Love Notes for Snail Girls

For years, perfume was about announcing yourself before you’d even entered the room. The idea was to smell expensive and powerful like a woman who owned matching luggage and never queued for boarding.

Then we seemed to develop olfactory fatigue, giving rise to skin-loving marshmallow scents, and now, the intriguing genre of “snail girl” fragrances.

Typically associated with nostalgia, being in nature, and connecting scent to memory, think notes of wet pavement after rain and crushed fig leaves.

Which is ideal for those of us whose relationship with the great outdoors is, at best, aspirational. The most outdoorsy I’ve ever been was a brief and deeply character-building stint at Outward Bound in 2001, where I discovered I don’t enjoy hiking, sleeping in tents or snacking on scroggin. But living vicariously through my pulse points? That I can do.

My current obsession is Abel, the radical, 100% natural New Zealand fragrance house founded by former winemaker Frances Shoemack. For the ultimate snail girl fragrance wardrobe (and escapism in its chicest form) look to this trio:

• Green Cedar. Captures the calm of Japanese wellness concept shinrin-yoku — or forest bathing

• Pause. A textured woody floral that has been described as smelling like “sunlight on hay”.

• Laundry Day. Bottles the feeling of throwing open the windows on the first morning of spring, with notes of lime and passionfruit. It’s also my current everyday scent.

  

The One Where We All Dress Like Rachel

My daughter Bessie had her tonsils out this month, which meant that while waiting for bowls of jelly to set, I found myself seeking comfort in a few episodes of Friends.

And while it could be a lingering side effect of my Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy obsession post-Love Story, it needs to be noted that Rachel Green’s wardrobe might be the strongest reference point we have for today’s take on the 90s.

Somewhere between Ross saying Rachel’s name at the altar and the gang discovering Monica and Chandler’s romance, my entire Pinterest feed started being populated by Jennifer Aniston and I realised I’d happily wear almost every one of Rachel’s season five outfits today.

Which, in hindsight, shouldn’t be surprising. Rachel was doing what half the fashion industry is trying to do again now. Grey suiting. Leather blazers. Baby tees. Slip skirts with fitted knits. Knee boots under midi skirts. Yes, she had Ralph Lauren in her wardrobe, but she wore it with enough softness and personality that it never felt too polished to sit drinking cereal-bowl-sized mugs of coffee at Central Perk.

The genius of Rachel (aside from the hair) was that while she worked in fashion, she was never out of reach. She was the original style bellwether occupying the very tricky territory between aspirational and attainable.

Which is probably why, nearly 30 years later, it still feels so relevant. And utterly wearable.

Sure, Carolyn might always be fashion’s 90s north star, but Rachel Green remains aspirational in a different sense. Her wardrobe had room for colour, humour and a slightly messy life still in progress. In other words: Carolyn walked in Calvin Klein so Rachel could run in Ralph Lauren.

And now I’ve pointed it out, you’ll probably also start spotting Rachel references everywhere this season.

East, West & Finally Carrying Less

For years, my handbag wasn’t really mine. It was a satellite pantry, pharmacy and lost property department. If someone needed a bottle, Band-Aid, or baby wipe, I was your mum.

Somewhere along the way, I’d stopped carrying a handbag and started carrying contingency plans.

Then, quietly, my daughters stopped needing quite so much every time we left the house.

This very neatly coincided with me turning 40 this year. And sitting at the top of my birthday wish list was an east-west bag.

Long and impossibly sleek, tucked neatly under the arm, it’s fashion’s silhouette of the moment. The kind of bag that suggests your biggest daily decision is “sparkling or tap?” It holds little more than a phone, keys and lipstick. It’s the anti-nappy-bag bag.

I scoured the internet looking for the perfect one. The Row. Prada. Khaite. Alaïa. I became intimately acquainted with bag dimensions and leather grain. Eventually, however, I found the one much closer to home: the ‘90s Belt Bag by Australian label St. Agni. A friend recently took the same one to New York and was stopped several times by women asking if it was The Row. Which, for a handbag under $500, feels a little like being told you are Jennifer Lawrence’s doppelganger.

Mine, naturally, now contains antihistamines, a rogue Bluey figurine and the crumbs of tiny teddies, crushed into the lining.

But that’s motherhood for you. You never really stop carrying for other people. You just get to carry a little more of yourself, too.

Kissed by a Frog

There is nothing I love spotting more than a niche, micro trend and this season, frog fastenings are hopping out of history books and straight into our wardrobes.

Yes, frog closures, those ornamental, toggle-like trimmings made from braided cord or fabric tubes, are everywhere: on plush velvet jackets, shirts with opulent satin finishes and cropped cardigans.

What I love is that they don’t shout for attention the way a giant gold button or oversized bow does. They’re jewellery disguised as fastening. Functional, yes, but with the smug confidence of someone who looks like their jacket comes from a flea market in Copenhagen rather than their Zara algorithm.

Also, fashion has spent years making closures disappear with invisible zips, hidden buttons and seamless everything. Frog fastenings do the opposite. They remind us that getting dressed can be ceremonial and make even the simplest of outfits feel much more elegant and intentional.

Styled with relaxed tailoring or denim, the trick is to keep the rest of your look clean and simple and let these little details bring the drama.

Back to Primary School

While a pop of red has been trending for a while, this season it has company with the addition of Klein blue, butter yellow and Kelly green. Primary colours are everywhere. They’re showing up head-to-toe, side-by-side, on runways, on high-streets. I’ve been wearing and writing about them for months, and I have to admit, there’s something strangely optimistic about colours you first learnt to recognise before you could even read.

They’re uncomplicated and energetic. Maybe that’s why they feel so refreshing.

While Celine, Loewe and Alaïa have all been serving masterclasses in colour confidence, you don’t need a Paris Fashion Week invitation to make it work. My advice? Keep it simple. When in doubt, pair it with denim.

Texture will temper and soften the boldness (like this buttery yellow mohair knit from Cable). And finally, if you are too intimidated to try colour blocking, then lean into stripes- which have an uncanny ability to make almost any colour combination look intentional.

Some women become mothers. Others become icons. They set the emotional temperature of a room, keep family folklore alive, and know where all the birth certificates are.

The trouble with Mother’s Day gifting is that it often undershoots the brief.

Which is where Meryl Streep comes in. Few women have mapped the emotional and aesthetic terrain of modern motherhood quite like Meryl.

Her performances have embodied our every mood: demanding, romantic, chaotic, brave, nurturing, furious, formidable, flour-dusted, overbearing, heartbroken and hilarious.

Meryl’s genius is that she never plays women as perfect. Which is to say, she plays mothers perfectly.

So, if you’re struggling to buy for the woman who raised you and shaped you, skip the generic categories and go cinematic.

After all, isn’t every mum as iconic as Meryl?

If Mum’s a Miranda from The Devil Wears Prada

She can communicate deep disappointment with one raised eyebrow and has never once asked twice. She also remembers every instance of you leaving wet towels on the floor.

Like Miranda Priestly, she understands that standards are a form of love. She may seem exacting, but beneath the steel nerves and schedules lies devotion of the highest calibre. She wants excellence for you and refuses to let you get sloppy in the manners (or knitwear) department. She taught you that details matter and punctuality is respect.

Gift her elegant, decisive things with good hardware. Think the Bared boots the real Meryl wore on The Devil Wears Prada press tour, a bold red bag by Rylan and a black blazer from Friends with Frank, a Linden Cook jewellery tray for her desk and a signature scent paired with signature sunglasses.

If Mum’s a Jane from It’s Complicated

A Jane mum is the human equivalent of a sun-drenched kitchen with expensive tapware and a batch of scones in the oven. Warm and witty, she has survived disappointment without becoming bitter and mastered the art of looking luminous while multitasking.

Jane mums are domestic, but never dull. This is a woman who can host, roast and plate dessert without elevating her pulse. She has raised people, fed people and forgiven people. She likely taught you generosity through seconds and patience through gardening herbs.

Lean into her Nancy Meyers-heroine era with indulgences that earn their bench space. A gourmet fig-scented candle from Diptique at Mecca, a wicker cloche, an olive-adorned oil decanter from Sussan, a Papier recipe journal, and Ralph Lauren salad servers.

If Mum’s a Clarissa from The Hours

A Clarissa mum moves through life with immaculate posture, excellent manners and the occasional emotional monologue. And she always buys the flowers herself.

An elegant operator, Clarissas are emotionally intelligent, aesthetically rigorous, and quietly carrying a heavier mental load than anyone realises.

She likes her novels classic and her fashion timeless. Gift accordingly: a cashmere scarf, a soft-touch tote (under $50!), leather gloves, a Linden Cook gold bracelet, an Antico vase for arranging her flowers, and a copy of Mrs Dalloway.

If Mum’s a Donna from Mamma Mia!

Sun-kissed, affectionate and mildly chaotic, a Donna mum dances while cooking, refuses to rely on a handyman and never irons her linen. She treats friends like family, family like gold, and any long lunch as though it could escalate into a Greek island wedding by sunset.

She likely raised you on optimism, ABBA lyrics and the idea that a little Mediterranean romance is good for the soul and the soundtrack.

Lean into her generosity of spirit with hosting essentials like olive tumblers or a picnic basket from La Casa, seaside touches like this shell wall light from Antico, or bohemian accents such as a statement ring from Linden Cook and a woven sunhat.

There are very few people you can recognise from a distance that requires squinting. The Queen was one of them.

I realised this at Royal Ascot in 2017. I was standing on a balcony by the winner’s circle, hoping to catch a glimpse of Queen Elizabeth II presenting the trophy. As I scanned the lawn — a sea of top hats and hundreds of women dressed in varying degrees of pageantry — I started to get nervous I would miss her in the crowd.

I needn’t have worried. Within moments, she appeared in the distance, like a small, bright pink crayon.

Instantly, I knew it was her, which somehow made it more surreal, not less. It was a moment of recognition built on decades of familiarity: the silhouette, the colour, the hat.

Having worked as a fashion reporter for more than a decade, I was often asked, Who is your style icon?

My answer never changed: The Queen.

This was usually met with polite confusion or, occasionally, an outburst of laughter. The expectation, of course, was that I would choose someone fashion-approved: an impossibly chic minimalist like Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy or Jane Birkin or a feathered eccentric like Isabella Blow or Iris Apfel. Or, if I was going to name a royal, surely I’d pick Princess Diana. It’s always Diana. But for me, the Queen encompassed everything fashion should be. Few people in history have understood the assignment quite so well.

