By Gaynor Alder

In the second article of our 7 Unique & Fabulous Holiday Ideas series, we’re going to the Canadian Rockies.

“But Gaynor, does that mean we’re going off-road? What about those Manolos I picked up in New York the other week? At a steal I might add too.”

Yes it’s true, we’ll be going off-road, but if any destination is going to have me swap my heels for flats, it’s surely going to be the splendor and beauty of the Rocky Mountains. {I certainly don’t sport garb from Mountain Designs for just anyone.}

And we’re going to do it in style with Peregrine Reserve.

I spent a month in this glorious part of the world back in ‘99 during my overseas working holiday. I was desperately seeking the serenity of nature, post three months in the concrete jungle that is London, and Canada’s beauty and undulating landscapes seemed just the ticket.

• Cashmere coat – check.
• Three pairs of stockings per day in lieu of thermal underwear – check.
• Prada sunglasses – check.
• Heels and lip gloss, just in case we stopped at lodges harbouring handsome mountaineers escaping the cold – check.
• Suitcase with wheels instead of backpack – check.
• ‘Flat’ shoes to navigate hilly terrain – debatable as to whether my version of flats could officially take on the great outdoors.

After all, just because I was going off-road, didn’t mean I had to look like I was going off-road, right?

From experience, I can tell you that if you want to really explore this region, you’re going to need expert guidance to navigate you through the amazing spots you would otherwise miss. All you have to do is then enjoy the trip as you wind through snow capped mountains and experience the breathtaking beauty of this stunning region.

Whilst I uncharacteristically traveled with a hop on, hop off tour bus, and stayed in h-h-h-hostels (backpackers budget and all that), you can choose to travel with panache with Peregrine Reserve. See, told you could pack your Max Mara coat, didn’t I?

Peregrine’s Canadian Rockies package will see you walk the Chester Lake trail and take in the views of the surrounding Alpine Meadows. You’ll also take on Burstall Pass within Longheed Provincial Park – it’s an 8km moderate walk, but you’ll have a gourmet banquet and hot tub waiting for you at Mount Engadine Lodge. {No whipping out a bread roll from your backpack and spreading it with your trusty jar of jam on this tour.}

You will venture through the forest past Barrier Lake, to discover the remarkable views of Kanaskiks Valley. Your day walking along Bow Lake in the Banff National Park will reveal the magnificence of the Bow Glacier, before luxuriating in the comfort of Emerald Lake Lodge.

Make sure you have your camera at the ready, as you experience the majesty of Whisky Jack Falls, Emerald Glacier and Yoho Lake. Your final day will see you arrive in the town of Banff, where elk roam the streets like locals.

With its never ending visual eye candy and the spectacular scenery that will stay with you long after you leave, Canada is a definite bucket list destination.

Visit the Peregrine Reserve website to find out more about this and other unique holiday packages around the world.

Image Credist {1, 2}

By Gaynor Alder

Ladies, it’s time to get your Carrie Bradshaw on, as the first stop in our 7 Unique & Fabulous Holiday series is New York, and what better way to discover the hidden gems and highlights of NYC, than with TV presenter, journalist and radio personality Sami Lukis? And having racked up a gazillion frequent flyer miles both professionally and personally, this uber gorgeous woman sure is match fit when it comes to traveling.

Sami’s hosted ladies only trips to New York are perfect for singles who don’t want to travel all on their lonesome, or with your BFF, or maybe (yes, fess up now) you just want to stalk Sami over shared glasses of vino in a girl crush kind of way. (Nothing funny Sami, we promise.)

Sami’s got plenty of fabulous activities organised for you. The beauty of it all? You can join in when you want, or take off on your own whenever you merry well please. “Sorry Sami, gotta dash. Just spotted a pair of half price Manolos in a shop window.” There’s none of that hectic clock watching bizzo, rounding you up like a herd of little lost lambs as you hop off one bus for another with strict instructions to return at 16:00 hours on Sami’s watch (reminiscent of your misspent youth gallivanting around Europe, or, ahem, one man at a time, one city at a time, on a Contiki tour).

Beauty Master Class at Bloomingdales

So just what fabulous things does Sami have in store for you? Of course you’ll need to pack some ballet flats to partake in some serious shopping at some of the world’s premium outlet malls. (*Cue hysterical squeals of shopping excitement*. Did someone just say designer goods at heavily discounted prices?) You can also ride the Staten Island Ferry and take pics of the iconic Statue of Liberty and take a scenic walk across the Brooklyn Bridge.

You’ll immerse yourself in the excitement and energy of Times Square, Wall Street, Chelsea Market and the High Line, and also tour the World Trade Centre and Grand Central Terminal. No need for tickets to ride this train, as Sami will provide you with a 7 day Metro card so you can whizz around the city as much as you fancy. She’ll also give you a pre paid U.S. sim card with unlimited calls and texts (because, she’s nice like that, and doesn’t want you wasting your precious shopping money on ghastly phone bills).

Lucky you packed those flats then, right?

And when you want to unwind from it all, you can relax with a private Outdoor Yoga class in Central Park, and spend Sunday morning with a Harlem Gospel Choir followed by brunch at Sylvia’s Soul Food Restaurant.

Outdoor Yoga Class in Central Park

But, there’ll also be plenty of time to sashay around the city in your heels. Hit Broadway and see the brand spanking new musical, Ghost. Join foodies in Midtown’s favourite spot Eataly, and finish every night in one of NYC’s hottest restaurants, as you swoon over your purchases and regale over the day’s events with a cocktail in one hand, and a new designer handbag in the other. (Did I mention that you’ll get these at crazy, ridiculous, rug shop closing-down-everything-must-go prices? Oh, yes, that’s right I did. Just checking.)

The 7 day trip also includes all flights, swanky hotels and luxury airport transfers. Sami’s got your back and is available 24/7 should you need any help or can’t find your way back to your hotel. She can also tailor personalised trips in conjunction with TravelEdge and NY-based experts. Is there nothing this woman can’t do? Seriously.

