It’s creamy, saucy and pale red in colour - often paired with pasta, noodles, orzo, potatoes or any starchy side that can mop up the sauce.

It’s the kind of dish where it will stop your scroll and make you salivate just enough to comment ‘RECIPE’ on the post. You wait for the automated DM which leads you down the rabbit hole of a recipe blog, slammed with SEO-laden copy which takes five minutes to read before you actually see the recipe method (no shade - I know the woes and wins of SEO).

But in theory, for what feels like a million variations popping up of the same recipe, there’s not much different in each version. The protein changes between chicken, to salmon, prawns, meatballs, and even tofu. The carb of choice rotates between rice, pasta, tortellini, risoni, risotto, gnocchi or plain potato. You can find low carb, high protein, low calorie variants of the dish, but each rotate the same key ingredients of sun-dried tomatoes, a heavy cream or cream cheese variant and basil.

Conceptually, none of these recipes are ground breaking, and it’s obvious why it’s a winning flavour combo. In actuality, at its core, it’s Tuscan chicken with a TikTok-ified title.

But my question to you, dear reader, why are we slapping ‘marry me’ on every recipe, and are what are we really saying if it’s inferred a dish can cause marriage? Is this the really the yard stick of a good meal that we want to promote or is it just a bit of harmless fun.

I invite you to join me on the very serious investigation to discover the origins of the ‘marry me’ recipe and its implications.

So, when did this recipe first pop the question?

Our story begins back in 1982, with a different recipe causing waves of proposals.

Engagement chicken was all the rage - Glamour magazine published the recipe after their staffers allegedly cooked these for their partners and were promptly proposed to. It’s a simple lemon roast chicken, worthy of a diamond ring. Because nothing screams wife material more than a humble Sunday roast.

But, in 2016 is where we find our first iteration of ‘marry me’ chicken. In the peak #girlboss era paired with the forthcoming #MeToo movement, it doesn’t feel like a year synonymous with anti-feminist chicken recipes. I digress.

Legend tells us that the name came about accidentally. Lindsay Funston was cooking a recipe for Delish, which was a skillet chicken with sun-dried tomatoes, herbs, and cream. Her video producer took a bite and declared, ‘I’d marry you for that chicken!’ says the New York Times.

And that is how the iconic dish found its name.

But, what’s the track record of the success of such recipe. I’m not talking about the flavour and the tastiness of the meal, I mean, does anyone really get a proposal off the back of a chicken skillet? More so, when you interrogate the premise, it feels a little bit comical. But, the name has taken on a life of its own and the never-ending spawning of this recipe demonstrates a clear love for two things:

1. the winning flavour profile that is transferable across, evidently, many dish styles

2. there’s an unconscious gravitas to the name that has an undeniable pull, that is, the idea of a meal promising eternal love draws us in without us even realising

It can feel like a stretch, but language plays a large role in our unconscious bias. So, we can laugh as we call out such a name, but what can happen when we ask ‘why’ that name.

Shakespeare once asked ‘what’s in a name?’: Well, I’m asking ‘what’s this name telling us?’

Name, words and language carry weight. They carry meaning beyond dictionary definition and the way we string them in a sentence creates a narrative which is informed by our own interpretation of the world around us.

In 2021, I read What Works: Gender Equality By Design by Iris Bohnet for a university assignment and it’s a text I reflect on often. Bohnet distills years worth of studies and literature on unconscious bias and the impact language can have on our workplaces, and how this inherently reinforces gender stereotypes. A classic example: when looking at teaching role PDs, words such as ‘warm’ and ‘nurturing’ are often laced throughout the position’s KPIs. But, these are words we often associate with women, and therefore create an underlying assumption for ourselves on who should be a teacher. The same goes in a corporate sense, a man is called assertive, a woman is called bossy and marketing roles are being renamed ‘growth’ roles as a way to appeal to more men in the industry.

The other key point through Bohnet’s novel is how hard it can be to untangle yourself from unconscious bias. It’s also a concept that no one is exempt from, we all uphold an unconscious bias about something. The difference comes down to whether we act on it, or if we actively try to unlearn it. To unlearn your unconscious bias involves being aware of your situation, your feelings and clocking the thought as it rolls through. Then, it’s a matter of retraining the thought and interrogating your own beliefs.

So while you may be wondering how did we get here after talking about a chicken recipe, I’m here to tell you that is really is that deep.

One key kind of bias in language is known as ‘framing bias’ or ‘gendered linguistic bias’. Broadly, these concepts entail the implicit or explicit favouring, stereotyping, or erasing of a gender through the structures, vocabulary, and everyday usage of a language. To my point earlier, some words have implicit, gendered associations, and how we use them is informed by our own biases.

In a world where gender roles have expected women to make the kitchen their domain, I can’t help but question if the name of ‘marry me chicken’ is simply reinforcing a stereotype.

“A recipe so good it’s worth a diamond ring.”

The name is laced with the implication that:

• a) the woman should be cooking

• b) the man is the one to propose

• c) marriage remains the most ultimate, desirous outcome for a woman

The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

It’s a likely saying you heard from your grandparents, which elicits an eye roll at its absurdity but its meaning is no different to the name of ‘marry me chicken’.

We’re in an era where trad wife content is trending and Gen Zs are most likely to believe that a woman should obey her husband. Traditional gender roles have found their way back into modern society and they’re being glamourised for clicks and engagement. But the premise is the same and so is the harm.

Gender stereotypes and gender roles impact the choices, outcomes and behaviours in peoples lives, for all women, men and gender diverse people. They can dissuade people from being their authentic selves, choosing careers they actually want, or deter them from taking on roles within the home for fear of judgement by subverting the norm. Modelling from Deloitte Access Economics shows that abandoning prescriptive gender norms could grow Australia’s economy by on average at least $128 billion a year. So if we’re not doing it for the greater good of gender equality, the least we can do is better the economy… right?

The question I’ve kept coming back to as I write this piece has been: is it really about the chicken, or is it about the context that we find ourselves in today?

Jaya Saxena wrote a piece in 2024 for Eater, where they argued that these trendy recipes also lean into damaging narratives happening in culture:

It’s also hard not to see “Marry Me” recipes in conversation with “tradwife” content, which idealises a life in which a husband supports his nuclear family on his one salary, while the wife stays home to clean, make herself beautiful, and cook everything from scratch. These women often speak of how great this life is, how they no longer face the stress of work, and how fulfilling it is to nurture their families this way… The overarching message here is that marriage is the goal, and you should put everything you have into achieving it.

But… what if I like cooking for my partner?

That’s fine!!! Like many people, one of my key love languages is acts of service. I love cooking for my partner. I love cooking for my friends. I love cooking for me! I’m not out here to condemn a person for trying these recipes or those who like to own the majority of their cooking in the household. Rather, it’s about questioning why we continue to gravitate to recipes named after patriarchal concepts and how we unconsciously continue to validate gender norms by blindly following trends. Because it’s not just marry me chicken, there’s Asian marry me chicken, marry me ramen, one pot marry me chicken, slow cooker marry me chicken, marry me tofu, marry me salmon, and here’s a marry me recipe for every night of the week.

A trend becomes a trend because it gets engagement. It hits a cultural nerve. It resonates. It has a relevance to our lives, even if we don’t know it yet.

And through this trend, we’re all engaging with something that unconsciously affirms gender norms.

In a social-media-led world which moves at speed, it’s imperative we slow it down to question trends and reflect on where they sit with our cultural values. There will always be a ‘marry me’ recipe, just with a new name and a new protein.

But remember, the key to unlearning unconscious bias is to consciously clock all the moments that layer into our day-to-day experiences.

I’d love to give a special shout out to divorce chicken. That recipe alone deserves a whole other post.

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Through my day job, I’m lucky enough to be exposed to many wonderful wellness trends and opportunities. But when I’m not examining trends and new wellness hotspots with a critical eye, I am just a girl standing in front an over-priced and over-crowded bath house, asking if it can solve my problems.

The rational part of my brain (which I believe to be the left hemisphere, if my year 12 psychology class serves me right), knows that the newest craze won’t solve my problems. My right brain (the fun one!), still gets sucked in to the quick-fix lingo, the airy claims and the promise of great enlightenment.

It’s a pervasive, exhausting industry to wade through what’s fact and fiction. But, what I can say is that there’s some things which are worth trying.

Since my second laparoscopy for endometriosis removal, I have been trying to lean in to areas of wellness I might have previously dismissed. The surgery, paired with a new diagnosis of adenomyosis, came as a reminder that our body truly does keep the score. I needed to take a moment to reevaluate my views on balance, movement and mindset. Particularly in the space of nervous system regulation and inflammation. And that’s where the slippery slope of wellness talk can begin. You’re resetting hormones, shifting energy, changing routines. A lot of vague phrases are used and if you’re not careful, you can wind up down a rabbit hole of ‘wellness coach’ content which is actually an MLM organisation in disguise. You too can rise to the top of the wellness pyramid if you can convince 5 other people to buy these oils - it’s that easy!

Multi-level marketing schemes aside, as a way to explore new ways to help my body recover, I have been leaning in to the ‘woo-woo’ side of things.

To call alternative therapies ‘woo-woo’ can be quite insulting to people who have studied their practice for years. But the reality is, when you’re a first-time participant of these treatments, that’s how it feels. It feels uncomfortable, it feels silly, and sometimes it’s also not for you. And that’s okay.

I’ve been reflecting as of late the more ‘woo-woo’ treatments and experiences I’ve trialled and what has worked and not worked for me.

This isn’t designed to be a definitive guide for what does and doesn’t work (apologies for the click-bait title!), but it is here to unblock the mysticism that comes with unfamiliar experiences and might just help you consider leaning in, just that little bit more.

Some of the note-worthy wellness trends, experiences and movement I’ve tried and tested.

Meditation facials

Thoughts: 10/10. Clear skin and a clear mind? Gorgeous.

I experienced the Correct + Repair + Restore facial at HÜD Beauty a few months ago and I haven’t stopped dreaming about it since.

Lying there, being treated to a wonderful facial, lymphatic drainage, LED mask and custom meditation was the perfect way to unwind. HÜD’s clinic was the perfect oasis of calm and serenity, and their therapists are pro’s at what they do. I wouldn’t rate this as an entirely left of field experience, nor would I say it’s entirely based in wellness, but let the girl have a facial! Anything that involves lying down for an hour is a win for your nervous system in my mind.

Would I book again? Yes, yes, yes.

Reiki & sound healing

Thoughts: A lot more woo than I expected, and successfully sent me into a spiral.

This was a gifted session from a colleague, and was my first instance with reiki healing. To be honest, I never considered trying reiki, but I was open minded to the experience. Again, at a minimum, I knew it would be nice to lie down in a relaxed state for 1+ hours. I was approached with an excitable skepticism, ready to be proven wrong. I wanted this treatment to work. Whatever “working” meant.

For those unfamiliar, Reiki is a Japanese energy-healing practice where practitioners lightly place their hands on or just above you. Its primary function is to trigger your parasympathetic nervous system, inducing deep relaxation to help your body manage stress, reduce anxiety, and naturally support its own healing processes. There’s no known medical risks of this detox practice, but I think it is important to say that it is recognised as a pseudoscience by the standards of Western medicine. These things work differently for everyone, approach with an open mind.

The therapist (practitioner… healer? Master?) kindly talked me through all the potential feelings that might come up during the session and explained how it would run. Tingling, numbness and sensations in my limbs would be normal. Emotional changes, twitching and gurgling in the belly. I didn’t really take her seriously, and maybe it was a placebo effect, but in truth, I felt everything.

Over the hour-long session, I laid there, eyes closed, and only felt light pressure from her hands. The sound healing was relaxing, and other than the physical sensations, I didn’t feel any emotions shift energetically.

My spiral happened once we finished. At the end, we debriefed on my experience, and I shared what I felt. Without prompt, she said she felt a lot of blockages in my pelvic area.

For context, I had this treatment before my surgery in January.

I stopped talking. She asked if I was ovulating, I started to say I don’t know really when I ovulate, as I have endometriosis. Then, she asked if I might be pregnant. Without thinking, I answered ‘I hope not.’

I spent the rest of the afternoon unable to concentrate, convinced she saw something inside me that I didn’t, detouring to the pharmacy on the way home.

I got my period the next morning. (Thankfully).

Would I book again? No, but I wouldn’t stop anyone from trying it.

EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique aka. Tapping)

Thoughts: feels massively woo-woo. Absolutely works.

EFT was introduced to me by Janey Martino, my CEO, around the same time we discussed the feeling of overwhelm. Tapping is a stress-relief method that combines ancient Chinese acupressure with modern psychology. It can be used to reframe limiting beliefs, build confidence, let go of trauma and reduce stress. You tap lightly on different pressure points, and repeat affirmations to yourself as you do so. You do this a certain amount of times until you’ve returned to a steady-state of calm. Janey wrote about EFT here for a piece at work, which I highly recommend you read if you’re intrigued by the practice.

After starting this back in October, I fell awfully sick with the flu. Janey called me to explain that this was normal. It was a common response to the body purging it’s negative energy.

And boy, was I holding onto a lot of that.

I really felt like I was doing something woo-woo, and needed to let go of a lot of preconceived judgements I had about tapping. It was time to lean in. However, it wasn’t totally out of the realm of mindset for me. I’d done things like EMDR therapy in the past, which had some similarities. I told myself that if it wasn’t for me, I could stop, no harm done.

But I noticed a massive change in my mindset. I felt calmer, clearer, and more in control of my environment. I was going through a lot of personal and professional changes, and I don’t think I would have progressed in the way that I liked without the guidance of EFT.

I worked with Janey on a bespoke script for my EFT sessions, but the KICApp has a range of EFT sessions you can try which makes it more accessible as going to dedicated EFT therapists can cost a pretty penny. This session is great for building self-trust - you can access with a 7-day free trial if you’re new to the app! (Biased as I obvi work for KIC, but definitely not sponsored - I genuinely love EFT).

Would I book again? Not technically a ‘booking’ but I revisit this practice often and tap (ha!) in and out of it when I need it most.

Saunas, cold plunges and thermal spas.

Rating: every time I do it, I think ‘why don’t I do this more?!’

I know, I know. These are technically three different modalities. Yet, my reason for including these all as one is because I’ve only ever done these in succession of one another. Whether that’s at Alba Thermal Springs & Spa, EQ Wellbeing, Peninsula Hot Springs or Széchenyi Thermal Bath (Oh didn’t you know, I’ve been to Europe!!), every time I’ve entered a bath house, I’ve felt amazing.

In a past life I believe I was a fish or maybe a mermaid, so any wellness activities with water involved is quite the joy.

Cold plunges truly take my breathe away (and not in a Top Gun kind of way), but back this up with a sweaty reset in a sauna, brings on all kinds of feel-good hormones.

I can’t speak to the specifics of what actually happens to your body at thermal spas and saunas, but I am keen to incorporate this into my life more in 2026 based on how amazing I feel every time.

Would I book again? A big emphatic yes.

Somatic movement

Rating: The more you lean in, the more you get out of it.

Another semi-related work recommendation, but stay with me on this journey! Somatic movement is defined as “A somatic movement is a movement that’s practiced consciously with the intention of focusing on the internal experience of the movement rather than the external appearance or the end result of the movement.” It’s a style of movement that invites you to turn your attention inward, and focus on how you feel, and helps regulate your nervous system through continuous movement.

You use breath, sound and elements of dance at times, interspersed throughout other more ‘typical’ movements you expect in a workout class. I’m by no means an expert in the space, and only know what I know from working across amazing businesses like KICStudio, but I can speak to my long journey with somatic movement.

When I was 16 - 20 years old, I was deep within the Melbourne dance scene. Taking classes across prominent schools and dance companies, dreaming of auditioning for the prolific Victorian College of the Arts. ‘Twas quite the past life I had. I loved contemporary dance, which was a style baked in movement that may have looked unconventional, but it was lead by feeling and a deep understanding of the bounds of your body. I knew how to roll, leap, and fly across floors with reckless abandon, as I knew exactly how my body would catch me every time. Dance itself was a fickle experience, it was something that made me resent my body for a lot of reasons, but it was the one time I was truly locked in to my mind-muscle connection. To windmill and shoulder roll across the room is something I miss deeply (IYKYK).

One previous teacher used to say “the movement doesn’t need to look like anything, it just needs to make you feel something”. We proceeded to learn a dance combination where we thrashed our arms across our bodies. Our aim was to feel the blood in our body move to the tips of our fingers through the force of our throws.

Whilst it may not be traditional somatic movement, I do see conceptual similarities now that I take regular classes which have a basis in somatic movement. Presently, I’ve been taking classes through KICStudio, switching between their Power and Energise classes. The Energise class is grounded in somatic movement, with a HIIT style workout, and the free dance is encouraged at times to some banging music. The dancing part can feel the most sticky but as our teacher Immi says, “if you lean in, often the magic is waiting for you just on the other side”.

On Saturdays, the Energise class is paired with a breathwork session and it’s pure bliss. I remember taking my first Energise class, really expecting to be moved to tears, release a boatload of trauma and walk away with a life changing feeling. It wasn’t until after the class, that I felt everything. The feel-good endorphins, the clarity, the vulnerability. Truly, adding in one of these (or the Power class!) per week has been an amazing shake up to my usual Pilates routine, and has been doing wonders for my nervous system.

Would I book again? Most certainly - see you on the mat?

Watch the vid for the best post-class community space.

Tarot card reading

Rating: If all else is lost, it can serve a purpose. With caution.

I was 19 years old, walking through the streets of Echuca for a trip I cannot remember the reason. Unfortunately, I was in the wake of a unprocessed traumatic event a few months prior. I couldn’t make sense of my life, the relationships around me and had a brief and one-time only foray with anti-depressants which left me zombie-like and like I was constantly in a bad dream. I’m by no means anti medication, but I am anti trusting a doctor I’d never seen before on prescribing medication when they didn’t know my full medical history. Silly gurl Tessy.

I passed a store front, with a black board and in pink chalk, the sign read:

TAROT READING. FIND YOUR FUTURE - $50.

Without teasing apart the intricate details I’ve only reserved for therapy, $50 felt like a pretty price to pay in order to have somebody tell me I would be okay. Extremely vulnerable, and constantly emotionally hungover, I am lucky that the reader I saw was not someone who scammed or took advantage of me. Well… maybe she did, but for the comfort it gave me, I would spend that money again in a heart beat.