This month marks what would have been her 100th birthday (on April 21.)

Crowned in an era defined by photography and film, Queen Elizabeth II would become the world’s most vibrant monarch and a masterclass in the mechanics of visibility.

Her wardrobe remains one of the most enduring and recognisable visual identities ever created. Not because it was daring or particularly fashion-forward. Quite the opposite. Transcending time and trend cycles entirely, the Queen dressed with such unwavering consistency that her silhouette was instantly identifiable: a brightly coloured coat, a structured hat, sensible shoes and a small black handbag. Even children could draw her.

Aspirational and approachable in equal measure, her sartorial signature struck an elusive balance between ordinary and extraordinary — an ethereal icon touched by divinity, yet unmistakably, a grandmother.

With the addition of her glittering state gowns and the tweeds and wellingtons —away from the cameras — in Balmoral, it was a wardrobe that told the story of a monarch, career diplomat and consummate image-maker who understood how to wield soft power through clothing.

And yet, for all its brilliance, her wardrobe has at times been curiously overlooked in the annals of fashion. She was first overshadowed by Princess Margaret’s glamour, then by Diana’s fashion fairytale, and later by the modern royal influence of Kate and Meghan. The Queen, by comparison, was sensible. Predictable. A little bit… Nanna. Which, of course, was entirely the point.

Norman Hartnell, her early couturier, famously remarked that the Queen did not want to be a fashion setter. That was left, he said, “to people with less important work to do”. Her clothes, instead, required what he called “a non-sensational elegance.”

But from the beginning, her approach was deliberate.

Fuss-free and duty-first, she adopted her mother’s trusted designers as her own, including Hartnell and Hardy Amies. And, over time, her image mirrored the message of the monarchy: stability, dignity and familiarity.

Rather than evolving with trends and constantly reinventing herself, the Queen cultivated continuity. In fashion terms, it was repetition. But in institutional terms, it was reassurance.

Then came the colour.

The turn of the 21st century marked a new era of elegance for the Queen.

The evolution was largely credited to Angela Kelly, who, after joining the Royal household in 1993 as one of the Queen’s dressers, rose the ranks to the position of Her Majesty’s Personal Advisor, Curator, Wardrobe and In-house Designer.

Under her gleeful guidance, it was in the years following the Queen’s Golden Jubilee in 2002 that Her Majesty’s style truly flourished.

Embracing everything from zesty citrus shades and rich jewel tones to powdery pastels, high-octane neons and uplifting brights — including her favourite happy hue, buttercup yellow — the Queen’s technicolour palette brought an element of surprise and delight to garden parties and public engagements. Head-to-toe tonal dressing became as synonymous with her visual identity as a crown.

But the colour wasn’t frivolous. It was strategic.

In the documentary The Queen at 90, Sophie, Countess of Wessex explained, “She needs to stand out for people to be able to say, ‘I saw the Queen,’”.

“Don’t forget that when she turns up somewhere, the crowds are two, three, four, ten, 15 deep, and someone wants to be able to say they saw a bit of the Queen’s hat as she went past.”

Perhaps if there is one lesson we could all take from her wardrobe, it’s this: don’t fade into the background.

Somewhere along the way, getting older has carried the expectation of getting quieter. Both in personality, and in palette. The wardrobe narrows. The colours soften. The prints retreat. Fashion starts steering us towards shades that apologise. Think oat, stone, camel, navy and khaki. Or the occasional thrilling deviation into mocha.

But never the Queen. Her coats weren’t just cheerful; they carried meaning. Lemon, lime, tangerine, sky blue, violet, fuchsia. She dressed to be seen, quite literally, from a distance.

While fashion would have most women quietly fade into neutral anonymity with age, she did the opposite, doubling down on colour long after the industry suggests it’s time to tone things down.

And perhaps that’s the most radical style lesson she’s left us with. Not just that she found a fashion formula and stuck to it, but that she never lost the nerve to take up visual space. No sudden pivot into head-to-toe camel. No retreat into safe navy. No quiet surrender to the tyranny of tasteful neutrals. Just colour. Consistent, deliberate, joyful colour.

At a time when cool has become synonymous with restraint, the Queen’s wardrobe feels rebellious. She wasn’t chasing newness or following trends. She was simply, unapologetically, visible.

Ultimately, the Queen came to transcend fashion, occupying a position far above the novelty of it all. But she also perfectly understood the powerful role that fashion played in fulfilling her duty.

As she once put it, “I have to be seen to be believed.”

I never got to meet my style icon. But I can say, with complete and lingering certainty, that I saw her.

On that sunny day at Royal Ascot, from more than 500 metres away, in a crowd of thousands, she was seen. And believed.

Makes Scents: Marshmallow fragrances are having a moment

Marshmallow is suddenly everywhere, and not just in rocky road Easter eggs. Searches for marshmallow fragrances are up 453%, which suggests we’re all craving something soft.

To be clear, Marshmallow in fragrance form is less confectionery aisle and more cashmere lounge set. Think cosy, warm, and faintly expensive-smelling. Sweet, yes, but in the silky, skin-adjacent way. It’s clean, comforting and incredibly chic, not childish.

And, in a year that already feels busy and bracing for burnout, it makes sense that the perfume pendulum has swung back to something softer. Here are four to try today:

Ellis Brooklyn: Sweet Eau de Parfum: A sweet and fruity fragrance that is playful yet grown-up.

Ellis Brooklyn: Marshmallows Hair And Body Fragrance Mist: A milk musky mist that embraces you in a delicately sweet cloud of inviting yumminess.

DedCool Mochi Milk 50ml: A sweeter, gourmand take on the warm notes found in DedCool’s MILK family of skin scents—fragrances that smell like you, only cosier.

PHLUR Heavy Cream Hair And Body Mist: A swirl of milky, decadent sweetness.

Purple Reign: Against the Grain

After several years of fashion existing on a strict beige-based diet of oat, stone, sand, camel, mushroom, greige, and the occasional thrilling deviation into “warm taupe”, neutral fatigue is real. Right on cue, purple has taken matters into its own grape-hued-glove wearing hands.

Every few years, fashion remembers purple exists and acts like it has discovered a secret passage. This season, the shade has returned in its more sophisticated forms: aubergine coats, blackberry knits, deep plum tailoring that manages to look expensive even when it is not. It’s a colour that carries a little theatre. Historically reserved for royalty, now mostly for women who are bored with beige and begging for bold. Worn head-to-toe, it reads confident; worn as a knit or scarf, it feels like the colour equivalent of someone delivering a strong opinion politely over dinner. Not loud exactly. Just unmistakably deliberate.

Blonde Cashmere: The Bessette Effect

Unless you’ve been living under a rock—or somewhere equally devoid of television, tabloids and TikTok—you will have heard about Love Story, Ryan Murphy’s soft-focus drama chronicling the tragic romance of JFK Jr. and Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy. Along with resurrecting 90s minimalism, the show, (or more specifically, Sarah Pidgeon’s on-screen tresses) has also revived interest in Bessette’s famously understated blonde.

Colourists are calling it “foiled cashmere”: a painstaking layering of whisper-thin foils designed to recreate Bessette’s soft, tonal blonde. Not chunky highlights, not balayage, and certainly not anything from a packet. The point is not brightness but dimension: a creamy, buttery blonde that looks as though it simply occurred that way. Naturally, the process takes several hours. Because as fashion repeatedly proves, the more effortless something is supposed to look, the more effort it requires.

Mixed Metals and the End of Jewellery Monogamy

For years, jewellery followed a kind of metallic loyalty test: gold or silver. We felt obliged to choose just one and commit fully, as though we were entering into some kind of precious-metal monogamy. Heaven help you if you mix the two.

But lately, wrists and necklines seem to have abandoned this system entirely. Buttery gold watches sit happily beside silver cuffs. Layered chains refuse to match. Ring stacks look like they were collected over decades rather than purchased in a tidy little set.

It feels part of a wider loosening of old-style rules, the same way blue and green now coexist peacefully, and black and brown have reached a very chic truce.

The effect is less “styled” and more “assembled”; pieces gathered, inherited, borrowed, rediscovered in the bottom of a jewellery box and worn together because, frankly, they look good together. Brands like Missoma, Francesca Jewellery and Heaven Mayhem are even combining both metals in striking demi-fine pieces that bring interest to everyday dressing.

And honestly, like most style rules, once you’ve broken it once, it’s hard to remember why it existed in the first place.

Beaster: The Birthday-Easter Crossover Holiday you didn’t know you needed

In my family, there is a small but statistically baffling concentration of Aries babies. Which means that every few years, when the lunar calendar cooperates, one or more of us audacious rams of the zodiac end up celebrating a birthday in the exact same week as Easter.

Some years ago, while staring down a table full of chocolate eggs and birthday candles, I realised this was not two separate occasions. It was clearly one superior hybrid event. And so I named it Beaster™: Birthday + Easter.

Of all the things I love in this life (romantic comedies, cashmere sweaters, Bollinger) very few rival Beaster. For starters, I’m already an autumn superfan. Crunchy leaves, proper coats, food that requires cutlery. But add birthday affection and an aggressive amount of chocolate eggs, and suddenly the season becomes less cosy and more cosmically triumphant.

This year Beaster reaches truly dizzying heights. My honey-bunny twin nephews Archer and Roy celebrate their birthday next Saturday, my dad cracks a very respectable 71 on the Sunday, and then, on Wednesday, this chick turns the big 4-0. From there, we roll straight into the four-day Easter long weekend like a sugar-fuelled parade float.

So butter your hot cross buns accordingly. It’s a full week of festivities, and I’d like to apologise in advance for the incoming Beaster spam.

And, if you’re lucky enough to have a Beaster in your own family, please feel free to adopt the term. It spreads quickly. Or alternatively, embrace my other Beaster tradition: an annual rewatch of Steel Magnolias, (arguably the most Easter-adjacent film ever made) starring Daryl Hannah, who, in a pleasingly circular pop-culture moment, also happens to be the most talked-about character cameo in Love Story.

Blush, But Make It Brontë

With the new Wuthering Heights adaptation hitting cinemas today, beauty is drifting back to the moors: flushed cheeks, wind-bitten noses, slightly smudged eyes and that just-cried-on-the-heath energy. It’s anti-contour, anti-glass-skin, and deeply romantic. Think less “clean girl,” more “ran across the countryside while yearning for an emotionally complicated man”. While Margot Robbie’s press-tour red carpet looks were the plush, platinum version of cinematic romance, this make-up trend is the approachable Victorian-era cousin. Rosier, moodier, and easy to recreate with the blush already rattling around in your makeup bag, or one of these:

• By Terry Tea to Tan Blush Powder – a hydrating blush that is buildable, offering a natural flush of colour.

