Work it, Girl!

You've got the job! What better way to earn your own money and feel the satisfaction of a hard day’s work? Ha! Are they still telling those lies?

20th Century Fox: The Devil Wears Prada

For most people, a part-time job is nothing like Hollywood makes it out to be; the cute barista who writes his number on your takeaway coffee cup, hand me down Prada jeans from the wardrobe department, and a swanky New York office. In reality, you’re probably the mind numbingly bored check out chick scanning my tampons at the supermarket, or the overly enthusiastic retail assistant asking with crazy eyes if I’m ‘just browsing’. Or perhaps, you’re the new waitress who spills all of the drinks, forgetting that we ordered our bruschetta without olives. My heart goes out to you as I write my latest Vogue column from my penthouse overlooking the city (at least, in the movie in my head). In reality, unlike the Upper East Siders who inherit a trust fund large enough to run a country, most of us actually have to go to work (and no, watching re-runs of ‘The Office’ doesn't count!) Here are three positives to bear in mind while punching the clock:

• Complaining about horrible bosses, how you can’t wait to get home, and meaningless small talk are the foundations of an amazing friendship with your co-workers! 
• I know you put on your resume that you were looking for ‘experience’. Puh-lease, we all know you want the dollars, and having a job will allow you to save up for those strappy, black Sam Edelman heels at the top of your wish list!
• Jobs can be hard to come by these days, so be happy someone wanted to hire you! It probably means you’re; hard-working, you know the boss, you didn’t use comic sans font on your resume, and you spent hours making sure your email signature looked legit.

If it’s any consolation, I didn’t last half as long in my first job as Paris and Nicole in ‘The Simple Life’. I think I was three hours into my first shift, before I was in the emergency room with my thumb being glued together. That summer  I was fifteen, and working in a textbook warehouse. 

Now get back to work! (If you need another reason to be appreciate your job, be thankful it's not December, and you don't have to endure the endless loop of 'Here Comes Santa Clause' on the radio!)

Xx

Run-way too Slow

While most six year olds were spending their Saturday mornings watching Saturday Disney, my TV binges were always cut short mid-way through ‘Kim Possible' (a total abomination might I add), for a trip down to the local parkland, to quite literally be dragged by my dad around the cross country course. There were more tears shed in the short two kilometre shuffle, than there is in an entire season of 'The Biggest Loser'. You're probably questioning why my dad bothered with the whole affair. No doubt his patience was wearing thin and his competitive nature was taking a battering having to lose week after week. But a young parent determined not to raise ‘a quitter’ persevered, up until three weeks later, when my persistent tantrums proved worthwhile, and I could finally watch Saturday Disney right up until 9am. 

Whatever happened between then and now can only be explained by the fact that I was subjected to subliminal messages during 'Brandy and Mr. Whiskers'.  I'm no fitness fanatic. And if it even looks like it's going to rain, you'll catch me running to curl up on the heater sooner then you'd see me outside working up a sweat. But I must admit, I really do enjoy getting up a little earlier going for a jog and starting the day of right (even if everything does go down hill from there, starting with pancakes and extra maple syrup for breakfast). It's like I'm apart of a secret club consisting of morning joggers, walkers and their pouches. And the best part is that there is next to no one around, which means my beetroot cheeks, sweaty brow and impression of Kim K's crying face stays a secret. 

Whether it's 2km or 6km, you'll rarely catch me with a pair of ear buds in. For me running= thinking time; thinking of the ensemble I'm going to rock on Saturday night, what's going on with Taylor Swift and Calvin Harris? And who knew turtle necks would make such a massive come back? (Maybe I should keep my platform flip flops, they might be the next thing to come rolling back round the fashion cycle). My thoughts often drift to whether I'll make it to the end of the street, or if I'd be faster walking. So needless to say there are no epiphanies on my behalf.  

