STM Loves: Lewis Capaldi, Truffle Extravaganza, Huda Beauty lip stains, Mon Tout and Boutique Christmas Market
secretsounds.com
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Today is the final day of Fremantle Markets' Truffle Extravaganza, so it's your last chance to taste some delicious additions to various menus in partnership with WA business Great Southern Truffles. Eggspot have a truffle brioche burger, Akira Japanese are offering a truffle okonomiyaki and gluten-free folk can grab truffle-drizzled warm doughnuts from GFree Donuts WA. The markets are open today until 6pm.
This winter, foodies are invited to try a deliciously unexpected collaboration between carb destination North Street Store and coastal Cottesloe Beach Hotel. Every Sunday from today until August 3, three limited-edition pairings will be served up inside The Beach Club. Priced at $25, they include a cocktail and sweet offering; our pick of the bunch is the golden macca cocktail (macadamia with a sprinkling of cinnamon) served with a NSS speciality — the cinnamon scroll. There is only 10 of each pairing available from 12pm, so get in early.
STM had an . . . interesting time this week trying the new lip contour stains ($43) from Huda Beauty. Not for the faint-hearted, the felt-tip pen application comes out pigmented and bold, perfect for those looking for a long-lasting contour for their lips. Hot tip: find a tone that you feel comfortable with that complements your favourite lippie or gloss for a result that is sure to get you compliments. Huda Beauty is available
online
or at Sephora and Adore Beauty.
Come July 25 to 27, inside Claremont's Wilkinson Gallery you can get in early for the festive season with an eclectic array of goods handcrafted by WA makers, from intricate ceramics to tasty gourmet treats. The fourth Boutique Christmas Market will bring together over 30 stalls including prints from Louise Farnay, small-batch condiments from The Mulberry Pig and ceramics from Chrissie Hogan and CE Ceramics. Better yet, if you pop in after 4pm on the Friday or Saturday you can enjoy a complimentary glass of bubbles while you shop.
This minimal intervention wine label has just released its 2024 vintage, with all the nuances that come with a hands-off approach to winemaking. Its Long Play blend, in particular, has taken a new direction and is now a straight chenin blanc from Margaret River, with a touch of skin contact to give it texture. Fruit for its four wines, which also include Strange Love (a grenache/pinot noir/pinot gris blend) and Cherry Picking (a Swan Valley grenache), is sourced from organic vineyards in WA's favourite wine regions and fermented naturally in ceramic eggs, stainless steel or French oak, and finished unfiltered with minimal sulphur. Our favourite for a wintry red is Kind Animals, which blends Swan Valley grenache, Margaret River shiraz and Mount Barker pinot noir. From select retailers or
montout.com.au.
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Sydney Morning Herald
2 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
NIMBY-free: What our cities can learn from this South American capital
You often see Argentinians reading books at solo tables in coffee shops; Aussies, it seems, are mostly on their phones. And those coffee shops, by custom, mostly stay open all the way till 8pm, making the 3pm closing times common even in big cities like Sydney and Melbourne look ridiculously sleepy. Argentinians will pack them out between 6pm and 8pm for meriendas – a croissant, cake, empanada or scrambled egg snack, along with a café con leche, to tide them over till dinner time – commonly between 10pm and 11pm. They also do coffee shops really well. Whilst our coffee will often taste better, they nail the cafe culture. Buenos Aires has two major LGBTQI cafes – Pride and Maricafe – so the queer community can socialise in spaces not fuelled by alcohol. Both stay open late. No Australian city I know has this. Being more relaxed about late-night culture is one of the lessons I can share from our southern hemisphere counterpart when I return – happily – to Australia later this year. I've missed Australia sorely. Recently, on a day when the 'feels like' temperature hit an unbearable 44 degrees and my aircon conked out from a power surge, the inner-city's only major public pool – Parque Norte – a sprawling shallow paddling pool, had already closed for the season. It's, bewilderingly, only open for three months a year. It faces a Holy Land theme park, Tierra Santa, so a giant animatronic Jesus rises from the dead every hour, slowly spins around to judge us all in our skimpy swimmers, then descends back into his tomb. Quirky as this is, I long for the secular lap-pools of big Aussie cities like Sydney, where I lived. Glaring into the murky brown, unsuitable-for-swimming Rio de la Plata River, I also long for its beaches. There are many reasons not to take lessons from the Argentinians on certain subjects – economic management being one. While we panic if our inflation hits 4 per cent, Argentina last year had the world's highest, triple digit, inflation. The price of many things has doubled or tripled since I lived here – one of the reasons I'll soon leave. It has become expensive. It's still worth the money for a visit though, and Australians can fly there via a stopover in Santiago de Chile. When people ask why I chose here, I semi-joke it was the words to the song Buenos Aires in the film Evita as sung by Madonna: 'Fill me up with your heat, with your dirt, with your noise, overdo me. Let me dance to your beat, make it loud, let it hurt, run it through me.' Semi-joking because the lyrics ring true – the city is hot, noisy, dirty (Buenos