I have fully exhausted myself going into every chemist and makeup shop I come across trying to find the elusive range of Sugar Baby cosmetics. I even went on the Vogue magazine message board, for god’s sake! I swear - it’s becoming a full-blown obsession. I simply cannot say no to gorgeously packaged lipgloss. (Or any lipgloss, come to think of it. I could probably feed a starving third-world country for three weeks with my stockpile of sweet-smelling lippy stuff.) Especially if it’s printed with stylised 1950s cartoons. I love everything about the 1950s – the fashion, the hair, the glossy prints, the corny housewife-oriented advertising (“I’ve got the house, I’m GETTING the man!”), Marilyn Monroe, Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn… And the voluptuous ideal of the perfect woman is so much better than the standard anorexic lollipop of today. I was so born in the wrong era.

So anyway, Priceline says they’re going to have it in stock by the very end of May. (Yay!) You know what? I am so going to finally get my hands on the Sugar Baby stuff and discover that it’s totally crap and not worth shelling out ten bucks for. Wouldn’t that be ironic.

Meanwhile, I seem to be spending a disproportionate amount of time in or around our local Billabong- and Roxy-stocking surf shop. Considering I never actually buy ninety-five dollar branded acrylic jumpers and the like. Hmm.

Something to do with the extremely hot blonde sales assistant, perhaps? Hmm. Could be, could be. (Jolly good guess, Sherlock…)

And I so thought I was over blondes! Turns out I was wrong. I have also developed a very specific thing for pretty boys. The blonder the better. (God help me this time.) Which puts my future romantic prospects in very dire straits. (I am so totally hopeless.)

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