The Perfect Pout

By Evanne Moodley


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As trends go, every part of a women’s body has caused some sort off upheaval at some point or the other, from Shakira’s hips don’t lie, to Beyonce bootylicious booty. But my favourite has to be Angelina Jolie’s lips! I am a firm believer that lips highlight any look (think bold eyes and subtle lips, to subtle makeup with bold lips). Given my pout obsession, this post showcases my favourite pucker up colours this season. And they all happen to be from MAC. Well, naturally so, given another obsession of mine is MAC makeup.

Russian Red

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This colour is made for a daring sultry look. And off course if you love wearing red shades, it proves that you have no inhibition to highlighting your lips and you have the confidence to draw attention to your luscious lips (Now that’s a lady after my own heart). Passionate, sensuous, bold , fearless and sexy. Red shades are also known to bring out the energetic side of you (oh who needs Red Bull, Russian Red is giving us wings)!!

Candy Yum Yum

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Candy Yum Yum is beyond ideal for a bright, fun look (crazy, let your hair down and dance in your underwear kinda days). But off course I am not one to waste a good lipstick (so no, you won’t find me indoors with this baby on). I’ll be out dancing. And if you need someone to dance with? Call upon the girl with a bold pink lip! Sassy, daring and a zest for life. Nothing says life of every party better than that!

Novel Romance Light Pink

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Aaaah, bless the soul of the creator of the colour. I am nuts about this playful soft colour. Pinkish shades are very common among lipsticks and there is probably no woman in the world who does not have a pink shade in her collection (well let’s admit, this shade is flattering on everyone). This shade brings out my inner sweetness and enhances my  is girlie girl feel. And the name says it all. Soft hearted and romantic, sweet, caring and delicate. Pink = Cuteness. But in my case, it equates to cuteness personified.

Now even though these are vastly different colours, they all reflect my personality. And I am obsessed with all three shades. Call me crazy with spilt personalities. But Russian Red ignites my inner vixen. Candy Yum Yum ignites the carefree party animal in me. And off course, Novel Romance ignites my lady-like goddess. Now my husband and friends might say that’s all kinds of crazy but I say love me or leave me, but never mistake me, I am me and I AM ALL KINDS OF WOMEN!!! #poutingfordays

Made in South Africa


Despite my Indian ancestry, I am African. I am South African. Born, bred and raised a native of South Africa. With that being clarified, I find it only fitting that today’s post celebrates my heritage, my African heritage (despite this post being slightly delayed, well that’s called African timing). By all means I could write a post in my wonderful writing style (well whatever it is that style might be and whether its actually wonderful or not), but such quirks does not do justice to any African’s heritage. What does however do justice to our heritage is the words to Thabo Mbeki’s “I am an African” piece.
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I am an African.

I owe my being to the hills and the valleys, the mountains and the glades, the rivers, the deserts, the trees, the flowers, the seas and the ever-changing seasons that define the face of our native land. My body has frozen in our frosts and in our latter day snows. It has thawed in the warmth of our sunshine and melted in the heat of the midday sun. The crack and the rumble of the summer thunders, lashed by startling lightening, have been a cause both of trembling and of hope.

The fragrances of nature have been as pleasant to us as the sight of the wild blooms of the citizens of the veld. The dramatic shapes of the Drakensberg, the soil-coloured waters of the Lekoa, iGqili noThukela, and the sands of the Kgalagadi, have all been panels of the set on the natural stage on which we act out the foolish deeds of the theatre of our day. At times, and in fear, I have wondered whether I should concede equal citizenship of our country to the leopard and the lion, the elephant and the springbok, the hyena, the black mamba and the pestilential mosquito. A human presence among all these, a feature on the face of our native land thus defined, I know that none dare challenge me when I say – I am an African!

I owe my being to the Khoi and the San whose desolate souls haunt the great expanses of the beautiful Cape – they who fell victim to the most merciless genocide our native land has ever seen, they who were the first to lose their lives in the struggle to defend our freedom and dependence and they who, as a people, perished in the result. Today, as a country, we keep an audible silence about these ancestors of the generations that live, fearful to admit the horror of a former deed, seeking to obliterate from our memories a cruel occurrence which, in its remembering, should teach us not and never to be inhuman again.

I am formed of the migrants who left Europe to find a new home on our native land. Whatever their own actions, they remain still, part of me. In my veins courses the blood of the Malay slaves who came from the East. Their proud dignity informs my bearing, their culture a part of my essence. The stripes they bore on their bodies from the lash of the slave master are a reminder embossed on my consciousness of what should not be done.

