Books, Bags & In Betweens: High Fashion, Lowly fakes, and Harold Carlton’s Heaven, Hell & Mademoiselle

‘Please don’t cry, Monique, they say “identical models” but I doubt they will be,’ Chanel explained. ‘The workmanship will be shoddy, the fabrics poor quality. No one can copy the essential qualities of a Chanel.’

And this was the sentence that cemented my decision to love Harold Carlton’s latest book, Heaven, Hell & Mademoiselle (Orion, $32.99). You see, not long ago, I posted on my Facebook status that I was sick of Facebook allowing fake brands to advertise their wares on the site: not only was every fake I encountered tacky and thus not an accurate representation of the designer and the luxury that the house purported, but I couldn’t help but think that the obvious market for these fakes was promoting a lower culture that destroyed the appeal of fashion as an art, and that funded those nasties we want eradicated from the world (there is significant research that shows that fake markets fund terrorist training and groups, among other things).

As someone who has celebrated some of her bigger life milestones with the purchase of a designer good (if only as an investment piece that transformed my otherwise chain store wardrobe, for the use of a family heirloom and as testament to my love of a luxury that goes the distance), and who loves the appeal of advertisements for luxury brands and the chic factor they bring to my inspiration wall, I was able to really resonate with the sentence in Carlton’s book, which gave me some comfort in the face of my frustrations. Not because I had saved to celebrate my milestones with a material object (we all have our weaknesses), but because I would hate for my creative work to be so blatantly copied in a manner that denounced its value. High fashion and couture is art, so where is its copyright and why are we so quick to embrace the lows of it? Surely we know when we’re not in the presence of the real thing, so why buy into it? (I was given a fake Gucci wallet when I was in year 8. I was embarrassed, even at that age, to be carrying it out around).

I guess what I am trying to say is that creative licence is a lot more than money and style. It’s someone’s love and work stamped on something that requires effort and commitment (most designer bags, at least in the league of Hermes & Chanel, are hand stitched, and in the case of Hermes, made by one person), and the fact that there are some people profiting (albeit in a tacky way) from ripping this work and creative licence off.

The fact that I own a few real designer bags makes me very conscious of the fakes, and I am often quite smug (naughty!) at the fact that I can tell what’s real and what’s not. maybe it’s because I hate liars, and maybe it’s because I worked just as hard to save up for my goods that it irks me to see them paraded around at market stalls with no concern for their true value as a product. Then again, this is the difference in the way that people see fashion: whether as a statement or just as clothes, shoes and accessories that you scope out when getting dressed everyday.

The former are the type you’ll read about in Harold Carlton’s book, and maybe through his tales you’ll be able to see just how much fashion can really mean.

When I picked up the book and read its blurb, I thought that I would hate it and that it would bore me, but I was more than plesantly surprised. Perhaps because I had known little of the author at the time (his last book, Labels, was published in 1988), and I was overcome with a scepticism about how this man, whom I purported to be a fashion journalist, would capture the time, place and exuberance of 1960′s Paris with the might required for a book on the grand dame of fashion: Coco Chanel herself.

But Harold Carlton (whom I discovered actually worked as an assistant designer for two Parisian maisons de couture, and was a fashion illustrator for a number of high profile publications in New York & London) has done a maginificent job, not necessarily for capturing the essence of 1960′s Paris (the storyline itself would have worked no matter the time or setting, and to me, was thus rendered irrelevant to the appeal of the whole book), but for his great story telling, and particularly in his ability to weave together four very different characters, all essentially on the same mission: to find love and work in fashion in Paris couture.

The year that sets the tale is 1968, and four young fashion hopefuls have arrived in the city of love, dreaming to make their way to the top in the competitive and often damning Parisian fashion scene. They have all come from different, often fraught, backgrounds or recent events, and are burdened with both their past and their quest for making something of themselves in the future.

And, lest this girly scenario supposedly lend us the wrong idea that this is a somehow girls-only book, they are not all women: and the men play as much a part in the novel as their female counterparts. Monique’s chance encounter with Mademoiselle herself sets the stage for her successes, and her undeniable natural talent as a seamstress, sees her plucked from the workrooms to a place where she can command a lot more than she’s ever been used to: but will she let an adulterous man and her little relationship know-how affect her career?