Aires translates as 'good air' which is ironic) – and teeming with life and energy in a way Australia's cities just aren't. Much of that life happens at night. This is a truly nocturnal city. As one of my fellow digital nomads commented: 'not much happens before midday.' But everything good happens after midnight. Kids here are often still awake here at 1am on a Tuesday – I see them in the city's ice cream parlours. Somewhere you won't find kids is on the city's wildly hedonistic nightlife scene. No clubs open before midnight, and nobody even thinks about entering one before 2am. At 7am, they'll ask ' donde estan las afters?' Hardcore revellers will stay at one of the various afterparties on offer until midday; something that only happens sporadically in more conservative Australian cities. Argentinians, for reasons unbeknown to me, adore hard, thumping, lyric-free (and melody-free) techno music. I despise it, but I adore watching them go off to it. It makes me feel very alive. And also gives me a migraine. It's a world away from belting John Farnham at karaoke at 10pm before calling it a night. Oftentimes I feel like I was in Berlin's notorious Beghain. Other times I dance merengue-style to my much-preferred reggaeton or cumbria, which has more of a tune to enliven the hips. Everything is so insanely late, I adjust my schedule accordingly. In Australia I'd be up by 6am and in the gym by 6.20am. In Buenos Aires, some gyms and coffee shops don't open until 9am; shops at 10am. I moved from the world's most diurnal city to its most night-loving. They're refreshingly creative when it comes to nightclubs. One – La Biblioteca – is set in an actual library. One night I attended, FuriaFest, which opened at 1am in a large warehouse with fairground rides (the waltzers; a bucking bronco), an inflatable bungee football pitch (I played two games at about 3am), and a tattoo artist (nearly got one after three drinks) – plus a DJ and huge, busy dancefloor. It feels like Australia's notoriously restrictive regulations would kill off such a reimagining of the nightclub experience before it got off the ground. Another night, Durx, has a brickwork tunnel that runs underneath the length of the club where revellers, gay and straight, can be as sexually liberated as they feel, with no bouncers monitoring, judging or expelling, as happens in Australia. Similarly, the city's underground train system, the Subte, is free of the Australian-esque regulations that'd prevent the busking you see on trains here. It's like an underground, underworld live theatre; the modern day unsanitised circus. I've seen breakdancers, religious preachers, full bands, electric guitar soloists, elderly tango music singers, stationery sellers and a rap duo who'd invite you to suggest a word which they'd immediately incorporate into their imaginative, improvised fast-paced Spanish verse. The shabby-chic faded grandeur of a city that was, over a century ago, the capital of one of the world's richest countries owns its imperfections. It will, indeed, fill you up with its noise: the endless drilling; the defiant protests between the Plaza De Mayo and Congreso (as I write this, locals are bashing pots and pans together on balconies above me to protest alleged police brutality); the 10-lane mega-roads interrupting otherwise pleasant parkland.
The Age
2 hours ago
- The Age
NIMBY-free: What our cities can learn from this South American capital
You often see Argentinians reading books at solo tables in coffee shops; Aussies, it seems, are mostly on their phones. And those coffee shops, by custom, mostly stay open all the way till 8pm, making the 3pm closing times common even in big cities like Sydney and Melbourne look ridiculously sleepy. Argentinians will pack them out between 6pm and 8pm for meriendas – a croissant, cake, empanada or scrambled egg snack, along with a café con leche, to tide them over till dinner time – commonly between 10pm and 11pm. They also do coffee shops really well. Whilst our coffee will often taste better, they nail the cafe culture. Buenos Aires has two major LGBTQI cafes – Pride and Maricafe – so the queer community can socialise in spaces not fuelled by alcohol. Both stay open late. No Australian city I know has this. Being more relaxed about late-night culture is one of the lessons I can share from our southern hemisphere counterpart when I return – happily – to Australia later this year. I've missed Australia sorely. Recently, on a day when the 'feels like' temperature hit an unbearable 44 degrees and my aircon conked out from a power surge, the inner-city's only major public pool – Parque Norte – a sprawling shallow paddling pool, had already closed for the season. It's, bewilderingly, only open for three months a year. It faces a Holy Land theme park, Tierra Santa, so a giant animatronic Jesus rises from the dead every hour, slowly spins around to judge us all in our skimpy swimmers, then descends back into his tomb. Quirky as this is, I long for the secular lap-pools of big Aussie cities like Sydney, where I lived. Glaring into the murky brown, unsuitable-for-swimming Rio de la Plata River, I also long for its beaches. There are many reasons not to take lessons from the Argentinians on certain subjects – economic management being one. While we panic if our inflation hits 4 per cent, Argentina last year had the world's highest, triple digit, inflation. The price of many things has doubled or tripled since I lived here – one of the reasons I'll soon leave. It has become expensive. It's still worth the money for a visit though, and Australians can fly there via a stopover in Santiago de Chile. When people ask why I chose here, I semi-joke it was the words to the