I am the grandchild of the warrior men and women that Hintsa and Sekhukhune led, the patriots that Cetshwayo and Mphephu took to battle, the soldiers Moshoeshoe and Ngungunyane taught never to dishonour the cause of freedom. My mind and my knowledge of myself is formed by the victories that are the jewels in our African crown, the victories we earned from Isandhlwana to Khartoum, as Ethiopians and as the Ashanti of Ghana, as the Berbers of the desert.

I am the grandchild who lays fresh flowers on the Boer graves at St Helena and the Bahamas, who sees in the mind’s eye and suffers the suffering of a simple peasant folk, death, concentration camps, destroyed homesteads, a dream in ruins. I am the child of Nongqause. I am he who made it possible to trade in the world markets in diamonds, in gold, in the same food for which my stomach yearns. I come of those who were transported from India and China, whose being resided in the fact, solely, that they were able to provide physical labour, who taught me that we could both be at home and be foreign, who taught me that human existence itself demanded that freedom was a necessary condition for that human existence. Being part of all these people, and in the knowledge that none dare contest that assertion, I shall claim that – I am an African.

I have seen our country torn asunder as these, all of whom are my people, engaged one another in a titanic battle, the one redress a wrong that had been caused by one to another and the other, to defend the indefensible. I have seen what happens when one person has superiority of force over another, when the stronger appropriate to themselves the prerogative even to annul the injunction that God created all men and women in His image.

I know what if signifies when race and colour are used to determine who is human and who, sub-human. I have seen the destruction of all sense of self-esteem, the consequent striving to be what one is not, simply to acquire some of the benefits which those who had improved themselves as masters had ensured that they enjoy. I have experience of the situation in which race and colour is used to enrich some and impoverish the rest. I have seen the corruption of minds and souls in the pursuit of an ignoble effort to perpetrate a veritable crime against humanity.

I have seen concrete expression of the denial of the dignity of a human being emanating from the conscious, systemic and systematic oppressive and repressive activities of other human beings. There the victims parade with no mask to hide the brutish reality – the beggars, the prostitutes, the street children, those who seek solace in substance abuse, those who have to steal to assuage hunger, those who have to lose their sanity because to be sane is to invite pain.

Perhaps the worst among these, who are my people, are those who have learnt to kill for a wage. To these the extent of death is directly proportional to their personal welfare. And so, like pawns in the service of demented souls, they kill in furtherance of the political violence in KwaZulu-Natal. They murder the innocent in the taxi wars.

They kill slowly or quickly in order to make profits from the illegal trade in narcotics. They are available for hire when husband wants to murder wife and wife, husband. Among us prowl the products of our immoral and amoral past – killers who have no sense of the worth of human life, rapists who have absolute disdain for the women of our country, animals who would seek to benefit from the vulnerability of the children, the disabled and the old, the rapacious who brook no obstacle in their quest for self-enrichment. All this I know and know to be true because I am an African!

Because of that, I am also able to state this fundamental truth that I am born of a people who are heroes and heroines. I am born of a people who would not tolerate oppression. I am of a nation that would not allow that fear of death, torture, imprisonment, exile or persecution should result in the perpetuation of injustice. The great masses who are our mother and father will not permit that the behaviour of the few results in the description of our country and people as barbaric.

Patient because history is on their side, these masses do not despair because today the weather is bad. Nor do they turn triumphalist when, tomorrow, the sun shines. Whatever the circumstances they have lived through and because of that experience, they are determined to define for themselves who they are and who they should be. We are assembled here today to mark their victory in acquiring and exercising their right to formulate their own definition of what it means to be African. The constitution whose adoption we celebrate constitutes and unequivocal statement that we refuse to accept that our Africanness shall be defined by our race, colour, gender of historical origins. It is a firm assertion made by ourselves that South Africa belongs to all who live in it, black and white. It gives concrete expression to the sentiment we share as Africans, and will defend to the death, that the people shall govern. It recognises the fact that the dignity of the individual is both an objective which society must pursue, and is a goal which cannot be separated from the material well-being of that individual.

It seeks to create the situation in which all our people shall be free from fear, including the fear of the oppression of one national group by another, the fear of the disempowerment of one social echelon by another, the fear of the use of state power to deny anybody their fundamental human rights and the fear of tyranny. It aims to open the doors so that those who were disadvantaged can assume their place in society as equals with their fellow human beings without regard to colour, race, gender, age or geographic dispersal.