For more information about pricing, dates and availability, please email sami@samilukis.com or visit her website here. You can also stalk her on Twitter and follow her on Facebook. Go on, you know you want to.

Looking for something new and exciting to do on your next holiday? Don’t want to go on the same old tours everyone else does? Looking for personalised luxury accommodation?

Follow The Modern Woman’s Survival Guide every Thursday over the upcoming weeks, to be introduced to some fabulous and unique holiday experiences.

1. We’re going to New York with Sami Lukis

2. Cycle through Provence with Peregrine Adventures

3. Stay in homes away from home with Roomorama whilst traveling the world

4. Discover the secret Melbourne whilst luxuriating in the newly refurbished Marriott Hotel

5. Visit the Grace Kelly exhibition in Bendigo

6. Personalise your room at the Grace Hotel in Sydney

7. Stay at the stunning Summer House in Byron Bay with Moroccan inspired decor and rainforest hinterland views

Bon voyage darlings …

Image Credit: 1

When the Barge brothers created LL Wine and Dine they did it with an unsurpassable passion for food and wholehearted dedication to the customer experience, which is clearly evident in the sublime service, mouth watering modern Asian menu and unique decor that pays homage to their heritage.

Entering the bar tucked away in Kings Cross, Sydney, I was immediately smitten with its ambience which is reminiscent of a hidden Melbourne laneway bar. As a Melbournite who wakes up daily, wooed by the secrets my city has to offer, LL Wine and Dine Bar has secrets of its own that served to intrigue me in equal measures. Yes, delve a little bit deeper and all is revealed, for LL Wine and Dine has a story that is sure to captivate you as it did me, with clues to its former identity strategically placed throughout.

Come on, tell us, tell us more you say. Okay, but promise you won’t paint the wrong picture in your head when I tell you that it used to be an adult bookshop and an illegal ’60s casino. Yes, that’s right a place selling, ahem, (amongst other things I am sure) magazines of scantily clad women. As the brothers renovated the site, it became all Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe, as they discovered secret doorways and ladders in the roof that revealed the true identity of the premises they had chosen to occupy.

Click here to read full review in Onya Magazine

By Michelsen Linn (a.k.a. The Girl in Oslo)

After leaving her heart in Melbourne during her travels as a 20 something, The “Girl in Oslo” returned to her homeland. Whilst she dreams of returning to the hidden laneways, culture and creativity of Melbourne, she has fully immersed herself back into life in Norway. Here she shares with us her favourite things to do and see. – Ed.

The great thing about Oslo is how very small it is compared to other capitals around the world, which means you can practically walk everywhere. But I also recommend that if you choose to visit, that you buy a subway/tram pass for the week and really do some exploring.

Over the years my lovely city has changed into a much more vibrant and pulsating place to live, than it was when I grew up 30 minutes outside the city center (the girl was born in Bærum).

Here are  few links for places I love in Oslo.

ASTRUP FEARNLEY MUSEUM

I am a huge fan of this museum when they show the Norwegian painter Odd Nerdrum and Andy Warhol.

EGER SHOPPING MALL

Eger carries designer goods that you normally don’t get from other places.

CAFE SOR

Enjoy great food and coffee at Cafe Sor in an atmosphere that is really chilled with some great DJ’s.

BLAA OSLO

If you want to go clubbing or listen to a free Sunday concert visit, Blaa Oslo. The vibe is great and you will meet many different people from all walks of life.

EDGEBLOOM 

I would like to introduce everyone to a Norwegian lifestyle brand Edgebloom, owned by two somewhat young men, Joakim Sellberg and Adrian Leversby.

It’s philosophy is that one`s potential aptitude for attaining a great lifestyle is limitless, and if a person dares to think differently they can influence others. Their core values are to live sustainably in balance and simplicity.

They sell everything from shoes to sweaters for both her and him. As far as thoughts behind the designs, Joakim and Adrian describe the clothes as being simple and elegant with a deeper significance. “Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication says Leonardo da Vinci, and we take his word for it”.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michelsen Linn a.k.a. The Girl in Oslo, is a 30 something girl that works with computers day, and night. She left her heart in Melbourne as a 20 something, and has been wanting to go back ever since. She is a doer and not a waiter. Lover of books and photography. She believes that everything in life depends on one thing. YOU. If you’re traveling to Norway or want to discover more about Oslo, make sure you visit the Girl In Oslo‘s blog.

First Published in Onya Magazine, January 12 2012

When seeking a bar destination in Sydney, it’s not often that you have to go off the beaten track – for there are a myriad of bars on the city streets that you can traipse into with your Manolo Blahniks and order a gin and tonic. But, if you’re searching for something different, something that beckons you away from the bright city lights with its style, sophistication and substance, then I suggest you seek out the award winning Eau De Vie, hidden at the back of the Kirketon Hotel in Darlinghurst.

The owners describe Eau-de-Vie as an intimate, dimly lit, jazz infused speakeasy created for the discerning bon vivant, that transports it guests back to a forgotten era where great service, cocktails, tommy guns and good times were king. Our Hendricks Tea Party was no exception. Served in high tea style in a Victorian tea pot, myself and my guests were treated to a gin cocktail inspired by the owner’s time from their summer in London. Not only were our drinks expertly mixed by Barry our bartender, we were also impressed with the smooth and seamless service, sumptuous lounges and paramount dedication to quality. Nothing was too much trouble.

Read the full article in Onya Magazine.

As well as being the Editor-in-Chief here at The Modern Woman’s Survival Guide, I am also the Travel Editor at Onya Magazine. I’m currently advertising for a Travel Intern to work with myself and the magazine. See below for details:

“Onya Magazine has appointed Gaynor Alder as its new Travel Editor, which means she is going to need a new right hand person to help her organise flights, hotel accommodation, restaurant reviews, beauty treatments and sight seeing whilst she gallivants across the country.