• Madge Glow & Go Jelly Cheeks in DUA - a 3-in-1 tint for bold, seductive colour across cheeks, eyes and lips in one skin-loving stick.

• Charlotte Tilbury Unreal Blush Healthy Glow Stick – a cream finish blush, that is buildable and easily blendable. Don’t forget a subtle dab across the bridge of your nose.

Style Squared: Bandana scarves are back

Spotted everywhere from Copenhagen to Collingwood, the humble bandana is back around necks, over ponytails and tied to handbags.

Could it be the cheapest trend of 2026? Probably. It’s the rare trend that costs less than lunch. It’s also the most democratic. No sizing, no exclusivity, no moral crisis in the fluorescent lighting of the change room. And in time for Valentine’s Day, it also makes a surprisingly charming last-minute love token: a small gesture, less predictable than flowers and refreshingly free of cliché. Think of it as the 2026 version of a handkerchief. Romantic in spirit, but with far more styling potential.

Dessert First Dressing: Chocolate & Cherry

Finally, a grown-up Valentine’s Day palette. Deep cocoa, chocolate, cherry and raspberry tones are quietly replacing the classic pink-and-red combo. Perfect for date night, it’s romantic without being saccharine. Like a very chic box of Valentine’s chocolates that doesn’t come with a teddy bear or emotional expectations.

Cancel your afternoon plans and Heart the Lover (Again)

Ok, technically this isn’t fresh news in fancy circles, but Valentine’s Day feels like a very good excuse for me to tell anyone who hasn’t yet read (or re-read) Heart the Lover by Lily King to clear an afternoon and do exactly that. Yes, it appeared on what felt like every single “Best Book of 2025” list. Yes, someone you know has probably already thrust it into your hands with the intensity usually reserved for skincare or sleep apps. But it’s a rare book that lives up to that sort of word-of-mouth devotion.

It centres around a young woman pulled into a literary love triangle. With the most exquisite turns of phrase, King captures that period of your twenties when everything feels heightened: the friendships, the heartbreak, the late-night thinking, the sense that your real life is just about to begin.

It’s also slim enough to read in a single Valentine’s Day sitting. I finished it a few months ago and haven’t stopped thinking about it, which feels like the nicest kind of literary hangover.

Admin Night Bills & Thrills

The new dinner party is… paperwork. As part of a communal shift towards quieter, cosier socialising, TikTok is currently full of women gathering on couches with laptops, candles, a shared sense of administrative doom and a determination to finally tackle the parking fine, tax return and subscription that has quietly siphoned $14.99 a month since 2022. There’s wine, there’s snacks and there are spreadsheets. It’s the kind of night where you can dress in loungewear and leave with an empty inbox, three labelled return satchels to take to the post office and a renewed sense that adulthood is slightly more manageable.

No plans for Valentine’s? Take a page from TikTok’s book and turn it into a Galentine’s gathering or even a date night with your spouse. After all, nothing says intimacy quite like paying bills and finally booking in dentist appointments.

Terracotta, out of the potting shed

From linen and leather to cheeks and walls, fashion, beauty and interiors are awash with shades of sun-baked clay, burnt peach and cinnamon-adjacent neutrals that are far warmer than beige and grey (but not as deep as chocolate). Unlike most shades tagged as the “new neutral”, terracotta feels elemental rather than seasonal. A colour drawn from the earth itself to feel grounded, wearable, and oddly comforting.

Expression on screen (and the soft rebellion against facial conformity)

Something is shifting, and not just our foreheads.

There’s a quiet relief in seeing real women’s faces back on screen lately. Whether it’s Jessie Buckley with her expressive, un-smoothed intensity in Hamnet or Claire Danes crying in a way Botox simply wouldn’t allow in The Beast In Me. Or Kate Winslet, Kerri Russel and Jamie Lee Curtis all refusing to be digitally ironed into oblivion. Finally, we are seeing more praise for faces that move, can crumple with emotion and hold history.

Closer to home, Matilda Brown called out those who felt the need to comment on a woman’s naturally ageing appearance last week, after cruel comments flooded a video shared online by her mother - and film-making, regenerative-farming icon, Rachel Ward.

Brown’s response was swift and sharp: “If ageing naturally is so shocking, prepare to be shocked”. The post struck a chord, drawing support from women around the world, including Sarah Jessica Parker.

After a decade of fillers creating a kind of same-face syndrome, the backlash feels overdue. Not anti-youth. Just pro-expression. Pro-proof of life.

Watching these women reminds us that our faces are meant to tell stories, not mute them.

Brooches Are Back (Pin It, Don’t Overthink It)

Brooches are back, and not just at the retirement village during a sherry-soaked happy hour.

They’re appearing on knits and anchoring scarves. They’re being pinned just slightly off-centre and styled in a cluster on tailored blazers. They’ve even been worn by Connor Storrie at the Golden Globes, with actor pinning the iconic Tiffany & Co Bird on a Rock deign to his Saint Laurent suit.

Unlike earrings or necklaces, brooches offer a quieter appeal. They feel intimate, heirloom-ish and carry a sense that they might have a story. Or at least the potential for one. Less costume, more keepsake.

Fashion is changing its spots: Deer print is here

While it’s not quite time to retire the leopard, there’s a softer take on animal print this season.

Across runways, retail drops and stylist mood boards, animal print is shifting into something more woodland than wild. Think dappled deer spots, fawn-like markings and blurred Bambi-inspired mottling in warm brown, ochre and caramel tones.

Where leopard is about confidence through boldness, deer prints feel instinctive rather than aggressive. Earthy. Observant. Almost poetic. They sit beautifully alongside terracotta, suede and heritage textures.

Part fashion, part folklore. Less roar, more rustle. If leopard was nightlife, deer print is daylight.

The Year of the Fire Horse (fashion’s long game finally paying off)

Fashion has long hitched its wagon to Chinese New Year - sometimes with subtle symbolism and sometimes outrageously. In 2017, the Year of the Rooster, designers even managed to make the male gallinaceous bird – a cock- aspirational. But this year feels different.

Because the horse isn’t a seasonal flirtation, it’s baked into fashion’s DNA. Hermès began as a saddle maker. Gucci’s horsebit hardware has been quietly cantering through wardrobes since the 50s. Western references, equestrian codes, riding boots, horseshoe charms … the horse has been stitched into luxury for decades.

What’s changed is the timing. This isn’t just the Year of the Horse - it’s the Year of the Fire Horse. This is the year for energy, movement, bold forward motion, which might explain why the motif feels less decorative and more symbolic this time around. For an accessory that can manifest momentum? There are horse bag charms a-plenty. Or perhaps a pony-inspired brooch. After all, fashion does love to hedge its bets.

Christmas Day is one of those occasions that seems, on paper, deceptively easy to dress for. You’re staying home. You’re seeing family. There will be food and possibly a nap. Simple, right? Throw on something breezy, vaguely festive, and capable of withstanding prawns, Prosecco and prepping the pavlova in a relative’s pantry.

Yet it is a truth universally acknowledged that Christmas Day is one of the trickiest dates to dress for. We all have ghosts of Christmas outfits past because Christmas dressing is as much about surviving the conditions as it is looking good.

Still, we dress up because our outfits represent our quiet, stubborn optimism. That despite the heat, gravy spills, family portraits, family politics, and a mental load measured by the ladle, we are determined to dress up—even if we are staying in — on December 25.

Here are three looks to help guide your Christmas Day wardrobe this year.

A Coastal Christmas

If the point of Christmas dressing is to team with the theme, it helps to remember our theme is not “snowy village tableau”. Our Christmas scenes are less Hallmark movie, more humid melodrama.

Without mittens, fair isle knits or snowflake sweaters to guide us (unless you count the one novelty jumper your cousin wore ironically in 2011), Australian women must turn instead to the season itself: Summer. A universal backdrop and soft-focus filter, summer is our version of snowfall.

This season, take your cue from the coastal styles having a moment in the sun, with breezy blues, navy and crisp white. Brands including Alemais, Decjuba, Kachel and Roame have all enthusiastically leaned into the trend, swapping jingle bells for seashells and embracing stripes, marine motifs and rope patterns — all perfect styles for embracing seaside sophistication, even if the closest body of water is a plastic clam shell in the backyard.

{Dress credits: Decjuba Madison shirt dress, Alemais Oceane dress, Roame Berkeley dress, Kachel Carrie Maxi, Palm Noosa Token dress , Kivari coastline shirtdress.}

And because Christmas is a time to count your blessings, not your calories, also seek out breezy, billowy kaftan silhouettes like the ones from Cable and Husk — shapes that don’t judge you for having custard and ice cream with your plum pudding.

{Cable Pina Kaftan, Husk Solani kaftan}

A Red and White Christmas

If you want festive without the fuss, red and white is the perennial winner.

Red feels celebratory without trying too hard.

A white dress with a slick of red lipstick feels fresh and instantly polished.

Together, they create a warm, nostalgic family-portrait energy — the kind that makes you look back years later and think, Yes. That was a good Chrissie.

For an extra special take on the colour combination, South Australian label Binny’s holly-and-spotty capsule is brimming with Christmassy credentials. Think a tiered polka dot maxi or a sweetly printed shirt-silhouette that is practically Panettone in dress form.

But the real genius of red and white? They are stylishly immune to the paper hat from your Christmas bonbon, which inevitably clashes with everyone’s outfit.

Somehow, red and white hold firm no matter what colour crown conceals your reindeer joke and plastic whistle.

{Dress credits: Feather and Noise Aurelia dress, Zoe Kratzmann Submerge dress, Sezane Louise dress, Sussan crochet dress, Sportscraft Avery blouse and skirt, Seed Midi dress.

A Fabric-First Christmas

Christmas in Australia is not for the faint of fibre.

We are operating in conditions no fabric lab ever tested for: a kitchen with the airflow of a sealed Tupperware container and a backyard cricket pitch with zero shade.

For an outfit that will carry you gracefully from lunch to leftovers, linen remains the patron saint of the day. Just don’t take a post-pavlova nap or you might wind up looking more crinkled and crumpled than the hinterland of wrapping paper on the living room floor.