Are you a gym junkie? Yoga girl? Or are you like me and the runners are calling you? Whatever it is that takes your fancy, I hope you aren't missing out on precious Saturday Disney time, cause no exercise is worth that amount of devotion.

I’m a Barbie Girl

An action figure girl in a Barbie world

Moschino Spring 2015 Ready to Wear

As a tomboy growing up, I was always much more interested in action figures, remote control monster trucks and skateboards, than I was with Mattel’s iconic plastic doll. My two sisters on the other hand, loved to take their Southern bell Barbies for joy rides in their matching hot pink glam convertibles, and spy on Stacy (another, non-Mattel doll) who was hooking up with Ken in the hot tub. At one point I think they had a pregnancy scare. All while Ken secretly struggled with his sexuality (seriously, what straight guy wears a hot pink ascot?) I guess you could say our childhood games were more intense than an episode of Degrassi. Little did my sisters know however, that a war was raging outside the walls of their idyllic Malibu dream houses. My army men (travelling in remote control helicopters) single-handedly infiltrated the Barbie shopping mall, giving each glamorous plastic figure a Britney shears haircut in the salon. It then turned into a game of ‘Super Extreme Barbie’ (survival of the fittest in the doll world), where my sisters and I dropped our old Barbie’s from the second story, and flushed them down the toilet to see which parts survived.

For as long as there has been Barbie, there have been arguments against the doll, whose proportions in real life would see her unable to stand up with feet too small, and a torso that doesn't fit all of her organs. Why don’t we create more realistic expectations, like Mid-life crisis Barbie: Finally divorced from Ken, Barbie sets off on a road-trip in her brand new pink convertible (courtesy of Ken’s credit card). Includes: Ken’s house, furniture, entire salary and custody of their 2 children. 

Or what about Soccer Mum Barbie: All that work as high school cheerleading captain comes in handy as Barbie dusts off her old megaphone to argue with the coach about why her kids aren't getting enough time on the field. Complete the set with Kia Carnival minivan, 'My Family' stickers and orange slices. And nothing could be more realistic than hang over Barbie: All of these ‘come on Barbie lets go party' have really caught up with the drunken doll, as she attends weekly Alcoholics Anonymous support group meetings. Includes yesterday’s dress with today’s shame all over it.  

Italian fashion house Moschino recently released its 2015 Spring Ready to wear Barbie collection, showcasing the platinum blonde hair and iconic shade of bubble gum pink every little girl loves, and every tomboy cringes at when forced into a dress that colour on special occasions. Creative director Jeremy Scott added behind the scenes of the fashion show ‘Like every girl and gay boy, I loved Barbie’. Well, I guess if decapitating her, hijacking her California dream home and driving her hot pink convertible off the roof of my house counts as ‘love’… 

Xx

Beat the Boredom Blues

I have never passed the teen 'initiation test' of scrolling through the internet for hours tumbling, facebooking, instagramming and IMing (do people still do that?) and sleeping in ‘till noon. It’s not like I'm one of those crazy productive people who god forbid, owns and actually uses a day planner. Or that I have to schedule in a free Tuesday afternoon in September to hang out with friends. It’s more that I have the attention span of... oh look a bird. See what I mean? I can barely survive the ad breaks in an episode of Revenge (not all of us illegally download everything we watch). Needless to say, holidays can prove a challenge for both me (and my mum). Me: because I'm bored stiff most of the time, and my mum: because she has to endure endless hours of my curious two-year-old sounding questions, only I'm eighteen, and whining about American television hosts urging me to 'order within the next fifteen minutes to receive more useless junk that can easily be stored under the bed, where it will remain until you move out or die'. 

This winter semester break is going to be different! I am determined not to waste away my precious days of freedom watching re-runs of Gossip Girl, Pretty Little Liars and Americas Next Top Model. While I am only a week in, I've managed to be rather proactive (although I'm not sure how long this tread will continue). Just the other day I don an old hoodie and jeans combo, and prepared the suds to wash my car. It was so dirty, it would rival any serious four wheel driver who had spent the last six months travelling off track through the mud banks of the Amazon river. Unlike the car washing scene in 'Bring It On', I ended up with with wet sleeves and frozen hands, which were so cold I wouldn't be surprised if I'd turned I to a real life Elsa!