The role will comprise of up to four hours per week, working from home. Being based in Melbourne would be an advantage so that you could meet with the Travel Editor and the Editor and Director-In-Chief for editorial meetings, however applications will be considered from across the country.”

Click here to read the full article in Onya Magazine

First published in Onya Magazine December 9, 2010

It was inevitable that I’d feel a bit flat after returning to Melbourne from the beaches and sunshine of Byron Bay. Spending a week skipping in sunshine along the beach after months of cold in Melbourne was sure to lift one’s spirits, and it’s understandable that returning back to said cold would leave me less than cheerful, right? But, it was more than that, so much more than that.

I was mourning the carefree and happy me who felt so alive in Byron Bay. I held onto that for as long as I could, annoying everyone with my tan (a home jobbie of course, as the only thing my skin develops when in the sun is freckles) and post holiday high demeanour.

However, as much as I tried to cling to my memories (plastering pictures of the beach on my computer, and placing shells I collected from the beach alongside a framed postcard) slowly but surely my sparkle was eroded by work, deadlines and domesticity.

So do forgive me if I come across a tad self indulgent, or if you catch a whiff of desperation as I vicariously try to recapture my holiday magic through this article. (Sheesh, if she can’t inspire herself, what hope does she have of transporting us to Byron Bay with her article?)

But, you’ll enjoy the ride – promise. After all, we’ll get chauffeured by a limousine, stay in luxury accommodation, and also stop by the beautician, so I suggest you pour yourself some bubbles.

Don’t forget your fake tan, bikinis (yes, you’ll be doing a lot of swimming), floaty summer dresses, kaftans, SPF 30+ and whilst shoes are optional in this town, don’t let that stop you from packing a few pairs of stylish summer sandals.

Yes, one can suffice with minimalist product of sorts in the tropics – coconut body wash, tinted moisturiser, waterproof mascara, a sweep of bronzer and lip gloss. However, in case of situation requiring you to transform yourself from sun kissed holiday goer to vampy vixen of the night (upon meeting young spunky boy at the local bar), I suggest you break glass in case of emergency, and crack out the eyeliner. It’s the perfect way to transform your look into something more sultry for the evening.

Leave in conditioner is a must to take care of your wash and wear tresses post daily swims in the ocean. I left my hair straightener at home, and it was a move I was later to regret, along with the lack of Agent Provocateur lingerie in my suitcase. It was definitely a matter of ripping one’s sensible under garments (your every day kind of knickers – functional and practical, but must never be sighted by member of the opposite sex if you wish to engage them in sexual conduct of any sort) off from underneath the blanket in manner of Lara Croft, and then sliding them down the side of the bed, hoping that they would be there when I reached for them again in the morning. But I must stop there, as ahem, this story is PG rated.

So the moral of the story girl scouts is that if one is stranded on a desert island, she will definitely need her mascara and lip gloss along with her GHD post swimming naked in tropical waters and climbing trees for coconuts. So, yes, go on, pack a pair of heels as well – you know you want to.

Well, now that we’ve got all that sorted, let me just call that chauffeur.

Hang on a minute, didn’t you just say we were going to Byron Bay? What are you doing getting a limousine – it hardly seems the kind of place for a limousine?

I’m glad you brought that up. Seeing as I’m going to be writing quite a few more of these travel articles for Onya (it seems I’ve taken quite a shining to gallivanting around the country, testing the thread count of hotel sheets and inspecting whether they use duck down feathers in their pillows), we’re going to need to clear something up – I don’t do off-road, and if there’s a 5 star option, you can bet I’m all over it.

For those of you who are more of the backpacking and camping kind, well, let’s face it, you’re going to be disappointed. But, hey, I’m sure there are plenty of other magazines you can read in between “cooking” over a camp fire whilst being surrounded by red dust, all in the name of “fun”.

I must say, I’m rather perplexed at the notion of fun defined as carting your belongings across the countryside, not showering for days and sleeping on blow up mattresses under the elements. From what I can gather, the point of all this malarkey, is so that you can all sit around a fire and talk?! If I wanted to do that, I’d invite you all around to my house over the weekend and we can sit on my leather sofa – and, guess what, how novel – talk.

No matter how well you pitch it to me, you’re never going to sell me on what I can only foresee as an ordeal that even my pioneering ancestors in the early 1900s would have turned their noses up at …

“What do you mean you want me to pack everything into the horse and cart and sleep in the bush for a week? Have you lost your marbles? I’ve got a week’s worth of cross stitch here and a pile of ironing that’s not going to do itself you know. Speaking of which, I better chop some more wood for the stove, so I can heat these irons back up and bathe the seven kids before dinner. Then I best be milking the cows, shearing the sheep, ploughing the fields and sowing next year’s crop.”

 So, yes, so, you get the drift. Not a camper. Okay, right, where were we? Yes, the limousine.

Byron Bay Limousines

I’m sure you’re going to find Bill as helpful, polite and professional as I did. His customer service was impeccable, and he was ever so attentive with an air of nothing being too much trouble, ensuring everything was taken care of to ensure my trip was absolutely delightful.

Sitting in the comfort of the limousine, the hour’s trip seemed to whizz by and before I knew it, I was at my destination. It’s definitely the perfect way to start and end your holiday.

Bill not only provides limousines for airport transfers, but also weddings, corporate events, special events and girl’s nights out. Byron Bay Limousines will quote for bookings from Coffs Harbour to Noosa and all areas in between.

Why not book Byron Bay Limousines for a special girl’s afternoon at the Gaia Retreat & Spa (founded by Olivia Newton John) or drive up to the Gold Coast for the day for a spot of shopping?

Click here to visit Byron Bay Limousines and find out more about the services they can offer you on your next trip to the NSW hinterlands area.

