Some Turban-ulance Expected

There's something rather fabulous about turbans isn't there?
I don't know, they make me want to cover my body in faraway galaxies and leather.
And beads.  And stuff.

I was a turban virgin prior to my brave outing in torrential rain.
I feel a turban collection coming on.
The popping of the turban cherry is thanks to Number One Son's beautiful girlfriend, Miss Danni-Long-Legs, who sent The Stylist and I a jumbo package of thrifted treasures from the Melbourne op-shops.
Oh Melbourne, how I adore thee!  
If I lived there, I would be chasing down the lovely violin-toting Miss Claire, Erica Louise and the abso-frickin hilarious, Tralala, who doesn't have a blog and really should because I just think she needs one.

I have been very naughty and neglectful of my double-bagging habits lately, resulting in bag strain of the strap-snapping variety.

Never fear, the highly offended bag has been mended lovingly with a stitch or two, a kiss and the promise to return to double-bagging.

Oh woe is modern life with it's ridiculous paraphernalia.

Do not overload delicate old bags with too much baggage.
That includes old bags like me.

I have fixed my much-loved Madeira bag and she is happy once again.

 1970s turban - gift from Miss Danni-Long-Legs

Dangly pearl brooch - birthday gift from the fecktacious Helga

1960s turquoise beaded cardigan - Camberwell Market, Melbourne

Catsuit - Black Milk

White crochet bag, leather shorts and bangles - thrifted

Pink skull bracelet - gift from super-hair-woman, Krista

1950s leopard-print bag - Dandelion Vintage
Shoes - F21 sale

Marcasite and pearl cross, 1950s granny necklace and earrings - Etsy

Close-up with Helga's fabulous brooch added to the turban - I'm finding new ways to wear old brooches.
I have to justify buying so many.

Uh-oh, there's that look again!
Oh dear, yes, it's the "I-think-I need-to-drop-my-pants" stare.

It's too late, they're on their way down south.

Well, I shall have to go pant-less for the rest of the day - so much more scope for my carnie routines.
Fact or fiction?  The Phoenix just told me visitors are not allowed to fart in the Louvre.  Is this true?  I need to know.
Have an awesome Monday you glorious beauties!!
Baci,
Desiree xo