Although car washing has proven not to be my forte, this hasn't stopped me from getting out of the house as much as I can. If you suffer from the boredom blues just as much as I do, then these holidays I challenge you to find the motivation to turn off Netflix and do something that's productive and enjoyable (hint: if you plan on washing your car, choose your days wisely, as no one wants purple hands to match their purple nail polish).  

The Bags under My Eyes are Chanel

They say it's the early bird who catches the worm. Well you can have the stupid worm. I'd much rather stay  in bed anyway. 

Audrey Hepburn in 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'

Usually when someone is overly happy in the morning, I assume they are on drugs, psychologically unstable or a Scientologist. I can’t help that I love sleeping so much; I wake up tired sometimes, from sleeping so hard. And yet I've recently come to realise that being even more talkative and energetic in the early hours (if that’s even possible), probably makes ME a morning person. Standing on the crowded peak hour train at 7am in Winter isn't enough to dampen my happy mood. In Melbourne, that’s called having a mental illness.

As a kid, there was always something magical about getting up hours before my parents on a Saturday morning. Tip-toeing into the living room, I would eat a bowl of cereal in my pyjamas and flick on Saturday Disney, which held the promise of; Kim possible, That’s So Raven and Lizzie McGuire. I watched animatedly as Sally, Shay and Dan performed ‘double-dog dares’ (which usually involved consuming a concoction of baked beans and chocolate sauce) and creating scratch 'n' sniff sticker and gel pen masterpieces to enter into the art competitions. For those few hours, kids controlled the television programming (and the world) — up until the morning news flashed onto the screen, and my sisters and I would ‘BOOO!!’ while the news reporter grinned smugly at the thought of ruining the lives of millions of children. Growing up, I always wanted my own Disney Channel show. I wanted to be like Hannah Montana, and so those few hours on a Saturday morning before Little Athletics were some of the happiest of my childhood. As I grew into my pre-teen years, Saturday mornings were replaced instead watching RAGE and dancing to ‘Party in the USA’ on my Dance Dance Revolution mat, all while my dad voiced his distaste at ‘another Disney starlet gone wrong’. Isn’t it ironic how everyone who criticised her for growing up too fast now wants that ‘old’ Miley back?

It’s no wonder teenagers sleep in on a Saturday if all we have to look forward to is the morning news?! Um, no thank you. I promised my mum when I was seven that the day would never come when I suddenly preferred the news over cartoons. And I intend to stick to my word. Perhaps all we need to get out of bed is something we can’t put our finger on. Something magical that only Disney can give us.

Xx

You Can't Sing with Us!

Confessions of a self-proclaimed shower singer

‘HURRY UP AND GET OUT OF THE SHOWER!!’ can usually be heard angrily bellowing under the bathroom door at me. Most of the time I'm too busy performing a solo to my number 1 fan (namely, me) to hear the pleas of my family, my neighbours, and the police begging me to stop. The acoustics in the shower are amazing too! Obviously I've got my eyes set on Madison Square Gardens, (duh!) but for now it will have to do. Australian Idol has even used my audition footage as comedy (that’s good, right?) 