Crisp cotton, meanwhile, is the true backyard MVP. This is a fabric that feels like childhood, sunshine and a batting average of six-and-out. It also air-dries within minutes if you spill Prosecco or get sprayed by the sprinkler on the way to the eski.

{Dress gallery: Palm Noosa Paddi Dress, Country Road Spot cami and pants, H&M cotton dress, Kinney Maeve cotton dress, Sheike Stella shirt dress, Seed mini dress.

For an effortless look that will also serve you well for the Australian Open come January, pair with sandals, a sunhat and summer-ready raffia.

In the End, Christmas Day dressing isn’t about impressing anyone.

It’s not about dressing for perfection. It’s about dressing for presence. A wearable love letter to the day, to family, to traditions, to summer, to the joy of dressing to feel your best for the people who know you best.

And if you can find something that can survive the heat of the kitchen, be styled with a paper crown and still make you feel fabulous? That’s the real Christmas miracle.

There is a rare, entertaining type of friend who makes every mood feel solvable with the right scent. They are the ones who arrive at your door with a plan, a fabric swatch and a pep talk.

Having never known a budget they couldn’t emotionally overpower, they are a stylish sentinel of good taste. They glide. They gesture. They pronounce “prawns” with a vowel-stretching flourish. They host with flair, plate with panache, and fluff and pour without breaking a sweat or conversation.

This, dear reader, is the Franck in your life.

Made a cultural icon by Martin Short in Father of the Bride, Franck Eggelhoffer might technically be a wedding planner, but in reality, he’s a lifestyle category unto himself.

Whether it’s champagne or your emotional reserves, a Franck never lets your glass run low. Because the real-life Francks among us understand the quiet psychology of “hosting”: that guests want to feel considered and gently ushered into *joy*. Francks deliver this with the precision of a host who has never in their life put out “chips and dips”.

Whether they are your your sister-in-law or the school-mum who always offers to host the festive soiree, this Christmas, they deserve gifts as fabulous, discerning and borderline theatrical as they are.

Enter their favourite genre of scent: gourmand — a deliciously indulgent edit for the kind of entertainer who uses one too many adjectives in every menu description. Think candles, body spritzes and hand creams that are made to be savoured and bring flavour and a touch of ritual to every foodie’s world.

Start with Glasshouse Fragrances Under The Mistletoe candle. A signature blend of spiced apple and red berries, it smells like shortbread with caramel apples and cinnamon sprinkled on top.

For a wearable gourmand scent, it’s hard to resist Phlur’s Heavy Cream Hair and Body Mist. With notes of lemon sugar, marshmallow and whipped cream, it’s giving dessert-inspired decadence, without the sugar crash.

Finally, for a sensorial sink-side upgrade, La Clinica’s orange-and-spearmint hand wash and hand cream are a subtly festive cultural phenomenon. The under-$20 duo has been a secret among fancy circles and well-appointed powder room sinks for years. They might cost less than a cocktail, but they smell like the bathroom of someone who has people to do their grocery shopping for them. Do not underestimate this. And yes, you should absolutely get a set for yourself. After all, self-care is just streamlined gifting.

It’s also important to remember when buying for the Franck in your life, that they don’t want décor; they want set decoration.

Lean into objects that spark conversation before the caviar-kissed canapés even hit the table, like a silver clam butter dish and an aperitif stand from La Casa.

An Antico Home handblown glass vase (that brings the exact level of drama required for fluffy peonies), or a silver frame with a black-and-white print, is also a perfect prop for a friend who considers rearranging your home their love language.

When it comes to style, lean into the classics: a gold locket, a pair of sculptural earrings, and a hand-drawn polka-dot dress (very Diane Keaton) that quietly sits above trend cycles. These are the kind of pieces that don’t need grand entrances but simply elevate everything around them, much like your Franck does.

Finally, every entertainer worth their seating chart needs coffee table books that double as personality statements. The new fabric-bound Flack Studio: Interiors tome fits the brief perfectly.

If you’re lucky enough to have a Frank in your life, you already know: They’re not just the hostess. They’re the heartbeat. So, surprise and delight them accordingly. And if they have a head-set wearing, clip-board wielding assistant like Howard Weinstein in the wings, best wrap them up a small token as well.

If Donna is the emotional heart of Mamma Mia!, Tanya is the flourish; a glamorous, scene-stealing — yet steadfast — back-up singing sidekick. Played by the iconic Christine Baranski, Tanya is the kind of confidante who knows where all the bodies are buried and all the best beach bars are located.

Having seen enough of life to know heartbreak is inevitable, humiliation is temporary, and martinis are medicinal, the Tanyas in our lives have an uncanny ability pivot from emotional triage to comic relief (or cabaret) in a single hip swish. They are an Abba-scored reminder that your emergency contact can also be the first to pour you a midday spritz.

She is proof that female friendships should feel like summer.

That kind of connection deserves a special brand of spoiling. Not with presents but with permission slips to embrace her favourite version of herself: the sun-soaked, beach-combing, Dancing Queen who has a permanent reservation at Kalokairi.

While some women step off a ferry and blend in, Tanyas step off a ferry and enter. So start with a sarong.

But not just any sarong, an Atlas travel sarong. The kind of artful wrap she can knot, fling, toss, or drape, depending on mood, temperature, or whether she’s about to order a cocktail with one eyebrow. Add an Aegean Atlas artwork for her wall and a map pendant — both doubling as postcards from misadventures on Greek islands.

For her carry-on, a cinematic swimsuit, an Oroton silk shirt and a wide-brimmed hat from Husk are perfect “travelling light” companions for a woman who is never underdressed, even for UV exposure.

If she already has a hat that throws more shade than her devastating one-liners, opt for a roomy woven tote and fill it with a trio of beach reads she can devour between dips and bookmark with divorce papers.

With her sunglasses on, sarcasm engaged and her skin UV protected, all she needs now is a martini glass smug enough to come pre-garnished with an everlasting glass olive from Maison Balzac.

It’s a Tanya summer. We’re just lucky enough to gift wrap it.

There’s a certain type of woman who can turn a breakup into a byline, wears bias-cut silk like it’s a sport and thrives under the pressure of a deadline. She’s magnetic, unflappable and just self-aware enough to know it.

Made a household name by a blow-waved Kate Hudson, Andie Anderson might know How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, but she never loses her cool.

If you’ve ever re-watched this rom-com relic and thought, “She reminds me of my sister slash colleague slash friend who can out-talk and out-dress everyone in the room,” congratulations! You know an Andie. And, if you know an Andie, you know they love a challenge — which also makes them a challenge to buy for. Her finger isn’t on the pulse, she is the pulse.

And this Christmas, she deserves gifts as glossy and smart as she is.

When it comes to buying for the Andie in your life, it’s important to remember that she doesn’t need things; she needs props. Think small luxuries that are as performative as they are practical, like a Merit blush or Tower 28 lip duo for touch-ups in the back of Ubers.

Beyond the beauty bag, look to coloured champagne coupes for rooftop drinks with her girlfriends, a watch to ensure she’s always five minutes fashionably-late and a wireless karaoke microphone for impromptu performances of Carly Simon’s You’re So Vain.

When she’s not making bets, she’s calling bluff in a game of Bullsh*t, so a chic deck of cards or a roll-up backgammon set is really just a gift-wrapped excuse to let her competitive spirit soar.

For stylish stocking fillers, look to a pretty box of matches, a skin-loving deodorant for a commute-to-cocktails freshen-up or a photo frame for her desk — bonus points if you fill it with an AI-generated glimpse of her and Matthew McConaughey’s hypothetical offspring.

Finally, as the answer to the inevitable “what-do-you-buy-the-woman-who-has-everything?” spiral, the new jewellery tray from Linden Cook is your trump card: a design-conscious dressing-table trophy for when she’s in the mood to frost herself.

Like a winsome Meg Ryan in the classic enemies-to-lovers affair, You’ve Got Mail, some women just radiate romantic, late-90s optimism. If you’re lucky enough to have a Kathleen Kelly in your life, you know she is a woman who not only feels things deeply, but alphabetises them. She also drapes cardigans over the backs of chairs, has as many opinions about serif fonts as she does Pride & Prejudice, and insists Little Women qualifies as a Christmas movie.

She has a love for New York, for good coffee and for the flaky pastries of independent bakeries. With a windowsill stacked with clothbound classics and a tote full of paperback feelings, Kathleen Kellys are the reason sentimentality is still in business.

When it comes to gifting, remember: she deserves presents as charmingly overthought as she is, something literary-adjacent and quietly beautiful. Kathleen Kellys don’t want grand gestures; they want moments.

With a long-held belief that nostalgia should come with top notes, her Christmas absolutely requires a Glasshouse pine-scented candle burning in the background, flickering with memories and fir needles. She will also love Byredo’s Bibliothèque fragrance because it’s basically a library, bottled. And for her nightly rituals, Vessel’s Sanctuary room spray is the perfect addition to her bedside table.

A living reminder that softness can still be a superpower, she’ll appreciate anything that whispers comfort without collapsing into cliché. Think a super-soft, fine-knit merino cardigan, a decorative floral-stamp scatter cushion, or a heart-shaped hot water bottle from Soi Body — a small, female-run business that you know Kathleens would also love.

As an analogue woman in a digital world, she also requires a classic watch that makes her feel like she’s running errands in a Nora Ephron montage. Finish with patent Mary-Janes that click like a keyboard as she skips down the footpath, and a quote-splashed tote bag that she’ll probably make her dating-app bio.

Because in a world of push notifications and polyester blends, it’s oddly comforting to know there’s still someone who writes by lamplight and believes in second chances.

I first saw Clueless the summer before I turned 10, after a 12-year-old friend got the VHS from Santa. It was an emotionally and sartorially porous time in my life. And while I cannot recall what I wore last Tuesday, I can still recite, with forensic clarity, Cher's outfits in Amy Heckerling's film (based, sort of, on Jane Austen's Emma).

It was the 90s, and fashion was flailing in a sea of grunge and self-loathing. When Cher walked into my life wearing a yellow plaid blazer, suddenly the world made a bit more sense. I wanted to be her. At 10, I settled for a fluffy pen and dropping “sporadically” into playground conversation.

Of course, I also wanted her digitised wardrobe. Our family computer could barely handle Encarta, and I still find it personally offensive that, three decades later, no such software exists.

But that wasn't the sting of disappointment I felt in re-watching the cult classic this week for its 30th Anniversary. It was that Cher's style seemed more radical and out of reach now than it did then.

