersed with a small number of fluke good shots.

The first time he picked me up we heard a loud clunk. “What was that?” I asked, mystified.

“The sword fell out of my belt,” Kyle answered wryly.

“Oops, better not tell Ivan that.”

Then the camera decided to play up, the setting for the remote shutter control flicking off whenever we took too long to get into position; the battery of the remote was discovered to be waning (I had no replacement, and Kyle desperately pulled apart his car keyfob only to find the battery was the wrong voltage); I deplored the camera angle for showing too much of my rear (“It’s too low,” Kyle pointed out helpfully). But Kyle nobly bore it all, and in fact became quite good at lifting me and gently lowering me to the floor in a princely fashion to deal with these emergencies – if it was an Olympic sport I’m sure we would be champions.

By the time we attempted one fireman’s lift (painful for us both) we were so in character each of the five shots fired off turned out to be perfect.

I hope you enjoy this little peek behind the screens!

Read the original post here. Please note the page has a Flash component and is best viewed through Firefox or Safari.

Monday
Nov302009

Snow White Meets Prince Charmless

“Who are you?” Snow White asked as she coughed up remnants of poisoned apple.

“The Prince.”

“Oh! Prince Charming?”

“I don’t know any Prince Charming. I’m Prince Charmless.”

“I can see that,” Snow White’s lip curled delicately as she looked him up and down. His garments were unstylish to say the least.
She eyed the plaid shirt with suspicion, “Are you sure you’re not a woodsman?”

Snow White’s lip curled delicately as she looked him up and down.

“Does this look like an axe?” Prince Charmless brandished his sword, and Snow White pretended to cower.

The meaning of her derisive glance was not lost on the Prince. “That’s gratitude for you!” he exclaimed indignantly. “Who was
it that accepted a poisoned apple from a very unattractive old lady, eh?”

Crossing her arms defiantly on her bosom, Snow White lifted her nose in the air and looked away. Such pretension ought to be depressed immediately.

“Do you want to be rescued, or not?”

“Hmph!”

Taking that as an affirmative, Prince Charmless unceremoniously lifted her into his arms, trampling on the rose bushes blooming all over Snow White’s glass coffin as he did so.

“There’s nothing wrong with my legs,” Snow White remarked waspishly.

“Tsk-tsk! … You are so not
a princess, either.”

“Tsk-tsk!” Prince Charmless reproved her ungracious manners.
“You are so not a princess, either.” With that pithy observation, Prince Charmless whisked her off to his hotted-up yellow
Torana SLX.

Snow White wasn’t about to let him have the last word. “The first thing we are going to do when we get to the palace is find you
a stylist.”

The Torana burst into six-cylindered life, and off they drove into the sunset, arguing all the way.

Check out the All Dressed-Up gallery for still versions of the slideshow above, and one more in the Outtakes & Extras gallery. Also coming up in the next week or two is a “Making Of” post, so come back for more!

*Eeek! If you are viewing this page and see only a blank white square at the top, you may be using Internet Explorer. Please try viewing through Firefox or Safari. So sorry; currently seeking technical advice to remedy this problem…

Sunday
Aug022009

Snow White – the true story

Annoying little men. Look at them. They all look the same, even after I made them shave off their beards. Just as well they all have their stupid little idiosyncrasies, or I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.

You’d think at least one of them would be able to cook though. I mean, what did they do before I got here? Don’t they know I used to be a PRINCESS? Look at Doc – on his soapbox as usual. If he doesn’t shut up soon I’m going to roundhouse him to the head. And I won’t even have to lift my leg that high.

Don’t they know I used to be
a PRINCESS?

How did I wind up here riding herd on seven midgets? And how am I going to get away? If the Queen wasn’t so vain, I’d be back at the castle, with seven little people looking after my needs.

And I’m supposed to hang out here in the backwoods, waiting for my prince to come? How long will that take? Forget that! I’m going to have to come to my own rescue!

Thanks to Volodya for having the bravery to agree to extensive multiplication and Photoshopping.

Page 1 2 3