It seems that no matter how loud I sing in front of my friends however, none of them comment on how good my voice is. The other night I was singing ‘Titanium’ under the steamy running water, and was kind of disappointed when Pitch Perfect’s Chloe didn't burst in and beg me to join the Bella’s, what with my excessive talent (and by that I mean absolutely no talent at all). One of life’s greatest unsolved mysteries (second to how I managed to score a singing role in my high school's musical), is why women take so long in the shower. Of course, one of the reasons this mystery remains unsolved, is because nobody has bothered to ask a girl. So here it is: showering for me is less of a vacation and more like a business trip. And no, this kind of business trip isn't a shady excuse for a secret affair, like in every daytime TV drama on CBS. I actually have work to do; I need to shampoo and condition my hair, use my leave in treatment, exfoliate, cleanse and tone my skin, scream ‘AARGHH I GOT SHAMPOO IN MY EYES’, use my Lush soap in the flavour ‘honey I washed the kids’ and shave my legs (which usually resembles Bikram yoga when you've got leggy legs like me). 

Sometimes I start breaking into rap (because when you think Gabby Capes, you think hip-hop). As much as I love being in a hot tub surrounded by ‘bitches’, ‘sleeping at ya crib’ and degrading backup dancers, it’s not really something I do on like, an everyday basis. What if Dr Dre rapped about real-life problems we could relate to; like how it’s impossible to find a red lip that won’t come off when you eat, or why water-proof karaoke hasn't been invented yet? (Bill Gates if you’re reading this: we could make millions!!) A lot of my time is spent pondering deep philosophical questions; what kind of toilet paper do they use in Buckingham Palace? (It’s got to be good!) And why have I never realised that Will Ferrell and Pharrell Williams have reversed names? 

Often my ‘3 minute’ showers will turn into a full blown musical; you name it, I’ve sung it; Footloose, Little Shop of Horrors, Fiddler on the Roof, Annie (I could totally still be cast as a child orphan, right?) *This is my cry for help. I guess it must have started young. I was nine when High School Musical first came out, and my dad threatened to take out a restraining order out against me if I continued one more rendition of Sharpay’s ‘Fabulous’. Last night I found myself singing Justin Bieber’s ‘Beauty and a Beat’ which was a shameful act (even for me), and something I usually reserve for my room under the cover of darkness, with headphones on. I guess my dirty secret is out.

So the next time you have a shower, grab your hairbrush and sing away all your problems like you’re in a Disney movie! Sing like no one’s listening (even though they scream ‘I CAN HEAR YOU! SHUT UP’) or until the hot water runs out. And never let your family demanding a refund for the free live performance you've subjected them to, stop you from an aca-amazing shower!

Xx

Blair Inspired Room: Gossip Girl Decor

Hey Upper East Siders, Gabrielle here. Your one and only source into the glamorous bedrooms of Manhattan's Elite.  Blair Waldorf, aka Queen B (sorry Beyoncé!) has a luxurious room fit for a princess. Since Blair’s room has not graced TV screens in a few years, this article will give you a modern twist on the elegance of her Upper East Sider’s hideaway, with furniture and accessories currently available for purchase!

Emily & Meritt striped chaise lounge 

Blair’s room is luxurious through its duck egg blue walls and dreamy vanilla curtains and bedding. Shelves of neatly arranged folders and classic novels are close at hand, while a chaise lounge in the far corner and an framed picture of our style icon; Audrey Hepburn creates the old Hollywood glamour feel. A chandelier hanging from the ceiling and the gold trimming illuminates the space. 

This modern brass-legged chaise lounge has that beautiful glamorous feeling created in Blair’s room. It’s also in a creamy colour which contrasts against the blue walls. I actually prefer this one to the leather sofa used in her room!  

Emily & Meritt scallop statement pin-board

This cork board belongs in Blair’s room, with its ornate gold edging and feminine scallop shape, allowing you to add a personal touch to your space by displaying photos, drawings and jewellery! It also works well above a desk for inspiration while you study (or don't study in Blair's case, and still get into one of the best collages in the world). 

Audrey Hepburn poster

Of course her room wouldn’t be complete without a framed image of Audrey Hepburn from Vogue 1964!