Admittedly, remembering the details of her reading from 8 years ago feels fuzzy. But, the key points I remember are the ones that actually become true. She predicted my relationships, the trajectory of where I’d live and elements of my career. Attached below is a screenshot of my reaction, where I was highly skeptical of her prediction (apologies for the expletives). But, with hindsight and curiosity, I’ve come to realise there was truth lying within those cards.

Would I book again? Yes, but I would likely be more critical and interrogative of who I’m booking with. I’m curious to know what the next 8 years could unlock.

So, what’s next? I’m trialling acupuncture, traditional Chinese medicine, a Bodyworks session, and regular infrared saunas. Stay tuned.

All opinions are my own and are not sponsored and no links contain commissions. Just genuine recs for you, my lil’ olives!

This letter however, ironically doesn’t have an array of recommendations of things that take you outdoors. But, it does take you through the things I’m loving, reading and noticing this Winter. This season has been busy, and it’s really been the little moments that have been keeping me sane in the constant loop that is life.

Enjoy.

Tess x

Winter book club and my growing TBR pile.

Don’t hate me, but I have an anti-recommendation for you all to read.

Butter by Asako Yuzuki

I like to think I’m a fast reader and when I’m hooked into a good book, I won’t put it down. As shown by what I read in January, I love to churn through books. Yet, this book took me about 3 months to read and it really frustrated me.

Butter follows a Tokyo journalist who starts interviewing a woman accused of tricking and possibly killing men by seducing them with her cooking. Thematically, I loved everything about this book. Butter dissects the concepts of misogyny, fat-phobia and discovering your values, all through the context of food. It opened by eyes to how these concepts are also pervasive in Japanese culture, and I also feel inspired to now travel to Tokyo.

My issue? The pacing. Potentially this may have been a result of how it was translated, or maybe I’m not a fan of Yuzuki’s prose. But, there were pages dedicated to the most benign tasks and side quests that did not serve the plot in a way which felt purposeful. The chapters are long, and the mystery takes a back seat in the story, so if you’re expecting a ‘who-dunnit’ style novel, this isn’t it.

Overall, I gave it a 2.5-3 out of 5 for how dense this book was to churn through.

Sorrow and Bliss by Meg Mason

This was a strong 5/5. I am a big fan of how Meg Mason creates characters in her novels, her book You Be Mother is one of the most beautiful books I’ve ever read. So I knew this would be a goodie.

The story follows Martha Russell, a 40-year-old woman grappling with a lifelong, undiagnosed mental illness. Her patient husband, Patrick, finally leaves her and in doing so, Martha is forced to confront her past, her destructive habits and how her behaviour has impacted her family. Throughout the story, there is an underlying tension posed by the question - ‘do I want to have children?’.

This book is devastatingly beautiful and is an accurate exploration of mental health. It’s as equally heartbreaking as it is darkly funny. Read with care.

Currently reading: Ask Not: The Kennedys and the Women They Destroyed by Maureen Callahan.

This is a SPICY read and is correctly inciting a rage from within about these powerful men and how they quite literally ruined the lives of so many women.

Stay tuned for the full download soon.

Books on my TBR pile: The Names by Florence Knapp, Heart the Lover by Lily King, Famesick by Lena Dunham, You and Me on Vacation by Emily Henry, and Raven Smith’s Men by Raven Smith.

Words we’re bringing back:

A list I’ve been keeping of words I want brought back into our day to day vocab.

• Non-plussed
  Definition (traditional): Surprised, bewildered, and so confused that you do not know what to say, think, or do.

  Definition (modern): Unbothered, calm, indifferent, or completely unfazed by something.

• Ad nauseam

  Definition: is a Latin phrase meaning "to nausea" or "to a sickening degree". It is used as an adverb to describe an argument, topic, or action that has been repeated or discussed for so long that people are completely sick of it.
  

• Discombobulated
  Definition: a state of being completely confused, disoriented, or thrown off-kilter.
  

• Miffed
  Definition: to feel slightly annoyed, irritated, or offended, usually because of something someone said or did.
  

• Insouciant
  Definition: an adjective that means carefree, unconcerned, or nonchalant.
  

• Percolate
  Definition: Means to filter or trickle slowly through a porous substance. It is used in both literal contexts, like water seeping through soil, and metaphorical contexts, such as ideas spreading slowly through a group of people.
  

In a sentence: I was miffed about how long it took me to read Butter, and the amount of cooking chat in that book was ad nauseam. However, when I began to skim-read, I became rather discombobulated by my lack of comprehension. I had to let my thoughts percolate for quite some time after finishing the book before deciding how I felt about it. In the end, the book left me non-plussed, and I was rather insouciant about ever reading it again.

One to follow: Subway Hands.

This photography account captures the hands of those riding NYC’s subway. A simple concept, but this account is a welcome interruption for my mindless scrolls on IG.

People holding books, fingers intertwined, juggling bouquets, or Knicks merch - this account shows what occupies the hands of commuters. Their recent partnership with the NYC Ballet has been living in my mind rent free.

One to try: the perfect muffin recipe.

I’m yet to try a RecipeTin Eats recipe I haven’t liked. Nagi (the founder, for those unacquainted) knows how to put together a banging recipe, and her desserts are even better.

On a quiet Monday night recently, my partner and I on a whim decided we wanted chocolate cupcakes.

We found this recipe and with some additions to the ingredients based on what we had in our cupboard, what we created felt deliciously naughty. We used the last of our Easter chocolate (criminal that we still had Easter chocolate in June - I know) for choc chips, added cocoa powder to the base and then a dollop of Nutella in the centre of every muffin. So. Bloody. Good.

10/10 would make again.

I have some big bets on there, and some goals that feel plain fun. One of my more self-care related goals is to invest in a skincare routine for my body. My face, sorted. I have my key go-to products and even my hair routine has more steps than you expect for a humble bob cut. I love it all, the ritual of each step, the moments where my hands are forced to be disconnect from my phone, and wholly focused on the tactile experience of facial oils, serums and creams.

But my body I neglect. With the Melbourne cold rapidly approaching, I’ve noticed my legs are scalier than a snake in the Sahara. I spend so long on my face and hair, it feels only fair to extend this to my body. There’s been a calming routine in it all, to spend the extra five minutes focusing on my whole self.

In this new routine I’ve been building, I’ve been loving a dry body oil. Particularly, I’m obsessed with this one from Alpha-H. It’s quick-dry, luxurious and has all the hallmarks of what you’d want in a great body oil.

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So, as I’ve been implementing new steps into my evening, I realise I never really switch off my brain as I’m making more mindful moments. Like any good comms gal, I scan the sides of packaging for their copy, and assess the tone, structure and formatting in my mind for inspiration. No brand has been safe from the unconscious copy audit as I’ve added more products into my evening routine. As I scanned the sides of Alpha-H’s Firming Peptide body oil, I saw all the usual buzz words.

Collagen. Fine lines. Firming. Dehydration. Quick-dry finish.

But what caught my eye was a phrase I hadn’t heard of.

‘Tech neck’.

Initially, I didn’t think much of it, and assumed it was some kind of condition where you strain your neck from staring at a screen for too long. Naively, I conjured an idea in my mind where you’d use this oil to massage the neck strain, an added benefit for the modern-day working woman.

I continued with my routine, massaging the oil into my skin. But, the words kept rolling around in my mind. A new phrase I’d never heard, repeating again and again - inherently I knew it wasn’t a positive thing. Tech neck. Tech neck. Tech neck.

Curiosity killed the cat, so they say, and I googled it.

In the world of beauty, tech neck refers to: horizontal wrinkles and sagging skin caused by repeatedly looking down at screens, accelerating premature aging in the neck and décolletage.

New insecurity unlocked. Before my cognitive brain could connect with my physical being, I noticed my hands were already massaging the oil into my neck.

It is exhausting. I was nonplussed about the whole discovery - does everyone else know about ‘tech neck’ except me? When insecurities are marketed to us, I wonder how much of it is an act of creating demand versus something that everyone actively cares about. And I’m the nonce who had no idea.

I guess that is how insecurities begin, there’s an element of feeling like you’re left out of this bubble. Everyone knows something you don’t and they’re already ten steps ahead of you in ‘fixing’ it. To put the words tech neck on the product packaging, implies to me that there has to be plenty of people who know this is a thing… right? If working in marketing has taught me anything, you pick the buzz words you want to either own as a brand or target due to search interest or demand from market. From my quick search, I don’t think Alpha H are the creators of the term ‘tech neck’. You can find many, many, many facials and treatments online trying to sell you a solution for the same ailment.

If you were like me and blissfully unaware about the existence of tech neck until I shared this information with you, I am deeply sorry. But you’re all coming on this doom spiral with me. Lock in.

I want to take the higher ground and reject the standards, say that I don’t care and that I haven’t booked an appointment for micro-needling on my neck. But I can’t, because no matter how privy you are to the marketing of beauty, it still finds a way to embed into your mind and convince you to buy a million different products for your concern. And we can’t deny that investing in anti-ageing routines has its benefits. I was recently served this TikTok, from Melbourne Marketing Girlie Ebony, where she admitted she refuses to go makeup free in the office. Her reason? Stats show that women who wear makeup to the office earn 20-30% more than women that don’t. It’s a statistic, in my opinion, that is deeply entrenched in misogynistic standards. But how are we meant to reject beauty standards and call out the system, when using them to our advantage does in fact, give us an advantage?

Recently for a work assignment, I wrote about the rise of the longevity industry and the tension this causes with our fear of ‘appearing’ old. It seems that we all want to live forever now, but god forbid you show a wrinkle! To age is a privilege, but it is tiring to always think about maintaining our appearance. The line has been blurred between treatments that promote skin health and those that are purely cosmetic and in the nicest way possible, entirely vain. I am someone who invests in microneedling sessions, high-quality skincare, and wears SPF everyday. I am aware of the standards and still, it plays me like a fiddle.

I weirdly feel the same way about pedicures. I’ve never had one done, but I can’t help but notice in every Pilates class I go to, everyone has a pedicure.

You comment on a friend’s new sandals, their instant reply: “oh don’t look at my toes, they need a pedicure!”

All I can think: I don’t have a pedicure either. Should I be getting pedicures? Again, what does everyone know that I don’t? Does everyone think I’m insane for raw dogging my toenails?

Hyperbolic, yes. But with the unity of standards, we create a feeling of otherness, and I’ve totally lost touch with the reality of acceptable vanity. It’s rife, and it begins for girls at an age before we’re even cognisant of beauty standards. When I was 16, a boy I almost slept with told all of our friends that I hadn’t… removed my hair. It was deeply humiliating, mostly because I felt left out of this unspoken education everyone else seemed to understand. I felt silly for not knowing this was something I should have done and allegedly should be ashamed of. Honestly, it felt like I had been called a witch and I deserved to be burnt at the stake. From that moment on, I invested an awful amount of money into Brazilian waxes and permanent laser hair removal because the trauma of such a rumour doesn’t really leave you.

Again, all the girls knew something I didn’t. It felt crushing.

Truthfully, I never thought I’d be writing about my hairless vagina on the internet, but here we are, I guess. Because that is what beauty standards do to us.

So be it tech neck, fine lines, or body hair - I don’t drop into your inbox today with a profound answer of how to overcome it all.

Rather, I approach you with a question. How do we find comfort in the standards put toward us? How can we reject them, when the world is built around us needing to embrace them?

Can I embrace the idea of ageing, whilst simultaneously caring about my appearance? I want to approach this intellectually, and create an argument for feminism in this cause, but it’s exhausting. To constantly rationalise and intellectualise every choice in life.

But, just like ageing, this is another privilege to uphold. To think and care so deeply. I will continue to think so deeply as I massage my firming body oil into my neck tonight.

Sigh.

This season: rebranding big feelings for ones of apathy (but in a mindful, chic way), I feel like a bad parent for missing an important birthday, and recommendations about ‘taste’ that don’t involve a podcast.

Enjoy x

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It’s time to give overwhelm a rebrand.

“You can be overwhelmed, you can be underwhelmed, but can you ever just be … whelmed”

10 Things I Hate About You asked all the important questions that defined a generation. The status of ‘whelm’, whether or not paintball is a romantic date option, and when will a man ever get my favourite band to play on top of my monster-sized high school?

Alas, the film stands the test of time.

However, this meme-able quote raised by the film, still rings true. As humans, particularly at a time where the state of the world can feel tumultuous and bleak, it’s easy to yo-yo between the two states of ‘whelm’. Overwhelmed by the way things are going, underwhelmed by the actions being taken to change it. It’s a pendulum, swinging between two states of being, which is enough to give you emotional whiplash.

Yet, after a long office day, colleagues and I were discussing the feeling of overwhelm and the different ways we manage the feeling. For myself, it’s a mix of therapy, EFT and believing that it’s a feeling I am no longer passive to. For one of my colleagues, it looked like hitting the gym or a hard run. But as we continued to discuss the power of this feeling, I was reminded by a poignant quote my CEO told me. Overwhelm isn’t really a feeling, but it’s a state of being that we’ve assigned particular emotions to, and by which we’ve allowed this to control the outcome.

I have definitely butchered the articulation of such sound advice (sorry Janey!) but I hope you get my gist. The idea of a feeling being something we’ve assigned personal meaning to got me thinking - why don’t we give overwhelm a rebrand?

Hear me out. We call things overwhelming when there is so much happening, to a point where we feel like we stop operating. It doesn’t meet our expectation of what we think the situation should provide, in fact it’s providing too much. Too much beyond the feelings we want to deal with, the ones we expected the occur within reasonable circumstances. Yet, the other word we use to describe situations that don’t meet expectations?

Underwhelming.

My argument, we need to rebrand overwhelm to mean the same as underwhelm.

Instead of feeling like melting at the weight of expectations and level of tasks assigned, pause, and with an air of nonchalance, claim how underwhelming it is to be experiencing this state of emotion. Underwhelming because it’s not met the expectation of what you hoped, rather than overwhelmed at the excess.

Reclaim the emotion, reframe the idea that the moments that feel overwhelming, can equally feel underwhelming, sufficiently disappointing, and not what you want it to be. Reframing it allows you to reclaim the power of the situation, and seek an alternative that yes, might be baked in apathy, but it moves the disappointment from your own feelings onto the situation at hand.

Imagine you’re Ennui from Inside Out 2 - embody this baddie as you let go of the overwhelm, and welcome in the underwhelm.

Best performed with a pensive sigh, and a loud exhale.

Worth noting: I am by no means a mental health professional, you do you with such advice.

Missing birthdays.

I have missed my child’s first birthday.

Dirty Olive turned 1 in February, and it did not pass my mind. To call the feeling akin to parental guilt is likely insulting, but I felt distraught that I missed such a milestone.

A few months ago, I had grand plans of birthday editions of Dirty Olive, reflections on the year that was, insights into what a creative writing hobby can unlock when you spend the time building a craft.

The truth, I was swept up in the weeds of work and big life changes (read: moving house), and left Dirty Olive in the corner to be ignored. Because in reality, my second child was here.

The Ritual.

ICYMI: The Ritual is KIC’s new editorial-led weekly wellness newsletter. Designed for you to read, reflect and return to every week, filled with essays, insights, stories and fab recommendations - if I do say so myself. As of February, I have stepped into the role of Editor for The Ritual, which was paired with a lush launch event, and a photoshoot that felt incredibly Carrie Bradshaw-coded. It’s been one of those dream-come-true moments. Every Thursday, you can find me writing and editing the latest and greatest in health and wellness news, direct to your inbox here.

The irony is, The Ritual launched on the same day that Dirty Olive turned 1. Which, in fact may not be that ironic, but more of a serendipitous moment. A new iteration of my writing career has been unlocked, and with that comes more opportunities to keep doing great things with words - eeeee!

So, by order of the dirty olives, as a belated birthday mandate, I request each of you order a dirty martini to celebrate. The filthier the better, and I must request you all to share a photo of said birthday martini. Best looking martini wins eternal glory of being a #superfan.

Don’t fret though - this work news does not mean any less Dirty Olive. Rather it means you can find me writing in more places if one to two times a month doesn’t cut it for you here.

Recommendations on taste.

We’ve all been talking about taste. We all know why we’ve been talking about taste too.

You can find a lot of brilliant think pieces already online, particularly Substack, on what’s being called ‘taste-gate’. This piece in particular was spectacular.

a few good things

Your algorithm won't give you taste (sorry)

If your feed is anything like mine, you’re likely familiar with the unfolding story of a certain fashion podcast reacting to a TikTok from creator (and, in my opinion, tastemaker) Tamsin about the state of personal style. Her argument was simple: good taste doesn’t come from heeding to trends or rampant consumerism, it comes from a life well lived. From…

Read more

6 months ago · 6 likes · 1 comment · Sanam Goodman

I don’t wish to add to the chatter, but I do wish to share some quick fire recommendations on taste that have piqued my interest:

• Pretentiousness: Why it matters. By Dan Fox.

  • This came up on my feed as a recommendation from TikTok creator Literary Luddite. They shared the book in response to the conversations on taste, where author Dan Fox argues that pretentiousness fuels arts and culture, and the way the term is used only to critique certain people. Adding this to my TBR pile.

    

    @literary.ludditeYou should be able to give other people assigned reading tbh #taste #discourse If this take interests you, you may like my article “No one has ever become interesting on TikTok” in my linktree

    Tiktok failed to load.
    
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  • Curiosity is the beginning of taste. By Zara Wong.
    This piece from Zara Wong proves why she can do now wrong. To have taste is to have curiosity and the key is to challenge your own assumptions constantly about your own taste.

    Screenshot This by Zara Wong

    Curiosity Is The Beginning of Taste

    Taste is something that everyone knows, but can’t readily define…

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    6 months ago · 110 likes · 37 comments · Zara Wong

  • Are you developing taste or performing it? By Eleni Di Luzio.
    This piece explores the commodification of taste, and platforms a range of diverse experts to lend their take on taste in personal fashion.

    Language of Fashion

    Are You Developing Taste or Performing It?

    Read more

    6 months ago · 340 likes · 20 comments · Eleni Di Luzio

Feel a little bit better reading this.

A sombre note to finish today’s letter on. Recently I heard that the wonderful Ali, who wrote sadly lost her battle with breast cancer.

Ali was one of the very first writers I discovered on Substack, and I would often use her work as a point of reference in writing across both personal and professional work. Her piece, ‘Fun is the health trend we’re all forgetting about’, greatly inspired my piece on ‘Fun is a dirty word’. It remains my most successful post to date, which wouldn’t have happened without the inspiration of Ali’s writing. I will always be grateful for our comments and notes back and forth on each others Substack posts.

