Pick 'N Mix with Glam Street Six

It’s a Saturday afternoon and you’re not at work or school...it’s time to live life!

Did you want to shop for that must-have piece? Or involve yourself
...and talent-up? Or maybe just kick-back and enjoy the moment? If you
want to do everything, but have limited time, don’t despair. Here at Glam Street, we give you that, and more.

We’ve brought everything that’s needed to keep you in Vogue within one vibrant space.

Glam Street is exploding with contemporary wear, distressed jeans,
outrageous bags and even trendy trimmings.

From photography to fitness, styling to dance, we’ve lined up loads of exciting free workshops to unleash your Geisha. And if you’re into the
whole Bohemian lifestyle, we’ve got food off the grill and icy-cold drinks, plus a ton of people for you to see and be seen with.

Icing on the cake, we’re flooded with freebies and lucky draw prizes!
So come RSVP with us as soon as possible to receive updates on all our free workshops and activities happening on the day.

You’ve heard of us, you’ve enjoyed us. Let’s do it again!

What? Glam Street Six

When? Saturday, 2 April 2011

Where? Lot 10 Rooftop and Teeq Brasserie

Why? Style-up, Talent-up and Bohemian-up, that’s why

The Power of Mothers

As the years go by, mummy becomes less important to your daily life. You no longer need to cuddle her or hear her voice before you close up for the day. In fact, the less you hear from her on a yearly basis, the better.

It doesn't help too when all she does is nag - "have you made that application", "have you gotten your bonus", "you should be not be eating this much", and the list goes on. Plus, she is no longer fun. She doesn't wear the hippest clothes, she's embarrassing in front of your friends, and God help me if I ever bring her to yoga class. With her age, I do not trust her grasp on elasticity - its possible that she may let one rip during a stretch!

And so we go about our lives, meeting new people, creating a whole different us and taking risks. But when shit hits the fan, its mummy that is best. Nothing beats finally telling her your maze of issues that just spin webs in your head.

She sees things clearly. She knows you. She knows what you can and cannot do. She tells you. And when she says it, you believe it.

For me, my mum was the most important person in the world. I would call her numerous times during the day to chat - of course she did not have the time, she was working. And then I became a teenager, and the tables turned, she made the calls and I did not have the time, I was flirting. And then I grew up some more and became cool, I went to university, got myself a hip hop boyfriend. I didn't need to check in with her.

And then I got dumped. And all it took was one phone call for mummy to get on the next flight out to see me. She put up with my teary face and runny nose, tried to wrestle the phone from my hands as I called and grovelled with the ex and tried even to make more friends for me at uni, so that I wouldn't be all that sad. Of course I yelled at her. She's not cool, she's not supposed to show herself.

I got better, I graduated and landed a job and I found myself a new boyfriend. Mummy was not needed. In fact, the more she was not around the house, the better. I could sneak about doing tricks. In fact, I avoided her like the plague. And then I got dumped again.

It was mummy to the rescue. This time, it was 6 months of molly-coddling and mummy-on-call. She would have to stop tennis mid-game if I called crying, sleep over at my new apartment if I was remotely bored, dish out shopping money to stop the tears. Mummy was Room Service. Mummy was ATM.

I'm married now. I'm happy, and as usual, mummy is not required. And it isn't until right this very moment, as I sit down and write this, that I realize, you know what? Mummy really is best.

The interesting thing is, I meant to write about the power of mothers in general, the strength in that woman who breastfed her baby while trapped and badly bleeding under debris and about how women take upon themselves the huge decision to migrate for the betterment of a child that hasn't even formed in the belly.

But nothing of that sort materialized here. As I wrote, the only thing I could think about as I thought about the power of mothers, was my own.

The New Toy

A little to the right, an extra squeeze to the center and finally, a forceful collaboration of finger tips.

In that instant, a volcano of stale-smelling, yellow liquid erupted. The fierce red pimple destined to ruin my life has finally been expelled, leaving behind a fierce crater. I smile nonetheless, a crater I can deal with. 

Well, nothing a little dab of The Body Shop’s Tea Tree Oil can’t handle. 

With that, I breathe a sigh of relief for the successful mining escapade. Now all I had to do was scrape the slimy mess off this mirror hanging atop my bathroom counter. I swivel my head around, and scan the blue tiled floor for some sort of cleaning tool. As I survey the war zone, I find myself not at all appalled to be greeted with my wet towels carelessly strewn across and my shampoo bottles laden with yesteryear’s grime. 

Oh well! I will just have to use my shirt then.