Christopher on the hand, is not as devoted to Chanel as Monique: the boy just wants a shot as a desginer in the couture houses. Clawing his way to the top is one thing where fashion is concerned, but as he finds himself letting his English sex appeal get the better of him, he wonders about the choices he has made in the search for success.

Samantha is the New Yorker who has had Daddy pave the way for her too long. The only problem is, when she decides she’s going to make it on her own, she fails to realise that her brash attitudes is not exactly what french society is made of.

And then there’s beautiful Sophie, who has had everything she could have ever wanted out of life, except the answer to a question that has paved the way for her burdening insecurities a little too long.

As their lives collide in mash of fashion, society, culture and relationships, and all in a quest for work, they all begin to realise that what they set out to achieve is not necessarily what their happiness is made of.

 

 

Bookshelf: The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner (An Eclipse Novella)

A guest blogger post by Josephine Ayoub*

*My 15 year old sister (and an amazing creative writer with a flair for drama the likes of which I have never seen. And this is not my nepotism talking. Anyway, she didn’t want to do this review, because she doesn’t “do” reviews. But I thought I would let her flex her wordsmith muscles a little by giving her a task that would challenge her).

A new way to look at the world of the vampires…

A new way to look at the Cullens…

A new way to look at Bella Swan…

This novella is a way to look at them…From the eyes of a vampire.

The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner (Atom, $22.99) is the latest title from the mind that brought us the Twilight phenomenon. Any fan of the Twilight Saga, will surely be sucked into the secretive and sinister vampire life of Bree Tanner, a character first seen in the third book of the series, Eclipse. Now see the side of the story that was never seen before: The side of the newborn vampire. Bree Tanner is one of many newborn vampires created by Riley. Feared and strong, Riley leads these newborns, but under the command of someone they only know as ‘she’. But when Bree finds an unexpected friendship in another vampire named Diego, she begins to realize that their creator has many secrets about the vampire world—secrets in which he can’t afford for them to find out. Is she just another pawn in Riley’s tricks and games? Bree and Diego know something is coming—something big.

With no clue of what to do or who to trust, and she finds herself in an ultimatum. She must now pick a side…Before it’s too late!

I loved visualising the story from a new point of view after reading of her in Eclipse. Knowing the secrets that Bree craved to uncover, it was alluring to hear her thoughts and it made me anxious awaiting the moments she found out about the truth.

I would have loved it more to know her story right from the beginning too. I mean, from exactly when she was turned…The story is set about three months after she was turned by Riley, so there is some missing spots. She does however describe memories, giving us a small idea of what it was like and her past… I would’ve liked more of that.

***

Josephine Ayoub is the kid sister of Miss Wordsmith Lane herself, Sarah Ayoub. She’s in year 10 at the local highschool, loves reading, TV dramas, and pasta in white sauce and has a sick mistaken theory that she’s moving in with Sarah when she finally ties to the knot to James. Josie spends far too much time spinning stories, whether she’s telling them in far too lengthy conversations to her siblings, turning them into hit school plays or using them to manipulate and scare her younger cousins when they get out of hand during baby-sitting. For someone who’s concerned about the environment, Josie always forgets her bedroom light on. And, as Sarah would like to add (without Josie’s consent), this extends to the home environment also, where Josie always forgets to pack the laundry and the dishes. The easiest of all chores.

Bookshelf: Harlan Coben, Caught

Guest Post by Liz Goralewski

Caught, by Harlan Coban ($32.99, Orion)

Wendy Tynes is a reporter on a mission: weed out sex offender scum and bring ‘em down. When she comes across supposed paedophile Dan Mercer, her job becomes a lot more complicated and involved. The evidence against him isn’t as rock-solid as she’d like, and the case built against him gets thrown out, and all charges dropped. Add in the disappearance of overachieving teen Haley McWaid, and you’ve got yourself one pickle of a crime. 

Bestselling author Harlan Coben’s latest novel is Caught, a story of revenge, mistakes and life lessons. Before I make any judgements on this, I have to admit that I’m not a big fan of crime/thriller novels (that is to say, I’ve never read this genre before), so I began reading it in a very cautious state of mind. I wasn’t really looking forward to the story at all. But, Coben’s writing style can put ant literary critique at ease. He writes with such clarity of voice and intention, only using the words that are entirely necessary. We’re given the story and the all the details we need to follow it. Apart from that, he puts the right amount of emotion into scenes, not overdoing it to the point of nausea. My favourite way of saying this: no nonsense, no crap, no Selley’s No-More-Gap.  

