I'm With The Band

For the inner rock n roll Jesus in all of us, here is my fashion ensemble that will have everyone believe you’re with the band. 

I'm With The Band - Rocker Chic by gabriellecapes 
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In the third grade, while all of my friends decided to do their school projects on; the life cycle of butterflies, The Solar System and the gold rush, I chose to research Canadian band ‘Simple Plan’. They had that iconic 2005 rock vibe that I loved; low rung cargo pants, mohawks and Converse sneakers. During what can only be coined as my ‘Simple Plan’ phase, I painted my nails black (which my strict Catholic school teachers saw as the ultimate act of moral sin after murder and adultery, and my parents saw as the first step to a life behind bars). After I started wearing black bracelets, it became obvious that I belonged at St. Trinian’s. I also begged my mum to let me learn the drums or electric guitar, eventually compromising on classical piano. (That’s how compromise works in my house. As my mother always says ‘it’s my way or the highway’). It’s okay though because I love the piano, and I mean, Beethoven’s 7^th Symphony is just as bad-ass. Am I right? My love of rock music at a young age also made me want to join a band. We were going to call ourselves ‘Pink Ink’ and be the next big thing. We realised after our first rehearsal however, that we had 3 singers, 1 beginner pianist and a roadie. Even though ‘Pink Ink’ never became the chart-topping, Aria award winning girl rock band we’d envisioned, I’ve come to realise that it was the fashion, and not the music I was most drawn to. So for the inner rock n roll Jesus in all of us, here is my fashion ensemble that will have everyone believe you’re with the band!

White crop t shirt
16 AUD - newlook.com

Yves Saint Laurent cropped wool jacket
mytheresa.com

Blank Denim black ripped jeans
115 AUD - shopbop.com

Yves Saint Laurent clothing
1 350 AUD - farfetch.com

Giuseppe Zanotti black lace up booties
2 140 AUD - shopbop.com

Yves Saint Laurent mini satchel
2 525 AUD - harrods.com

Metal Haven by Kendall Kylie star ring
29 AUD - bluefly.com

Dolce Gabbana red lip makeup
49 AUD - saksfifthavenue.com

Xx

Wrap Up with Winter Woollies

I'm not a fan of cold weather. I'd much rather be on a sun bed in Spain, soaking up the heat and cooling off by the pool. So when Game of Thrones announces ‘Winter is coming’ I start hoarding hot water bottles, blankets and bed socks, similar to a squirrel madly collecting nuts for hibernation. (Which my 'Pretty Little Liars' binges somewhat resemble!) For many, lows of 10 degrees would be considered 'mild weather', however Australian's will be complaining to you about how cold it is outside, as soon as the temperature drops below 20. It's not our fault; we are just not built for the cold weather, with most preferring to sport thongs (flip-flops), singlets and shorts all year round. Sure, Steve Irwin could wrestle a crocodile in tropical Queensland, but wrestling a sea lion in the Arctic= no chance (have you ever tried to walk on ice with thongs?). 

If you're struggling with the cold this winter, then I'm sure I've bumped into you walking down the street with my beanie pulled tight over my head, warming my hands on a cup of cocoa and staring into the steam waiting for it to melt the icicles hanging from my nose (yeah that was me, sorry if I spilt anything on your blazer). It was after about the age of 14 that I really started to feel the cold. Before then I was completely immune to Jack Frosts' icy breezes, and would sit in the school yard with shorts and a tee shirt, with teachers pleading for me to put on a jumper. As Rhiannon for Easy A would put it, my 'identifier' was 'the girl who never wore a jumper'. Since then I've had to learn some essential lessons such as; the art of layering, and warm drinks really do warm the soul. 

Keeping warm for most girls generally consists of two stages; 

·         Stage one: Layering, and lots of it. As my grandmother always says you can take off what you've got but you can't add what you don't have! This stage is better known as the 'fashionable warm stage' consisting of tights, cardigans and jumpers. 

