Natalie Joyce looking breezy in the AWW photoshoot.
Natalie Joyce looking breezy in the AWW photoshoot.

Big problem with Natalie’s tell-all

WHEN news broke of Natalie Joyce's tell-all with The Australian Women's Weekly, I was torn.

On one hand, we're a bunch of shady bitches who love drama and, personally, I couldn't wait to skip into the office with a copy of the publication and perform a dramatic reading of Natalie's quotes. But on the other, was this detailed magazine spread the end of the "quiet dignity" we'd been commending her on for so long?

We were all rooting for Natalie since that pink fellow in the hat did what he did - sharing and sympathising with her pain. The thought of her sitting in the dimly-lit loungeroom of the Tamworth homestead she once shared with Barnaby while she watched his irritating Sunday Night interview broke our hearts.

She told the magazine the $150,000 interview made her want to "throw a brick" at the television. And this is perfectly reasonable. I've wanted to do worse things to an ex over much less.

In the story, Natalie covered everything as expected. And she gave a sensational play-by-play of the moment she confronted Vikki in the street and called her a "homewrecking wh***".

It was a total win for Natalie and we're all super psyched she had a chance to get a swipe in.

Still, unpopular opinion: As much as I loved the details of this face-off, I wish she held back on the specifics just a little and didn't give everything away.

But this is just a minor issue. There's actually a bigger problem with the story: Why wasn't Natalie given the whole damn magazine cover?

Instead, it was stolen by former Governor-general Quentin Bryce. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and chino combo, Quentin smiled and delicately grasped at her wide brim hat to stop it flying off in the excitement of becoming a cover girl.

She even made sure she was staring off into the top left corner - ignoring Natalie whose tiny thumbnail had been shoved down into the bottom corner of the page.

Girlfriend just can't catch a break.

 

WATCHING

What is it about fashion documentaries that make you think you're totally capable of throwing in your regular job to start a clothing line? That electrifying feeling surged through my veins as I walked out of the cinema in my stained jeans and two-for-forty-dollar tee after seeing Westwood this week. The documentary about English designer Vivienne Westwood, showing as part of the Sydney Film Festival, goes back through her early years on the punk scene and details her rise and struggles. It's one of those docos where the subject initially agreed to take part in it but, after viewing the finished product, has now slammed it because they don't like how they come off. They're the best ones.

Anyway, after seeing these movies it's always hard not to fall down a fashion doco rabbit hole. There's the obvious ones (The September Issue, The First Monday In May, Bill Cunningham New York), but you've probably already seen those so check out House of Z (about Zac Posen's rise and fall) and Maddman: The Steve Madden Story on Netflix and Jeremy Scott: The People's Designer on iTunes.

Vivienne Westwood/me at 77.
Vivienne Westwood/me at 77.

LISTENING

Jack River's album Sugar Mountain is finally heeeeere. It's magical and will make you feel good. Particularly while driving in the afternoon with that good natural light.

READING

ESPN's "Body Issue" magazine. Came for the comprehensive sport commentary. Stayed for the Greg Norman nudes.

Twitter and Facebook: @hellojamesweir

I don’t know what this is.
I don’t know what this is.


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