Don't let Winter harass those legs

Cold, Winter nights usually translate to unkept hair, legs that haven't seen a razor in weeks and mounds of popcorn spilling out the covers. I woke up drool faced this morning, and the sudden realisation hit me - I'm morphing into a Winter sloth. 

Okay, perhaps I haven't exactly been vegetating 24/7, but the raging fear of one day waking up to a dying pot plant and Diet Coke next to my bed is a constant worry.


So, I've made the decision to enter into rehab for the socially repressed. No coercion. No pressure. Sort of like a purity ring, with the promise of a shindig every now and then - perhaps even a hoedown if I'm feeling raunchy.

I'll never turn down the opportunity to scream "The South will rise again" with a spontaneous "Yee Haw" every two minutes. 

Winter, I'm coming for you. 

Pop by It's a House to satiate your hunger for the free thinkers, the creatives, and to immerse yourself in it's 'bespoke lifestyle'. Free your mind. 

The cool part is that you don't need to dress up, in fact dress down - the colourful collection of people which gather here will appreciate your mismatched socks. Trust me. 

It's a House is currently running their 'Bad Movie Nights', with screenings of hilariously bad movies. There's popcorn, soup, hot chocolate and a great reason to catch up on 'something so bad, that it's good'.

Still not sure whether this is for you? All the money made at the door goes to charity. Enough said. Visit them on Facebook here: ItsAHouse 


Feel like getting jiggy with it? Jade Lounge in Greenpoint. 


Razzle 'em, dazzle 'em and mingle with your tequila buddies. The interior is absolute opulence, so put your best heel forward in this indulgent spot.

Do it. Plus, there's no entry fee!
Visit them on Facebook here:
Jade Lounge

Head to Orphanage for weekly Saturday night shindigs with Dean Fuel on the decks.

Visit them on Facebook here: Orphanage Cocktail Emporium

Flapper Girls & Dapper Looking Boys

"All right...I'm glad it's a girl. And I hope she'll be a fool -that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool." 

- The Great Gatsby

The Great Gatsby is my darling of literary classics. Demure women enveloped by feathers and masculine protocols. Smoke. Delicate headgear. The Noveau rich. Decadence. Any excuse to break the rules while flaunting all the pretty things that money can buy you. 

You simply have to throw on the most expensive clothing that you own, head out to one of Cape Town's growing number of pretentious clubs, and you might just begin to understand the obsession that intellectuals have with The Great Gatsby.  

"Another shot of Patron please. Put it on my tab."

The self-made man walks our streets with the swag of a gentleman, who is adorned with the sweet smell of power, and the vulnerability of someone who doesn't quite know whether he's in or out. So, what does he do? He force feeds his wealth on elite dance floors, filled with people who are too vacant to interpret his behaviour as anything more than just a 'good time'. This is Gatsby. 

We buy shots of intoxication for people we don't know, because our insecurities dictate that acceptance is attained if you reel society in with beautifully painted wads of cash. It's the curse of the glitz, glamour and pseudo-charms of an inner world that is far too occupied with staying on top. 

Wild parties and bad behaviour. You only live once.

Or, perhaps it's an obsession with love? 

Gatsby desperately wanted to charm delicate Daisy with his epic soirees and decadent world - he desired her, wanted her - she was a drifting soul that would complete his world. We're all searching for love in this club, aren't we? 


The Great Gatsby is as relevant today as it was yesterday. A timeless tale that will never go out of fashion, until love does. 

Nice guys finish last.

"Would you like me open the car door for you? I'll even hold your hand while we take a moonlight stroll through the park. I'll tell you how I genuinely feel about you - no lies, no photoshopped feelings and no douche bag moves. Did I mention that I reply to SMS's, return calls and will buy you lots of chocolate (AND a love fern) to compensate for my lack of smoothness?"

Nice guys. You tend to find them at the back of the line. They insist that they always finish last. They complain that girls bitch about douche bag behaviour from aesthetically pleasing boys, and that we never pick the 'nice' ones with honest-to-good personalities.

Watching my friends and I dance our way across the dating arena has subsequently forced me to confront the curse of the anti-jerk. I've met quite a few admirable and polite boys along my way, and yet I refuse to engage in anything besides mindless chatter with Mr Thoughtful.  

Case in point: Mr Cubana. It was 2011. I had lost my cellphone for the 2nd time in two weeks, resulting in one-too-many tequilas in an attempt to drown my sorrows (and pockets). Boozed up and full of bravado, I decided to take the next logical step - hunt down my beloved Blackberry on the dance floor! It was around this time that a sweet, young boy with a sober face offered to join the search party. 

He took my digits and called my phone a few times to see if anyone would pick up. Alas, the Blackberry was gone - douche bag phonebook and all. The next day, I received an unexpected call - Mr Nice Guy from Cubana! He was honest, polite, uncomplicated and genuinely wanted to see if I had survived the aftermath of the night before. I gracefully declined his offer of a coffee date. Why? He was just too damn nice.

This was the classic case of a a respectful, interesting and friendly guy getting the thumbs down simply because he wasn't challenging enough. He was honest and asked me out - no mind games and no lies - and yet, I still couldn't let him through my portal of lust. Where is he now? He got engaged this week and seems pretty content with life.

 The problem with nice guys is that they are too mild. Dull. Colourless. They woo hearts through a peachy and pleasant demeanor, and eventually morph into the 'Yes Man'. The 'Yes Man' will agree with whatever you say, bring you cupcakes when the crimson wave hits and call you every single night. The defect in this standard of behaviour is that it becomes exhausting to put up with - the guy loses his appeal when he loses his identity. If I wanted a date who agreed with everything that I said, then I'd be having Friday night slumber parties with a pot plant.

We want you to respect us, respect yourself and to essentially bring your own brand of spirit to the game. We want to be seduced with the aroma of well-earned authority and hands that entwine with ours - only ours. Jerks are tempting because we do love a great chase, but are far too hard to maintain. 

So don't suffocate us with sweet nothings. Don't agree with us all the time. And please don't give us chocolate/flowers to prove that you're a good person. Just be you. That's enough. Oh, and maybe wear cologne. That helps.