Readers should be very thankful for this simplified style of story writing. If it were anymore complicated and cluttered, the numerous twists of the plot may have been lost in translation. This story is action-packed, for lack of a better term. Big hooks and revelations aplenty in every chapter, on every page, and with each chapter, the twists get more twisted, and the revelations increase in numbers. In fact, the revelations come right up until the epilogue of the story, the final one coming from an almost-forgotten plot point. Once again, readers should be thankful for the sweet simplicity of the writing. If not for that, I’d probably be too confused to write this review. I’d still be trying to  figure out what happened to who. 

The characters in this story were mostly straightforward. Again, nothing too multifaceted. But, I don’t think Coben knew exactly how to write some of the characters. Being a 40-something writer, he probably has to  go by his observations and what he sees in films and other literature. The teenagers, for example, came out extremely stereotyped. ’Nuf said.

Relationships between some of the characters played a major role in the uncovering of revelations. At the same time, the relationships that weren’t directly linked to the plot had little to no focus on them. Good. Less crap, more relevant story. 

Now, while it may seem that I’ve only praised Coben, I do have one pretty big problem with this book: it almost became a life lesson. At my age, I probably don’t have quite the appreciation of these as I should, but the lesson is so simple (there’s that word again) and preaching, that it does call for some annoyed eye-rolling. Contemplation and lack of confidence in their own choices showed up a lot in the main characters, echoing the need for a life lesson within the book. Cringe. 

Overall, this book is probably perfect for it’s target audience – the middle-aged family people. The themes that are brought up are mostly relevant only to them, and so for an early-20s reader, the novel may come across as admonishing. But, with Harlan Coben’s charmingly smooth writing style, it’s easy to get pulled into the story.

Liz Goralewski is a constant reader, half-time thinker, and writer in between. Currently studying English and History at Sydney University, she hopes one day that her young adult urban fantasy will be published and adored. She loves her husband and her cats more than any number of Reese’s Cups. And that’s saying something.

Bookshelf: Days With My Father

By Phillip Toledano ($29.99, Hachette)

The other day, I was driving along in fiance’s car, when, after a few moments of silence, I blurted out: “I don’t want my father to get old”. Fiance laughed, and it was not exactly the reaction I was looking for.

While I know that ageing is something we cannot avoid (much to our chagrin and contrary to what botox and cosmetic surgey would have us believe), seeing parents age must be a universal difficulty. My father was the hero of my childhood, my brother and I used to associate his weight with strength and were convinced that no harm could ever come to us when he was around, because he was big and strong (a little tubby and way taller than we were) and the kind of man who would stand for no wrong.

Now, I am an adult myself, having grown up and made the realisation that the world is not as pretty as my sheltered childhood had me believe. And that, my father is not always going to be what super heros are made of. At almost 50 years old, I am starting to see his life struggles etched in the lines of his face: staying behind in a poor Lebanese village while his parents and sisters came out here to try and make some money, having his country break out in civil war, which prompted his eldest brother to decide to move to Australia once and for all lest “he die in this country” [Lebanon], and then making a long and tiresome boat journey to Sydney shore only to have said brother die some months later in a bus accident. Working in a dreary factory while he learnt the language, marrying in mother country and then starting a new life with a wife who brought the new migrant thing back into his life again.

Now, he’s a few months shy of 50. Still working hard, five to six days a week (a recent cut down from seven) and still 10 hours a day (a recent cut down from 12). Grey hair, old hands, a difficult life behind him so his kids could have it better. His father was the same.

My grandfather died late last year, after a fifteen year battle with dementia that left him, in the end, somewhat like a vegetable. When I was little, I followed him around while he told me stories of the fox that hunted down all the chickens in the village. Sometimes, when he’d sit down to write verses of Lebanese poetry, I’d sit alongside him, writing and drawing my own musings on his sheets of butcher’s paper. The hardest thing about his illness is that it came gradually, and by the time the family realised what had been going on, it was virtually too late. And there was no way that we could document the man that he was anymore, because he had vanished into an abyss – the body waited out its time, the mind had already retreated in the afterlife, waiting for it.