Should you have some downtime and wish to read some thought-provoking but equally light-hearted work on wellness, lifestyle and living, enjoy the archives of Ali’s Substack below.

A Little Bit Better

A weekly newsletter that can help you become a little bet better while I become a little bit more well.

By Ali Moore

She was a true talent. And I’ll miss seeing her weekly newsletter in my feed.

Xx

Kramer vs. Kramer, iconic pivotal moments from Greys Anatomy, SVU episodes and Steel Magnolias often make an occurrence on my feed.

This trend has been coined as ‘TikTok Cinema’ where creators split films into 10-15 different film clips to increase their profile engagement. If I’m hungover on a Sunday, you best believe I’ve been sucked into this worm hole rather than simply turning on Netflix. I feel embarrassed to admit this, but this is a safe space… I hope.

Through this I have spoiled the pivotal twists of iconic films and watched dramatic climaxes without the context of what’s going on. Consider me locked in every time and sometimes it’s actually inspired me to go watch the film at a later date (i.e. when I can tear myself away from the bed without nausea).

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When content lacks context, it’s easy to ask ‘what’s going on with this person?’ or ‘what happens to them in the end?’. It’s natural to be curious - it’s within our nature. But, instead of using our curiosity to fuel the gathering of information, this TikTok-ification of cinema has made us inherently lazy. We’re asking people in the comment section to explain what’s going on, because somehow that’s easier than looking at the film’s Wikipedia page to instantly know what happens in the end. No, we decide it’s easier to wait for a stranger to explain this to us. Talk about the toll of mental load.

I fear I’ve been ranting too much about online behaviour lately, and I won’t judge nor police a person if they’ve commented such a thing on an existing film or TV series. Sure, ask the people to spoil this old film for you, it’s likely been in circulation for 10-30 years already, you do you at this point.

However, the other day I saw something totally heinous.

A24’s hotly anticipated film, The Drama, has been buzzing with hype. The pairing of RPatz (+ his British accent) with Zendaya reads like a match made in heaven. A wedding film about the two hottest people in Hollywood? Count me in.

Recently, A24 dropped the full trailer for the film, finally giving us a glimpse as to what it might be about. If you’re yet to acquaint yourself with an A24 film, here’s what you need to know. They’re a popular American independent film and television studio known for producing and distributing unique, artistically bold, and often quirky movies. Think Moonlight, Aftersun, Good Time, Marty Supreme etc. The list goes on.

The trailer for The Drama shows the joys of pre-wedding plans but ahead of the big day, Zendaya’s character reveals she’s done something awful, and now RPatz is reconsidering the marriage (pick me, Robert! I’m still team Edward). The trailer had me hooked, and I am dying to see this film hit the silver screen.

Yet, my little nosey nelly-ness was curious to know what other people were thinking. A toxic trait of mine is needing to read comment sections to know if my opinions are the same or different to the echo chamber of my own algorithm. One of the top comments floored me.

“I know it’s not out yet, but can somebody spoil it for me?”

The audacity to ask for the plot twist of an unreleased film in a TikTok comments section felt like the epitome of why we need blame social media for our lack of media literacy. Have we lost the concept of a film trailer? That they’re meant to build hype, create intrigue, questions to I don’t know… help entice us to buy tickets?!

What hurts me more is that 700 people also liked that comment.

Comments sections used to exist as a space for us to express opinions on the content at hand, or rather, relatives commenting ‘you look gorgeous darling! Come for dinner soon x’. Then, they became breeding grounds for trolling. Now, they’re brimmed with a lack of critical thinking and laziness. Harsh but true.

The beauty of film and cinema is the storytelling, the shock of the ending, the swell of emotions as you don’t know what will happen next. It’s yourself and 20+ others in a dark room, all focused in on the one experience. It’s often 2 hours of precious, uninterrupted time, where you hopefully leave with a feeling. You won’t always like the film, in fact you can hate it, but that’s the point. Afterwards, you and your friends feel a shared incredulity, “what on earth did we just watch?!”. A bad film might sting your wallet, but it doesn’t leave you short of a conversation.

So why are we needing the plots of films spoiled for us when it’s months away from being released? Where is the fun in that?

Sure, you could say that you’ll never see the film anyway, so you don’t mind the spoiler. But that’s not the point.

We’re living in a world where information is overly accessible, and it’s deteriorating our ability to think critically. We now accept TikTok content as credible fact and look there before anything else. Instead of sitting with the content at hand (social, film, books, beyond) and using our own interpretation to form an opinion, we jump to the comments section first to have someone do this for us. I’m guilty to a degree too - there’s a sense of belonging that comes from seeing others share the same thoughts back at you. But also, I wonder if I don’t ever fully form my opinion until I see it reflected in someone else too. Maybe that’s why I can’t faithfully give my book a fair rating on Goodreads until I’ve seen the average rating others have bestowed upon it.

Much to think about.

Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights has caused conversation and opinion from the moment she announced the controversial white-washed casting. Say what you want about the film (I loved it AND I also loved the book as an FYI) but Wuthering Heights has shown us that critically analysing films can unify people too. Opinions can be divisive, but what we’re all doing is debating the film’s intentions, the casting, the choices of change from book to screen. Yes it’s not all unanimous opinion, but our unanimity comes from all being confident to share our own thoughts on one piece of material.

That is the intention of good art.

So maybe that’s why the audacity of people asking for new films to be spoilt saddens me. What is there to discuss when we already know the answers? How do we afford ourselves the opportunity to mentally work out our own likes or even dislikes when an AI overview tells us a spade is a spade. We lose the nuance of the art, the varied interpretations. When a film ends and you feel dissatisfied, you’re instantly trying to organise your thoughts to understand what happened.

Yet, comment sections also ask ‘is there going to be a sequel?!’.

For this line of thinking, I blame Hollywood’s commercialisation and obsession with sequel-isation. We’re a generation that grew up with film franchises, remakes and sequels. Of course we might think it’s a natural progression, we’re the product of our time. But if your instant reaction to a movie’s ambiguous ending is that there should be a sequel, isn’t this yet another example that we need someone to do the thinking for us?

Ambiguous endings leave us talking, thinking, frustrated. That’s the point. We leave with our own interpretations of events. The person who you saw the movie with will have their own idea of what happened. The film maker may have their own thoughts too but they likely won’t share it. Because the fun is in hearing a million different people’s unique takes. They don’t want to hear you say ‘you should make a sequel to tell us’. We all know that the only great sequel in existence is Shrek 2.

Please, let’s stop asking the world to tell us what to think of art, and allow ourselves to sit for a moment before needing a 10-part TikTok explainer. It’s also okay to not know what happened in a movie or book. That’s where art can feel intimidating, and I respect that. To be totally floored by something and left confused isn’t always a fun experience, so there’s a natural understanding as to why we seek explanation. But the fun can come from the wondering. The thoughts. The what ifs. It’s okay to be ‘wrong’ about how you thought something went in a story. Because wrong doesn’t really exist if you’ve thought about the ‘why’ of how your thoughts came to be.

You can be wrong about wanting movie spoilers for unreleased films.

May you never know what happens in The Drama, user Liz_1705 before April 3rd.

Or just wait until April 4th when the whole film will undoubtedly be published on TikTok anyway - across 20+ different videos.

Sigh.

With this downtime has come a renewed love for reading - mostly due to the endless cycle of time I’ve had at my disposal. When you’re on bed rest, the weekly habits of movement and the hustle of getting out the door by 7:45am disappear. You start to notice the gaps in time you can dedicate to other hobbies.

For me, that became reading.

In 2025 I set a goal to read 12 books with a hope to reignite my reading routine. I managed to read 7 books which was a great improvement, but 12 still felt ambitious. This year, I wish to read 8 books, but I didn’t account for how much time I’d truly have free in January. I’m currently reading book number 6.

Overachiever much, hey?

For those also exploring their reading era for ‘26, here’s the summer reads that pair well with the beach, your bed and beyond.

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Wuthering Heights - Emily Brontë

Rating: 5/5

Starting the year with a classic lit novel, tested my comprehension skills, and unlocked a part of my brain I hadn’t used since Year 12 Literature. The ability to dissect and appreciate language and storytelling.

No word of a lie, I admittedly read Wuthering Heights because:
A) I wanted to understand why everyone was so incensed by the concept of Emerald Fennell’s soon-to-be-released film adaptation.
B) I’d never read Wuthering Heights in school and felt as though I still needed to complete my classic literature education.

This was a strong novel to start the year with, to say the very least. After reading Wuthering Heights, I understood the TikTok confusion from the book community over the upcoming film. The novel had a severe lack of smutty Jacob Elordi and not enough Kate Bush singing “Heathcliffff, it’s meeee Cathyyyy”.

I’m clearly kidding, don’t come for me you loyal Brontë stans.

Truth be told, I adored this book. There’s a reason why it’s been able to transcend time and, like Cathy with Heathcliff, the story continues to haunt me.

Wuthering Heights is the ultimate story of tragedy, generational trauma, and what decides a self-fulfilling prophecy. Romance was the last thing on my mind in this novel.

Quick fire thoughts:

• Many times I had to put this book down to digest what the ‘eff happened - it was insane to read. In a … good way and also a horrifying way.

• My hot tip: look at a family tree of all the characters as you read. Then try and read summary notes of chapter 1 and 2 as you go. Once you’ve clocked that everyone (and I mean everyone) has the same name, and the novel’s framing structure of the story within a story, the rest begins to flow.

• Hot take #1: I hated every character at some point, and feel as though if people had better communication skills, half of these issues wouldn’t have happened.

• Hot take #2: Nelly is the real villain and an unreliable narrator, but my GOD she’s a great gossip.
  

Read if you like: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, and books that leave you bewildered by heinous behaviour.

Pair with: a bottle of Sangiovese and Kate Bush’s album ‘The Kick Inside’.

Mother Tongue - Naima Brown

Rating: 3.75/5 *

If I could force you to read one book from this list, Mother Tongue would be it. Don’t be deceived by rating, I promise you it’s a read that will change your perspective on everything it means to exist as a woman in society.

Brynn is a suburban housewife, on the brink of a breakdown. Her husband, Eric, is falling down the rabbit-hole that is the radical right. Their daughter Jenny is in the thick of a brewing storm.

After an accident, Brynn awakes from a coma being able to speak fluent French. Suffering from Foreign Language Disorder, Brynn has been given a second chance at life and relocates to Paris to make the most of her new mode de vie français.

This novel was an impeccable journey into the minds of multiple characters, with some secondary characters delivering poignant monologues that I’ve scribbled into my journal to remember forever.

Quick fire thoughts:

• I usually love a book with unlikeable characters - there were moments where certain chapters felt gruelling to read. Be prepared to swallow your own ideals to better understand the insanity of some within the book.

• Mother Tongue rips apart the double standards of motherhood, and the societal expectations we can place on women when it comes to marriage and children.

• Moral of the story: commit to your values and don’t be afraid to say them out loud. In whatever language you please.

• *This book would have been a 4.5/5 if it weren’t for the last 20 pages. In a bid to not spoil anything I won’t explain anything further than that I have never hated an ending more.

Read if you like: Blue Sisters by Coco Mellors.

Best Paired with: Fresh croissants and a 200+ day Duolingo streak.

Loved One - Aisha Muharrar

Rating: 4/5

This had been doing the rounds on my TikTok feed, so therefore ended up in my shopping cart.

When Julia’s first-love-turned-best-friend Gabe, a musician, dies unexpectedly, Julia launches herself into an intercontinental journey to recover the possessions he left with friends and acquaintances across the world. In this quest she meets Gabe’s ex-girlfriend. The story explores the dynamics that unfold between these two women, who try to understand that they hold very different perceptions of Gabe from one another.

I also adored this read, and as someone who’s thankfully never experienced the grief of losing a partner, this book had my heart in its clutches.

Quick fire thoughts:

• This book got bonus points from me for all of the travel and vivid scenery. Barcelona, London and California - I felt as if I was truly within each of those places.

• I expected this book to make me sob, or at least tear up. I did neither. Not a deal breaker but I was hoping this book would unleash something deeper within.

• For you lit nerds: Beautiful exploration of dynamics and the use of symbolism through pairs and opposites.

• Hot take: Gabe felt like that hot musician guy that we all dreamt about dating in our late teens. In reality, he’d probably be a bit of an insufferable wanker (RIP Gabe).

Pairs with: a flight to the UK with Joni Mitchell on repeat. Then follow it with a bougie eatery such as The River Cafe in Hammersmith.

Read if you liked: Good Material by Dolly Alderton - a book also all about learning someones character through the eyes of another.

Make Your Bed - William H. McCraven

Rating: 2/5

This made its way onto my January reading list as it was a part of our work book club. Off the bat, I didn’t love this book. However, I fear I went in too harshly with criticism, coming off the back of some banger reads and also not accepting that we weren’t reading this for literary genius. We were reading for the insights and lessons.

William H. McCraven details the simple ideas we can all take through life to better ourselves and the world around us. Reflecting on his time in the US Navy SEALs, William uses stories of his wartime efforts and training to illustrate learnings for betterment.

My learnings were that I don’t ever want to (willingly) join the Navy, and some old-fashioned “never complain” ideology doesn’t feel reminiscent of the modern era. Or rather, doesn’t sit well with how I want to live my life. And that’s okay.

Alas, I’d recommend reading if you want a quick 100-page turner for some quick-fire lessons. Otherwise, for a better reading experience, don’t approach it as critically like I did.

Rytual - Chloe Elisabeth Wilson

Rating: 4/5

This has been on my TBR list for ages, and I’m SO pleased to have ticked this off.

Rytual explores the concept of your favourite cult-beauty brand turning out to be an actual… cult. The lead character Marnie is at a crossroads in life when she’s approached to work for start-up beauty brand, Rytual. Chaos quickly ensues and if you think you’ve had wild Friday Night Drinks, you haven’t in comparison to what they do at Rytual Cosmetica (I should hope).

Quick fire thoughts:

• Reading books set in Melbourne feels equally jarring as they do make me feel giddy. The nuances of Cremorne and Fitzroy street were captured perfectly, we love seeing Melbourne written on a page!

• Hot take #1: The blurb of Rytual clearly states the theme of the novel. Rytual turns out to be a cult. However, I wonder how differently I would have absorbed the story not knowing this key piece of information when reading. Cults operate with subtly when recruiting, and I think the build up to the big reveal would have felt more shocking if, as a reader, we were also on the descent to madness with Marnie.

• Many questions arose when reading this. Partially around the business functions (the fast and loose hiring structure for Rytual’s customer experience team in the novel was baffling), and also the why of that ending. Not for the obvious reasons, but I wanted one more chapter to get the gory details before I shut the cover.

• Hot take #2: I’m all for supporting women’s wrongs, but some things women do with a Dyson Air Wrap should be left to the imagination.

Pairs with: A trip to High St in Armadale and specifically visiting MECCA and Aesop. Also goes well with a negroni, and flicking through old DMs of every girl who’s ever tried to recruit you to sell Arbonne products (IYKYK).

Read if you like: Crazy office politics dramas like Stinkbug by Sinead Stubbins.

Currently reading: Mad Mabel - Sally Hepworth

Admittedly, this is my first ever read from Sally Hepworth. I feel quintessentially un-Australian for admitting this, but I can say, I’m loving Mad Mabel so far.

Will report back with ratings and thoughts.

Happy reading.

T x

Hello my dear readers and friends. Dirty Olive this week is a little bit different than usual. It’s a little bit raw, a bit vulnerable, and a bit confused in its purpose for your inbox today. But for reasons I try and messily write about, it felt important to share.
Please read with kindness. Feel free to return for the next edition if this isn’t for you right now. As always, thank you for letting me grace your inbox <3

Last week, I underwent laparoscopic excision for my endometriosis. This is my second surgery within the last five years for this.

Truthfully, I began this piece wanting to detail my week of forced relaxation in recovery. How I passed the time, what I watched, what I read. Finishing novels within 24-hours and feeling child-like again. I wanted to write about how, as a self-professed Type A person, I struggled with the concept of relaxing. How I worked through this notion and surrendered to rest when my body needed it most.

Yet, I began writing and reflecting. And then crying. I didn’t want to write about my endometriosis, nor the other findings of my recent laparoscopy. But I had a need to write about more than what I did to pass the time. That’s the thing with writing - rarely is what you want to write about, what you actually need to put down on a page.

Arguably, this could have been left within the pages of my journal. Vulnerability doesn’t feel scary to me, but it does when I haven’t quite assorted the feelings through the confines of my mind. Cataloging what are irrational versus rational thoughts, interrogating feelings, and understanding the why. But for a moment, I just want to allow a feeling, rather than understand it. However, I invite you in as my audience.

I worry by not expressing the thoughts of right now, how I feel in this moment, I will compartmentalise this feeling away - forgetting about it altogether. When in reality, forgetting these feelings five years ago, allowed me to forget the importance of caring for my body.

It’s why I’m back in this moment, once again.

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Normally these kinds of posts are written when you’re 12 months down the line. Regardless of platform, whether it be Substack, TikTok, Instagram, memoirs, novellas, films. The instantaneous feelings are captured along the journey - but it’s framed within a before and after. Not always in the toxic way, but the way that shows someone pre-healing and post-healing. Start and end. Their spark has returned, they’re happier now, they talk about the journey they went on.

But I’m on the journey. And it feels lonely.

And I want to read more from those who aren’t yet at their point B - but maybe no one writes about these moments because it can feel vacuous. To talk about oneself and your own feelings non-stop, without a resolution, with only a desire to be heard and share solidarity. Whenever I write for Dirty Olive, I pride myself on interrogating my own pitches. What benefit will my own readers get from this piece? Is it culturally relevant, or is it self-indulgent?

But can’t art be two things at once? Writing can be self-indulgent, expressive and cathartic. In fact, it should be. Maybe my readers can’t relate to what I’ve written, but maybe, they’ll learn just a little more about me? Is that not enough of a benefit?

I’ll let you become the judge of that.

I became very good at ignoring my health. My physical health to be specific. I forgot how deprioritising everyday habits, could impact my insides. Particularly when symptoms can take their sweet time to manifest outwardly. I previously wrote about finding food freedom and letting go of restrictive diets. Ones where I claimed it was for my endometriosis, but in reality I couldn’t discern if it was because I had a disordered eating habit. Yet, I was ignoring the merit of my own argument, and went from one extreme to another which was filled with excess.

I enjoyed feeling free, but forgot the pain of years prior and what my body had gone through prior to my first surgery.