Paradiso Beauty

 Speaking of day spas, I was lucky enough to visit Paradiso Beauty for some treatments. My feet were in dire need of attention having spent the previous months in heels and boots traipsing the city streets. I was almost too embarrassed to show to them someone I’d just met (what kind of a girl do you think I am, flashing my feet around like a floozy on my first day in a new town?)

First date nerves aside, I’m pretty fussy when it comes to a pedicure. Okay, let’s be frank – I’m terribly fussy. I certainly take umbrage paying someone who doesn’t put the effort into making my feet super soft and smooth (I could half heartedly run the pumice stone over my own feet at home).

Not only was Simmone’s technique brilliant, but the treatment was incredibly relaxing. I nearly squealed when I saw the end product – super soft feet (thanks to the paraffin foot treatment) and toe nails lacquered in a beautiful warm taupe (the perfect hue for the tropics).

Simmone was warm and friendly, and I felt ever so relaxed in her salon (almost as though we could have cracked a glass of wine, but then that would have just smudged my nails). There was none of that ghastly forced faux conversation reminiscent of many beauty salons, instead we chatted naturally as she lavished my cuticles with some much needed care, filed my nails so that they looked like pretty maids all in a row and then painted them in the same fabulous colour as my toes.

During our conversation, I learnt about her ethos when choosing products for her salon and clients. Simmone is committed to understanding the ingredients in the products and most importantly their effectiveness. Sure, some products may smell nice and have pretty packaging, but unless she believes they will benefit her client’s skin, then you won’t find them on her shelves.

Simmone also has a Botox expert who comes into her salon regularly to perform anti-aging injections. I discussed my hesitations around botox, but Simmone herself has had some injections and I was surprised how natural they looked on her. I believe that it really does come down to finding a professional with the expertise to freshen up your face without rendering you devoid of emotion and facial expression.

Click here to visit Paradiso Beauty, and book yourself some treatments with Simmone whilst in Byron Bay.

Follow this series in Part 3, where we’ll check into my accommodation at the Villas of Byron and rejoice laying by my private pool and lounging in the sunshine on the outdoor oriental day bed. We’ll also visit Seaview House, Janet’s Apartments and The Summerhouse.

Image credits: Swedish photographer Camilla Akrans

First Published in Onya Magazine on December 7, 2o10

Well, yes, I’m not exactly new. I was formerly the Beauty Editor at Onya Magazine, and now I’m pleased as punch to accept the role as Travel Editor. Who would’ve thought that I’d enjoy gallivanting around the country as much as I did reviewing beauty products?

I can tell you, from a few recent trips I’ve taken in the name of investigative journalism, that I’ve uncovered a number of travel tips:

• Always request late check out at hotels. When you’re staying in 4 hotels in the space of 8 days, you want plenty of time to pack your suitcase and cosmetics (why do they always seem to sprawl themselves from one end of the bathroom to the other, no matter how tidy you promise yourself you’ll be?)
• Pack lightly. Whatever you need will always be at the bottom of your suitcase, so no matter how many times you anally retentively refold everything in your case in a bid to regain control over the chaos that is sweeping over your hotel room and seeping into your psyche, your suitcase will always resemble a primary school jumble sale. Yes, less is more.
• Store all brochures, flyers and general memorabilia in the front pocket of your suitcase. Immediately. Otherwise when you go to write your article, you’ll find that you’ve probably left the hotel’s media release in the bin along with the empty bottles of mini vodka.
• ALWAYS double check the room and aircraft prior to departure. I’m talking peering under beds, looking in shower recesses and rummaging inside airplane magazine holders. You have no idea what you can leave behind that you may need later – including mobile broadband internet keys, mobile phones and expensive lipsticks.
• Pre check in via the internet and choose a seat in the front half of the air craft in a window aisle. Sure, the view is pretty when you take off, but it’s not so much fun when you have to wake the people next to you to get to the toilet. The meal trolley always comes quicker when you are closer to the galley, and you can get off the plane quicker at the end of the flight.
• Never trust the images from a hotel’s website! Always check Trip Advisor and Expedia to view guest’s photos and reviews.
• Do not fly Tiger Airlines. I repeat, do not fly Tiger Airlines. They turn any flight into a marathon of endurance and survival – the winner being the one who can arrive at their destination without decapitating themselves with their meal trays or suffering with food poisoning from the meal trolley.
• When reviewing restaurants, be sure to starve yourself at least a week in advance, to avoid rolling back out on the tarmac with an additional few kilos. Or ten.
• Arrive at the airport with at least an extra hour to spare god damn it. That’s what the coffee and wine lounges are for. Better to be there early than to sweat yourself through the check in line (as though you were couriering drugs to Indonesia) worrying whether you are going to get your flight in time.

Click here to visit the article in Onya Magazine

First Published in Onya Magazine September 23, 2010

“It’s about this time of year, that I get the blues – the winter blues that is. Melbourne’s relentless cold takes it toll, and I start moping around and talking about the weather like a crocheting, cup of tea drinking, scone baking nanna.

Whilst people in other states are skipping along in the sunshine like six-year-old girls off to buy a new pair of pretty shoes, we here in Melbourne are subjected to a no show from spring. The first blooms from the cherry and magnolia blossoms whisper promises of something more, but the cruelty of the cold ensures we are merely taunted by fleeting moments of sunshine.

I resent winter taking over my wardrobe, dictating to me what I should be wearing on a daily basis. I hit the wall and fall into a weakened heap on the floor, just like my coat and scarf I have discarded in disgust, having become sick of the sight of them.”

Click here to read full article in Onya Magazine

I rolled out of bed last Tuesday in the early hours of the morning with a hangover, ready to get my flight to Byron Bay. With only half an hour to pack my case (no, I am not a morning person) I opened my wardrobe and swiped the row of coat hangers in my wardrobe, and proceeded to the bathroom to grab whatever was residing on the top of my cabinet, resulting in a serious lack of product (including my fake tan). Violating Universal Law 1.1, which states one should never leave home without gloss, was a move I was to later regret.