Phillip Toledo was not as unlucky. And his is is the latest book to get me teary. And happy at the same time. When his mother died, he realised just how much she’d sheltered him from his father’s illness. In this poignant. moving, and funny but heartbreaking book of photography and simple excerpts of day-to-day conversation, Phillip Toledano has his father captured in his heart, and indeed in all the world, for all eternity.

I wish we could all be so lucky. But maybe we can be inspired instead, to not wait for life to shake us into loving, watching and knowing one another. But to shake out our reservations, and do it ourselves.

Bookshelf: Lovely things to make for girls of slender means

Lovely things to make for girls of slender means

By Eithne Farry (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, $35)

When things are quiet on the wordsmith front (a rare happening these days), I love a good DIY project. I love pouring my creative energy into something other than words, that sometimes, a finished product makes me more excited than polishing off a chapter of my book or a really long feature for a new publication.

Eithne (pronounced Ethna) Farry has even more reasons for DIY projects. The freelance literary editor, radio personality, and author of Yeah I made it Myself loves, as her previous title suggests, making things for herself so much that she’s written two books about it. In fact, she even customises ready-to-wear clothes just for the trill that being different gives her (“It’s the ultimate in exclusivity” according to UK Glamour).

Now, we can get a piece of the DIY action with her latest work,  a collection of tips on making gorgeous clothes and accessories for very little money, or from recycled or thrift materials, or existing clothes.

In addition to the basics (stuff you need for the sewing kit, stitch craft, and notes on rightsides/wrongsides/lengthways/widthways), Farry also introduces us to stitches that we need to know when sewing by hand, and all sort of advice on using the machine (including darts, zips and hems).

Split according to the seasons, the reading girl of slender means can fashion for herself (if you pardon the pun), among other things (it’s a very comprehensive book, despite its cutesy size):

• floral headbands, fabric corsages and ‘gay abandon’ knickers for spring
• caftans, sunhats, silk tops, dresses and shorts for summer
• flouncy skirts, flowered capelets, leather bags and ‘lego’ belts for autumn
• and evening bags, ponchos, ear muffs and scarves for winter.

All the projects can be cutomised to suit your style, but I am particularly excited about learning how to sew and use machines without committing my money (and time) to classes I might not make it to or enjoy.

So if you want more than sewing and have champagne taste on a lemonade budget, get cracking. You’ll soon be the darling of the DIY elite. And perhaps, we’ll be too busy eyeing off your dress to notice.

Bookshelf: The Modern Household Manual

The Modern Household Manual, By Caroline Roessler, Editor of Notebook: magazine (Harper Collins & News Magazines, $19.95)

As far as Lebanese daughters go, I might be somewhat of a disappointment. Although I can speak, read and write Arabic (although the latter at a somewhat intermediate level), socialise with all the people from my village young and old, and keep up-to-date with the politics, history and social norms of mother country, I am far from the typical set-el-beit (lady of the house) that we’re all taught we should be.

My mum attributes this to my devotion to my career/education. I am always writing or researching or reading. And when I am not, I am totally brain-dead and just want to veg out in front of the TV. Having lived at home for all of my 24 years, this means that I have never done my own washing. I’ve hung it up, along with everyone else’s, and occasionally ironed it. But I suck at ironing so much that my 19 year old sister now does it and pretends I did. I’m also used to having a meal ready for me at the end of each day, hardly ever clean the tub or shower, and have never cleaned the sink. I practically have a butler/maid (sorry mum) in my house.

This will all change when I move out of home in five months, and I am freaking out. I don’t know the next thing about keeping a house in order, removing stains, and what I can use bleach for. This is where Notebook: magazine has usually come in handy for me, especially due to its snazzy little bookmarks that come with each issue. It’s not exactly catered to my age group, but I crave it for the simple wholesomeness it brings to my hectic, modern lifestyle. It really reminds me that happiness starts in the home.

I am not going to lie, I really want to be a domestic goddess, and previously, that goal might have been out of reach. But now, thanks to Caroline Roessler’s (editor of Notebook: magazine) latest book, The Modern Household Manual ($19.95), I might be able to work my way through it, and I couldn’t be happier.

The Modern Household Manual is an everyday reference to help you master the little things that can transform your home from a den of a chaos to a haven of life and love, your laundry from dull to bright, and your kitchen know-how from the mundane and clueless to the varied, delicious and sustainable.