For those unfamiliar with endometriosis, it is a condition where:

Tissue that is similar to the lining of the uterus (womb) occurs outside this layer and in other parts of the body causing pain and/or infertility. - Endometriosis Australia.

In Australia, 1 in 7 people will be diagnosed with endometriosis, where it takes an average of 6.5 years to diagnose. There is no cure. It took me two years to get an initial diagnosis, which you could call ‘lucky’, given that it was marginally shorter than the average.

Going into this second surgery was a good thing, and a right choice between myself and my medical team. But with what only seems to happen with women’s health conditions, I’ve spent the majority of the last 6 months questioning “do I really need this?”. Which is insane to think. But somehow, I convinced myself it’s not that bad, I can keep on carrying on.

The post-op photos showed otherwise.

There is something so brutal about seeing your own insides torn, and excised. Layers of fascia and organs stripped and delicately cut, for your own greater good. I stared at the images and felt immense sadness. The aftermath looks gruesome, but it’s a result of what my own body continues to grow within itself. Whilst endometriosis isn’t a cancer, it does metastasise and you can never cure it. You can only continually cut it out and make a lifestyle changes to slow it’s regrowth. That, or result to drastic surgical or medication measures that still do not guarantee relief.

There is a lot about the human body I do not know, and a whole lot I will not pretend to know. But if I think a little too hard, and a little too deeply, I feel saddened knowing that this biological reproduction occurs without me willing it. The surgeon described it like glitter and confetti, all over my pelvis. But the connotation felt wrong. Curled over toilet bowls, convulsing on couches, taking unseen moments to lie down outside of the office for the fear of fainting. When I think about glitter and confetti, I don’t see these images. I see four-year old me at her Macca’s birthday party, playing pass the parcel and running amok on the playground. The glitter from the decorations would get stuck in my hair for what felt like weeks. Continually showing up and reminding me of the fun of that party. Now, the glitter reappears in my pelvis, reminding me that I cannot escape this diagnosis.

In the same way that our periods arrive each month, signalling the lack of fertilisation, it signals another month where blood would be filling my endometrial growths, and harbouring the disease for longer. No period, bad. Getting periods, also bad. I have a body trying to tear itself from the inside out, and yet she laughs at me raucously. I’ve spent the better part of the last six months trying to hide my endo related bloating and flares. For when they’re at their worst, I look to be harbouring a six-month along pregnancy. But it’s just another reminder of what this disease will likely take away from me - fertility.

It’s a constant duality. You want the periods, but you don’t. You look pregnant but you’re not. Two ovaries, two fallopian tubes, two surgeries in five years, two years to get a diagnosis.

Then comes the guilt. I feel as though I’ve had my head back in the sand about my health. Seeking food freedom, fun and a no restriction lifestyle came in excess but as I stare at the post-surgery report, I wonder at what cost? My body is capable of producing this disease and I can pretend that it’s out of my control, but with what I can control… how much longer can I displace my blame onto my body and not onto my own mind? For a condition I can only see surgically, why do I not treat my lifestyle with the same care that a cancer patient would when they’re told to undergo chemotherapy. Has it been a path of unspoken self-destruction, or delusion that I can live a ‘normal’ life without consequence.

Truthfully, most people online speak about managing and monitoring with the objective of fertility in mind. Whilst I’ve always wanted the choice of children, I’m at ends of what I truly want. Again the duality - ‘to have kids, or to be child-free?’.
The quest of balancing hormones or repairing endo is continually centred around the goal of fertility. This approach has always felt like one I ‘should’ care about, and not one I’ve felt called to. So If I’m not healing myself for the benefit of procreation, is it for vanity? Is it to physically feel better? Repairing, balancing, hormones comes with the guise of wanting pregnancy, which is centred in years of health care only viewing women’s health as a path to babies and not a betterment of general lifestyle.

Seeking a life that is simply pain free is obviously a great cause. It’s what I understand rationally, but to do so, is to live a life marred by rules, diets, whole foods and that can be okay. In fact, it has to be. But the tears always flow when I centre in on the fact that I never chose this, and now my life is a series of constant choices which leave me feeling tired and empty.

Then comes more guilt, because it could always be worse. I’ve known others who live with worse symptoms, have had hysterectomies, and outside of women’s health, have had potentially fatal diagnosis’ such as cancer. None of this by their own choice. So I am lucky, in that I can change my lifestyle to monitor and manage, and that I don’t need extreme measures for daily living. It is a blessing.

But it grows. Every day. Both my own chronic disease and the resentment I feel towards it.

That I have influencers all over my feed marketing an ‘anti-inflammation reset’ to me, with 21-day before and afters. Again, my left brain knows that these aren’t reputable sources, but truthfully, there’s a part of me that knows that it would benefit me to somewhat fall back into that trap. Physically, not mentally. Because everything I have heard from doctors and experts aligns with what they’re saying, even if the delivery is in a 30 second clip and costs me less than $500 to receive from a doctor.

Everything in moderation they say. Yet, moderation may be undoing me. Or maybe I don’t know what moderation looks like, as it’s always a yo-yo between one extreme to the next.

As part of my new treatment plan, I’ve opted to trial the hormonal IUD for symptom management. There’s hope it’ll slow endometrial growth, limit pain, etc. All the things you want to hear when you have a chronic condition. It was a discussion between my health care team and I, so as always, discuss with your own doctor what is right for you.

I laid in bed, heat pack strapped to my abdomen, with friends in present company for entertainment. To which they entertained indeed. We Googled tutorials on how to do ‘the worm’ and watched videos of how to perfect the dance move. They proceeded to trial it down my apartment hallway, leading to laughter so loud I feared I’d split a stitch.

If you’re in need of a tutorial, this one brought us immense joy:

When the worm attempts died down (due to potential injuries), my friends and I joked that we’ll measure eras and life milestones by the lifespan of my IUD. Imagining what will happen in 8 years time by the time I swap or remove this tiny little plastic thing within my body.

Plotting engagements, babies, weddings, overseas trips, and wondering what our life will look like in the year 2034. In what was an exercise (started by myself, mind you), of inducing whimsical fantasies of what our futures hold, I felt saddened again. All I could see were the surgery images, and how much worse they could look by that time.

But, it could get better. I may never need a surgery again. Which is an exciting concept to ponder. However, in amongst the excitement, in 8 years time will I still be straddling this balance between restriction and freedom? Will I forget the purpose again, conflate toxic patterns and behaviours that are necessary, and rewrite narratives in my mind as to why I do it all in the first place. Or will I be back where I am, right now, wondering how did we fall back to square one?

Maybe it’s not square one. But just another space on the board to think, reflect and breathe it out.

If you’re still a subscriber in 8 years time, I promise to let you know.
(Minus the details of the IUD swap, we can leave that bit out.)

Sending love to those with endometriosis or who are supporting loved ones with it.
Strength to you all. x

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PS. I finished two books, watched a lot of rom coms, and inflated my screen-time by 1000%. That’s the TLDR of my weekend of forced rest and relaxation.

After a few wines at our local fave, Gracies Wine Room, the list began, and the rest may as well be history. Our parameters for the list? Nothing. Pure vibes and sentiment only, which is what makes it so fun. Pointing at random objects, people watching behaviours at bars and then debating back and forth if what we’ve seen fits the chic brief.

If we had to define it, these would be behaviours, products and places that when you look at it, the connotation is immediately: elegant, a bit ‘IYKYK’, cool-girl-esque, and more Pinterest-coded over TikTok-coded.

If the above made no sense to you, I fear this post may be deeply rooted in Gen Z vernacular. Proceed with caution.

Without further ado, and not in any particular order, here are the 21 things that made our chic list for 2025.

A quick word: don’t take this list too seriously. My friends and I have zero authority on calling things chic or not chic, but we did anyway. Because it’s been a fun hobby for 2025. Nothing deeper than that.

We could unpack the notion that small and teeny objects making the list probably has something to do with diet culture (*sigh* what doesn’t), but today let’s rest our critical thinking. Enjoy the recs, and debate our list in the comments if you please x.

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1. Compact mirrors

   On-the-go touch ups that don’t rely on a trip to the bathroom, incredibly chic. If a person whips one of these out from their purse, you know that they also have everything you need inside their handbag. Panadol, tampons, spare lip balm - you name it, they’re carrying it.

   Compact mirrors come in loads of different forms, but this one from Oroton truly fits the brief.

   

2. Lipstick brushes

   Hand in hand with item number one comes the humble lipstick brush. As a kid preparing for dance concerts, I still remember my mother’s gold Estee Lauder lip brush which we’d use to apply bright red lipstick. That paired with bright blue eye-shadow was a fashion travesty. You simply had to be a dance kid in the 2000’s to understand the look.

   Lip brushes allow for greater precision, better use of product and make it easier to blend together your liner and lippy. Forget smudging your MAC Velvet Teddy like a clown, the humble brush allows a clean application.
   Not quite a brush (I make the rules here clearly), but this lip applicator from Fluff Cosmetics is the perfect companion for gloss application when you don’t want sticky fingers.

3. Really high arches

   As an ex-ballerina, this one feels particularly niche, and probably best we leave it at that.

   

4. Bars that cover your phone with stickers

   A bar making you more mindful of your presence and grounding you in the moment? Tres chic. Bar Le Splendide in South Yarra does just that. The requirement of entry is to adorn one of their heart shape stickers over your phone camera.

   It’s Le Splendide’s ambience and charm that keep people coming back. Prunetti keeps that carefully protected, too. Putting a supplied heart-shaped sticker over your phone camera is a requirement of entry, to ensure everyone stays firmly in the present.
   - Broadsheet Melbourne

5. Really expensive and ethical condoms

   There’s nothing sexier than a sustainable condom company such as Jonny. For a product that was once shrouded in unwarranted shame, this feels elevated and dignified for purchase. As it should be, contraception IS sexy.

   

6. Parker umbrellas

   They’re practical for yourself, impractical for those around you, and perfect for keeping dry. It gives the illusion that you’re prepared for the weather, but have the means to store such a large object. If patterned, it can also be adorned as part of your outfit. J’adore.

7. Headbands (thick ones)

   Think à la Blair Waldorf from Gossip Girl. The humble headband has been making a comeback, and we’re loving it.

8. Dirty martinis

   Need I say more? NEXT.

9. Flower markets

   Making a weekly trip to the market to buy fresh flowers feels like a little treasure when the world feels bleak. The experience? Often fun and whimsical. The outcome? Fresh fleurs for your home that smell and look divine.

10. French fries

    Bonus points if they’re literally in France. But if not, having them with a bottle of expensive wine at a cozy wine bar feels like the meeting of two worlds that just feels right. Simple carbs and excellent vineyards.

11. Hand cream (specifically ones in a collapsable aluminium tube)

    Hand cream has always been a product I didn’t care much for until I started using it. It’s now a daily ritual, a must for my hand bag, and something my hands can’t live without. Our fave: Kit skin kind urban salve hand cream. It’s aluminium tube makes it feel premium and its smell is the best. Immediately gift this to all your friends.

12. Having a Melways

    Until today, I did not realise that Melways still existed. For those unfamiliar (or interstate), it is a street directory for Melbourne, Victoria, Australia and its immediate surrounds, including the city of Geelong. When someone pulls one of these out from the boot of their car, and knows how to read it, you know you’re in good hands. For this, it’s not really about the Melway itself, rather the driver’s confidence in their ability to get you from A to B.
    Being able to read an analogue map? It shows that she’s educated, and has good direction. Could never be me…

13. Espresso mug (teeny ones)

    These ones from Studio Sogni have my heart! If your host pulls out the tiny espresso mugs, you know they know their java juice.

14. Having a paper diary

    On my rant again for going analogue in 2026. Whenever someone pulls out a paper diary to note down dates and availabilities for their personal commitments, I am in awe. I am chronically dependent on my G-Cal and am unsure if I could make the paper switch. But gosh, there’s something about saying “Let me check my diary” and flicking through the pages that makes you look in-demand, mysterious with other plans, and very chic.

15. Ordering takeaway over the phone and walking to pick it up (mindfully)

    2026 is the year we bring back more friction in our day to day. The act of walking down the street and then saying hello to your local fish and chip shop owner. You take a number and either wait 10 gruelling minutes in the hot shop or you go for laps around the block. Whatever your journey, ordering takeaway through face to face connection is a one way trip to nostalgia town.

16. Restaurants with one item on the menu

    Being limited to one item and one item only on a menu shows immense confidence in the venue owner/s. It gives a small air of arrogance, but dare I say, in a way feels authoritative and confident that you’ll like their one best item. It’s giving, “tell me what to do and what to order”, which is needed after a few drinks.
    Slow Poke Lounge & Lookout hits our brief for the ‘chic list’. Famously, the only main they serve is their cheeseburger. It’s addition of maple syrup is somewhat divisive, which is exactly what they build their noise around (Peep the link for their famous 1-star reviews).

17. Caption-less photos

    2026 is the year we’re all becoming aloof - a caption-less photo creates mystery, and an allusion you don’t care about what others think - very chic! In your photo, you’re serving, but tell me more, darling!

18. Gravy boats

    Stainless steel ones especially. Nothing like grandma’s and perfect for dousing your Sunday roasts with gravy. See below.

19. Sunday roasts at the pub

    Hand in hand with the item 18, Sunday roasts are making a comeback. Establishments like The Rising Sun Hotel have made it their schtick post-refurbishment, and it’s all over our socials. To head out for a Sunday roast with friends is the new after work drinks - it’s wholesome, mindful connection, good food and a better way to tie off your week.

    

20. Etsy Witch spells

    NBC called 2025 the year of the Etsy Witch. Ranging upwards of $5, you can purchase a spell from online witches via Etsy, for almost anything you need. Famously, a lot of brides do this prior to their weddings for good weather, and from everything you hear on TikTok, it works.

    Like everything mildly supernatural, tread with care and good intentions. It can be harmless fun when done with your friends on a Sunday lunch, wishing for fave bars to come back to life, friends to get together romantically and so forth. Sure, falling for potential online scammers isn’t so chic, but the idea of leaning into whimsical fun totally is.

21. Going to a cobbler AKA: Servicing and repairing your goods instead of buying new!

    Here’s to the girlies who look after their items and know where to get them repaired, rather than throw them out and buy a freshie (which I’m most certainly guilty of…). The art of craftsmanship and trades are waning, so here’s your reminder that it’s chic to get your items properly cared for, and that it’s chic to make your items last as long as possible! Take this as your sign to take those old boots to the cobbler, that pile of clothes to the dry cleaner, and to take those too-long-for-you jeans to the alteration shop. Make the effort and you’ll have goods for life.

    Because there’s nothing chic about throwing away perfectly good things x

Shout out to and for being co-conspirators in this list. Can confirm that our 2026 list is already underway, and nobody even asked for it.

The vision: a chic sheer base, with muted polka dots. What I got: something resembling pink Dinosaur speckled eggs. Alas, I am too much of a people pleaser to say anything, so I sat in silence and accepted my fate for the next three weeks.

Joining me in the salon, were two women who I assumed to be sister-in-laws. One was talking about how hot she found Jason Bateman, to which I would tend to agree. The other was trying to convince her to watch Zootopia 2 given that Jason Bateman voices the lead character, Nick Wilde, who is a fox. Not metaphorically, but animatedly.

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The discussion was humorous and as a long time lover of Arrested Development, I also agreed that Jason Bateman is foxy (metaphorically) but I don’t know if him in a voice acting role is quite what the Sister-In-Law was after. To each their own.

Clearly, I was eavesdropping in the nail salon.

It was what came next that piqued my interest further - The other SIL claimed that all she wanted for Christmas was a dumbphone. “All I want is just something that I can call people from, text occasionally but ideally I could still use maps. Everything else, I’m done with”. The pair concurred with each other, with the other noting that her and her husband were looking into getting landline phones again. It would help keep the kids off smart phones and force a level of friction into their lives, which we simply look back onto with nostalgia. The race to pick up the phone, dialling the wrong number, answering the phone and feeling deflated that it’s not for you. It would force you to actually talk rather than communicate through a flurry of emojis.

These were the little frictions that only a landline would provide, which have been eroded with the persistent pressures of responding constantly to notifications, messages and Whatsapp’s.

Surprisingly, this wasn’t the first time I’d heard this sentiment. A colleague at work recently told me about how she had put a ‘Brick’ device on her KK wish list. For those unfamiliar, ‘Brick’ is “a small NFC-enabled hardware device that works with a phone app to physically block distracting apps (like social media) and notifications, helping users focus by requiring them to tap their phone to the device to unblock access, effectively turning their phone into a limited tool for calls, maps, or alarms.” Unlike Apple’s focus mode on your iPhone, you’re forced to go tap the ‘Brick’ to unlock your blocked apps, making your use of time intentional.

The narrative that we’re all addicted to our phones is not a new one. I won’t entertain it, nor indulge in deeping the topic given that it’s something we all know to be true. I am not anti technology, but I am perceptive to how it impacts my day to day, and I am also perceptive to how much we seem to be craving to rid ourselves of mobile phones.

We know we shouldn’t be on our phones as much and that the loneliness epidemic is on the rise. But, the practicality of ditching phones entirely is near impossible by today’s standards - so as all good product marketers do, they’ve created a market to meet that in-between state.

Creating a need or has consumerism evolved?

The ABC have found that landlines are having a cultural renaissance, and CNN have reported that mobile phone companies are now investing tech and resource into producing premium dumbphones. Logically, it makes sense. Invest where the market is going, innovate on products that are in demand with the early adopter consumers1. But the part that I ruminate on (for admittedly too long at a time), is this idea that we’re fixing one technology habit, with another tech innovation. When at the end of the day, all of them just want us to spend more money.

BBC reported on this - where big smartphone companies have made the grand statement that they won’t invest in the dumbphone (or also known as, feature phone) market as the profit margins aren’t viable and their priority are their top feature smart phones. You don’t need a business degree to understand that. But smaller, boutique, tech firms are on the rise to create premium dumbphone offerings. They’re designed for those wanting to disconnect from the attention economy, and create mindful, intentional habits in their lives. If we’re creating ‘premium’ offerings of something that is meant to be basic, do we create a divide where to be ‘focused’ is a privilege in a world that’s set up to distract us 24/7?

Call me Scrooge, but we’re replacing one device for another and not really focussing on our behaviours at hand, both culturally and individually, on how we use our phones.

Sure, buying a Nokia 3120 would be like going cold turkey from your iPhone, but when I see devices like the Light phone, I wonder if it’s all that different. In these premium ‘dumb’ phones, you can still access your basic mobile needs, with maps, calendars and even a camera. It’s everything except socials - which begs the question, is the problem really with the device, or is it social media?