There was a time we used to dress with instinct, or rebellion. Now we dress with reference. Every mood has a marketing plan. Clean Girl. Tomato Girl. Vanilla Girl. Coastal Cowgirl. Each trend offers the illusion of personal style while quietly dictating what to wear, what to want, who to be.

Cher had a literal outfit algorithm before Zuckerberg had acne. But crucially, she chose her look. Like going for her driving test and searching for her "white collarless shirt from Fred Segal" because it's her "most capable-looking outfit."

In 2025, we don't choose, we scroll, and we replicate. We don't get a chance to think about ourselves before we get dressed because Instagram knows I want a striped rugby jumper before I do.

In recent years, I’ve noticed my style standards slipping, not in quality, but in conviction. It happened slowly, like a vitamin deficiency. I used to wear clothes with a point of view. I used to wear tangerine. Now, I dress as if I’m apologising for taking up visual space. Colours have drained from my wardrobe so much that it now looks like the inside of a mushroom. Honestly, the Clueless character whose style most closely resembles mine these days is Paul Rudd’s. I not only don’t know how to be cool anymore; I don’t even know how to be myself.

Taste has been puréed into an algorithmic paste. "Cool" is now performative: a pre-approved, peer-reviewed, plagiarised aesthetic of “effortlessness” underwritten by exhausting effort. The same beige trench. The same Samba sneakers. The same designer brands. The same designer dupes.

Sure, Cher made Tai over in her own image, but that was a well-meaning (albeit misguided) attempt to help someone see their own potential, not erase it.

Which also begs the question: if Cher was the original influencer, did she really walk so TikTok could spiral?

Ugh. As if!

When I think about that yellow plaid suit, about the certainty it represented, I feel a pang of nostalgia. Because how rare and precious it is to believe now, even for a second, that your taste is correct.

Somewhere along the social media path, between Pinterest and Instagram, TikTok trends and influencers, LikeToKnow, and "link is in my bio", we all started second-guessing our own taste! We all became so scared that we would be labelled "ensembly challenged" that we ended up unequivocally… clueless.

After mourning the fact I’m now dressing like Josh and at least four influencers I don’t even follow, I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe I’m ok with being clueless. Perhaps that's the exact sentiment we should all be leaning into.

There's a reason Clueless endures, all these years later. It's not just the plaid. Or even the Alaïa. It's the permission to be a little lost. To admit you don't know, and then figure it out in your own time, in your own way, in your own style.

Cher didn't need to be cool. She just needed to be Cher.

And maybe that's what we've lost. Not style, but audacity.

So here's to getting dressed with joy. With intention. With delusion. With the giddy, glorious, unshakeable belief that our style choices are the right ones for us.

Maybe we should all stop pretending we're too cool to care.

Maybe we just need to be a little more clueless.

It's always struck me as peculiar that come Mother's Day, we try to pigeonhole the women who raised us into quaint little archetypes. The gardener. The baker. The candle-stick bather who needs another vanilla-scented excuse to soak. It's all very charming, but it's also wildly insufficient.

And yet, every May, we're handed gift guides that compress the entire emotional and logistical complexity of motherhood into a handful of cheerful categories. But mothers are far too nuanced for narrow cliches that reduce her rather than reflect her.

After all, a mother is a woman who has entire storylines beyond the mess, magic and unpredictable mayhem of being someone's mum — and somehow manages to keep them all going, slotted between school pick-ups, dentist visits and netball tournaments. Mothers are multi-tasking, multi-hyphenates: worrier-optimists, disciplinarian-confidants, chef-therapists, chauffer-stylists.

So, maybe the question we should be asking ourselves isn't "What would she like?" but rather, "Who would play her in the movie?"

Which is why I've put together a different kind of gift guide. One that honours mums as the sprawling, cinematic forces of nature they really are.

And where better to find that spirit than in the women who collectively raised a generation.

From the steel-wrapped tenderness of Sally Field and the bittersweet bravado of Susan Sarandon to Diane Keaton's ability to make catastrophising chic in cashmere and the many maternal shades of Meryl Streep, if Hollywood taught us anything, it's that there's no such thing as a perfect mum, but there are unforgettable ones.

After all, Mums aren't just the main character. They're the whole plot. Their gifts should reflect that.

If Mum's a Diane

A Diane mum is the human equivalent of a beautiful yet slightly chaotic linen closet where everything appears to be under control, but the whole system could unravel with one wrong pull on a pillowslip. She's got a story behind every cardigan and an "I told you so" behind every glass of chardonnay. From Father of the Bride to The Family Stone and Something's Gotta Give, Diane mums specialise in soft landings and hard truths. Gift accordingly. Channel her Something's Gotta Give era with cream cable knits for spontaneous monologues, a vase for hydrangeas and a handsome leather journal for drafting farmer's market lists and perfect sentences.

Gifts from left to right: Iris & Wool Quirindi cable knit, Bared Snuggling slippers in Oatmilk, Country Road Australian Made Neroli & Orange Hand Care Duet, Antico Fiore Vase available at Mayfield, Oroton Fife A5 notebook

If Mum's a Susan

From Stepmom to Little Women and every maternal role in between, Susan mums are built for the big feelings. With a stubborn loyalty and a specialty for practical tenderness, Susan mums don't traffic in subtlety or rush through the hard parts. They want you to sit down, open up, and stay put until you figure it out together. Like Susan in Stepmon, they also believe in home-cooked honesty and that heavy emotions are best processed under the comfort of a patchwork quilt and the forgiving glow of lamplight.

Gifts from left to right: Sage & Claire Roshni patchwork bedcover, Aretae Clara photo frame, Provinvcial Home Living Martha table lamp, Openook large rope basket from Big W, Sussan Check Flannelette Pyjama Set.

If Mum's a Meryl

There are mothers, and then there are Meryls. With a matriarchal résumé spanning Mamma Mia, It's Complicated, The Hours, The Devil Wears Prada (and many, many more), Meryl mums can charm an entire Greek island, manage a bakery and a love triangle, edit a Manhattan magazine and still have time to ask why you look so tired. For gifting purposes, we're focusing on It's Complicated Meryl: linen-clad, sun-dappled, effortlessly domestic. The kind of woman who inspects her heirloom tomatoes at sunrise and serves them twelve hours later in a tart.

Gifts from left to right: H&M stripe shirt, Lack of Colours Inca sunhat, Kmart tiered acacia stand, Alexander Mills chrome pepper mill from Aretae Papier recipe journal from Natural Supply Co, La Casa Soho bowl.

If Mum's a Sally

Sally mums love ferociously and hug hard. They don't just show up — they storm the gates, stick around, and offer unsolicited, although ultimately correct, opinions. From Steel Magnolias to Mrs Doubtfire and Forrest Gump, Sally mums are emotional first responders: resilient, loud, unwavering, occasionally exhausting and serving up just enough guilt to make you call more often. They mean well. They mean everything. Gift her something to suit her Steel Magnolias spirit: sentimental on the surface, indestructible underneath — or something that makes her feel pretty, polished and with more voluminous hair.

Gifts from left to right: Heatherly Alice bedhead, Kitsch Recycled Plastic XL Thermal Rollers from Mecca, Jo Malone English Pear & Freesia Cologne, Essie nailpolish from Chemist Warehouse, Francesca pearl bracelet.

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who pretend they don’t care what Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, wears and liars.

Love her, tolerate her, or not so secretly snark at her chicken coop and candle budget; the woman has mastered the art of timeless style.

And now, with With Love, Meghan, she’s turned that aesthetic into a full-blown content strategy. If you’ve ever wondered what it would look like if Nancy Meyers directed a Netflix reality show starring an ex-royal and the ghost of Goop future, wonder no more. It’s soft-focus, feel-good, and dressed almost exclusively in creaseless linen, ribbed tanks and shirts the colour of artisan toothpaste.

I was still busy scribbling down notes on crudités and cashmere from the show for this column last week when suddenly, the curtain twitched.

Meghan casually dropped a shoppable ShopMy edit on social media: a sleek, curated collection of classic wardrobe staples (striped shirts, sunglasses, the usual suspects), all handpicked and linked to commissionable affiliates. Translation: every time you buy a button-up, Meg gets a bit of pocket money to buy more pillar candles.

So, the Nancy Meyers kitchen got a pop-up shop. And while the usual chorus of critics clutched their pearls at the thought of Meghan monetising the monarchy and arguing she could’ve used her TV platform for doing good rather than just feeling good, I’m not here to litigate the ethics of linen or add to the nasty hate-on-Meghan narrative. Today, I’m just here for the clothes.

Because, despite the ongoing PR tug-of-war over brand Sussex, one thing remains certain: the woman is consistent. Her style has always been less about statements and more about suggestions. A suggestion that she’s spiritually aligned with a well-edited spice rack. That her basil plant thrives. And that classic pieces bring longevity to your wardrobe.

While most headlines zero in on her sandy neutral palette or “high-low” formula of pairing Zara trousers with a Loro Piana knit—I’m here to tell you that the micro-trends nestled within the beige layers are most worthy of your attention because they are the easiest to incorporate into your existing wardrobe.

So, whether you’re hate-watching, note-taking, or just wondering how to casually toss a cardigan over your collarbone, here are five fancy style lessons Meghan is serving up on a sterling silver tray.

Spearmint: The fresher white

In a world where crisp white shirts have long been the uniform of people who own steamers, Meghan has quietly introduced a new contender: spearmint. It’s like white but better because it looks deliberate. It’s still crisp, it’s still fresh, it’s still pristine. But just more … photogenic. Her spearmint Zimmermann shirt whispers wealth while letting you believe she could knead sourdough at any moment. Pair it with white or light denim for a modern tonal look that’s cool, considered, and quietly expensive.

Shoulder robing: Capes, but make it casual

Meghan has mastered the art of the shoulder robe: the act of draping a knit over one’s shoulders like a nonchalant superhero. It’s the ultimate way to instantly elevate a casual look and add warmth without adding bulk or succumbing to something as pedestrian as a scarf. Stick to lightweight knits or sweats that sit flatter and fold better in tonal shades that blend effortlessly with your outfit — think oat, soft grey or buttercream. And while many might scoff and pretend we’re above it, we’re not. Whether you fully commit or simply absorb it through style osmosis, Meghan’s coming for our shoulders this season.