Some of the things it covers:

• Cooking basics (melting chocolate, stew fruit, make croutons)
• Cooking terms – sweat, broil, bechamel emulsify along whip, baste and caramelise
• Kitchen essentials – from those for the pantry and those tools to make every cooking task possible
• How to shop sustainably – stopping food waste is a big mission for Notebook:
• Shopping smart and in season
• Banishing odours from your hands, appliances, laundry and home
• Cleaning smart – everything from the oven to the dishwasher
• Keeping your washing vibrant (and taking care of your machine)
• Fixing problems in clothes – sewing buttons, hemming, replacing broken zips

All in all, it’s a one-stop shop for most things home, bound together in a beautiful book (gorgeous illustrations and pictures) that you wouldn’t be ashamed to have on display. If you want to share your domestic goddess secrets, that is.

Let’s talk about marriage

Flipping through the latest issue of CLEO recently (with Hilary Duff on the cover), I came across a loose definition of marriage:

“An archaic ritual that resembles a pimped-out, beige-themed joint 21st party, which culminates in: a) an expensive bar tab and a series of pre-emptive compromises (better known as vows); or B) regret”.

For me, said sentence was a stab in the heart. Wow, look at what we’ve reduced marriage to. An expensive shindig or an avenue for regret. One or the other. Awesome. Now, let’s reduce motherhood to vagina-stretching, eternal shape-shifting and social-life-threatening, complete with nagging, discipline we can’t be bothered for, and a reliance on (by kids) we really don’t need. While we’re at it, let’s strip the good of other life choices and experiences and focus on the negative. I mean, is that we’re all about these days?

To be fair, said definition was in the context of marriage being an old milestone in the life of the modern girl, replaced with the trial-marriage/de-facto relationship/moving in together. The expert in the article, one Mark McCrindle (author of The ABC of XYZ: Understanding The Global Generations) says that “the progression of not living with someone to seeing them 24/7 is more of a leap of faith”, especially because most couples who get married are living together anyway. But that sentence, although true of the times, didn’t seem evidence for the afore-mentioned marriage-bagging. 

While I know that marriage is not perfect, I found it really hard to reconcile the fact that (as it was presented) marriage is an institution either marred by regret or financial death. Even though defacto relationships are more common these days, and indeed, a more accurate reflection of social norms, I doubt very much that they kill marriage as a milestone altogether.

In case any of you are wondering, I am not being sensitive to the issue as a result of my own impending nuptials. Yep, marriage works for me. And it does not necessarily work for all people.  But still, why the marriage-bagging? Why must we define marriage by its negative connotations? Certainly, there are plenty, but they don’t exactly outweigh its positives either. I know many a feminist who would still like to get married, and would be happy to do so at that.

I’m not married yet. And I admit, I am scared to do away with my fabulous single way, but you know what, if I didn’t think it was going to better my lifestyle, or better my relationship with my partner, then I would not do it. And ironically, the thing I am looking forward to MOST about marriage, is that it is going to teach me to be less selfish. I am actually looking forward to learning how to compromise. I am over the negative run that marriage keeps on having in the press, almost like it’s the Tony Abbott of relationships.

Being in love is a beautiful thing. Moving in together is certainly a milestone. But disagree with me if you will, but there is nothing better, or more cementing of a relationship, than a couple who believes in their love so much that they’re willing to profess it to everyone they care about, spend a lot of money on it (or little, even, because, they’re in love and they do not need to prove a thing) and admit that they are willing to put their own bullshit aside, to take on and handle someone else’s.

You see, the flaw is not in marriage. The flaw is in us and how prepared we are to step up to the plate to make it work when we ruin it. Speaking with plenty of old folks shows me that marriage was just as hard, if not harder, back in the day. But back in the day people were a little less indulgent. (Granted, also, that a lot of women put up with shit they did not need, but these days, we’re a hell of a lot luckier. I mean, if James didn’t help around the house, I’d have walked out ages ago).  These days, we’re all about instant gratification. And marriage, I am afraid, is never about the instant, but the long term.

Thankfully, for those whose boat it floats, there’s a little guide that can make the decision-making process about ‘the one’ a little bit easier. Father Pat O’Connor, 79 year old Priest and Marriage Counsellor, was interviewed by journalist Maureen Dowd in her New York Times Column about choosing an ideal husband. His advice made the column the most downloaded Times article that week, and it eventually went global, with appearances on the US Today Show and now, a book to his name.