The founder of Light shared “We see ourselves as a lifestyle brand … We’re promoting a lifestyle that’s very different from a smartphone-centric lifestyle.”

But this lifestyle that we’re being sold, is it viable in the fast-approaching 2026 landscape?

Living with or without our phones, is it possible?

Circling back to our friend who has the hots for Jason Bateman, her needs of a dumbphone required calls, texts and maps. Which in today’s world, I would struggle to work out where to go in an unfamiliar territory if it weren’t for Google Maps. I do still have a Melways in the boot of my car, but how to use it is a question I’d ironically have to Google.

My ‘needs’ of a dumbphone would be: internet banking/Apple Pay because carrying a wallet is a habit I refuse to pick up again, I would need Spotify for podcasts and music, ideally a calendar of some kind… but when I keep defining my ideal dumbphone, I wonder if I could really just go ‘analogue’ with some behaviours. Invest in a diary planner, eat my own words and carry a wallet, buy a newspaper instead of scrolling my news apps, carry a notebook for the random thoughts in my day and let go of my beloved Notes app. But truthfully, I would miss my Duolingo, I would miss doing my NYT puzzles each day, I would have no clue how to book my Pilates classes and honestly, I don’t think swapping my device would be the answer.

Not to boast (I am going to boast), I like to think I have pretty good social media habits. My screen time isn’t that high, I have specific focus modes set up for work, for wind down time and I’m locked out of all my apps by 10:30pm. If anything, I’m awful at replying to notifications that I miss due to all the restrictions I’ve set on my social habits. But the one thing I always hesitate about when leaving my phone at home, is the concept of the emergency.

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The guise of the ‘great emergency’.

You always want to be there for friends when they need you, if something awful were to happen to a family member, you’d want to be the first to know.

Isabelle Truman and Grace O’Neill discussed this on a recent episode of their podcast, After Work Drinks. The two discuss how we’re turning less to influencers for style advice. We’re forming greater opinions on media literacy to seek our own style as we learn of AI filtering content in ways that don’t serve our individual ideas. But, they also touch on the fear of missing an emergency if we disconnect:

Isabelle: I feel really stressed when I don’t have my phone. I don’t feel relaxed. I feel like someone’s gonna die.

Grace: It’s hard for you because you have a job that’s somewhat… I do feel like doing PR for a brand means like some things are just reactive.

Isabelle: Yeah, but … I always just think it’s like I catastrophize. Like I worry if someone can’t contact me, I worry that like my mom has died. It’s the first thing I think about.

Grace: If we had like home phones again, where the only people who have them are people you know, and they will call you and they will know that like it’s crazy to call unless there is a problem. You know what I mean? I would never resent if someone did that.

…We’re like recreating that as a luxury product. It’s so crazy.

So whilst we joke that home phones are becoming chic again or they’re the answer to Gen Alpha’s tech addiction, this put into perspective how much we rely on our phones under the false guise of the ‘emergency’. Home phones had a place in our lives as a private communication instrument between loved ones, but now we’re all accessible at all hours, across one million Instagram, Whatsapp and Messenger chats. We’re so contactable 24/7, that we can misconstrue any message requiring action to be an emergency. It’s to the point where we’re retroactively fitting laws to address this.

Australia recently introduced the ‘right to disconnect’, meaning that employees have a right to “refuse to monitor, read or respond to contact (or attempted contact) outside their working hours, unless doing so is unreasonable. This includes contact (or attempted contact) from an employer or a third party.”

So when Isabelle from AWD describes this fear of disconnecting for both work and personal life, I can’t help but think that we’re bleeding these ideas together. We so quickly became available all of the time to absolutely everyone. It’s no wonder that when we miss a Slack message, we feel the same level of guilt as when we miss a call from our mum - we struggle to discern the difference.

So is it: a) our phones, b) social media or c) all of the above?

This TikTok caught my eye - which is ironic - but it argued that we’re not addicted to our phones, rather, we are attached to them. The answer isn’t to create more products to solve for the wrong doing of other products, but rather it’s about relearning how to use social media. It’s about redeveloping our social media literacy - similar to how Grace and Isabelle shared in AWD. If we understand how social media works to capture our minds, we can work against it.

But truthfully, when I see content like this from the ABC, I wonder what point we’re trying to prove by ditching mobile phones altogether. Yes, being left with our own thoughts can be #scary when we realise how much we’re relying on doomscrolling to fill the void. But, when I see videos that show people trying to live without a smart phone for a week, we can admit there’s some benefit to the technological advances. Nobody has time to print off maps and get lost on a bus system, if they have other means available. I’m sorry, but Google Maps wins here.

Maybe we can never give up our phones, and that’s okay, maybe we’re not meant to. But maybe we’re not meant to spend 8 hours online a day, and maybe it’s about us craving a sense of nostalgia for a time where things were just a tad more difficult, in order to force us to speak to more humans every day.

As you inevitably think about your goals for 2026, if your relationship with your phone or social media is on there, think about what it is you truly want to address. Your attention span, the content you’re consuming, the presence you have in life. Or are you just buying more products to fill the void?

Honourable mention: the film storylines that couldn’t exist in today’s technologically connected world.

To ensure that I did not end this piece with total doom and gloom, I wanted to give an honourable mention to the films that could not exist today given the current landscape of social media and phones. Our future children and grandchildren will watch these films in awe and simply think they’re outrageous - proving that simpler times did create great romance.

Sleepless in Seattle (1993)

If this film were made today, I can guarantee you that as a journalist, Annie Reed (Meg Ryan) would have found Sam Baldwin (Tom Hanks) within 20 mins of stalking his name and details on social media. Sam wouldn’t have been on talk back radio, rather, his son would have made a TikTok about his Dad’s story, which would have been picked up by the Daily Mail. Sam would have gone on to become the next Bachelor, given all the social and PR buzz about his quest for love as a widower. Annie would have found him sooner, and passively liked Sam’s Instagram stories until he slid into her DM’s. We would have been robbed of that beautiful meeting at the top of the Empire State Building, but it would have been a much shorter road to meeting each other.

Love Actually (2003)

Two things: Sarah (Laura Linney) would have loved do not disturb mode. Alan Rickman wouldn’t have given Emma Thompson a Joni Mitchell CD as they’re now obsolete. A (greater) dog act would be sending her a Spotify link to the album, a more thoughtful gift would be to give her the same album, but on vinyl. Both still incorrect gifts when you’re buying your side piece some jewellery.

Colin Firth would have frothed Google Translate too, but again, we’d be robbed of the beautiful moments that are lost in translation!

Notting Hill (1999)

I would believe that Hugh Grant’s character is off social media, but I think that someone would snap himself and Julia Roberts and send this as a blind item to Deuxmoi. Thereby ruining the secrecy of their romance faster than you can fall in love with Hugh Grant himself.

You’ve Got Mail (1998)

Another Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan classic that could easily be solved with the digital age (beyond email). Tom Hanks’ character would have 100% been a LinkedIn influencer and I wholeheartedly believe that he’d have enough of a digital footprint to lead Meg Ryan to him a whole heap quicker.

ICYMI, I am based in Australia - we’re in the middle of spring. It may be Melbourne but the sun is (mostly) shining, we can taste the beginnings of silly season and our seasonal depression leaves our body through the way of photosynthesis.

Yet there I was, betrayed by the season, feeling the malaise of the spring flu. I spent most of the week assuming the position of a woman in a renaissance painting, eyes glued to either a streaming service, TikTok or a book (for good measure). I refuse to admit my screen time, but I can say I discovered what might be possibly the worst film ever.

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If you’re looking for a loved up, teen rom-com, full of Capulet-Montague style forbidden love, you’d think Endless Love (1981) would be it. It was not. It may have been Tom Cruise’s first ever film, James Spader had a full, luscious head of hair and Brooke Shields stole the screen - but that was all the redeeming features. The film was weird, unexpected and not in a way that makes for a good twist. I promise you.

I digress.

Between the shitty movies and finding comfort in the memes of the Louvre heist, it was quite the sight. It was also the beginning of the perfect spiral.

Suddenly, your nostrils are blocked and you’re thinking about all the time you could have spent better with optimal lung capacity.

This feeling, it begins as a niggle. You’re starting to get swept up in the narrative of ‘when I get better I’ll do this thing’, ‘when I feel better, I’ll start this’. A fever breaks and you’re planning an entire life for when you’re feeling better.

With any mild sickness, you’re forced to sit still with the disruption of your routine. One leg out of the covers, the rest of you swaddled like a baby because this god-damn fever can’t decide whether to come or go.

’I’m not going to make it to Pilates for another week now, but you know it’s okay to rest’ - in reality, I already hadn’t been to Pilates in a week and a half anyway. I guess I better book some classes in. For when I’m better.

That’s the catalyst of the spiral - the vision of who you want to be, who you usually are and who you are right now (snot filled) are all very different people. It creates the perfect breeding ground for, no not germs, but for imagining the great reinvention.

This is how the urge to reinvent oneself begins. Because god forbid that when you are sick, you rest. No, you must pull apart all that you’re doing wrong and address it immediately!

For those unfamiliar with the urge to reinvent oneself, it’s been popularised as a half-joke online. It strikes us all at different times: 1am, your luteal phase, change of seasons, planets in retrograde etc. And it’s not so much a serious sit down life revaluation, it’s jokingly typing into ChatGPT “help me design a better morning routine”, but not jokingly taking on the results as gospel. It seems to mostly affect women, millennial to Gen Z, which makes sense when you see how much we celebrate reinvention in popular culture.

@gracietoombsone woman show #foryou #fyp

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Eras and makeover montages!

Taylor Swift allegedly has 12 eras, and marketed an entire tour off her reinvention. Dare I mention them in the same paragraph, but Charli XCX’s ‘Brat’ era also signified a reinvention in her performance style, appearance and subject matter. Beyond that of musicians, we’re all fiends for a reinvention montage in film.

We all dreamed of that ‘She’s all that’ moment turning heads when you walk down that staircase. Toula in ‘My Big Fat Greek Wedding’ lends itself to be the most heartwarming, where you truly see she does it for herself, not needing the approval of a man. Enrolling in college, enhancing her curls, trying out contacts - the tropes we’ve seen so many before, reinvented for her own personal development. Snagging John Corbett is just a bonus. Point being, women reinventing themselves in film isn’t a new concept. It’s celebrated, as seen by this listicle in Vogue.

Creator Delaney Rowe pokes fun at the trope, but as much as it’s bang on, there’s a longing for that feeling of why can’t that be just as easy?

@delaneysayshelloreposting for today’s mood

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We’ve romanticised the total reinvention. It’s why concepts like ‘75 Hard’ and ‘The Great Lock in’ challenges have such a hook. They promise a total transformation in a limited amount of time. Search ‘reinvent yourself’ on TikTok, and you’ll find an alarming amount of videos explaining how to ‘kill’ your old self before 2026 rolls in. What’s not included in these challenges? KT Tunstall’s ‘Suddenly I see’ soundtracking your day to day of reinvention (or murder, if we’re being hyperbolic). It’s your chance to create your very own movie montage, with the rom-com ending waiting for you on day 76. Allegedly.

We know these challenges prey on the insecurity that you’re ‘not enough’. Yet, what I have come to piece together, is that my mind is most susceptible to them when I’m down with the flu.

I’m doomscrolling meal-prep recipes, how to reduce my inflammation for my endometriosis, how to add more steps, more sleep, more things in day that are meant to help me stress less! To be ‘well’ feels exhausting, but to be down with the flu feels like a stark prompt that I haven’t been doing ‘enough’ to be my total best self.

It’s irrational but being stuck in bed is to be reminded that not only are you not doing your daily well-being non-negotiables, but you’re just not doing… anything. Is now the time to cue the makeover montage?

Reinvention or evolution?

So in a world where we celebrate the reinvention of celebrity and makeover montages, it makes me question: What’s the difference between a reinvention and an evolution?

Bettering ourselves should be a process that is healthy, encouraged and sustainable. Do we define an evolution as a positive path to betterment, and a reinvention is to totally disregard our past? Or are they one in the same, and we need to reframe how we approach this desire to change.

Because the more I interrogated the ‘why’ for this urge when I was a box of Kleenex deep, I realised it had more to do with my physical appearance than chasing an enlightened feeling. A simmering desire to shrink, which hadn’t reared it’s ugly head in a long time. It starts as a funny little thing, you’re thinking about re-implementing your good-natured habits, but suddenly it’s about re-evaluating your diet and workout routine.

Truthfully, I’ve been dealing with the throes of PCOS and endometriosis symptoms. Being stuck in bed with blocked nasal passages just unlocked another realisation that our bodies really do have a different agenda to our minds.

So, I can dream of reinvention, and I can admit to myself it’s about appearance, it’s a little bit about mental health betterment, but it’s really about feeling at odds with my own chronic health conditions.

Whatever is driving your desire for the reinvention, interrogate it. Hold yourself with kindness and find the ‘why’ of your motivation to evolve. To evolve is okay, and so is to grow, but I’ve been realising I need to rethink my ‘why’.

Funny what the flu can do to your brain. That, or it’s all the pseudoephedrine I’ve been taking.

A new season, a new series of recommendations. Expect these in your inbox when the seasons tick over. Or more so when I feel like sharing a bonus* post outside of our usual Dirty Olive love letters.

Enjoy the spring edition. Your next Dirty Olive love letter will land in your inbox very soon.

*Using this term with care, as I’m afraid that by saying ‘bonus’, I am in fact, committing to a regular content cadence. Alas, this gal works best when there’s a strong KPI involved.

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Make that extra dirty, thanks.

I’m on a quest to find the sl*ttiest dirty martini in Melbourne. Coming in hot, I know, but for the namesake of this Substack, it would be amiss of me to not find the best dirty mart known to this city.

My standards? Vodka not gin (controversial), an icy glass, and so dirty that it’s basically pure olive brine. Magnifique. If they give you more than two olives, that’s practically a meal and a drink - we love a two-for-one.

Let it be known that I’ve not always loved martinis. But I’ve learnt to love them through exposure therapy and actually nerding out on the composition of what goes into a decent drink. If only I could apply this to my quest for loving oysters. Sigh.

I digress. There’s always a risk when spending $25 on a cocktail, in knowing if it’ll be any good. It can be high stakes, low reward for your well-earned pennies on a Saturday night. I am here to save the day.

For the sheer fact that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to try every martini in Melbourne (one can try…), I can assure you that these martinis are worth a repurchase.

If they’re not, I’ll personally shout you your next cocktail.

Harvie, Armadale | @harvie.armadale

I attended Harvie recently for the first time after many recommendations from friends and socials. I was worried it would be an overhyped venue. I was very, very, very wrong.

Food was incredible, dirty martinis, even better. They’ve recently released a tini-martini menu, which has a variety to choose from. ‘Mart’ to your heart’s desire.

Aster Bar, Melbourne CBD | @aster.melbourne

Aster Bar has risen where Ferdydurke bar used to reside in Tattersalls Lane (RIP).
It has epic vibes, staff that know how to concoct a good time and it feels like a cosy hidden gem in amongst the bustle of the CBD.

Their dirty martinis are smooth, briny and are perfectly paired with a post-drink pitstop in Chinatown afterwards. The dumplings are welcomed after a few of these - trust me.

Bar Bellamy, Carlton | @bar.bellamy

A rare recommendation for you north-siders. We stopped here for a post-dinner drink, and it might be one of the best dirty martinis I’ve ever had. I throw the term ‘best’ around a lot, but trust me, if it justified my trek to cross the Yarra river, then it was worth the price.

The glass - crispy and cold. The drink - fabulous.

A self-professed ‘neighbourhood wine bar’, this venue had all the hallmarks of a perfect spot for an evening drink. If you’re ever meandering on Rathdowne, make sure to stop by.

Want to know more about my side quest for learning to love oysters? Read this.

Add to cart: Thrifted alternatives.

If you’re a fan of Style-ish podcast, you’re likely familiar with . She’s biz-fashion icon to keep it grossly simplified.

It also appears she’s a big fan of a sheer shirt moment. By which, I am now also a fan of a sheer shirt moment. It’s chic, it’s playful, dress it up or down - it’s an unexpectedly versatile piece. I’ve been holding out to find my own perfect sheer shirt.

Side bar: try saying “she owns a sheer shirt” 10 times over, really, really fast.

However, something stung about the idea of spending $300+ on a well-made piece made from, honestly, not much material. There is something to be said in buying investment pieces for fashion, and sourcing high quality clothing that will last a life-time. Truth be told, I don’t fall into the tax bracket of exclusively purchasing high-end sustainably made clothing items. But, there was no way I was purchasing something like this off of Shein. *Shudders*.

So, I set out to find a thrift-store alternative.

I’ll be upfront, to thrift with something in mind, is a very hard task. I have been scouring thrift stores for months for something that fit the brief. Which makes it so much more rewarding when you do.

To thrift requires patience and for the piece to not be a micro trend. Which is a great way to test if you really do want the thing that you’re scouring racks of old clothing for. I have not been able to shake the idea of owning a sheer shirt since I first saw it on my feed.

After an arduous wait, I found the top I was desperately seeking. It was a perfect fit. Brand? No idea. Did it fit the brief? To a T.

This is your reminder to sit on the idea of a new piece of clothing before hitting ‘add to cart’. If thrifting isn’t your jam, can you find it on Depop?
When you’re on your next Hot Girl Walk, stop by your local salvos, peruse the racks, you’ll never know what might show. If you miraculously come across it, take it as a sign that you simply must purchase. That’s how I justify it anyway.

For me, it appeared on a Monday WFH break last week. We love this for me.

Your wallet (and planet) will thank you.

Saving to faves: Sara and Spot.

On TikTok, there’s a term for particular content called ‘brain rot’. In short it means:

“The supposed deterioration of a person's mental or intellectual state, especially viewed as the result of overconsumption of material (now particularly online content) considered to be trivial or unchallenging.

- Oxford Press.

If you’re chronically online, you’ll know the exact type of content I’m talking about.

But, in a world where the news cycle has gotten bleaker, and life has been feeling a tiny bit tougher than usual, there’s one form of brain rot that brings me an immense amount of comfort.

May I introduce to you, Sara and Spot.

@umjustsaralike sugar on my tongue 👅

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They’re dancing plush toys. That’s it. And for some reason, it gives me the giggles. Maybe it connects with my inner child, maybe it reminds me of simpler times. I won’t try and understand it, but view this as permission to enjoy brain rot content, in moderation.