·         Stage two: The temperature has plummeted and we are no longer playing games here. Hats, scarfs, beanies and jackets that make you look like the 'Michelin Man'. You name it, we've got it on. If you were to play strip pocket with us, you'd be sitting in your underwear before we even got past our third layer. 

Hopefully you've found a warm place to hibernate this year and have stocked up on Cadbury hot chocolate powder (seriously that stuff is the best). But if you do have to venture outside this winter, check out the items here I've been eyeing off to keep you warm;

Warm Winter Woollies

Warm Winter Woollies by claireshallvey featuring a sheer silk blouse

Walter Baker sheer silk blouse
230 AUD - ifchic.com

Loose knit sweater
18 AUD - shein.com

MANGO pink poncho
120 AUD - johnlewis.com

Black distressed jeans
51 AUD - newlook.com

Repossi red gold jewelry
7 435 AUD - ssense.com

Ring
wolfandbadger.com

Sydney Evan bracelet ring
neimanmarcus.com

Olivia Burton rose gold plated jewelry
155 AUD - harveynichols.com

Wanderlust Co triangle jewelry
38 AUD - revolveclothing.com

The Fault in Our Star Signs

They say destiny is written in the stars. Well I don’t believe in astrology; I’m a Scorpio and we’re very sceptical.

I’ve always been kind of scared of astrology. Scared that if I get too intrigued by it, I'll end up lugging around a crystal ball, living in a trailer park and starring on ‘My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding’. I mean, I’m all for freedom of speech, peasant skirts and sandals, but and as much as I’d love to live in the 60s, talking about your horoscope is the first step in becoming part of a cult. First they're just talking about tarot cards and moon rocks, and then all of a sudden they want your social security number and 10,000 dollars. I was walking around a festival recently, and was captivated by these huge guys with tattoos and motorcycles, pouring over their horoscopes like a bunch of thirteen-year-old girls. 

‘Oh my god you guys! The sun is the eighth house in Gemini meaning I'm only going to have a 2 star day’

By this point I couldn't resist going up to them.

‘You don’t actually believe in all that zodiac stuff though, right?’

‘Of course! I mean, you wouldn't date a guy without first checking you’re star sign compatibility’

‘I wouldn't?’

‘Right. Here, take a card’ motioned one of the burly bikers, who looked every part the guy who robbed a milk bar for fun on a quiet Sunday afternoon. I dipped my hand into the glass bowl labelled with my horoscope, and pulled out a slip of paper with intricate gold lettering. It read:

Scorpio (ninth house): You wrong a Scorpio, and they will come to your house and slash your tyres

Yeah okay, that sounds like me. Forgive and forget leaves out the crucial first stage of revenge. I remember once when someone cut off part of my hair as a joke, I signed up their school email address to tons of junk email and store websites, and they were getting over 40,000 spam emails a day.

I then dipped my hand into the next glass bowl labelled with my moon sign

Sagittarius (Moon): This is the lady with the talk show hostess personality. She can lead, inspire, debate, and delve into your deep, dark secrets. And you feel like she becomes your friend in the process.

Oprah, Ellen… Gabby. After that I was totally hooked. It’s a Scorpio thing to be obsessive.

‘Hey Gabby’

‘Claire! I took the liberty of checking your daily horoscope for you this morning!’

And then the fear crept in. I mean, what if I’m destined to become a chicken lady. And I’m supposed to live off the land raising 40,000 chickens and praying for rain. My only hope is that Blair Waldorf was right when she said, ‘Destiny is for losers. It’s just a stupid excuse to wait for things instead of making them happen’. I refuse to wait for destiny to take charge and turn me into a chicken lady. So the next time a lady with the crystal ball and tarot cards says ‘You have this glowing aura about you’, just know that it’s probably your fake tan. 

Valentino Spring 2014 Zodiac Jewellery

Xx

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