By the way, I may be messy, but I am beautiful. I have lovely eyes, beautiful skin, an alluringly shaped mouth and sexy cheekbones. Come to think of it, all the cheeks I own are sexy! God planted me here as a gift for the y-chromosomed species. I am a fairy. A dozen white stallions riding through Heaven cannot put a blemish to me. I am gorgeous.

In fact, I shall take a satisfying look into that mirror again…

So I peer hard at my reflection and smile…eyes check! Cheeks check! With just one final thing to strike off, I slowly turn to check my other cheeks. Unfortunately, that was my moment of truth. My bubble of self-adoration popped as quickly as it had come. My confidence dissipated into thin air as my vision jarred with the prickly porcupine needles that poked out of my arms and…my legs!

Reality set in.

I am a hairy monster, a sorry excuse for a human who had missed out on Darwin’s evolution. My heart palpitates at the speed of a raging train, my fingers tremble and little beads of sweat break out on my forehead. What am I going to do?

How could I never have noticed such despicable cactus-like growth?

Ok, I need to calm down before I hyperventilate and pass out. Think beautiful I tell myself. Delude yourself again and search that brain of yours for something pleasant. And so, searching desperately through my brain, I find a yellow folder containing heart-warming memories. 

Yes, I will start here.
 
My heart explodes like fireworks on New Year’s when I recall last Valentines. I had received 17 cards from ‘Secret Admirers’ declaring their love for me, 11 bouquets of flowers and 6 boxes of chocolate-hearts. I smile happily.

But then the smile vanishes as the fine print of the memory comes to light. 

Oh yeah! I had sent them all to myself. That’s right, a week before the stressful event I had skipped first to the gift store to write out the biggest cards they had, skipped to the florists and ordered the deepest red roses and skipped some more until I hit the Ferrero Rocher store.

My organ palpitates again, the sweats break out again.

Where was I? Right, gorilla! Man, I have to do something. I have to correct God’s error! I have to be beautiful! Racking my brains, forcing every neuron to send electric signals, I came up with a brilliant plan. Hairs catch on fire right? Yes, that is what I will do. I will set myself alight to burn these hairs right off the planet. I will use perfume. I will douse myself with Ferragamo’s best, run downstairs to the kitchen to fetch some matches and be done with the monstrosity.

Now, laughing like a hyena I pour the entire contents of In Contro over my hands and legs.

Smelling like berries, I run at top speed out of the bathroom and into my room, fling the door open with a force and was just about to descend the stairs, when voila, my right heel catches on something soft and squishy. My heel scuffs and raises itself at a 45 degree twisted angle. In slow-motion, I fall to the floor.

I see my life flash before me.

I hit the ground bum first, palms next and coconut last. I open my eyes, note that I have somehow landed in between the legs of a chair, pinch my left hand and realise that I am alive. Hairy, but alive. 

But wait, what is that shiny object I see lying to my left?

I roll my self over and reach out to grab it for a closer look. I am taken aback by its features! In all its great splendour, body carved like a woman’s, gentle rippling rubber gliding down both sides of its torso and sharp blades framed with strips of aloe vera, I stare in wonder at the greatest invention in the world. The one that will alleviate me from my worldly troubles and into the gates of the elven world.

I have found my new toy, the answer to my monstrosity.

I no longer need to set myself on fire. I have found the best thing in the world.

I have found the Gillette Sensor for Women! 

Thank God for that banana peel…

My Choice, My Bane

I'm sitting at my desk trying to focus on work. However, my mind keeps flitting away to the issue that really is bugging me. I hate being given the choice. I hate having to make a choice. I hate choices, period.

Its like this really.

Imagine yourself walking in the woods, surrounded by tall trees and browning leaves below your feet. For now, you're very sure where you are. You aren't lost. But up ahead, the road forks.

Where do you go now?

Suddenly, you have a decision to make. What do you want to see? What lies ahead? What do you know of the uncertain? What if I take the road that leads to the left? Would I be pleased? Would I enjoy the journey? And the questions keep building. These questions also exist for the road that leads to the right.

You're in turmoil now.

You see that both roads have been taken, there are footsteps that prove that. Some kind soul has even retraced their trip and left you some notes. I bend over and pick up a piece. It says "it's lovely here", "its better than the one on the right". I smile, my decision made.

Then i look just that little bit to the right. There are notes there too. I repeat what I just did. I bend over and pick up a piece. It says exactly the same things as the note to the left fork. Only this time it says great things about the road to the right.

I am back to where I am.

Unsettled, confused and wishing I could just peep into a crystal ball to know how things will pan out. I lower myself onto the ground, deflated. I don't know where else to seek an answer. I look above and I ask for a sign. Nothing comes. I wait some more, not even a droplet falls.

I don't know what to do.