After making my flight in the nick of time, I departed Melbourne for the Gold Coast. Upon walking out of the airport to meet my bus for the one hour trip to Byron Bay, I was greeted by glorious sunshine, and its warmth pervaded every part of my body, thawing me out post a long Melbourne winter and immediately elevating me to a new level of happiness.

After a beautiful trip through the NSW hinterlands, I arrived in Byron Bay ready to check into my first set of accommodation. Hello Villas of Byron. It was there I was to spend my first few days, luxuriating in the sub tropical weather and 5 star Balinese style accommodation. I’m talking a grand two bedroom villa compete with marble floors (which could be heated) and a private outdoor pool, spa and shower.

I took the short stroll into town (or should I say skipped like a six year old who has just started their summer holidays from school) and made an immediate beeline for the beach. As an ex Perthite who has not set foot on a beach in at least three years since becoming a Melbournite (one can only use the word beach in relation to St Kilda with a large amount of poetic licence) I was in what can only be described as heaven. I took my off my knee high boots and rolled up my jeans (hello, spot the city girl) and ran down to the shore.

As I walked back down the main street of town, I was engulfed with a sense of freedom, which personifies what I was soon to learn Byron Bay is all about.  I quickly acquainted myself with the stark contrast of sub cultures that seem to harmonically co-exist in the town – a mix of local hippies (real locals versus the people that have moved there during the past 10 years), transient holiday makers and the wealthy who’ve decided to make a sea change.

Come on tell me more about this Pacey, hurry up and get to the good stuff will you? I will, I will, I promise, but first I need to walk you through my first four days. You see, the main reason for me going to Byron Bay was to work on my book and get back in touch with my health, post a long wine fuelled Melbourne winter which had resulted in me carrying a lot more junk in my trunk in the form of a few extra kilos.

I declared a self imposed embargo on wine and committed to eating organic food, drinking water and daily beach walks to restore serenity to thy soul (and more importantly, my thighs). After two nights of luxury that was the Villas of Byron, I packed up my case and moved onto Seaview House on the other side of town, set high above the hill that overlooks the ocean.

It was there, that I found my writing mojo. The beach has always been special to me – not only does it seem to cleanse my soul, it also helps to clear my mind. Sitting on the balcony and taking in the spectacular view of the ocean whilst listening to the waves roll and crash into the shore, I realised I had been walking around all this time like a jigsaw that was missing its final few pieces. Yes, life in Melbourne has been fabulous these past few years, but it took me leaving it to realise there were in fact some gaping holes – like a painter rubbing his hands over a wall in preparation to paint it and filling the imperfections with Selley’s spack filler.

As thoughts naturally sifted through themselves, settling in the form of epiphanies and perspective, I clicked the final pieces of the puzzle into place, finding answers to questions I didn’t know I needed and it restored a contented peace to my heart. Following this came an insatiable urge to turn on my mac, as the inspiration flowed for my book. I suddenly found the words that I need to complete chapters that I had been previously agonising over for months, and, well, let’s be honest – years. My hands could barely keep up, as I furiously typed away in a quest to capture the steady stream of thoughts that were running through my brain.

Every time I took a break to have a cigarette and walk down through the steps which were surrounded with tropical trees and plants, I would have to butt it out and race back to my mac, scared I would forget the unexpected moments of literary brilliance. I went to bed contented, with the doors and windows open so that I could sleep with the sound and breeze of the ocean washing over me.

The following day I was scheduled to check into an apartment right in town. Any travel writer reviewing accommodation learns that the glamour of staying for free in luxury accommodation is abated by the early 10am checkout and not being able to check into the next hotel until 2pm. I soon learnt that this was the window of opportunity to sample the local day spas and beauticians. One delightful manicure and pedicure later, and I was ready to collect my suitcase from the apartment’s lobby and enter my room.

I settled in with an organic meal and a mango smoothie, and put on some Billy Holiday. I’m not sure if it was the jazz coupled with the writing, but I was soon hankering for a sauvignon blanc. After a few moments deliberation, whereby like any woman on a diet or detox, I started to deals with myself (well, I’ve been good all week, so surely that means I’ve earned myself a bottle of wine) and it wasn’t before long I had decided that I’d had enough of this health malarkey and headed to the nearest bottle shop.

Back in my room, I savoured three delightful glasses of wine, when I was overcome with an overwhelming need to hit town and meet some people. Sure, I was my on own, but what did I have to lose? Being adept at being able to get myself out of any unsavoury situation, I threw on some clothes and slapped on my face, and hit the Beach Hotel.

I circled the establishment and my initial suspicions that the place would be full of bogans were confirmed. Not one to be easily defeated, I did one more lap. It was then, there in the corner that I spotted three young boys. Ding, ding, ding!

“Hello, my name is Gaynor and I am in town on my own, would you like to be my friends for the night?” There were two intoxicated boys batting for Australia with the consumption of illicit substances, but then there was Peter. Cute, ever so tanned with gorgeous green eyes Peter – and more importantly unintoxicated Peter. Cool, calm and real – just, the way I like my men, or should I say, boys.

He reminded me not only of the kind of boy I would have been attracted to when I was 16, but also of a taller and better looking version of Pacey from Dawson’s Creek. I immediately informed him, from there on in, he would in fact for all intent purposes be called Pacey (for all my casual sex conquests are never referred to by their real names – I could tell you stories of Jesus, Robin Hood and Dave the Dapper Electrician, but I’ll save that for another time).

I moved onto another bar with my new friends, and soon began reveling in memories of my misspent youth. Oh, have I not told you that Pacey was only 23, and his comrades slightly less younger? The age difference became visibly apparent when they ordered “Jungle Juice” whilst I ordered a sauvignon blanc from the bar. However, I was in Byron Bay, and my new motto became “Only in Byron”. A motto that soon extended to many other escapades and violations of my normal code of conduct (including my “shoes are never an optional item in public” rule – but, more about that later).