Sometimes a dancing toy dog will make you laugh. Let it make you laugh, we don’t need to be intellectually coherent 24/7.

Let’s talk about: Trottole pasta.

This is a misleading title - but bear with me.

For a recent lazy Sunday, I whipped up this pasta for an at-home date night. Mildly hungover, and plagued with the Sunday Scaries, I was after a recipe that was easy, had minimal ingredients looked impressive.

Andrew McConnell’s trottole pasta with prawn, tomato and tarragon from Broadsheet was the perfect choice. Broadsheet’s Home Made recipe book is a gorgeous addition to our coffee table, that I have truthfully not cooked from this book near enough. But, this recipe proved I need to do this more.

I did not make this recipe with trottole as it was not available at my local Coles. Allegedly, Fusilli was a suitable replacement according to a quick rage-Google in the middle of the pasta aisle. I also had to sub tarragon for basil. For the same reason. If you saw me in Coles on that Sunday, I am very sorry you had to bear witness to my crash out.

But, with the substitutions, it was still a delicious dish. Spending the extra time making a rich sauce with the prawn heads made me feel certified #chef. Plus, it proves that simple truly is best when it comes to pasta. This would be a perfect addition to a dinner party menu, or a date night where you wish to impress with minimal effort (Don’t worry, I won’t tell them).

10/10 would make this again. Even without the trottole and tarragon.

As I learnt to read and write, my mum instilled a great sense of description into my vocabulary. The cat sat on the mat? No, no, no. The voluptuous, fat, squishy, tabby cat was sprawled over the antique Persian rug - Better.

Adjectives were highly encouraged, basic words were discouraged. This mirrored the classroom energy, where teachers would also kindly suggest alternative words to constantly increase our vernacular. We were tiny little humans with sponges for brains, and it was important for every opportunity to be a learning opportunity.

But the one word that felt blasphemous to write down?

Fun.

The three letter, catch-all word is probably the most-used term of a 8-year old.

Kelsey’s birthday party at the Macca’s playground? Fun. How was swimming in the pool? Fun. Saturday sport? Fun (begrudgingly).

Any moment for joy, elation, and high-energy playtime, we labelled it as fun. But somehow, the word ‘fun’ got a bad rap and it was encouraged to find a … new word to describe the joy you had experienced.

Even now, if someone asks how my weekend was, if it was a grand ole time I still catch myself tripping on my sentence. The tip of my tongue is searching for a word that feels exciting to say, when in reality, I just had fun.

The word stamped out of us, now seems to have a lingering effect.

We’re entering an era where the culture of ‘fun’ is dying. I wonder how much of this relates to the aversion of the word itself that was instilled in us as children - but there’s no denying that there’s a severe lack of ‘fun’ happening right now.

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The first problem? Too much focus on feeling “well”, not having fun.

Wellness culture’s pervasive hook on us all has everyone convinced that the path to enlightenment involves 10,000 steps, a green smoothie and supplements claiming to be ‘nature’s Ozempic’. To be ‘well’ is to go touch grass, it’s to manufacture rest into our schedules and to cut coffee from our diet for claims around our cortisol spiking.

Sure, it’s the 2pm coffee that’s sending me into a spiral, not the cost of living crisis or meeting the growing demands of existing in today’s world. Let’s blame caffeine.

This piece by caught my attention, stating that ‘fun is the health trend we’ve forgotten about’. We’re so focused on rest and relaxation, but we’re forgetting that to have FUN is something we need to actively do for ourselves.

Since 2023 I have spent a lot of time resting the “conventional way” during cancer treatment — taking baths, going for nature walks, watching my favourite TV shows. While it’s often physically restorative, it does not always restore my soul: my need for fun, laughter and joy. It will never light me up the way laughing over dinner with friends will.

I think back to my days at university in the mid 2010s and it seems we intuitively knew that going out and shaking ass on a table would make us feel so much better than staying in. We would all wake up hungover, yes, but also alive — buzzing with the energy of 100 twenty-somethings screaming Mr Brightside while covered in the juice of a warm UDL.

-

Writer for touched on a similar sentiment, explaining that when we focus too much on our health and wellness practices, we lose our sense of connection to others. Modern day wellness is centred around individualistic activity, so there’s no wonder that when we’re less connected, our opportunity for unexpected fun with others is dampened.

In the pursuit of the illusive work/life/wellness balance, we’ve gone so far down the route of one way, that we’ve rejected all else.

We’re cancelling dinner plans because we’re in training for an ultra marathon. We’re waking up an extra two hours earlier because TikTok tells us that 20,000 steps a day is better for our bodies. Kim Kardashian is trying to sell us a face wrap to wear before bed, that has the fibres of the holy spirit woven throughout it1.
What happened to the nights of coming home late and feeling so exhausted that a simple swipe of a makeup wipe was enough? You’re telling me that I need to also put in hair rollers, mouth tape, eye masks and 20 layers of skin care before I even fall asleep? PLEASE.

Further to the point of our lack of fun that is being had, we’ve forgotten that we can clock our daily steps on the dance floor, we are allowed to sacrifice sleep if it means an extra few hours with friends after dinner, and we can rediscover childhood hobbies that aren’t a workout. Book a line dancing class or try horse-riding, I really don’t care what it is but for the love of god we need to stop deprioritising plans that bring joy because of our unspoken fear of it needing to be related to fitness!

I am guilty your honour, for I have also denied morning coffee with friends because I was so hell bent on making a Pilates class. It wasn’t because one would provide more fun than the other, it was because of this insatiable need to exercise 5+ times a week.

This is not to say that you cannot find wellness fun. Sure, I love running, I’m a fiend for a hot mat class. But Gen Z-ers are allegedly replacing other bits of ‘fun’ to meet their prescriptive wellness routines. That is wherein the issue lies.

If this were an investigation into the murder of fun: My prime suspect would be ‘cringe culture’.

To provide a definition (thanks to Google’s AI overview), Cringe culture is the practice of broadly mocking, judging, or ridiculing content, people, or expressions deemed embarrassing, awkward, or "cringy" by some individuals or groups, particularly on social media.

We all inherently know what it means. We’re guilty of it, and we’ve felt it ourselves. If you’ve ever written a LinkedIn post, you’ll know that all-too-familiar wince that’s mandatory as you press that ‘publish’ button.

I digress.

Allegedly, Gen Z-ers are scared of trying, for the fear of being cringe. It’s the fear of trying, the fear of failing and the fear of feeling anything. Forbes even speculates that it’s impacting the workplace: “Cringe culture causes Gen Z to overthink and hold back in spaces when they should speak up, advocate for themselves, or pursue leadership visibility.”

Writer Ocean Vuong echoed similar sentiment, where their students have admitted that they’re too scared to try, and it’s impacting their artistic expression.

“They say, ‘I want to be a good writer, but it’s a bit cringe,’” said Vuong. “‘I don’t want to be perceived as trying and having an effortful attempt at my dreams.’ They are absolutely scared of judgement.

They perform cynicism because cynicism can be misread, as it often is, as intelligence - ‘You are disaffected, you are too cool, you have seen it all.’ They pull back, but in fact, they are deeply hungry for sincere, earnest effort. They often do it privately. They don’t want to admit to each other that they’re trying really hard to do what they want to do. I think sincerity is something we deeply hunger for, particularly young people, but we are embarrassed when sincerity is in the room.”

- Ocean Vuong

Whilst the above mostly relates to personal ambition and performance, it can be applied to why there’s a severe lack of fun going on. Dancing has disappeared from nightclubs due to the ‘fear of cringe’ - we all just jump and bop around, scared to shake our asses. Addison Rae dedicated her life to making silly little dance videos in 2020 that we all felt awkward trying to replicate, and now she’s purported to be the next-gen Madonna2.

Addison Rae is the reason memes like the below exist:

She wasn’t afraid to dance because she found it fun. That’s all it was, paired with hustle to create content, but it was all fun and unashamed. My parents regale tales of dance floors which literally revolved like a vinyl record. They’d dance all night, and still bust out the same moves at weddings and 60th birthdays today. They don’t care what it looks like, they’ll sing off-key, and just radiate pure joy.

Fred again made a whole song around the idea that we’ve lost dancing - but we’ve lost so much more. The moments where we try new things that have always intrigued us, when we write with no abandon, when you let yourself post whatever you feel like on socials - à la Kendall Jenner in 2012.

Our fear of being cringe is hindering our chances for fun - but to be cringe is to be free. Which feels cringe to write, but it’s true.

It’s not that deep, fun is forever.

Never fear, there is hope for fun.

It’s apparent that we’ve all stopped caring. In a good way.

Celebrities are caring less about being perceived as perfect. Dua Lipa is smoking, Hailey Bieber loves a dirty martini, it’s like the roaring twenties are back and we just DGAF.

That’s not to normalise unhealthy behaviour and say that drinking is the epitome of fun. Rather, our social media presences are breaking down, and we’re saying goodbye to prescriptive, rigid presentations of ourselves. It’s about people showing their authentic identity. Whatever that presents like.

We’re rejecting toxic wellness culture. People are saying the ‘Wellness Recession’ is upon us.

There’s no doubt a correlation between this and the rise of Charli XCX’s ‘Brat’ - the party girl era has swept back in, but it doesn’t need to be about stumbling home at 5am, it’s just about being ourselves. Singing. Dancing. Laughing so much we’ve wet our pants. Nerding out on complicated board games with friends (@ Catan). Rediscovering knitting. Turning off all the lights and jumping around to your favourite song. Generally, not caring.

Tyler the Creator’s latest Album, Don’t Tap the Glass, is built on this. It’s prominence and popularity has resonated. ‘Sugar on my tongue’ has already amassed 80+ million plays on Spotify - a song he created because he just wanted people to “groove and have fun with it”. It was about thinking less, and creating more. Video after video of him performing this song, crowds aren’t bopping like ket-zombies at revs, but they’re moving their hips, they sway, they have RYTHMN. A commenter has hailed "Dancing is back!!!”.

So, in reality, fun is on the way up and pretending to be cool is out. Which begs the question: When was the last time you truly had fun? Think about it.

When was the last time you did something that wasn’t in fear of judgement from the peanut gallery?

8-year old me had a lot of gall to boldly claim she’d write a novel (with a mere grey lead pencil, I might add). To not think twice about someone thinking my stories might be bad.

8-year old me also had a knack for throwing on impromptu dance performances for anyone who would watch, for hours on end. A theatrical masterpiece if you will. I didn’t do it for the reaction, but because it just felt good.

I think about her confidence often.

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With the new month comes a new post for Dirty Olive, where I’m dropping what’s been high on my winter rotation. This season, it’s been an array of wine bars (shock), an Instagram account dedicated to girls carrying too many things in their hands, and my quest to not gag when I eat oysters. It’s a WIP, but I’m getting there.

Enjoy.

Wine bars that are in my winter rotation.

If you were to ask me what my weekend plans are, I am likely booked and busy with plans at a wine bar.

What’s that saying our mother’s would murmur - if you eat too much of one thing, you’ll turn into it!

Well, I may turn into a glass of Beaujolais. There’s no denying that I spend the better part of my pay check at wine bars. The wine, the food, the atmosphere, the vibe, it’s Mabo, your honour.

The joke of Melbourne right now is that every person and their dog are opening a wine bar. The south side is crawling with them. I have no complaints about it - the humble wine bar is there for when the pub or club isn’t hitting the brief. They’re chic, they’re curated and they’re perfect for a Saturday afternoon.

By no means am I a hospitality buff or a sommelier. But with the sheer amount of wine bars I have been a patron of, I feel as though I have a good steer on where is worth spending your dollars on. For the purpose of this exercise, let’s ignore the $17 a glass price tag, shall we?

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Cordelia | @cordelia.carlton

From the team that have created my fave venue ever (obvi, Don’s Wine Bar in Prahran) comes Cordelia. Recently opened in Carlton and a divine spot for a wine and a seafood inspired menu. The light-filled wine bar is a perfect stop on a sunny winter’s day and the staff know how to provide incredible hospitality. I’m still thinking about this venue weeks later.

• Must-haves: The milk buns. Pair it with one of their saucy pastas to mop up the bowl. Unreal. Plus, their weekday ‘happy meals’ of fries and martinis are an absolute steal.

• Must-do: Visit their underground cellar seating. The spiral staircase leads you to a hidden nook to continue your cocktails and yaps. Getting back up the staircase feels hazardous after a few dirty martinis, so proceed with caution.

The Walrus Wine & Oyster Bar | @thewalrusoysterbar

This is our local and it feels like a hidden gem that I do not want to share. But alas, I cannot keep this one quiet. Every day there are different freshly shucked oyster options, paired with pintxos - they rotate their menu often. If you’re lucky, you can snap up their whole fish dishes but they sell out quickly - for a very good reason.

• Must-haves: The sea urchin pasta is a must, as well as their tinned fish varieties. If you’re anchovy obsessed like me, you’ll be in heaven. They also serve your dirty martini in the iciest glass and leave the cocktail shaker with you so that your drink can remain icy as you decant. Superb.

• Must-do: Visit on a Friday or Saturday night between 10pm-12am for their Supper Club. $15 cocktails, $3 oysters and truffle toasties. It’s worth extending out your bed-time for this.

The Alps | @thealpsprahran

This venue is new to my rotation and it feels aptly named for a winter suggestion. The Alps is a cosy hideaway in Prahran that delivers excellent service and a well-priced array of carby dishes. Think pizzas, focaccia and snacks. It’s tucked away from the hustle and bustle of Chapel Street, and looks deceivingly small from the outside. Wade through the venue to find the hidden back room where you’ll be nestled away for hours with a vino in hand.

• Must-haves: Order the carbonara slice. Do it. It’s like the best focaccia you’ve ever had but on ‘roids. Cheesy and perfect to share.

• Must-do: Book your next date night here. The Alps lends itself nicely to being a perfect spot for a first, third or twentieth date. Cosy, intimate and dishes are perfect for sharing. The venue has a big IYKYK vibe about it, you’ll have instant ‘cool-factor’.

Saving to faves: @girlscarryingshit

I don’t know how this account ended up on my feed, but I thank the algorithm gods that it did.

Created by New Yorker, Halle Robbe, Girls Carrying Shit is a visual diary of how much women juggle in their hands when we go from A to B. The account bio reads: after thousands of years w/o pockets, non-men have evolved a superior grip to carry our shit.

It’s a little bit ridiculous, but it’s absurdly relatable. We have all been that person carrying a take-away coffee, juggling a work laptop, also carrying a building pass, with a parcel you forgot was arriving, wedged under your arm.

It’s chaos, and this account highlights just another thing that women are good at. Surviving without pockets.

Learning to love: Oysters.

Don’t ask me why, but I’m on a journey to try and love oysters. No one is forcing me to do this, but I desperately want to like them.

At first, I thought I just wanted to like them because #aesthetic. But truthfully, I love seafood with an unbridled passion and it feels incongruous to my character that oysters are not in that rotation. I’m giving myself 12 months to get around them, and I’m happy to report, it’s going well (kind of).

The ‘oyster ick’ hits me at the idea of gulping and swallowing food without chewing it properly. But we soldier on. With each one, I wince a little less, and I’m starting to appreciate the freshness. Huzzah, her palette is developing!

My first ever oyster was in Bali last year at the restaurant called Skool. It was an incredible place and the food was the highlight of the trip. They had seared oysters on their menu and it was one of the best things I’ve ever had. I felt naive not knowing that seared oysters existed, and it removed a layer of intimidation to trying them (baby steps!). With all the fresh oysters I’ve eaten since, I still yearn for that seared oyster.

My prayers had been answered. When I saw that Cordelia had them on their menu, I was a little too excited. Paired with a burnt lemon for garnish, this flavour-bomb was what I wanted and more. Making the trek to Carton is worth it for these (coming from the south-side girlie that I am).

Tips and advice also welcomed on how to not look like a nonce when I’m slinging back oysters. I tried the biggest oyster of my life in Barcelona at La Boqueria markets and fear I cannot return to the country. The whole palava of eating it didn’t go well - I could feel the judgement seething.

All advice encouraged. Please and thanks.

Did I study French? No. Had I ever been to France? No. Did I dream about it constantly? Oui.

Earlier this year, I visited France for the first time and to be frank, I was quite overwhelmed with how it made me feel.

Once I got over the fact that our bathroom smelt like sewage (story time for another day…), I felt weirdly emotional the entire time that we were in France. In a good way. I teared up when I saw the Eiffel tower - the iconic landmarks, the food, all of it. But it wasn’t until I was there in the city itself, I remembered just how much I had been obsessed with France when I was growing up.

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Commercialised French culture was weirdly pervasive in my life when I was a child. To the point where my bedroom looked almost like the below:

According to Aesthetics Wiki, this style was defined as Pink Paris Design.

The aesthetic draws on popular depictions of Paris and femininity from young girls' media. It is characterised by a colour palette of black, white, and most prominently, pink. It often incorporates imagery such as the Eiffel Tower, mannequins, the fleur-de-lis, and poodles. Patterns like polka dots and stripes are common, along with girly motifs like bows, ribbons, and hearts. French blogs pejoratively nicknamed this trend "Oh Là Là Paris" likely because it incorporates a lot of clichés about France. - Aesthetics Wiki.

In short, my bedroom was a walking Parisian cliché. So. much. pink.

But I was obsessed. All I wanted was to have a poodle, a poodle skirt and to see the Eiffel Tower. I had big dreams that were covered in polka dots.

Walking through Paris unlocked a floodgate of memories of how much I had been enamoured with this manufactured culture in my childhood. I say manufactured as I totally acknowledge that a lot of the Parisian paraphernalia I had as a child would have been based on some strong stereotypes and clichés. Alas, this girl loved her little red beret.

How it all started though, I am not sure.

I do have a memory of once saying I wanted to be a French maid when I grew up. Mostly, because I loved the outfits that they wore - not realising that they were highly eroticised and are often the feature of perverse fantasies. I would have been about 5 or 6. Ahh, the innocence of childhood. In that same year, I also wanted to become a zoologist. That’s the duality of a woman, I say.

There was also a point in the 2000s where subscription magazines were all the rage. The ones where you buy the first in a series from the news agency, then you get a little trinket with it. Then, you’d beg your mum to subscribe you to the rest so you could collect every other trinket in the series. My poor mum, she probably just wanted to buy her Marie Claire and call it a day.

I remember having one about Angelina Ballerina, another about Roald Dahl. But, there was one issue from the Rugrats. Each issue highlighted a different country and you’d learn facts about it, from the eyes of the little Rugrats themselves. Hidden education, what a concept! The first edition: France.