It provides the opportunity to enable each one and all to state their views, promote them, strive for their implementation in the process of governance without fear that a contrary view will be met with repression. It creates a law-governed society which shall be inimical to arbitrary rule. It enables the resolution of conflicts by peaceful means rather than resort to force. It rejoices in the diversity of our people and creates the space for all of us voluntarily to define ourselves as one people.

As an African, this is an achievement of which I am proud, proud without reservation and proud without any feeling of conceit. Our sense of elevation at this moment also derives from the fact that this magnificent product is the unique creation of African hands and African minds. But it also constitutes a tribute to our loss of vanity that we could, despite the temptation to treat ourselves as an exceptional fragment of humanity, draw on the accumulated experience and wisdom of all humankind, to define for ourselves what we want to be. Together with the best in the world, we too are prone to pettiness, petulance, selfishness and short-sightedness.

But it seems to have happened that we looked at ourselves and said the time had come that we make a super-human effort to be other than human, to respond to the call to create for ourselves a glorious future, to remind ourselves of the Latin saying: Gloria est consequenda – Glory must be sought after! Today it feels good to be an African.

It feels good that I can stand here as a South African and as a foot soldier of a titanic African army, the African National Congress, to say to all the parties represented here, to the millions who made an input into the processes we are concluding, to our outstanding compatriots who have presided over the birth of our founding document, to the negotiators who pitted their wits one against the other, to the unseen stars who shone unseen as the management and administration of the Constitutional Assembly, the advisers, experts and publicists, to the mass communication media, to our friends across the globe – congratulations and well done!

I am an African. I am born of the peoples of the continent of Africa. The pain of the violent conflict that the peoples of Liberia, Somalia, the Sudan, Burundi and Algeria is a pain I also bear. The dismal shame of poverty, suffering and human degradation of my continent is a blight that we share. The blight on our happiness that derives from this and from our drift to the periphery of the ordering of human affairs leaves us in a persistent shadow of despair. This is a savage road to which nobody should be condemned.

This thing that we have done today, in this small corner of a great continent that has contributed so decisively to the evolution of humanity says that Africa reaffirms that she is continuing her rise from the ashes.

Whatever the setbacks of the moment, nothing can stop us now!

Whatever the difficulties, Africa shall be at peace!

However improbable it may sound to the sceptics, Africa will prosper!

Whoever we may be, whatever our immediate interest, however much we carry baggage from our past, however much we have been caught by the fashion of cynicism and loss of faith in the capacity of the people, let us err today and say – nothing can stop us now!

And nothing will stop us, because we all stand united as Africans! Proudly South African!

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Spring Cleaning The Closet


About a week ago, I adopted a new mantra. The BE ORGANISED Mantra! In my mind, everything was rainbows, unicorns and cupcakes with sprinkles. Well a week later it still is. So in keeping with the theme of newly organised ME,  it’s only fitting that my first blog post is one which shares (and by that I mean share my new found wisdom, my Martha Stewart wisdom). So my week of lists, neatness, dresses, accessories, sugar and spice and all things nice deserves a moment of silence. Respect!

Step 1: CHARGE IPOD. Yes, I’m in a state of cardiac arrest. Have you seen the latest Spring trends! But let’s just breathe (asthma pump on standby) and get this playlist together. Cleaning demands happy tunes. Ooooh lets set the mood. l will start with Summer of 69 thank you very much. Barry just isn’t appropriate for the task at hand.

Step 2: CLOSET OVERHAUL. Empty all cupboards and drawers. This is now the cleanse (no green smoothies required). OMG how did I accumulate this much. Can I just hide in shame under the pile! So now the journey begins. I’ve gone through every item and asked myself, will I wear this again. If the answer was no (Note: These were reluctant no’s but utterly honest ones) I tossed it. Aargh binbags!!!

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STEP 3: SORT & CONQUER. Everything has been divided into a season pile and arranged accordingly in my closet. My legs have been freshly waxed so bring on the dresses. Winter coats and opaques be banished (actually hung away neatly for next season). Given my major OCD tendencies, all hangers need to be white,  slim and facing in the same direction. I’m channelling my inner Martha Stewart once again (whilst my closet rails channel the colour wheel).

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Step 4: DONATE.  Just because items are neglected in my closet doesn’t mean they need to retain their lonely existence. It’s easier letting go of the clothing knowing someone else will be making good use of it ( good karma b*tches, now if only I’d win the Lotto).

And now for all the vacant space, replenishing needs to begin already. Well next week perhaps. Right now, I’m ready for a nap. Hooray for a successful spring clean (and double hooray because that was some intense cardio).

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