After a few drinks we ventured back to the boys’ house, where Pacey cooked us all dinner. I looked around and realised that it was in fact one of those fabulous nights where you end up far from where you thought you would when you woke up in the morning and washed your hair and brushed your teeth – my favourite kind indeed – because these are the moments in life when you feel most alive.

Whilst the other two boys continued to hit sixes for Australia, Pacey and I headed back to the Beach Hotel for another drink. Whilst he was at the bar, I decided that it would be a good idea to go for a night time walk along the beach. “Pacey, here’s what I propose. I’m going to smuggle your beer out of here in my bag (an easy task considering I previously have done the same with bottles of wine under my coat in other establishments with much more security many a time) and buy us another packet of cigarettes, and then we’re going to hit the beach.”

We walked for miles along the beach, which seemed to stretch on forever. We eventually found a place to sit and spent the next hour chatting (or was it an hour, because it was one of those nights where time stood still). The kind of meeting random people on holiday conversation that means you skip past the obligatory getting to know you chit chat and get straight to the good stuff, knowing you may never seem them again. Magic.

On our way back, Pacey decided to walk into the water. It was surprisingly warm, and it didn’t take me long to run back to the shore to deposit my bag on its sand, in the name of swimming fully clothed in the water at midnight.

It was about this time that I decided I was going to take this new younger model for a test drive. For what he may have lacked in experience, he could surely make up for in stamina. After walking through the town bare foot and dripping wet, I whisked him back to my apartment so that I could have my way with him.

Now, I am usually all grab them by the collar and push them up against the wall. However, I displayed an unusual level of composure and restraint and snuggled up against him in bed whilst watching a DVD. It reminded me of encounters with high school crushes, when the anticipating expectation builds butterflies in your stomach, and you ever so surely, yet ever so slowly move closer and closer to the warm body in your bed, whilst your swirling sexual attraction is heightened by the will we, won’t we?

After an hour or so, we finally kissed. He was soft, tender and attentive. Warning, warning, Will Robinson, this kind of  encounter was not in the confines of my normal code of conduct for casual sex 101. Let me explain.

I have casual sex down to a fine art. The name of the game is to avoid the over production of oxytocin, which is a chemical produced when two people have sex, making them feel bonded to each other, in the name of procreation of the human species. Not wanting to get involved in a menage a trois with genetics, I have learnt that the less affection there is coupled with kicking them straight out of bed in your Dolce and Gabbana heels, the less production of oxytocin that there is, and the resultant danger of getting emotionally attached to what is essentially nothing more than a one night stand. The deviant coquettish side of my nature that underpins my Audrey Hepburn demeanor, doth love the juxtaposition of this kind of scenario.

But the kissing and the affection was far too nice. Like a teenager deciding whether to pop another ecstasy pill, I had a choice to make. I could milk this for all it was worth over the next few days and risk the inevitable oxytocin comedown, or I could play it safe. I, of course chose the former. After all, I was on holidays, and was never going to see him again and it was nothing a bottle of vino and a few cigarettes couldn’t fix when I got home … and did I mention how cute he was? It also appealed to the investigative nature of my writer’s mind – would this young boy’s equipment be up to the job?

After a number of nights and days of non stop shenanigans, I can report, that yes indeed, whilst he was young, he sure did know a few tricks of the trade. I always file men in the category of those who don’t like to go down, and the men that do, and let it be known that he was of the latter – and mighty good at it to boot (the former is a sexual deal breaker for me).

The only side effect that I must warn all women in their 30s who like myself might decide to indulge in the younger of the male species is this: the words “older woman” gets bandied around far too much, and whilst it is meant to be complimentary (fulfilling a fantasy or two for them) it can leave you running to the mirror to inspect the state of your wrinkles and seriously contemplating botox.

But, would I trade places with my young 20 year old counterparts? Not on your life. For, whilst I may have felt 16 during those few days, I have the mind of a woman in her 30s, who is able to see the situation for what it is and not get caught up in the lunacy that is fantacising about your holiday fling being something more, other than a straight sexual transaction, and well, if you get to actually connect with him and have some great conversations with him at the same time, well that’s a bonus, but something that is left behind at the destination.

I spent my last day of post coital bliss writing postcards, reading a magazine, filling a notepad with my thoughts and ideas for future articles and dispensing a few well timed vinos as I caught my last glimpses of the beauty that is the beach at Byron. Pacey came to briefly meet me for a drink, before I said goodbye and prepared myself to leave the paradise of Byron Bay.

Like an Italian woman in mourning, I put on my mandatory Melbourne black and greeted my limousine that was to drive me to the Gold Coast airport ready to board the plane for the big smoke. Yes, there was a definite lump in my throat and I was as flat as a day old pancake in desperate need for some maple syrup, but it was all worth it.

I am of course today relishing in my perpetual post shag high, which will be sure to see me through to the end of the week. Thank you Byron, and, yes, of course Pacey. You were magic. Thanks for the holiday memories – and I am sure you will be checking off the rest of your list over summer.

Madam Holiday xx

Now, it is time for me to stop agonising over the final 10,000 words and just finish it. Now, it is the time for me to pitch it to a publisher. Now, it is the time for me to put myself out there.

So, I have booked a flight to Byron Bay to spend a week on my own, walking on the beach every morning to clear my head and write. To pour my heart out onto paper (well, actually onto my mac) and finish what I started that day back in 2002 when I decided to finally listen to all those people who said, “you know, you should really write a book”.

I have always believed in my book, but of course, the path of every writer is always intercepted with the occasional dose of self doubt in the form of what the fuck are you doing, are you ever really going to get a publisher, who do you think you are to write a book, maybe I should just get a haircut and get a real job?