I read that magazine until the ink transferred onto my fingers. I wanted to learn everything I could about this country, giggling at the idea eating snails and frogs legs.

Then, there was ballet.

I studied ballet for about 18 years, and with that came the education of very specific French terms. I knew the translations of pas de chat, pas de cheval and the difference between how to turn en dedans and en dehors. I went through a phase where all I wanted to be was a can-can dancer at the Moulin Rouge. When I was 12 I had my growth plate scanned for some dental work, which promptly revealed I would grow no taller than 163cm. The minimum height to even audition for the Moulin Rouge is 175cm, so my dreams to run away to join the can-can chorus were crushed by a lack of 12cm. But, I still continued to dance.

I sometimes miss ballet. The movement, the poise. Then I remember the nights of staring at my body in just a leotard and tights, for hours on end. Picking it apart. Frustrated at what it couldn’t do. My heart aches at how a movement style so beautiful, could make me feel so awful.

Why can’t my arabesque be higher? Why do my pirouettes not land like hers? Why does my leotard sit like that on my hips?

I digress.

The theme of the French continued to be threaded throughout my life.

My favourite films growing up all seemed to centre around France. I would watch the 1997 animation, Anastasia, on repeat. I’d listen to ‘Paris holds the key to your heart’ over and over again and fell into the belief that Paris would be the place for me.

My walls were adorned in stickers of poodles, I probably had something in my room that read: tres chic.

My first ever blog, had a French name. ‘Belles Vous, Beautiful You.’

I unfortunately cannot recover this blog anywhere on the net, which is deeply upsetting. But 12-year-old me would share tips on how to perfect your side plait, and how-to’s on heatless curls (I was ahead of my time @ all you TikTok girlies). But truthfully, I gave the blog a French name because I thought it was cool. Or très chouette.

To me, being French was the epitome of ‘coolness’. What I didn’t understand was that my perception of the French was based on a cliché which had made it’s way into the Reject Shop homewares section. But I didn’t care. I’d wear my little red beret and imagine a world where I was walking my poodle down the streets of Paris.

So here I was, being a big kid in a city where I spent my childhood idolising the very place. It suddenly made sense as to why it sent me through the emotional wringer. The little Tess who wanted to be a French maid (big LOL) would have been SO ecstatic that I made it over the big ocean and into Paris. She would be amazed that I do some incredible things for work, and that I’ve been able to do so much with my life with so many opportunities.

With each year that passes, I seem to feel as though I’ve lived 1000 lifetimes. My dreams and hobbies changed a lot growing up - I panic at times that this is a sign of inconsistent character. But truthfully, I was perceptible to the opinions of others and found I kept experimenting new passions based on what others thought I was good at. In essence, that’s just growing up I guess. Yet, I always came back to writing. Journalling, dreams of writing novels, blogs started and never seen through - no matter what, I always wrote.

Being there in Paris, feeling the enormity of it all, came as a reminder to honour the forgotten loves of my childhood. I’d forgotten about all the nuances of my Parisian obsession. I’d forgotten about how badly I wanted to travel to France one day. Standing there on the Champs-Élysées, it all came back as a reminder that I’ve been taking life a little bit for granted.

Younger me would have been disappointed in the lack of poodles that we saw, but I think she would have thought that I was the coolest fucking person ever. A writer, in Paris. Her dream, my dream, all very real and true.

Tears were shed. Wine was had.

Here’s to honouring the little things our younger selves were obsessed with. They still matter a whole lot to us when we’re older, even if we don’t realise it until the Notre Dame is looming over our heads.

This was a time where somehow, we were all single at once. And loving it.

So rare is there a moment where you and your closest girlfriends align with timing in your love lives. Now as we wade through our mid-late 20s, we’re talking about engagements, wedding plans, moving plans, plans upon plans upon plans. But none of us are talking about the same plans anymore.

It’s the realisation that the chaotic neutrality of a girls dinner, turning into fodder for the morning-after-debrief, may never come back. Swapping our ‘rosters’, speaking in coded nicknames of lovers, has been traded in for carat sizing and houses we recently viewed on realestate.com.

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To experience life on the same trajectory as your friends is something that comes rarely. Once you leave high-school, we set on our paths, do our own things and dedicate time to working our shit out.

Some of us move overseas, some study at university, some work full-time - it’s the choose your own adventure game that has no known outcome. It’s fun, it’s exciting - we ruminate and plan our supposed futures in hypotheticals. But, when people fall into relationships, how does that change our trajectory?

At an individual level, we see life for it’s vast opportunities, it holds chances and we take chances on relationships. But, when relationships form, it becomes a bond of two people. They’re now taking on what some value as the most important journey one could take - they become a team, a unit, a co-branded pair. You’re no longer ‘name’ +1, but referred to in doubles.

You can be immensely happy in these doubles, but we never truly acknowledge how this impacts our friendship circles.

Style-ish podcast recently spoke about loneliness. Particularly, the loneliness that comes in adulthood where there’s a misalignment of timelines with friends, and how it can create a void of isolation.

One friend has dried baby spew on her shoulder, the other has dried red wine on her pants, with shoes sticky from the night prior. I am the latter.

This disconnect grows with time, and there is so much to unpack in this space; life evolves so quickly, so how do we feel less alone as we go out on our own more? The podcast spoke so in depth and with vulnerability about all these questions; but I still feel lonely and anxious in the wings, waiting for all these moments to happen.

The “milestone” moments you splash all over Instagram haven’t started in our circles… yet. But we’re talking about them a lot. It’s this time where, for the most part, we’re all suspended in this very similar state of existence. But as those who might be a few years ahead, start to post about babies, houses, overseas moves, it affirms that this is all coming. And I can’t help but question, when is it all going to drop?

I don’t miss being single (nor do I want to be - let the record show that I have never been happier in my relationship). What I do miss, is being so in sync with my friends that we’re swapping first date horror stories on a Sunday morning.

It’s how I imagine it to feel when two friends fall pregnant within 2-3 weeks of each other. Through gestation, you swap tales of the back aches, the nausea, you cook each other your weird cravings. You ask each other the questions you’re yet to ask your GP because you know they’re feeling the same thing too.

I want to feel the same things as my friends again.

Weddings, pregnancies and house buying feels to be everywhere right now - and maybe it’s not, but maybe I’m noticing it more. And maybe it’s because it’s an unconscious reminder that we’re getting older and you’re not really in your 20s for all that long.

We’re all standing on the precipice of these big changes and new beginnings and whilst we’re not experiencing all these different moments just yet, our cliff ledges look very different from each other. And whilst we’re all hovering in this state of nothing, we’re all about to begin existing in the state of something entirely different. I feel like the days are running out of how much longer we can feel connected with where we’re all at in our lives.

Is this the last time it’ll feel like we’re remotely on the same timeline?

It’s like a seismic energy is about to pull us all in very different directions. I cannot explain why it evokes fear and not excitement, but I want solidarity. I want to talk about how I feel and have my friends say back to me “I’m feeling it too”.

Our 20s are the years we’re meant to regale around the dinner table long into the future - for a decade that we say to put less pressure on, it seems that these are the years we never let go.

I’m not asking for the 30+ year olds in my life to tell me ‘it’s okay’, ‘It gets exciting’ - or that I’ll change my mind in the future on irreversible choices. But I need to know, are any other late 20-somethings feeling this way? Like life has been briefly suspended, as we wait for the cascades of seasons to begin in our lives?

It all feels like a waiting game, and whilst I’m trying to remember every moment of it, it feels so lonely knowing that our relatability from one another is going to change.

Because we’re no longer comparing our rosters. But we’re comparing our lives in all different ways. Not overtly. But, we’re doing it.

Comparison is a thief of joy, but my fear of change is the thief of being present.

The loneliness comes from knowing that it’s like a domino effect. We’re all going to have to be ‘big girls’, and experience our lives one by one. Each trying something new, finding out and failing all at once. When one tips, we report back to the other, letting them know it’s okay to fall too.

But as we exist right now, we’re not all on the same timeline. Some single, some coupled up, some going through momentous break ups. Life doesn’t need to centre around relationships - but somehow, relationships are what we use to socially define different milestones, and when you’re in a relationship, the trajectory very quickly turns into ‘we’.

There’s nothing we can do to stop time, but has anyone cracked the code of heightening our female friendships, when each of our priorities become so different?

And the more I sit with it, the more I realise that the reason my anxiety comes over excitement for this change, is because I fear I’m doing it all wrong.

I fear I don’t host enough girls nights. Maybe I don’t stoke the fire of my friendships enough to have our strength as a collective, when we’re not tied to our partners. I see how others share their girls weekends online and again, the comparison-itis hits me. And maybe deep down, the anxiety is humming because I fear I cannot recreate that giddy feeling of a red-wine-chaos-girls-night, the further we all go on with our lives.

Irrational? Possibly. But this is a love letter, to all the 20 something-year-olds, who feel as though their lives are changing, quickly, and we all just want to hold each other tight before our timelines shift completely.

I’m feeling this way - and if you are too, I will pour you out a fat glass of cheap red.

For old time’s sake.

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$6 for a soft drink at the theatre. Minimum $25 for dinner at the pub post-show. I choose to ignore the amount of money I spent 12+ hours ago on the depths of Chapel Street. To be totally frank - I am actually hungover as fuck.

As I continue to bask in the sun, I imagine I’m giving off mysterious, cool-girl chic. Murmurs of ‘Who is she? Maybe it’s Maybeline?’. In reality, if I remove my sunglasses and see sunlight I may squeal. As the sun warms me, I feel whatever evil that’s left in my body, slowly being sweated out of my system. Do not ask me what time I got to bed. No…. it was not 6am.

I am truly a sight to behold.

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In this time of waiting (or more like suffering from sitting upright), my inner consciousness morphs into the voice of Hugh Grant à la Love Actually. I witness friends call out to each other, running over and embracing. Movie star kisses on each cheek, '‘it’s been so long!’ they cry. One rummages through their handbag to find the tickets, the other laments how awful it is to get a park around here. Everyone around me is meeting, embracing and giving the impression that this is more of a social opportunity, rather than a chance to laugh at Urzila Carlson’s stand up.

It’s an opportunity for connection, away from the confines of home and the office.

Enter: The third place.

The talk of third spaces or places are on the rise, and whilst good things come in threes, what does it really mean? In sociology, the third place refers to a social setting that is not your home or work environment.

The sociologist who coined the theory, Roy Oldenburg, describes each of the ‘places’ as:

“One's "first place" is the home and the people the person lives with. The "second place" is the workplace—where people may actually spend most of their waking time. Third places, then, are "anchors" of community life and facilitate and foster broader, more creative interaction. In other words, "your third place is where you relax in public, where you encounter familiar faces and make new acquaintances."

I realise that everyone meeting pre-theatre, have promptly arrived at their third place. It’s 5pm happy hour, a picnic in the park, your 6am spin class - these are all types of ‘third places’. In university we would meet at the library, study together, coffee in hand. In high school, we would spend hours on the weekend browsing in shopping centres as a fun activity to pass time. We’d dream about one day having enough money to shop at Sportsgirl. Ah, simpler times.

It’s over endless cups of coffee in your favourite cafe, that your friend sobs about her recent breakup. You meet your partner at the local wine bar after you finish work, and surreptitiously exchange today’s office horror stories, casting sideways glances hoping no one from work has parked up on the table behind you. At 19, we would sit parked in the car at the beach, and simply yap and watch the waves roll in. It’s in these moments that you learn of the skeletons in each other’s closets, giggle about your latest crush, and undoubtedly have more time to focus on each other than you would at home or in a work environment.

These third places help give reason for our connection, because there’s something so wildly intimate about saying ‘Hey, do you want to come over and just hang out?’. You drop a link to a trivia night in the chat, putting feelers out on who wants to come along. Inviting friends to a neutral, third space, filled with the promise of entertainment, is like sharing a risk-free guarantee of fun. If it flops, at least it’s not your personal space that’s to blame.

But, in the same way that we pack our things and move out of home, our third space evolves as we grow over time.

Third places rising online and IRL - But at what cost?

For a generation marred by COVID (sorry, had to mention the big C word!), we’ve lost touch with IRL third spaces and allegedly have moved this to online connection.

Writer and creator, Maggie Zhou, speaks on how social media has become our new third space. And there’s clearly issues on this - the lines are too blurred between home, work and otherness when we’re digitally connected. We’re contactable 24/7 and therefore not disconnecting enough when we’re using social media as an escape route. Dating has transcended to online, swiping left, right, sending virtual hearts and roses at the tap of a button. We’ve gone digital, and yes it’s accessible, but it’s making us incredibly isolated.

Venues and businesses have clued on to the growing need to foster third places. Cafes now have DJ decks to encourage you to stay and rave with the humble buzz of a few espressos. Athleisure stores now have run clubs that depart and conveniently return right out the front of their sales rack - reminding you that your activewear didn’t look as schmick as the rest of the running group. Hospitality, retail, you name it, they’re all jumping on building experiences over product. The proof is in the stats - this has shown that consumer preferences are shifting to prefer experiences over products, with spending on experiences expected rise to $8.0 trillion by 2030. So, it’s great that we’re investing more in experiences to create connection offline - but at what cost? More specifically, to me and my wallet.

In Maggie’s TikTok, she also touches on how majority of third spaces nowadays require you to spend money in order to benefit from the space. She’s not wrong. A pint at the pub, buying cheeses for your park picnic - it tallies up quickly.

As cozzie livs rise higher and higher, we’re constantly on the hunt for things to do on a budget. Therefore, the need and importance for quality third places that are safe and enjoyable is at an all time high. How do we find our cute ‘gram-worthy’ hang-out spots when the balance sheet says ‘no’.

Realistically, with the economy in shambles and cost of living through the roof, the likelihood of finding a third place that doesn’t cost a cent is rare. So rather than providing a list of third places that are free, this is a guide to leverage the dwindling dollar. Because if the state of economic crisis is out of our control, put a spin on it and use it to your advantage baby! If not, you’ll probably cry.

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The recession-core guide to third space hangs.

1. Make an ultimate specials list for your local area

   Earlier this year, in an act of procrastination, I dedicated an evening to crafting a local specials guide. It exists as a pinned note in my Notes app, with each day of the week listed. Under each day, I’ve noted relevant local pub and restaurant specials and their price. Tuesday, Mount Erica Hotel, steak night $24. Thursdays, Parmas for $20 on Acland st. Everywhere has a specials night, but it’s overwhelming remembering them all. This note is constantly updated and has grown into an almanac of sorts - noting down where I’ve spotted new cocktail happy hours that are actually less than $15. Unheard of.

   
   The one offer I’ll release from my perfectly curated list, is Don’s Wine Bar’s Monday night date night special. $40 per person, 3 courses and a glass of wine included. Don’s is the one venue I equally want to gatekeep and also drag every friend there for a Friday wine. $40 is still hefty, but the value is unmatched. Promise.

   
   The List™ has become particularly useful for nights when you want to have impromptu dinners, or your friend texts saying ‘Dinner 2nite?’. Refer to your list and something will fit your budget. It’s a simple tip, yes, but having the South Side’s best dinner offers on me at all times makes me feel like I’m so ‘in the know’. That’s if being in the know means just being able to see and document the sales tactics of pubs wanting me to spend a little, to then pillage money on beer.

   

   
   

2. Intro offers, first-time visit deals, bring a friend for free… I’m listening and my wallet is open
   The other night after my 6pm reformer Pilates class, I noticed a group of the girls all convened together post-class. They’d gotten changed, and in a sing-song manner, they said goodbye to the instructor and mentioned they were heading out for cocktails together. Obsessed.

   
   Most gyms, studios and wellness studios of similar ilk usually have some kind of intro offer for newbies. Plus, if you’re a long-standing member, there might be some bring-a-friend-for-free offers. Suss them out and book in your next Pilates and Pinot night. Many people use the gym as their third place, so habit stack it with a friend and yap together afterwards. Social and physical wellness, how efficient.

   
   If you’re a people pleaser (Hello, welcome! You’re in great company), this might not be the option for you. So, repeat after me: You can sign up for an intro offer and have no intention to stay as a member once it expires. It might be disingenuous, but hot yoga is calling and my bank account is crying.

   

3. Find a friend with a sports membership. Or just find a good pub with a Kayo subscription.

   This one is for the AFL girlies. Going to the footy is an expensive exercise. Minimum $60 on a ticket, $12 for hot chips and god knows how much you’ll spend on drinks once your team starts to lose. I simply stare at the MCG and I’m in the negative.

   
   But alas, if you’re like me and simply cannot get enough of the silly little game of football, now is the time to think smarter not harder. If you live in Melbourne, chances are at least 1 in 3 of your friends will have some kind of membership. That stat is made up, but tell me I’m wrong? Going to the footy with friends is an ultimate outing, and if one of them has a membership, sometimes visitor passes can be a touch cheaper than the rest. How you want to leverage your own friendships is up to you.

   
   But, the main tip here, similarly to Tip 1, is to just find a good reliable pub that shows the footy and has great specials. Will you spend money? Yes. Will it be less than what you would have spent at the MCG? Also yes. This video has a great run down of what pubs are best for football viewing.
   

4. Get on ‘the apps’
   This point feels counterintuitive to the whole online vs. IRL argument, but hear me out. If you’re sitting in a slump, wanting to make new friends, or simply want to do things with friends and can’t find something that’s in budget, there’s quite literally an app for that.
   
   I’ve written before on the rise of supper clubs and contrived opportunities for mingling and making friends. These opportunities play in the realm of third spaces, but can come with a hefty price tag attached to cover the cost of the activity. So where does that leave you when you want to have a dinner with some new friends, but maybe a $160 set menu isn’t on the cards? Don’t fret, there’s alternatives. Start-ups like Butter have a focus on allowing community to come together, on their terms and plans, but together with strangers. It’s a fab concept - post a call out saying you want to grab some vino’s Saturday night, then those who are like-minded can see this. They can then register their interest to join you. The online space is the facilitator in bringing together people IRL, but it gives you more control on how much, or how little, you’d like to spend. A coffee lap around The Tan? There’ll be a crowd for that.
   
   Old faithful Eventbrite is also a great option to find weekend activities that don’t cost a thing. Filter your search to ‘free’ and you’ll find local run clubs, book clubs, cafe soirees and more. It’s another avenue to discover new third places and new friends, and it’s recession-core approved. If all else fails, there is always Facebook Events. Does anyone actually use them anymore though? They feel like a relic of the past. 18 year old me used to scour the Facebook Event listings to find my next best Saturday activity. Now it’s a wasteland. Ahhh the nostalgia.