1. Emily & Meritt duvet set/ 2. Emily & Meritt cushions/ 3/ Gold Ornate Floor Mirror 

Blossom Chandelier

This modern bed head perfectly keeps the blue theme entwined throughout the Gossip Girl bedroom, while still maintaining the glamour and sophistication. Since you may not be able to paint your walls to match Blair's, this bed allows you to bring in that lovely shade of blue into your furniture. Her champagne duvet and pillow set from Kumi Kookoon in the colour champagne is very expensive, but this dreamy shell pink set has the same luxurious feel!  

Blair's room wouldn't be complete without a chandelier. If you have to choose one item, let it be this one! It will add instant glamour to any space!

Spotted: B and S having a sleepover in an enviable room fit for a princess. As B says 'All I've ever wanted is a simple fairytale' and this bedroom will achieve just that!

You know you love me, 

XOXO

Go Figure

I know a lot about figure skating. I've seen Blades of Glory — twice. 

Photographed by: Eric Liebowitz for the CWs Gossip Girl

There’s something about ice-skating on a frozen lake that just screams New York. It also screams ‘Frozen’, (but that’s more to do with the overload of Disney advertising at Target wielding its intended effect than anything else). I’ve dreamed of going ice skating in Central park for as long as I can remember. One snowflake will gently drift down and land in the palm of my hand, unleashing some inner Michelle Kwan powers, allowing me to dominate the rink in a series of effortless loops. Like Barbie from Swan Lake. You’ve seen that movie right? 
Me neither.

I’d also be wearing this super cute Blair Waldorf-esque outfit (see above). Even though it’s probably -10 degrees and I'd probably freeze to death in tights and a skirt. I mean, at the very least I want to wear an Elsa dress. (God, I don't even like Frozen, I swear) like the one she made with her ice blasting/dress making/creating live snowmen powers. 

In real life I’m quite possibly the most uncoordinated person on the ice. One minute I’m skating and the next ‘I'm lying on the cold hard ground’. Taylor Swift really prepared me for this moment. 

Xx

Two-Faced

How to cope with girls who have Lord Voldemort sticking out the back of their head (metaphorically of course!)

Paramount Pictures

I wish I was one of those people who thrived on the danger of leading a double life. Like Peter Parker, Clark Kent or Hannah Montana. Maybe that’s why at thirteen, there was nothing I wanted more than to be an undercover agent. Believe me when I say, I wish I was joking. I thought leading two lives would make the coolest job. So when I had my first meeting with the careers counsellor, and he asked me what I was considering after high school, I tried to break it to him gently.

‘I want to work in the crime area’

‘What kind? More specifically law? Defence force? Police?’

‘Ummm… maybe more like… international spy’

Little did I know that in navigating the complicated realms of high school, I was already surrounded by teens who had mastered the double life. I guess you could call them two-faced, but unlike the cosmetics brand, it doesn't make you look good (although Marilyn Monroe did say ‘if you’re going to be two-faced, at least make one of them pretty’). With these people, nothing is ever exactly as it seems, (and everything that they say has to be matched up with that secret decoder ring you got with your happy meal when you were nine).

What is it about these perfect specimens that makes them so alluring? Is it the smile they give you every time you get to class? Or the way they complement you on your mum’s 80s vintage skirt? And are these creatures nocturnal? (Okay, I'm really just looking for an excuse to use my night vision goggles). This month’s question is: how do you really know how to spot the two-faced girl?

Firstly, I suggest you don’t instantly accuse conjoined twins. While they are medically two faced, they are probably really nice people. Secondly, forget coins. If it wasn't for their two faces, most of the world’s greatest arguments would never have been settled.

In an ideal world, everyone would express their true opinions of others openly. Unfortunately however, most of us will encounter more than one person who spreads rumours and gossip behind your back. It’s important to pay attention to how your friends talk about others when they’re not around (that is the ugliest effing skirt I've ever seen), because chances are, that’s how they’re talking about you. 

Another way of spotting the two-faced girl is that she is constantly smiling. A real friend can talk to you about how they are feeling, and will gladly complain about whatever idle drama is totally and completely ruining their life. A fake friend is unlikely to share more than the surface details.