Luckily for me, this has never stopped me. Luckily for me, I have inherited my dad’s self-determination and belief that I can do anything that I set my mind to. So, this week I hope to do my dad, and everyone else who has believed in me all these years, proud by putting the finishing touches, to what I hope will be a book that many will love, dog ear, re-read and get something out of – just as much as I have out of writing it.

However, I won’t be leaving you high and dry my dear readers, for I have been busy writing some articles to keep you company whilst I abscond to the NSW coast.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank you all for coming here to read my blog. As you may have gathered by now, writing is my passion. To have people reading what I write is an added joy, one that makes everything I have sacrificed over the past years to follow this path all worthwhile. Even if you didn’t stop by here, I would still write. Yes, I write therefore I am.

Writing is what helps me make sense of myself and my place in the world. Not only that, my writing is something that fills me with a deep sense of joy – and I think we all need to follow the things in life that makes us feel this way, otherwise, we are in danger of missing the whole point of what life is really about. Sure, there is work to do and bills to pay, but why wouldn’t we try the best we can to do that by doing what we love.

I’ve taken that risk and it’s one that I hope won’t see me rattling around a nursing home without a penny in my purse – but if it, does, you can be sure I’ll be one happy old pensioner who’ll still have a pen and notepad in her top draw to record the thoughts that run through her head when her head hits the pillow at night (and let me tell you, I’ll also be introducing wine o’clock with the daily game of bridge).

Madam Holiday xx

Image Credits: 1

First Published in Onya Magazine on 2 August 2010 by Justin Watts

This is an article that was published in Onya Magazine, written by Justin Watts. I was taken by this article because it has always been a life long dream of mine to not only learn French, but to also travel to France and learn whilst living there. My attempts at the French language whilst travelling there in 99 were basic to say the least – with my Let’s Go Europetucked under my arm and an electronic language converter, I was savvy enough to not get ripped off whilst converting my dollars to francs, but my pronunciation of certain prolific French landmarks were met with abject horror from a young boy, who whilst not from France, had taken the time to study it – “you just murdered the French language”. I live in hope that one day I will be able to return and speak the language with all the beauty, grace and femininity of Audrey Hepburn (whilst sipping on an Earl Grey from a cafe, people watching and watching the world go past, before spending the afternoon at the Musee d’Orsay to immerse myself in art). 

Preface from the Editor of Onya Magazine – “Justin Watts wanted to learn French. He decided the best way to do so was not to join a language class in Australia, but rather move to France and throw himself into the language, and the culture. This is his (funny, moving, delightful) story.”

Here is an excerpt from his article:

“I wanted to start work as soon as I could upon finishing the course so whenever I wasn’t studying how to use an irregular verb in the past continuous form, I was searching the internet for language schools and sending out my CV. After sending 150 emails without a positive response I decided to expand my field to include Francophone countries in Northern Africa as well as Belgium and Luxembourg. Another 150 emails later and I had two viable offers: Freelance work in Brussels where French, Flemish and English are spoken and the pay is high or Nancy (a Newcastle sized town in North East France) where I’d make about 400 Euros per week, before the inordinate taxing began. If I wanted to make a lot of money in a year I’d be working in a mine in Western Australia, but I wanted to learn French so I pounced on the Nancy offer like a Frenchman on a baguette.”

Click here to read full article in Onya Magazine

Darlings,

I will be holidaying in Perth for the next two weeks – see you when I return from the Motherland.

Image Credit: 1

I’m tired. Worn out. Exhausted. I sit at the keyboard to type and my mind fails to respond. I look at my calendar with resentment. I can’t bare to schedule another appointment. My inbox makes me feel sick. Yes folks, it’s that time of year. Time for a holiday.

A holiday where I don’t have to think about anything. A holiday where I can spend relaxing afternoons that roll into delightful evenings, talking with dear friends over beautiful food and lovely wine. A holiday where I can take it as it comes. A holiday where I don’t have to check my diary to see what I’m doing everyday. A holiday where I can do what I want, when I want and not feel obligated by anything. I need to be free, so I can relax and recharge – because that’s what holidays are for.

That’s why I’m heading home to Perth for two whole weeks this coming Saturday. There will be cherished friends to see and family to catch up with – namely one 6 year old to read stories to, and play board games and beauty salons with (for a mere $5 you can have your face painted or get a massage – and she’ll even take coin).

There are so many people I would love to catch up with when I am home in Perth, and people I may miss because they are coming and going the time that I am there (it seems everyone else is in holiday mode too – you jetsetters, you). If I was to keep a diary of the dates when everyone was free, start a schedule and work myself around it, it would cease to be a holiday. I hope to see you all, but, if we don’t catch up this time, it doesn’t mean I love you any less, and there will definitely be a next time.

Is anyone else feeling the need to hop on a plane and get away from it all?

To celebrate the release of Sex and the City 2, On Location Tours in New York have developed a fabulous package that includes the famous Sex and the City Hotspots Tour, dinner, a ticket to SATC2 the movie and admission to a nightclub.

“The tour visits over 40 locations from the movie and the TV show. It’s the perfect mix of shopping, drinking, and sightseeing in the hip neighborhoods of New York City.”

• Have a cupcake at the bakery where Miranda stuffed cupcakes into her mouth
• Shop at the store where Charlotte bought her “Rabbit”
• See the restaurant where Carrie and Big had their engagement party
• Visit the trendy meatpacking district
• Have a Cosmo at a bar used on the show
• See the furniture store where Aidan works
• Get the behind-the-scenes scoop on the show

Date: May 28th 2010

Cost: $179 US per ticket

Departs: 2pm in front of Pulitzer Fountain on Fifth Avenue.

Click here for more information or to purchase tickets

On Location Tours, Inc. is a bus tour company based in New York City, specialising in TV and movie location tours. On Location Tours also operates the tour of Sopranos Sites and Gossip Girl Sites, the New York TV and Movie Sites, Washington DC TV and Movie Sites, and the Central Park Movie Sites.