Whom Not To Marry: Time-tested advice from a higher authority (Hachette, $29.99) is his collection of advice and real-life stories, gathered from his presiding of over 200 weddings, and wait for it, over 40 years of marriage counselling (pre and post marriage). The beautiful thing about his book is that the chapters are divided along the lines of that beautiful Corinthians verse that a few people read at their nuptials (you know the one, Love is patient, kind, not envious or boastful or rude; love is not irritable or resentful, etc), and peppered with lovely quotes from the likes of Katherine Hepburn and Erica Jong.

For women who want to distinguish Mr Right from Mr Right Now, Father Pat’s tips are sure to be useful, no matter your relgious affiliation or lack thereof.

• Never marry a man who has no friends, for he won’t be capable of the intimacy that marriage demands.
• Never marry a man who is not responsible with cash. Most marriages that folounder do so because of money.
• Never marry a man who lets you walk all over him.
• Never marry a man who makes you feel bad about yourself.
• Never marry a man who refuses to accept responsibility for his actions.
• Never marry a man who doesn’t know how to apologize.

And these are the basics, because there’s plenty more where these came from. As NW Columnist & all-round guru Reality Chick says:

“I’m sure I’m not the first to think it’s a bit strange, a man of the cloth offering advice about marriage. After all, what would a priest know about good husband material versus blokes who, by law, should have a Run Now! warning tattooed on their charming little faces? Well, a lot as it turns out …”

Yes, marriage is a bit of a toughie, and maybe, it wouldn’t cop as much flack as it did if it came with a manual. But alas, here we are Father Pat, so excuse me while I trot off to read this for reassurance while I sing Allellujiah.

Bookshelf: Angels’ Blood

Guest Post by Liz Goralewski

Angels’ Blood, By Nalini Singh (Golancz,$22.99)

When spunky Vampire Hunter Elena Deveraux is called to do a job for New York’s archangel Raphael, she knows that she’s about to get much closer to trouble than she ever has. Expecting to be told that she is to track down and return yet another vampire, she gets the shock of her career when Raphael tells her that no, a vampire is something he can take care of himself. Her job is to track down – and kill – a rogue archangel. Therein lays the problem: mortals, such as Elena, can’t physically kill an archangel. But, an archangel can. So, Elena gets to work side-by-side with one of the most powerful and formidable creatures in existence, making way for some very heated exchanges.                                                              She may be the best hunter in the country, but everyone is afraid of something, and sometimes Fear makes people do stupid things…like cause them to fall in lust. While at first Elena manages to resist Raphael’s ancient immortal charms, she finds it increasingly difficult to come up with excuses not to get too close to him, and continues to insult him, ignoring the fatal power he holds over her. Luckily for her, he seems to get a kick out of it.

New York Times bestselling author Nalini Singh has created an interesting story with Angel’s Blood, melding crime, fantasy and romance – lots of it – into one intense story. Fans of Singh’s previous romance trysts would instantly be pulled in. However, those who are yet to read anything of hers should do some research first, because this is definitely not for everyone.

This book is written like a true romance novel, oozing with hormones and painted descriptions, which tends to steal the show from the actual fantasy/crime storyline. It is because of the overload of sex and colours that the relationships between characters don’t get a good enough chance to develop, and it makes the story feel like it should’ve been written as a sequel. Too much flirtation between the heroine and pretty much every male character in the book creates a nasty erotic edge, making the book read like a cheap sexual thrill. On top of that, the characters that Singh has created are perfect to the point of boredom, with a sexy and strong heroine, as well as a physically flawless but dangerous male lover. But, I guess that’s how it’s meant to be – it is a romance novel, after all.

Having said that, there is one important point about the plot that I found absolutely magnificent: the end. In fact, it was so refreshing that it almost trumped the negative aspects of the novel.  Without straying too far from the happily-ever-after ending, Singh pulled out a massive Deus ex machine, and may as well have attached a “press for electric shock” button at the end of the novel. But in my opinion, shocks, especially in such a formulaic genre as romance, is a fantastic thing. All in all, it’s quite an easy read, and to get to such a good ending makes the whole book worthwhile.

Liz Goralewski is a constant reader, half-time thinker, and writer in between. Currently studying English and History at Sydney University, she hopes one day that her young adult urban fantasy will be published and adored. She loves her husband and her cats more than any number of Reese’s Cups. And that’s saying something.

