Tuesday, 4 June 2013
It has been two years that I have lived on the farm full-time and 3 and a half years since my partner bought it. Lately it feels as though the city has been all but beaten out of me.
I bought a Toyota Hilux SR5 4X4 Diesel last week. Black, side steps, nudge bar, tow bar and trailer wire harness. Quietly it is hot and I love it, but I gave up my BMW and have now fully committed to the practicality of country motoring. No more soft push-open cup holders. You gotta put in some work and pull.
Most days I find myself wearing checked shirts (albeit by Isabel Marant) and Ugg boots (Stella McCartney circa F/W 2010) so I am glad that Grunge is back as sometimes I feel like I am slipping when it comes to my high fashion roots. My designer wardrobe and stilettos are wasted on a trip to the local vegetable stand. I still make at least two Paris Hilton outfit changes a day but it is usually because I have dirt or chicken shit on me from when the dog has jumped up.
Days go by when I have not left the island. I have not seen another person or car other than my partner and our son (and my new Hilux). We went out with friends in Sydney a couple of weeks ago and my partner had to drag me home at 3am. I could have kept going until at least the sun came up and the ugly lights were on. I used to be the first to leave a party, happy to be a bit elusive. Now I barely get off our property, let alone into the city, I am a die hard trash bag. When friends and family come for a weekend or lunch, I am that lush who drinks and talks a lot and feels like I have used them as therapy as I don't get enough human contact. A homemade Dirty Martini while I am cooking our son dinner feels like a 10 course degustation at Le Maurice in Paris or a Cosmopolitan at Bulgari Hotel Milan. That was then, this is now.
If dirty feet are the sign of a happy heart mine are black as soot - but what the hell happened to me?