I could never be two-faced because I possess the quality of speaking my mind ALL OF THE TIME, (also making me the worst person alive to lead a double life).

Exhibit a)

Teacher: ‘Have you bought a hot chocolate yet? They’re $2 and all of the proceeds are going to the Red Cross’

Me: ‘I bought one... and it was by far the WORST hot chocolate I've ever had! And quite frankly I regret giving my money to charity’.

The only upside is that people never worry about me saying things about them behind their back. That doesn't mean however, that I'm exempt from being the girl who’s talked about. And if being 'that girl' has taught me anything, it’s that I would rather have a few true friends, than a lot of fake friends. You deserve better than that! So the next time you spot the two-faced girl in her natural habitat (surrounded by her posse of mean girls) remain smug that you know the truth behind whatever imminent scandal is spreading through the school. The truth always comes out. So sit tight, and wait for her to get tangled in her own web of lies. Or you could get one of those laser pens they have in every good spy film (although I'm not really sure what that would accomplish). 
Haven't you heard? Beyoncé isn't the only Sasha Fierce in this town! 

Xx

Got a question that you just have to get off your chest? Send it to gabriellecapes@gmail.com with the subject line "Style Files Advice"

A Trip that Will Leave You Wanting Smore!

Photographed by: Paola Kudacki for Teen Vogue September 2011

Last week I and proudly announced to my friends ‘I’m going camping!’ Most of their responses were something along the lines of ‘You. You’re going camping?’  ** Extra emphasis on the YOU’RE.

Um… I take offence. I’m like the Michael Jordan of camping. Actually, maybe I’m more like the Michael Jackson of camping… Okay. I’m the Michael of camping. And to prove everyone who doubted me wrong, I was going to embark on this trip if it killed me. And it did. I was bitten by a venomous snake. Due to the fact there’s no Wi-Fi in the wilderness, I am going to tell you now about my adventure to the great outdoors, by saying it was intense you guys. Literally. It was in-tents.

Cara Delevingne for Mulberry

When I was in fifth grade, my favourite thing in the world was the outdoors. My favourite TV show was Man vs Wild, and for a while there, I was actually a Girl Scout. I’ve probably mentioned this a hundred times, but I was a total tomboy. I never wanted to be lumped in with the Plain Jane’s making daisy chains. I wanted to show the guys I could climb trees and kick a ball – that I was ‘down for whatever’. And not in a slutty way. I was like, eleven. It was this eleven-year-old Girl Scout that kicked in when I heard doubts about me being a camper. Hell, I know how to tie 18 different types of knots, not to mention how to guilt trip you into buying cookies.

So as I began packing my bag the night before, remembering to throw in my green OPI Nail Polish in the shade ‘Jane in the Jungle', it dawned on me that I might be more of a ‘glamper’. Glamorous camping is the way to enjoy everything nature has to offer, minus the roughing it and looking rugged. I wished I’d gone glamping as I lay shivering the whole first night, the realisation setting in that I’d packed the wrong sleeping bag (the one with the broken zipper). It was so cold; we could have used it to store the frozen peas overnight. It was so cold, that World Wildlife Fund could have moved all of the Antarctic animals inside my sleeping bag when the ice caps started melting. 

The first morning of our trip was spent enjoying a sunrise – and not the kind with tequila in it. By the third day, my basic beauty routine had gone completely out the window. The only swag I had was the one I was sleeping in. But as I hiked in my oversized, cosy sweater make-up free, it dawned on me (literally, it was THAT early in the morning) that I had honestly never felt more confident or beautiful. As cliché as it sounds, I guess beauty is really less about what you look like, and more about how you feel. Embarking on this trip made me realise that I don’t actually like camping. Instead, what I really enjoy is being able to spend time with friends around a bonfire, exploring nature and eating marshmallows. Maybe I am more of a glamper after all. 

Xx