Medicine for that Carrie Fever

No doubt you all know it’s official. Carrie and Co. fever has hit the world in the wake of the release of the sequel to the Sex and the City movie, and obviously, women all around are excited. Frenzied, more like it. Even I, in all my saving-for-my-wedding-and-honeymoon-tightarseness, have forked out $75 to go watch the film in the luxe surroundings of Event Cinemas Gold Class, complete with food platter, Cosmopolitan cocktail, and mini-sundae.

But lest you bite your nails off due to the sheer excitement of it all, here are a couple of books to tide you over until the film hits our screens, as well as some extra commentary from yours truly on daily opinion website The Punch, and sneak-peek clips from the movie over at Jezebel. Hope they can be of some comfort until your proper hit!

1. The Carrie Diaries ($32.95, Harper Collins): The latest offering from Candace Bushnell, the woman who bought us the awesome foursome, takes us back to Carrie’s high school days, where sex was not part of her daily existence and where writing and friendship did not a concrete status hold in her reality. Instead, we meet a Carrie who is a lot more insecure (albeit quite fashionably and adult-like) than her 30-something self, coming of age among friends who might not be soul mates, and boys who taught her that love is a battlefield and that it’s sex that’s the easier way out when feelings and concerned. Die-hard Bradshaw fans will find comfort in the coming of age story that’s easy to read and love whether you’re 15 or 35, told from the perspective of a young woman who is yet to cement her dreams into her goals and make them a reality through her seemingly only confidante, her secret diary. Although some of them will question certain aspects of the novel given the content of the series (Carrie’s mother, for example, is dead in the book and she is raised by her father alongside her sisters, but in the series, we know that Carrie’s father walked out on her and her mum when she was a wee little gal), it will be good to kick back, take it easy and enjoy it for what it is than an over-analysis of right, wrong and doesn’t make sense (especially since Bushnell created the Carrie character first, and she was developed by her TV family). Find out what got Carrie to New York, how she got into writing, all about the young Kydd before the Big man (ie, Sebastian Kydd, her highschool boyfriend compared to her older man-friend Mr Big), the friends before the soul mates, why sex was not all that she was about, and where her feminism came from. And, because it makes things a little more fun and feminine, watch her evolve into the fashionista that dominates the style stakes of women all over the world.

2. Sex and the City 2 Movie Guide: The Stories, The Fashion, The Adventure ($49.99, Headline, available June 1st): Speaking of fashionistas, the book that pairs with the movie of the year also happens to be the latest lust-have addition for the benefit of your wardrobe. Beginning with a background recap on the lives of the girls since we last saw them on the silver-screen, the book, which was compiled by one of the film’s producers, Eric Cyphers, is the ultimate keepsake for loyal fans for it’s fashion, set secrets and tales, and cast-and-crew interviews. Featuring behind-the-scenes info, a compilation on all characters (including special guests Liza Minelli, Penelope Cruz, Miley Cyrus and more), and interviews with all those on set, the book also features an intro by writer/producer Michael Patrick King and Ms Sarah Jessica Parker herself. But it is also a must for any woman dying to know who wore what when, especially considering its extensive detail on the costuming that makes Carrie a style queen. That’s right, the book features exclusive photos of the outfits all four stars wore in each and every scene, along with information on who designed the lust-worthy clothes, shoes and accessories. And if that wasn’t enough, we also take a glimpse into the pictures from Sarah Jessica’s fittings, accompanied by her own commentary on everything she wore – namely why she wore it and how they tracked it down. If you’re as passionate as excitement shows, this book ought to occupy top-spot on your shopping list.

So how’s that for fever-subsiding until that main medicine hit? Enjoy!

BookShelf: Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver

Lauren Oliver, the author behind this amazing novel, is only 25 years old, which could explain why she has amazing insight into the life of the American teenager. Perhaps she too was one of the popular girls in high school, the ones who grew up before they even knew what it meant,  only to lament the loss of childhood (or the lack of ever having had a proper one) once they reached adulthood.

Or perhaps she was on the other side of the spectrum, or even the inbetween, watching as the populars relegated everyone else they deemed unworthy of the spotlight to the background of those difficult stages of life, in an attempt to hide their own insecurities and limitations.