Author: Lydia Colt

Boxing Lydia

Ello all, Aunty Lyd’s here for my last message of the year. No need to cry though. I’ll be back next year to impart to you my wisdom and life experience. This week I was trying to think of things that Americans don’t have that I grew up with at home. Three things came to mind: Giant Cadbury’s Christmas chocolate bars that line the shelves of all British supermarkets; crackers with hats, jokes, toys and a snap inside waiting for families to pull at the Christmas day dinner tables; and Boxing day. Growing up, Boxing Day was synonymous with reunions with family you hadn’t seen since last Boxing Day, Christmas leftovers and fist fights in the back garden. My cousins Thana and Hy-hy always singled me out and when everyone’s attention was directed elsewhere, they would tag-team me, leaving me with a black eye that became known as Lydia’s mysterious yearly accident. Anyway, this year I’m going old-school on Boxing Day. My dad once told me that Boxing Day started when all the lords and ladies got together the day after Christmas day and gathered gifts in boxes to take to their servants, the paupers and plebs in the community. So here’s my gift list for Boxing Day 2009 and the people I will bestow my presence on. Watch out all. First there’s Matina. Despite being arch rivals, we...

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On not being Australian

Ello all. This week I wanted to clear up some fallacies about my person. In my time here in Orem, I don’t go a day without someone asking me where I’m from or guessing that I’m from Australia, South Africa or Sweden (don’t ask). I wonder if there are many other Australian people out there as that is what I’m predominantly mistaken for. Not that I really mind the Australians – for a bunch who were originally British-banished crim’s, they haven’t ‘alf done badly for themselves. They make really good soaps, and I grew up on NEIGHBOURS and HOME AND AWAY. People always comment on my accent, and while I’m proud of my mudder tongue, all this time it does make me wonder if I should affect an American accent just to avoid the nonsense some people come up with.  And by “people” I mean those members of the race I don’t know. All the friends graced with Aunty Lyds’s company have this endearing way of affecting my accent, sometimes without even thinking about it. It just pops out. The accent. The accent pops out, DIRTY. This leads me to Matina. For those of you in the dark, Matina is a transgender drag artist on the East Coast and for a while, she was my closest confidante. We had been on a cruise and during the first few days...

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Galliano was my love muppet.

Ello all you fashion-forward lot. A few years ago I was doing the rounds at the Milan, Paris and London fashion scenes. My friends Matina, La Lemmah and I became a part of Galliano’s inner fashion circle. He gave us fashion focus projects so that he could be informed and on the cutting edge of his game. Haute Couture was and still is a big deal in my life. Anyway, we learned many things from Galliano, about fashion, life and the art of sewing, so I’m going to impart some of this fashion advice for all you students out there. Bodices: You need a good bodice. Tailor-made to fit your particulars and able to lace up the back. These can be sequined, but I think appliqué is so underused at the moment. A nice red and blush lily draping from one breast round to your coccyx would be fabulous. Also a push-up bra underneath might help if you’re a bit flat-chested. Don’t worry – it’s more normal than you think. Dresses and skirts: Now this one can be tricky. Despite what some might say, dresses and skirts don’t always work for all body types. I would suggest a beautiful wrap that parts at the front and trails off to the back in a train. Now, this can be sparkly gold fabric or can be laced with any number of...

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30 days of ‘ween: Part 3

Ello all you haunted house goers out there. Let me tell you about one of my first haunted houses. It was the ‘Ween of my fourteenth year and in an attempt to get to know my dear old daddy a bit better and share an interest, I decided we’d go to a haunted house. I asked my mate Knobby if he knew of any activities that I could ease Daddy into All Hallows nice and slow. He gave me a name and address and told me the place would cater to newbies. The name of the place was actually “All Hallows” which was a nice coincidence. Daddy wouldn’t dress up, but I managed to convince him into wearing a T-shirt that said, “I’m with scary.” We found All Hallows down Soho, London, tucked in a back alley away from the main streets and I marveled that I’d never heard of it before. We knocked and the door opened to this big man with shades and a cigarette hanging off his bottom lip. I told him that Knobby sent us and he looks us up and down and then says, “Well it takes all sorts, come in.” We went into a darkly lit hall where the lights flickered and my dad almost hit the ceiling when the door slammed behind us. The first thing we saw were several bodies littered...

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30 days of ‘ween: Part 2

Ello all. As you may remember, last week I talked about corn mazes, but this week, we go a bit deeper into the ‘Ween spirit and look at movies that set the mood for All Hallows. Back when I was 12-years-old, me and my mate Berta went to see a movie we thought looked good. We were all ready and waiting for a bunch of blank-slate victims to be dispensed with in all manner of entertaining ways and what we got was ROSEMARY’S BABY. Things just weren’t the same after that. I don’t think poor Berta was at a...

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