   

5. Now open: Cafe [Insert your surname]
   This bleeds into the ‘first space’ (your home!), but stay with me. The latest trend on the rise is that of the home cafe. To battle the insane cost of going for brunch and a pastry, Gen Z are inviting friends into their home and making coffees and pastries to share. It’s cute, it’s aesthetic and it means you can have your cake and eat it too!
   
   People have made DIY menus, and elevated their home spaces to make it feel like a tiny disconnect from the real world. If you’re looking for inspo, trawl the trend on socials. This one is perfect if you’re on a budget but crave good java.
   

6. Shut up and drive

   Bring back the humble drive I say! Abby Butler summarised it best here, proving if we could just sit and yap in the car for hours, the world would be a better place.

   
   Sitting in the car with a friend, or even on your own, truly hits different. It’s a time warp - you pulled into your friend’s driveway an hour ago and have no idea what the time is now. You’re just enjoying each other’s company so much.

   This time is when you share recent songs you’ve discovered, scroll TikTok and laugh together at brain-rot content. Recline your chairs and speak of your woes. Go for a Maccas run, or simply drive around the nice parts of Toorak and point out houses you’d wish to own one day. The car is a safe space and it’s therapeutic.

   
   This suggestion obviously ignores the ongoing cost of car maintenance, rego and petrol, but you get the picture. This is to say, hanging out with others does not need to be big moments of grandiose palava - take it back to what brought you joy at 19. Keep it simple. You’re there for your friends - not the cocktail towers. Although, they are incredibly fun.

   
   Third spaces are what you make them, so when the economy is in ruins, make third spaces your b*tch. We can be broke, but we can still have fun, offline.

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Oh, and by the way. I made it through that comedy show without vomiting or falling asleep. Praise be.

TikTok has a habit of informing and influencing our daily vernacular. ‘Slay’, ‘it’s giving…’, ‘rizz’, ‘cheugy’… it goes on. If you have a Gen Z-er in your life or a millennial absorbed in TikTok, chances are you’ve stumbled upon a phrase that’s deeply coded in a multilayer trend.

The latest - ‘crashing out’.

It sounds visceral. It’s fun to say. But, are you crashing a car or causing mass self-destruction.

In short, the term describes when a person has hit a point of emotional overload and they act in an impulsive, unregulated way as a result. Essentially, it’s when you lose your shit.

Objectively, when you’re chronically online, terms like this are quite funny. But lately, I’ve been thinking more about how we speak about mental health experiences online - we share so much, it creates solidarity, but what behaviours do we normalise in the process? And what are we truly masking with catch-all trendy terminology?

The experience of ‘losing one's shit’ is something we will all endure at some stage in our life. ‘Crashing out’ therefore isn’t a new experience, but the elusive term lends itself to murkiness and a spectrum of behaviour that is questionable. Yes, let’s normalise our experiences and be open. But if you’re having a fit and punching a wall… let’s talk about that.

When these mental health related terms trend on TikTok, we realise none of us have ever had an original experience. We’ve all had a menty b when we’re burnt out. The photo frames in our rooms and the stuffed toys still living on our pillows have really seen it all - this video sums it up perfectly.

But there’s having a menty b, and then there’s having a mental breakdown.

If you trawl the #crashingout trend on TikTok, you’ll see a variety of what this looks like. Which makes sense. My stress, anger, and frustration would look different to yours. We all express and feel emotions differently, so that spectrum of emotion can be seen when we use one term to describe an entire experience.

There are no doubt extremes to trends. There’s videos of people screaming and hyperventilating, acting out in violent ways. We can destroy relationships, cheat, overall be an awful person but somehow it’s okay, you’re just crashing out babe.

In the same way that Jonah Hill used ‘therapy speak’ to tell his girlfriend to not to wear a bikini, the more we ‘therapise’ behaviours, the more we seem to create new realms for what is acceptable. We can use ‘crashing out’ to describe an intense emotional period, but should we be using it as a term to explain explosive behaviours that occur frequently?

Social media shows us that crashing out looks like crying, it can look like mania, intense screaming, catatonic depression, a mental breakdown. It goes on. But for a term that’s not in the remit of being in the DSM-V, it can easily encompass all levels of behaviour and can make us think… maybe I don’t need to see a therapist about this. I’m just crashing out.

A few years ago, ‘Fleabag era’ trended on TikTok. If you’re yet to familiarise yourself with the masterpiece that is ‘Fleabag’, I strongly urge you to watch it at your earliest convenience. If you say pretty please, I will share my Amazon Prime password with you if it means you will watch it. It’s incredibly hilarious, and dare I say, life changing in explaining the chaos of what it is to be a woman with feelings that feel f*cking confusing. Plus, Phoebe Waller-Bridge is an icon.

I asked ChatGPT to summarise Fleabag in 10 words or less in case anyone needed the TLDR: Grieving woman breaks fourth wall to navigate love and chaos.

It sounds more like a melodrama, but I think the larger takeaway here is that ChatGPT isn’t taking our jobs anytime soon. (This is my affirmation I tell myself everyday when I get ready for work - “AI is not stealing my job, AI is not stealing my job…”).

But what is this ‘Fleabag era’ you ask?

Around the time this began to trend, I was newly single, coming out of the depths of COVID, and strongly identified with the titular, nameless character ‘Fleabag’. (I think the fact she has no name and was called ‘Fleabag’ tells you more than you need to know about the show - who needs ChatGPT?). It was #HotGirlSummer - it was my world, and everyone else was just living in it. To say I was mentally sound at the time would be a stretch. Whilst I won’t divulge the erratic behaviour of this time (my mother is a loyal subscriber - hi mum!) I can confirm that with every video I saw of another girl explaining their ‘Fleabag’ era stories, I had the same reaction. The kind of half-laugh where a lot of air escapes your nose but there’s no sound, and inner dialogue saying “that’s so me”.

In reality, I needed someone to slap me out of this dissociative haze and say ‘Babe, I think you need to see a therapist.’

Looking further (ie. a light Google search), this experience has been coined dissociative feminism - it describes that hot chaotic mess we all know, but she’s self-aware which somehow makes the behaviour okay.

We all recognise her, the woman in her “Fleabag era”. We know that she is prone to showing up at work in last night’s make-up, smoking two cigarettes for breakfast or experiencing the “feminine urge” to fuck her sister’s boyfriend. We have spotted her everywhere, from the listless Rachel in Virginia Woolf’s Voyage Out to the checked-out narrator of Ottessa Moshfegh’s My Year of Rest and Relaxation. We know that she performs her pain as if it were a form of art; something outside herself that can be controlled, and yet chooses to revel in it regardless. This woman is a mess, a menace to herself and others, a self-raising red flag who would sooner die than communicate an emotion directly – and she’s the face of a new strain of feminism that has risen to prominence over the last few years. But, for all her crimes, is she even real?

- Emma Garland

Garland’s quote paints the picture well. To be a woman, is to be called too emotional, whilst having no space to process the heavy emotions at all. So we dissociate, we find ways to internally self-destruct, but we’re aware that we’re doing it, so it makes it all okay. Right?

When it’s not your ‘Fleabag era’, it’s your ‘Brat era’, it’s ‘crashing out’, it’s ‘spiralling’, it’s any term we slap on our feelings to connect with others through the zeitgeist of pop culture. Being ‘brat’ was about being a 365 party girl, and crashing out is about being emotionally dysregulated - is that not just a comedown from one experience to the other? For all the messiness we experience, the misunderstanding of how we feel, we let it manifest through so many behaviours. Each has their own consequences - consequences we have to own and be responsible for.

I’m not writing this to police what we have on our TikTok feeds. 1) That’s so boring. 2) I love unhinged and chaotic AF content just as much as the next person who won’t admit it publicly (I see you). But every time we find a new term to describe a range of behaviours that, at the best of times, probably need professional mental health advice, stop for a second. Things can be relatable, but if you constantly feel out of control, let’s talk about that. To say “go to therapy” is to minimise all experiences of stigma, financial privilege and intimidation that can come with seeing a therapist. Putting financials aside, for a chronically online generation, have we not broken down the stigma through how open we are on social media? Not only do we talk about our own mental health experiences in 30 second videos, but we now have mental health professionals on the platform dolling out their advice as content.

So, next time you find yourself calling your 10am breakdown ‘crashing out’, partying until 5am being ‘so brat coded’ or blaming that last questionable one night stand on a ‘bad spiral’ - define your chaos. Is it a momentary lapse, or are you using a cultural trend to mask what you’ve been dissociating from.

Feel the chaos, ride that crash out, make silly choices - but follow it up with a therapy sesh. The moments of chaos do in fact happen. But it’s how we process the consequences that matter most (I know this sounds very self-help jargon, but tell me I’m wrong).

Be messy, but hey, all within moderation. Right?

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This has been my life since 2020. Politely declining delicious looking focaccia at events, ‘oh sorry, no gluten for me!’, and being #ThatGirl asking rural cafes ‘by chance do you do almond milk?’. (The answer is no, always no.)

For the last few years, I’ve managed a gluten-free/low-dairy diet as it’s what’s worked for my endometriosis and PCOS. The pain has subsided when I get my period and by process of elimination, this all came about when I gave up my beloved white bread and cut down cow’s dairy.

That’s not to say, recently I’ve been more ‘lax - If you’ve ever been to Local Batch on Chapel Street, you’ll know it’s impossible to say no to their toasties. It’s worth the bloat and the unbuttoned pants. I’m not strict on myself, because food is fuel, it should be enjoyed and devoured. You best believe I’m ordering a salami and chilli jam toastie, with or without gluten.

However, last week I returned from a blissful four weeks of travel to the land of pastries and coffee itself—Europe. It would be a crime to deny oneself from a pain au chocolat in Paris and pintxos upon pintxos in San Sebastian. Saying ‘no’ to such things deserves the same reaction that Lilo has to feeding pudge the fish a tuna sandwich; It would be an abomination.

Jokes aside, those with diagnosed intolerances and conditions like celiac disease would be excused from such a reaction. This is for the people like me, who believe they cannot eat something because when X happens it causes Y symptoms. Well at least, they think this happens.

Up until this trip, I truly believed that excess gluten worsened my endometriosis. But I got my period last week, at the end of our trip. I felt totally fine.

So why have I continued to believe that an entire food group is to blame?

Throwback to 2020 (jump scare), I’m sitting in my gynaecologist’s office and we’re discussing my treatment plan for my PCOS and endometriosis. I followed her previous advice and stuck to a gluten-free/low-dairy diet to assist in my symptoms. I’m having my first laparoscopy in a few months to have my lesions and growths removed. It’s all very overwhelming and marred by the fact that we’re sitting in masks - a physical reminder that there’s a larger virus out there haunting us all.

The diet helps. Less pain, less inflammation. I’m also trialling new meds which could be what’s helping too. My body feels more like my own than it has in months. I proceed to tell my gynae how much weight I’ve lost. She congratulates me and says to keep my symptoms at bay, I should maintain this. I wasn’t asking for congratulations, I was concerned.

However, somewhere along the way, I conflated this to mean that if I keep up what I’m doing, my endometriosis will get better. I implicitly learnt that gluten and carbs are often in the same food group. These food groups bled into each other, and you can imagine the rest.

“No bread for me, thank you”.

Saying you’re gluten-free sounds more sexy and mysterious than saying ‘Sorry I’m terrified of carbohydrates’. But alas, this was the case.

I’ve long moved past this mindset and have a much better relationship with food and exercise (thank you therapy!). Yet I continue the depressing existence that is without gluten, because I still truly believe it helps my cycle.

The realisation I had, was that my gynaecologist never sent me to a dietitian, let alone a nutritionist, to verify if I am actually intolerant. Have I been operating under the assumption that this is truth, or is there still a part of me that believes that this is a socially acceptable way to reduce my intake of carbohydrates?

In reality, how many of us have self-diagnosed intolerances that actually stem from toxic diet culture? Green tea in the morning is good for the metabolism, no coffee before a certain time keeps the cortisol at bay, but make sure you have this kind of rice so it doesn’t spike your insulin. It ladders back to our unspoken cultural obsession of finding Ozempic in vitamin form.

Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, toxic diet culture has repackaged itself into neat little TikTok vlogs that show you how to regulate your hormones with one concrete coloured smoothie. You think to yourself ‘I didn’t know that my hormones were out of whack’. Now they must be out of sync, because you’ve never thought about them before, let alone needing to regulate them. The video mentions something about bloating and weight loss, and you pretend to ignore that point because you really do care about your hormones… Right?

Before you know it, you’ve invested in multiple vitamins and greens powders, and you’re sh*tting yourself at work. How fun!

We put a lot of trust in our algorithms - I too go there for my news, pop culture, recipes and travel recs. The current stat is that 40% of people use TikTok as a search engine rather than Google. In the work I do with Kic (my 9-5 grind), we know that young people are susceptible to toxic diet trends that are masked as an it-girl aesthetic on social media. When it’s not oat-zempic, it’s castor oil in your belly button. Get skinny quick, girly pop!

Women’s chronic conditions, hormonal disorders and reproductive concerns are all under-funded and under-researched. Making it a stomping ground for toxic diet culture to exploit the vulnerable who want help, but as a byproduct they learn disordered habits that take even longer to work through.

It happens easily.

I saw a doctor for my endometriosis → she told be about a specific diet → I followed that diet → to get more inspiration for said diet, I went to social media → my algorithm is now showing me the best recipes for endo mixed with some other recipe vlogs → rice is bad for PCOS you say? → I’m now eating low carb because it’s practically no gluten → oh wait, did you say only have 1200 calories a day?

There is a place in the world and in medicine for naturopathy, diet and alternative means to help chronic conditions. But if you’re like me, and you’re holding onto an intolerance that you thought was impacting you, explore it further. Have you validated this with a doctor? Or did TikTok make you believe that you have ‘cortisol face’ so you no longer drink coffee, even though that was your favourite ritual of the day.

This is not to slam wellness, it’s to say that you should go speak to your doctor to get bespoke medical advice for your concerns. I totally understand that accessing healthcare is a privilege and not always accessible to all. But when I last checked, TikTok doesn’t review your MD upon signing up - so question what you’re watching.

Have I been holding onto an underlying fear of carbs? Probably. Am I going to see a dietitian for the first time to learn how diet can really help my endometriosis and PCOS? I will be next week. Stay tuned.

Go forth and eat that fucking focaccia girl x

Disclaimer: with any medical condition, follow your doctor’s advice. I want to clarify that yes, I have loosely ditched this random diet my doctor put me on years ago and over the last year I’ve been seeing a new gynae and have been following a new (more helpful!) treatment plan. Always discuss with your doctor or a health professional what is best for you. Tess xx

With the rise of supper clubs, book clubs and contrived opportunities to make new girlfriends, we’re lured into the temptation of newness. The buzz off a few vinos with the girlies, the high of meeting a new friend where you instantly bond. Within a night you know their childhood traumas and you automatically hate their ex. F*ck you Alex.

There’s a lot to be said on navigating friendships in your mid-late twenties - it’s bloody hard. Suddenly the hazy years of university, casual work hours and random afternoon beach hangs have been traded for a 9-5 grind. We all knew it was coming, but slowly, our availability for the incidental coffee catch up dissipates. You’re juggling with calendars and competing for attention when in reality, there’s nothing you’d both love more than to rot on the couch, fall into a TikTok spiral about something oddly obscure and have reality TV soundtracking your evening. Ah bliss.

I’ve been prone to chase the high of newness in my friendship circles, and I couldn’t shake this feeling that maybe I’ve been a shitty friend. What have I done to foster my current friendships? Have I fallen into the proximity bias trap, relying on those around me for coffee dates and Hot Girl Walks™. I call on those within my 5km radius, possibly a hangover of Melbourne lockdowns (IYKYK).

It’s hard to not fall into the trap of believing that you don’t have enough friends. Visions of big birthdays, weddings, celebrations, rooms filled with people and souls you can never get enough of. We see it all over our social feeds, we’re constantly reminded that there’s people out there who seem to be doing it right.

Moving through my mid-late twenties, this vision has warped, with circles tightening and knitting in on that closeness. Quality over quantity, is the rule of thumb we tell ourselves.

But in reality, I was panicking that I had lost every friend I’ve ever known. It was an absurd but valid spiral. Like any other rational person having an irrational anxiety attack about their life - I made a spreadsheet.

It felt mildly psychotic, but I reflected on every friendship I have ever had within the last 5 years. In poorly formatted columns, I not only revealed how inept I am at Microsoft Excel, but I learnt a lesson in self-reflection and that sometimes, friends grow apart. I also discovered that as an adult, you are also accountable for the quality of your friendships (who’d have thunk!).

I formatted a series of questions that helped me interrogate the ‘whys’ of my friendship circles, past and present. Why was it that I didn’t reply to their last text? Why didn’t I want to go to that last birthday dinner? Why did I not like their boyfriend all that much? This working file was also an exploration of ‘why’ as much as it was about the fun we had, and critically reflecting on if it was a healthy relationship. Or were they just really fun to party with?

A spreadsheet borne out of sheer anxiety, turned into a conversation starter with those around me. I pestered them, ‘do you feel like you’ve lost touch with all your friends too?’. It was a resounding yes. We don’t speak enough about the shift that happens when you and your friends find ‘big kid jobs’. The constant overwhelm of trying to do well in your day-to-day life and keep yourself afloat 7 days a week. But equally we’re all feeling as guilty as each other that neither have texted first.

Growing up and parting ways with friends is actually okay, in fact it’s normal and it just happens. Sometimes it’s not actually that deep, and critical thinking isn’t all that needed. Sitting with why we feel like we need to have more friends and how we’re currently serving our current friends is all we need to be doing.

It’s not too late to reply to a text, organise a coffee or at the least, send a TikTok that made you think of them. Does our desire to find more friends come from a fear that we’re not good enough to hold onto those around us? Or maybe there’s an unspoken pressure that quantity doesn’t in fact equal quality, but rather it equals social currency?

Ultimately, it’s what you value that will determine how you foster your relationships. If anything, I learnt that I do need to be a better friend, text, call and organise plans more. But I also discovered that letting go of some memories is okay. In this spiral, I made sure I included a memory on each reflection because that’s why you have friends - it’s to have fun together. It was a joyous trip down memory lane, full of house parties, cheap tequila and parking at the beach to watch the sunset and seagulls shit on my car.

To be 18 and drinking Somersby Ciders again is something that can be kept as a memory, and that’s okay.

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