Masculine shirting: Borrowed from the boys, but better

There’s something about a tailored button-up that makes people think you know things. Important things, like how to write a firm yet friendly email or where to buy the right olive oil. Meghan, of course, knows it. And nails it. Her shirts are always impeccably pressed—but it’s the sleeves that do the talking, rolled up in an intentionally careless way. I once read somewhere that the trick to achieving the perfect roll-up of your sleeve is not to try and do it neatly but rather like you’re about to have a blood test — rushed and scrunched. That’s the look. A bit stressed, a bit sexy; a sleeve that will take you from blood test to brunch, if you will.

Get the look with classic blue: 1. Rhea shirt from Dissh, 2. The Heidi Shirt Friends with Frank, 3. Zara covered button shirt, 4. Kmart Oxford shirt.

Watercolour florals: The perks of being a wallflower

Forget vivid blooms and bold botanicals; Meghan’s freshly-picked style is all about soft-focus, washed-out hues that look like they belong on expensive stationery. Her floral take is never too bright, too busy, or too statement-making. Instead, she leans into watercolours—florals filtered through a gauzy, aspirational haze. The kind of print that floats, soothes and pairs perfectly with sips of chamomile tea in a sun-drenched conservatory.

Say it with flowers: 1. Review Chelsea floral shirt, Zimmermann Everley billow blouse, Zara printed shirt, Zoe Kratzmann blouse from Mayfield

Satin skirts: Slip into something less structured

There are moments in every woman’s life when denim feels too casual, trousers too functional, and dresses too... enthusiastic. That’s when you silently and reverently reach for the satin slip skirt. It has the range. Whether paired with a tonal knit, a crisp tee, or a softly tailored blazer, the slip skirt delivers. It’s not just versatile —it’s smugly adaptable. It’s the fashion equivalent of someone who can salt-bake fish and hand-calligraphy place cards. Resistance is futile—and your wardrobe knows it.

For the past week, the Australian Open has been serving up a sartorial masterclass in dressing for an Australian summer. To the (match) point that fashion commentators and stylish spectators alike are debating if the AO is now more culturally relevant in the fashion space than its flamboyantly feathered cousin, the Melbourne Cup Carnival.

For decades, the Melbourne Cup has been the loudest, most frivolous fashion affair in town. One that thrives on spectacle with big hats, big dresses and big personalities. But in recent years, the Australian Open has been carving out its own sartorial legacy, quietly unseating the Cup not with volume but with a restraint that speaks louder than any fascinator could. Over the past few years, we've witnessed a neatly pressed showcase of subtlety — a sneaky backhander to the flashy chaos of the Cup.

While the Melbourne Cup has always been about aspirational fantasy, the AO arguably offers us an even more appealing fantasy for today: aspirational reality. This crisp, clean aesthetic feels less like a performance and more like a lifestyle.

Hats aren't architectural sculptures here; they're wide-brimmed, foldable, and actually offer protection from a sun-soaked courtside seat.

The Australian Open's style evolution is still a work in progress, but that's what makes it so compelling. The AO is carving out a style niche in real time, where the dress code isn't dictated by decades of tradition but by the practicalities of an Australian summer.

So, what exactly is the AO's current style DNA? While there's a subtle flex of tennis country club roots, it never tips into snobbery. No membership fees are required to pop a polo collar, press a pleated skirt, or slide into a pair of pristine white sneakers, mesh ballet flats or designer sandals.

And this isn't Wimbledon—there's no starched strawberries-and-cream formality here.

Instead, there's an emerging sense of ease, a laid-back elegance that feels distinctly Australian and pairs well with an Aperol Spritz at golden hour. Think cotton sundresses, linen shirts, and wide-leg trousers that wouldn't look out of place at a breezy weekend barbecue. There are also chic button-up vests, knits nonchalantly draped over shoulders and leisurely co-ords that aren't fighting the heat but coexisting with it. Meanwhile, the palette is a mix of bold red, navy, sky blue and a blend of buffed neutrals: sandy beige, butter, soft sage and crisp white for a touch of fresh, clean sophistication.

And then there's the occasional wildcard—a plaid skirt, a letterman jacket, a neon hue—that reminds you Australians know how to have fun with fashion, too.

It’s also worth noting that no one is side-eyeing the spectators who choose to watch a rally perched on the edge of their seat in breathable shorts emblazoned with sports logos, with a trusty black backpack casually parked at their feet.

The AO is ultimately a melting pot of modern style: fluid, global and unapologetically comfortable. It's not fashion in the shouty sense— it's one where you might actually want to wear the clothes again, beyond the realm of a tennis court—and shouldn't that be the point in today's climate?

So, has the Australian Open officially overtaken the Melbourne Cup as the country's most stylish spectator event? Not quite. But what it has done is redefine the way Australians approach event dressing. As the AO continues to refine its style—one airy linen co-ord at a time—it's clear that tennis is playing the long game. And if there's one thing we know about fashion, it’s that it loves a late-breaking set.

The Cup might have its legacy, but the Open has something better: the freedom to reinvent itself every summer. Advantage, tennis.

Ah, Christmas movies - the ever-sentimental, delightfully predictable and occasionally questionable genre that draws us to the couch like moths to the warm flicker of a fairy light.

But amidst the meet-cutes, miracles and mistletoe, there's something else quietly demanding our attention: the fashion.

The women of holiday movies are a warm, witty, and wildly well-dressed bunch— managing to look impeccable even as they get their tinsel in a tangle over unrequited love or lost children.

Their wardrobes remind us that sometimes the only way to face joy, grief, or a nativity play (post-marital betrayal) is in a well-chosen cardigan.

What lies ahead is not a list for the faint of fashion. It's a list that is—admittedly—rife with subjectivity and favouritism, as all the best lists are.

So grab a glass of something spiked, light an aggressively scented pine candle, and let's snuggle up to toast the women who remind us annually, that even in the merry mayhem of the season, there's magic to be found in a well-slung scarf.

Diane Keaton as Sybil Stone in The Family Stone

Diane Keaton, as always, layers outfits and emotions with equal dexterity. As Sybil Stone, she's sharp yet soft, intimidating yet comforting—just like her clothes.

As the matriarch you fear, adore, and aspire to be, she lets cashmere do much of the heavy lifting. Turtlenecks layered under crisp shirts, fuzzy argyle knits, and a neatly tucked scarf beneath her beige Christmas morning robe exude artful minimalism with a bohemian flair—down to the Susan Sontag-inspired streak of white hair.

When she glides into the kitchen with her full skirt sweeping the floor, an oversized belt cinched at her waist, and a perfectly popped-collar layered with bold red beads for Christmas Eve dinner, it’s a striking lesson in dressing up to stay in.

Her wardrobe feels collected rather than curated. And while the film centres around a certain diamond, her black onyx ring—later spotted on daughter Amy's finger—delivers the true emotional gut punch: a visual exhale of everything left unsaid.

Saoirse Ronan as Jo March in Little Women

Is Little Women a Christmas movie? Or just Christmas-adjacent, like Stepmom, Serendipity and Sleepless in Seattle? Honestly, that's a debate for another dinner table. What we do know is that Greta Gerwig's Little Women feels like a cinematic snow globe: cosy interiors, frosty walks, and Saoirse Ronan's Jo March at the centre of stylish, unapologetic chaos.

Jo is a walking manifesto of "I have better things to do." Her shirts are wrinkled, her skirts are scorched, her waistcoats are stolen from Laurie's closet, and her hair is permanently one heroic decision away from a pair of scissors. And yet she looks incredible.

Jo reminds us that the most stylish thing you can do is care less … or care about waving your fists at the patriarchy instead.

Greta Gerwig understood that Jo's wardrobe wasn't about polish but purpose. She gave us a protagonist dressed for living, not for impressing — and that's an energy we should all aspire to, especially during the holidays.

Keira Knightley as Juliet in Love Actually

If there's one thing Love Actually teaches us, besides there being more than one lobster present at the birth of Jesus —it's that Juliet's wardrobe is the sartorial equivalent of an early 2000s time capsule.

Let's start with the baker boy hat, made entirely of denim, perched atop her head in the wedding video scene. It's Y2K in a single accessory—nonchalant, unnecessary, and oddly perfect. Then there's her cream off-the-shoulder sweater. Honestly, who ever sits on a couch looking that casually flawless while awaiting a doorstep declaration written in Sharpie?

And finally, her wedding bolero: a cropped, feather-embellished shrug. It's questionable, it's iconic, and if nothing else, it's a reminder that fashion risks were much more real at the turn of this century.

Juliet's style isn't timeless—it's the kind of look you remember decades later with a mix of fondness and confusion. And really, isn't that the essence of Love Actually?

Catherine O'Hara as Kate McCallister in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York

Kate McCallister in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York is proof that losing your kid (twice) doesn't mean losing your sense of style.

In the beloved sequel, she enthusiastically leans into early '90s power dressing with shorter hair and sharper shoulders. Her wool camel coat with impossibly wide lapels is the unsung hero that keeps her looking unflappable while running through airports and screaming at hotel clerks.

And let's not forget the accessories, most notably her bold gold earrings that danced with every exasperated "KEVIN!"

What makes Kate’s style genuinely iconic, though, is the contrast. While everything else unravels, her wardrobe never falters. It serves as a reminder that a great coat can make you look like you’ve got your life together— even when sprinting through the streets of New York with the weight of maternal guilt and jet lag on your shoulders.

Lauren Bacall as Lillian Brooks in All I Want for Christmas

Full disclosure: I could have easily rounded out this column with the red velvet allure of Judy Garland as Esther Smith in Meet Me in St. Louis or with Cameron Diaz as Amanda Woods in The Holiday, living out our English cottage fantasy in cream cashmere and shearling lined coats. But neither of these would have allowed me to highlight All I Want for Christmas — a highly underrated '90s holiday gem. The kind of movie you stumble upon while wrapping presents and wonder why no one talks about it more.

It was a December staple in our house growing up. My sister and I were captivated by the idea of living in an Upper East Side brownstone and spending the weekend downtown flipping burgers at our dad's diner.

The plot centres around two well-dressed Manhattan kids scheming to reunite their divorced parents in time for Christmas. But, all you really need to know for the purposes of this column is that Hollywood icon Lauren Bacall anchors the festive hijinks as “The” Lillian Brooks, a Broadway star and the children's impossibly glamorous Grandmother.

Bacall delivers every line with her trademark smoky drawl and even hosts a holiday tree-lighting party where she performs a cracking rendition of "Baby it's Cold Outside" with a pint-sized, pre-Hocus Pocus Thora Birch.