I don’t know about you, but it always takes me a few days to wind down when I start my holidays. I find myself walking around the house in circles, stuck half way between work mode and half way between holiday mode. I know I should be relaxing, but I can’t quite switch off, and keep opening my mac to check my emails or whore myself out on social media.

Then after a few blissful long sleep ins, something happens. My mind slows down, my body unwinds and I am completely in the moment. Time takes on a new quality and its new rhythm (I still have to spell check this word after all these years) allows me to notice the small things around me and simple things take on a new beauty.

In 2010 I hope to continue to bring you a blog that’s not only fabulous, but something different. Something that is real, heartfelt and honest. Which is why, this is my lucky last post for a week or so. Sure, I could churn out some posts, but they would be nothing more than the ramblings of a worn out writer in an attempt to keep up her google page rank, and something I don’t do my dear readers is mediocrity. That would not only be a grave injustice to myself and my writing, but to you my loyal readers.

2010 is set to be a cracker. There of course will be the obligatory post Christmas fat crisis and new years resolutions, but there will also be fresh insights as I bravely bare my soul to cyberspace and musings on love, sex, relationships, shopping and all things pertaining to that of being a woman. Oh, and let’s not forget many more product reviews and giveaways, as I continue to dive into my cupboards, which currently have more cosmetics than the shelves of David Jones.

If there are any topics you would like me to explore in 2010, please contact me here. I would love to know the things that move you and the things that trouble you being a modern woman as we move into a new decade.

Wishing you all a very fabulous Christmas!

Mwah xx

I’d met her at work. After circling around and sizing up each other for a few months, we hit it off when I offered her some relationship advice and she invited me to her place for a party. I thought she was fab and loads of fun. Next thing, we were planning our holiday wardrobes and counting the sleeps until we were off, and somewhere along the way I became her therapist, supporting her through her break-up.

Knowing she was fond of a drink, I told her before we left that I wasn’t going for a booze-a-thon, rather for some R&R, but I didn’t care if she drank. I don’t have a problem with drinking at all, in fact, I can be rather fond of the bottle. Drinking everyday for 10 days in Phuket, just wasn’t where I was at at that point in time.

So there I was relaxing on the beach, just settling into the holiday after recovering from severe sleep deprivation (don’t ever fly Tiger airlines), when out of the blue, she abuses me because I declined the offer to drink a bottle of champagne with her?!? It seemed people were no fun to her unless they drank – hello GTF (good time friend). She was acting like a man who paid for a hooker and then got angry because they refused to perform bondage or a bit of S&M. I was nobodies whore.

After realising I didn’t have to sit there and listen to her abuse – “cleeeaar-ly” she was having some kind of episode and taking out her issues on me, I got up and said I was going for a walk, and that she could continue the conversation with me later when she was ready to speak to me like an adult. She continued to yell out after me, “that’s right, walk away like you always do”. Considering we’d never had an argument, thus I’d never walked away from her before in the midst of one, it was a tad disconcerting to say the least, especially since I still had another 5 days to spend with her in a shared room.

Returning to our room a few hours later and calmly re-approaching the situation, I copped another tirade of abuse, “I’m not interested in your little pre-rehearsed speech”. There was poison oozing out of her every pore – I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone’s face contorted into something so ugly. I was officially on the holiday from hell, and I quickly realised she was far from fabulous. Sure, she could be great fun, but underneath it all, she was a shallow, selfish, high maintenance, out of control alcoholic. When things didn’t go her way, she behaved like a spoilt 4 year old throwing a tantrum, chucking the board game up in the air and storming off to her room and slamming the door. She may have paid for my ticket, but she had no idea what real generosity or friendship was – she was only in it for herself. GTFs are the equivalent of a fake designer handbag, they look fabulous on the outside, but when you open it up and have a good look inside, they’re actually cheap and nasty. Great for a few good nights out, but poorly made and lacking any real quality, they quickly fall apart.

After returning home and going back to work, and having her insult my intelligence lying about another holiday I knew she was going on, it was time to burn her off. I deleted her number from my phone and removed her best friend who I had no real connection with from my facebook page. This resulted in abusive messages on my phone – for a moment, I thought I was back in high school. I won’t deny there wasn’t a part of me that thought about conducting a well timed assassination and putting them both in their place, but they weren’t worth the energy. I knew where I stood in relation to it and I didn’t need to defend myself against that kind of rubbish. Responding is exactly what they would have wanted me to do, so they could sit around giggling and coming up with new and nastier responses. Hey, if festering in negativity and toxicity is what they want to do it with their time, swell, but I sure wasn’t interested in perpetuating it. Instead, I cut them off at the source by hitting delete. With a push of a button, I wiped them from my life.

This crazy girl is long forgotten, but when you meet someone new, how can you really be sure you’re not going to being done over by a dodgy Asian salesman passing off a fake handbag as the real thing? Sure, you can search for the badges, smell the leather and examine the stitching, but some of those fakes are good, real good. More important than buyer’s remorse, is not letting these kinds of experiences have you hold the wrong people at a distance for fear of being hurt, declining generosity or never taking the risk on someone new.

One should have a strict VIP entry only policy and quality control checks, but at the end of the day, there are no real guarantees. In hindsight, would I have done anything different? If I hadn’t of gone, I may have always regretted not going. If it was someone different in that same scenario, it could have turned out to be the holiday of a lifetime, that I would be making a DVD of and setting it to “Time of my Life” from Dirty Dancing. You have no real way of knowing, unless you take a risk. Sure it might all go to shit sometimes, and people may hurt and disappoint you, but there are so many other gorgeous, fabulous and beautiful people in this world. I think I’d rather be the person who puts themselves out there, and maybe gets occasionally burnt, than the person who plays it safe all the time, and never experiences what living, really living means.