Lillian's style is silver-screen elegance meets Manhattan polish: sharp pantsuits, silk camisoles, and brooches over baubles. Hers is the kind of wardrobe that doesn't need sequins or gimmicks to shine—it's all sharp tailoring and satin confidence.

Lillian is proof style doesn't fade with age—it sharpens, like wit and a well-cut blazer. And she reminds us the best style lingers, as timeless and enduring as a Christmas movie you return to year after year.

So, pink is back — not that it ever really left.

"Been there, done that, bought the Barbie T-shirt," you might smugly think.

And while “pink” does know a thing or two about being popular, the thing about pink—and you know fashion loves a "thing"—is that it's never just pink.  

With Wicked landing in cinemas, 'Glinda Pink' has entered the fashion chat, giving 'Barbie Pink' a run for its rhinestones. Yep, just two years after pink peaked with Barbie's neon glow, Wicked has arrived to remind us that pink isn't just a colour—it's a statement, a mood, a worldview. You don't wear pink so much as embody it.

Never one to let a shade pass without a seminar, fashion enjoys nothing more than telling us what shade of the same colour is most relevant.  Pink might be back yet again, but this time, the tone has shifted. Which begs the question: What, exactly, is the difference between Barbie Pink and Glinda Pink—and what does it say about us?

Well, while Barbie Pink was bold and brash, Glinda Pink is pastel and pristine. Barbie Pink is the life of the party, and she doesn't care if she's overdressed for brunch. Glinda Pink, meanwhile, is brunch. It's delicate éclairs and fine china. While Glinda Pink might live in a bubble, Barbie Pink pops it.

The rivalry, if we can call it that, is not one of competition but of philosophy. Barbie Pink was about fun, freedom, and a not-so-subtle sense of rebellion. Glinda Pink, however, is delicate, deliberate, and quietly self-assured.

However, neither shade is quite as innocent — or outrageous — as it seems. Glinda's pastel restraint? That's work. Glinda Pink is a paradox: soft but sharp, sweet but strategic. Maintaining that airbrushed veneer is no less performative than Barbie's sartorial equivalent of a hot-pink megaphone.

Meanwhile, Barbie Pink might be loud, but it's not unsophisticated. This is a pink with layers; an intelligent pink that knows the difference between fun and frivolous and chooses both anyway.

Of course, comparisons between the stars' red carpet looks were also inevitable. Ariana Grande's Glinda-inspired press tour outfits—dubbed "method dressing"—were quickly likened to Margot Robbie's Barbie campaign, where every ensemble was a vibrant ode to her plastic alter ego.

Pink as it turns out, is the perfect metaphor for Barbie and Glinda. People assume these two characters (and Elle Woods from Legally Blonde and Cher Horowitz from Clueless and any other woman with blonde hair, a bubbly personality and a penchant for pink) are all the same — as interchangeable as the shades of pink they wear.

But the truth is, you can’t compare these women any more than you can underestimate them. Pink may tie them together, but it’s also what sets them apart: each one tinting it with her own perspective while the rest of the world just sees… pink.

What makes both Glinda and Barbie so compelling is their relationship to their world's expectations of them. Glinda is a product of her social context, manipulating the power structures of Oz to her advantage. Barbie is the structure—a creation of Mattel's marketing, designed to embody every aspiration ever sold.

Glinda's bubblegum charm is underpinned by a sharp wit that keeps her just this side of saccharine. On the other hand, Barbie uses her iconic pink to disrupt the male gaze rather than cater to it. Both challenge what it means to be blonde, beautiful and underestimated. Because if there's one thing Glinda and Barbie have taught us, it's this: it takes nerve to wear pink and make the world take you seriously while you do.

Perhaps it's no surprise, then, that pink has always been a battlefield—sometimes subtle, sometimes not—where personality meets perception. Allow me to turn your attention to another sisterhood in the annals of pink pop culture—one that declared a pink truce long ago, somewhere over the rainbow in the swivel chairs of a Southern beauty salon.

If you've ever seen Steel Magnolias—and if you haven't, rectify that immediately—you'll recognise this familiar tension of two pink tones. When Shelby, played by Julia Roberts, famously declared "blush and bashful" as her wedding colours, her mother (Sally Field's eye-rollin' M'Lynn) quipped, "Your colours are pink and pink." But the spirited Shelby doubled down: "I have chosen two shades of pink. One is much deeper than the other." And in that moment, the duality of pink was immortalised.

So there it is: blush is Glinda Pink, floating in a frothy pastel dream, while bashful is Barbie Pink's unapologetic high-octane hue. The genius of Shelby's palette was in giving us both.

Perhaps the truth is we're all a little bit Glinda and a little bit Barbie. Maybe Glinda Pink and Barbie Pink are two sides of the same sequin.  Both pinks daring the world to find the steel beneath the sparkle, the substance beneath the style.

Of course, if neither pink sings to you, Wicked also provides a plot twist in the form of green. Because sometimes, when the world insists on pink, the boldest choice is to go emerald and defy expectations altogether.

Of my 500-plus newspaper column deadlines, crafting an annual Christmas gift guide was the one I looked forward to most. 

Gift guides are a bit like horoscopes: everyone claims to read them for fun, but deep down, they're all hoping for a revelation.

The secret to a great gift? It’s not necessarily about being grand, spendy, or trendy. At the intersection of merry and meaningful, the biggest thrill comes from finding a gift that makes the person on the receiving end feel seen. 

So, before you get your tinsel in a tangle searching for the perfect “oh-you-shouldn’t-have-but-I’m-so-glad-you-did” gift, here is the fanciest guide you’ll find to help you toast family, friends or even yourself in style. 

For the Fancy Entertainer

Oh, you know her. She's the first to deck her halls and kick off a group text, ensuring everyone gets together amid the chaos of the season. Her home is always open and filled with festive cheer and feel-good food. She is a true entertainer who gathers people almost as effortlessly as cocktail ingredients. But what to get her?

Well, for starters, Fancy Entertainers are always house-proud. Even when there's little chance of a gathering, she will have flowers in a vase, cherries in a bowl and a candle burning. She loves the finer details so decorative items, like a Love Ally candle holder (the ultimate Christmas bow) and the La Casa clam serving dish double as year-round décor she will adore. Never one to settle just for holiday spirit when she can have a holiday scent, I buy the Ecoya Fresh Pine Goldie Candle every year for myself, and it makes our entire home smell like fresh pine needles— without having to vacuum them up.

Now, brace yourself for a breezy stereotype here, but the fancy hostess is usually also a fancy socialite. She always RSVPs "yes" to mingling and jingling and for that, she will need a frock. A little black dress may be a classic, but a sophisticated brown gown is for a host who isn't planning on spending the night cinched in an apron. Chances are she has also figured out that the key to floating between hors d'oeuvres and hearty laughs is without a heel, so these woven flats from La Tribe will see her through many a night.

For a butterfly with as many small bags as champagne flutes, another is always a good idea. Local label Tendresse Studio is redefining the mini bag this season with their signature satin pouches —sleek and refined without the cliché Christmas sparkle.

Now, every entertainer worth her weight in olives knows her coffee table reads are just as important as her wine list. If the Fancy Entertainer in your circle is also a fancy foodie, then a fresh cookbook for her earmark, scribble notes, and spill sauce on is ideal.  And don't forget to inscribe it with my favourite yuletide saying, "Christmas is for counting blessings, not calories."

Alternatively, a copy of Galah magazine is a collector's item. Equal parts art, culture, and conversation starter, it's perfect for the kind of host who is also a brilliant storyteller.  

Finally, because you tend to talk a little more closely at dinner parties, why not give your favourite host the gift of a signature scent – something that says, 'I'm here, I smell fabulous, and yes, that was homemade truffle oil in the pasta.' A fragrance as unforgettable as their soirées.

The splurge: Bollinger. Good enough for Queen Elizabeth II, good enough for her.

The stocking filler: This friend loves a garnish, trimming her cocktails as elegantly as her Christmas tree. Thrift a bowl from your local Op Shop and fill it with limes, oranges, or lemons for a modern take on the festive fruit basket, minus the crunchy cellophane.

For the Fancy Jetsetter

Ah, the jet setter. She's got packing down to a fine art and collects passport stamps like postcards. So, what do you get the friend who's seen every terminal and tried every travel-size toiletry hack? A gift as thoughtfully chosen as her seat assignment, of course.

A huge trend this year is "tonal gifting"- and as well as being aesthetically pleasing, I like that it also sends a subtle message of, "I chose this present in a moment of thoughtfulness, not a panic-stricken rush." As an absolute people pleaser, I decided to take tonal gifting up a notch here by matching a beach towel with a beach read. There might not be a more oddly indulgent, completely excessive, and somehow absolutely essential gift for the beachgoer in your life. Toss her a copy of Long Island Compromise and this bold towel for a sandy escape, even if her 'holiday' is just a Sunday at Bondi.

For the ultimate summer sidekick, a woven tote is the bag that can take her from beach to brunch and also moonlight as her extra roomy carry-on. And if her luggage is lost somewhere over the Atlantic, at least she'll have the essentials right by her side.

When it comes to long-haul flights and layovers, this globetrotter knows comfort is a non-negotiable, and Cotton On's Haven linen pants let her lounge but also look polished at the arrivals gate. Throw in a Viktoria & Woods cap to cover up post-flight frizz and channel her inner incognito celebrity-at-the-airport.

An outfit for traversing the skies also needs layers that will flex across continents and climates. Lightweight and effortlessly sophisticated, a cropped trench is the one thing she'll reach for, whether she's dodging rain in Paris or pretending it's cold in Port Douglas.

And because no one should be subjected to mid-flight small talk while they are trying to watch Home Alone 2: Lost in New York at 35,000 feet, treat her to a sleek leather case for her noise-cancelling companions.

Finally, for the journeying minimalist, these dainty pendants from PL Collective mean she can carry her favourite place close to her heart. It's the ultimate wanderlust keepsake, minus the jet lag.

Splurge: Help her dash from the departures gate to cobblestone streets with ease and style, courtesy of Adidas Originals SL 72 OG sneakers.

Stocking filler: For the friend who knows sun-protected skin is the best souvenir, Ultra Violette is her holy grail. Lightweight, glowy, and as reliable as the friend you trust with the map – it's here for the sun-soaked moments, minus the damage.

For the Fancy Dreamers

I’ve never met a woman who doesn’t deserve a sleep in, so if you are unsure what category your cousin, colleague or brother’s new girlfriend falls into, play it safe: give the gift of relaxation.

After all, shopping for someone who considers the snooze button a lifestyle choice is basically a gift to yourself— a guilt-free ticket to slip out of the Christmas chaos and indulge in the art of nesting, resting, and unapologetic unwinding.

First on the list? Sussan sleepwear. Like wearing the colourful paper crown out of your bonbon, Sussan PJs are practically woven into the tradition of a Christmas Day wardrobe. Make her morning merry and bright with luxe fabrics, nostalgic prints and the kind of comfort that justifies staying under the covers a little longer, in her case, maybe until New Year.

Of course, hydration is key to this cocooned lifestyle, and what’s a self-respecting self-carer without her water station? A glass carafe is a bedside staple. Style it with a satin eye mask and a sleep journal for jotting down dreams.

Given she measures time by her cups of tea, you could also bring extra charm to her daily rituals during the holidays with a new mug and Monista tea. It is the perfect indulgence for her 300th viewing of Love Actually.

Having turned “Silent Night” into a personal manifesto, this unplugged pamperer also knows that bedtime is the best time for your beauty routine to work smarter, not harder. Treat her to Glow Recipe’s Avocado Melt Retinol Sleeping Mask or a festive set of Slip x MECCA’s silk scrunchies to keep her bed hair from snagging, even while visions of sugar plums dance in her head. And, since no Dreamer should endure a dry, unfragranced existence, spoil them with Ecoya Guava & Lychee Sorbet Bodycare Set —a match made in Mariah Carey heaven.

Splurge: Paola and Joy bedside lamp. Any nesting enthusiast knows that you never, ever, ever turn on the big lights— especially at Christmas-time. Give her the gift of warm, cosy lamp light, the perfect backdrop for The Holiday.

Stocking Filler: These Sussan slippers are like an out-of-office memo in footwear form. They’re the kind of gift that whispers, 'You’ve earned this.'

Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night.x

Welcome to The Fancy Five, your new go-to for the freshest takes in fashion, culture, and all the stylish distractions you didn’t know you needed. If you were a fan of Love It in my Herald Sun days, think of this as its slightly sassier sister. Here, I’ll dive into everything from the must-wears and must-watches ‑ things to see, do, wear, obsess over, screenshot and send to a friend.

WITCHING HOUR

Just in time for Halloween, witches have officially winged their way from the pages of fiction to heart of fashion, casting a season-long spell of stylish trick-or-treating.

It was only a matter of time, really, because if there’s one thing I’ve learned working in fashion, it’s that this industry has an uncanny ability to jump on any bandwagon... or broomstick. And with Wicked about to fly into cinemas next month, brace yourselves—monkeys might fly, too. Based on the novel and Broadway smash hit, Wicked reexamines the land of Oz from the perspective of Elphaba (the Wicked Witch of the West) and Glinda the Good Witch. And quicker than you can click your heels, collaborations and merchandise are cropping up everywhere. Camilla Franks has even released a Wicked-inspired range of Emerald City-embellished kaftans and Glinda-approved pink bomber jackets.

But it's not all broomsticks and bubble wands. The darker side of witchcraft has also bewitched the likes of Dior. Maria Grazia Chiuri's spring/summer 2024 collection was a masterclass in modern witchery—think superfine lace, gothic tailoring, and off-the-shoulder shirting, all spun into a moody, magical ode to the independent, intrepid woman.

This has since trickled down to a more high-street iteration, Cos is also casting a spell with ethereal black layers, asymmetric ruffles, and a bewitching blend of sheer textures and gothic allure.

Personally, I think are few better fashion muses than a strong-willed, gravity-defying sisterhood. So, this season, ask yourself—are you a good witch or a bad witch?

BUILD ME UP, BUTTERCUP

This buttery shade of yellow might just wind up being crowned Pantone's official colour of 2025.

And remember, dear readers, if I'm right and "butter" (or "custard" as Grazia UK called it, or "Lemon Sherbet" as Stylist Magazine referred to it or any other ridiculous expression of pale, powdery yellow) is named the supreme shade of the year to come, that you read it here first. And if I'm wrong, forget I said anything.

Regardless, even if it isn't the official tone of the times, it won't hurt to invest in the creamy shade making its way out of the gender-neutral baby nurseries and into our wardrobes. 

Bold and brave, yellow has always been an optimistic armour for a world where we should expect (and dress for) the unexpected. Its sunny disposition is proof that if life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

And while this is a much more muted take on the zesty yellows of yesteryears,  it's a shade that will still hit all the right notes if you've got a sweet tooth. And like I always say when baking, “more butter, more better”.

QUEEN FOR A DAY

When we think of the vibrant sartorial reign of Queen Elizabeth II, it's usually her meticulously colour-matched ensembles, bold millinery and small black handbag that come to mind.

But away from the cameras, the Queen has always seemed stylishly comfortable at her most anonymous — dressed in kilts, cardigans, headscarves, windproof jackets and wellingtons on the rolling hills of her Balmoral Estate.

Off-duty and in her element, this is the very image of our late Queen which Burberry taps into with their "It's Always Burberry Weather" campaign. In an attempt to remind us that, despite the sales slumps,  they are one of the oldest established British luxury brands, they even cast Olivia Colman—who played Queen Elizabeth in seasons three and four of The Crown. Ultimately, the campaign serves up a nostalgic take on country chic, signalling a return to Burberry's roots.

And if the mission was to prove they have timeless British style in spades, who better to help than Queenie?

ALL WRAPPED UP

Speaking of QEII and her silk scarves, the humble foulard was one of Paris Fashion Week's most-photographed accessories. Yes, the chic kerchief has made a triumphant return, and it's more versatile than ever—whether you're channelling off-duty royalty with a gauzy headscarf, tied as a top beneath a blazer, or nonchalantly looped through your handbag strap or around a messy bun.

And the best part? It's the perfect cost-of-living-crisis-trend, because it doesn’t matter if your scarf is vintage, brand new, or borrowed from Grandma's collection; the right one will add a pop of print, a dash of drama and give an existing outfit a fresh perspective without your savings account giving you side-eye.

EVERYBODY WANTS THIS

While fans are swooning over Joanne and Noah's romance in Netflix's Nobody Wants This, many of us have also become slightly obsessed with Joanne's wardrobe. Played by Kristen Bell, Joanne's aesthetic is that rare mix of fashion-forward style and—unlike a certain Emily in Paris—actual wearability.

Styled by costume designer Negar Ali Kline, Joanne has nailed the high-low mix of affordable brands peppered with designer pieces. Over the course of the season, we see her in knitted Ralph Lauren, accessorising in Khaite and even dressed in a little blue dress by Aussie label Alex Perry, but we also see the likes of Reformation, By Far and Maje crop up as reliably as her romantic misadventures.

And while her knitted jumpers and denim might be more commonly seen running everyday errands than they are on Hollywood leading ladies, it is worth noting that Joanne is no shrinking violet either.

Her wardrobe is a direct reflection of a woman who knows exactly what she wants—both from clothes and from love. This is someone who can effortlessly shift from grabbing coffee in a laid-back knit to stepping out in a don't-mind-me-while-I-steal-the-scene electric blue frock. Her style doesn't just mirror her confidence; it amplifies it, reminding us all that a well-timed outfit can be as bold a declaration as any romantic gesture.

The mere mention of "Summer 2005" is enough to cue the rhythmic clatter of stacked bangles in my mind.

It was, as I still affectionately call it, The Summer of Sienna— a hazy, nostalgic time when the entire fashion world was swept into a boho-chic fever dream. 

In those prehistoric days that predated Pinterest and Instagram, we had to rely on grainy paparazzi pictures of Sienna Miller running errands to guide us through the bohemian trend. Her floaty layers and oversized sunglasses served as our unofficial uniform for a life we weren't living, but were definitely dressing for.

That summer, I was working at the Sussan store in Bendigo with my friend Erin. One particularly memorable Friday in the style annals of my life, we unboxed an emerald green maxi skirt— almost identical to the one we had spotted on the hips of Ms Miller in the latest Hello! Magazine. 

There was something about the boho look that spoke to us in a way no trend before it had. There was an aura about it that transcended the clothes: a lightness, an airiness, a kind of carefree whoops-I-forgot-my-keys-again-ness.

Embracing the trend felt like we were Sienna. And when we breezed across the concrete desert of Bendigo's Pall Mall in our floaty green skirts, we thought every Jude Law in town was under our bohemian spell. 

For the rest of the season, I, and most women I knew between the ages of 15 and 35, continued to drape ourselves in maxi dresses and off-the-shoulder blouses paired with floppy felt hats, coin belts and gladiator sandals. And if we were ever seeking further inspiration, Kate Moss' mud-splattered Glastonbury days and the Olsen Twins' dishevelled glamour also served as the perfect boho blueprints. 

Inevitably, the pendulum swung — making way for our collective style to be painted with the broad strokes of minimalism and the eternally oxymoronic sportsluxe trend. 

Boho became a no-go, relegated to the back of our wardrobes, a relic of a wilder time.

Sure, Isabel Marant, Ulla Johnson and Zimmermann continued riffing on the floaty vibe, but, for the most part, boho became a phase we outgrew, like our iPod shuffle obsession or Seth Cohen crush (the latter also making a strong comeback this season). 

Much like history (and apparently Adam Brody), fashion has a way of repeating itself. Here we are, two decades later, and boho is back, bringing a grown-up sophistication to the once-messy movement. In this refined version of our beloved '05, the fringes are gone, the feathers have flown, and in their place are soft sheers, billowing silhouettes, and delicate floral prints.

Global trend forecasters WGSN have (somewhat shockingly) coined the new boho iteration "NuBoheme", noting this week that the S/S 25 Paris Fashion Week collections of Chloé, Valentino, Loewe and Zimmermann introduced a gentle romanticism to bohemian aesthetics and a "softer, sometimes playful, approach to utility and performance pieces". 

Chloé designer Chemena Kamali is among the ringleaders of the resurgence, proving at last month's runway show that soft silhouettes can still make a powerful statement. Sienna was seated front row.

Sure, the boho might have grown up, but twenty years later, it still isn't about clothes. It's about selling us truth, love, beauty and freedom. Boho taps into our desire for something free-spirited — a yearning to throw caution (and structure) to the wind, even if only for a day. Just thinking about that summer — and pouring over these new collections — has me craving a carefree escape from reality. The closest thing I get to rebellion these days is eating breakfast for dinner. So, if this summer wants to offer me a billowing maxi dress, sign this Sienna up!