song Buenos Aires in the film Evita as sung by Madonna: 'Fill me up with your heat, with your dirt, with your noise, overdo me. Let me dance to your beat, make it loud, let it hurt, run it through me.' Semi-joking because the lyrics ring true – the city is hot, noisy, dirty (Buenos Aires translates as 'good air' which is ironic) – and teeming with life and energy in a way Australia's cities just aren't. Much of that life happens at night. This is a truly nocturnal city. As one of my fellow digital nomads commented: 'not much happens before midday.' But everything good happens after midnight. Kids here are often still awake here at 1am on a Tuesday – I see them in the city's ice cream parlours. Somewhere you won't find kids is on the city's wildly hedonistic nightlife scene. No clubs open before midnight, and nobody even thinks about entering one before 2am. At 7am, they'll ask ' donde estan las afters?' Hardcore revellers will stay at one of the various afterparties on offer until midday; something that only happens sporadically in more conservative Australian cities. Argentinians, for reasons unbeknown to me, adore hard, thumping, lyric-free (and melody-free) techno music. I despise it, but I adore watching them go off to it. It makes me feel very alive. And also gives me a migraine. It's a world away from belting John Farnham at karaoke at 10pm before calling it a night. Oftentimes I feel like I was in Berlin's notorious Beghain. Other times I dance merengue-style to my much-preferred reggaeton or cumbria, which has more of a tune to enliven the hips. Everything is so insanely late, I adjust my schedule accordingly. In Australia I'd be up by 6am and in the gym by 6.20am. In Buenos Aires, some gyms and coffee shops don't open until 9am; shops at 10am. I moved from the world's most diurnal city to its most night-loving. They're refreshingly creative when it comes to nightclubs. One – La Biblioteca – is set in an actual library. One night I attended, FuriaFest, which opened at 1am in a large warehouse with fairground rides (the waltzers; a bucking bronco), an inflatable bungee football pitch (I played two games at about 3am), and a tattoo artist (nearly got one after three drinks) – plus a DJ and huge, busy dancefloor. It feels like Australia's notoriously restrictive regulations would kill off such a reimagining of the nightclub experience before it got off the ground. Another night, Durx, has a brickwork tunnel that runs underneath the length of the club where revellers, gay and straight, can be as sexually liberated as they feel, with no bouncers monitoring, judging or expelling, as happens in Australia. Similarly, the city's underground train system, the Subte, is free of the Australian-esque regulations that'd prevent the busking you see on trains here. It's like an underground, underworld live theatre; the modern day unsanitised circus. I've seen breakdancers, religious preachers, full bands, electric guitar soloists, elderly tango music singers, stationery sellers and a rap duo who'd invite you to suggest a word which they'd immediately incorporate into their imaginative, improvised fast-paced Spanish verse. The shabby-chic faded grandeur of a city that was, over a century ago, the capital of one of the world's richest countries owns its imperfections. It will, indeed, fill you up with its noise: the endless drilling; the defiant protests between the Plaza De Mayo and Congreso (as I write this, locals are bashing pots and pans together on balconies above me to protest alleged police brutality); the 10-lane mega-roads interrupting otherwise pleasant parkland.
Perth Now
8 hours ago
- Perth Now
Tame Impala frontman cryptically teases new music
Kevin Parker has teased a new Tame Impala album. The 39-year-old musician has cryptically suggested that new material from his musical project could be on the way as fans eagerly await a follow-up to the 2020 album The Slow Rush. Kevin has posted a series of photos on Instagram, including one of him in the studio, one containing a progress chart of a track list – many marked with the word 'done' alongside them. The post also included a snap of Parker posing with his wife Stephanie Lawrence, who is pregnant with the couple's second child. He captioned the upload: 'Been busy.' Tame Impala's website also suggests that new music could be on the way after a cryptic update suddenly appeared that altered the site' interface. Intriguingly, the page's source code has also been changed and the message 'iwaitedtiltheendofsummerandiranoutoftime' can be found. Kevin collaborated with Dua Lipa by serving as a producer on her 2024 album Radical Optimism and enjoyed the 'wild' experience of joining the pop star on stage at the Glastonbury Festival last year. If you'd like to view this content, please adjust your . To find out more about how we use cookies, please see our Cookie Guide. He told The Guardian newspaper last year: 'The nicest thing about it was that it was Dua headlining Glastonbury, which is something she has wanted to do since she was a kid. 'I felt like I had a seat in someone's dream that they were living - I was just happy to be a part of it.' Kevin duetted with Dua on Tame Impala's 2015 track The Less I Know the Better although he was puzzled by the Houdini hitmaker's request to join her on stage at first. He recalled: 'I remember just being like, 'Really? Are you sure you want to play my little song during your set of absolute bangers?' 'She was pretty insistent – so after I double-checked with her that she wanted to do it, of course I was in.' Parker immediately bonded with Dua as they worked on the album and he was impressed at the superstar's lack of 'ego'. He explained: 'The energy Dua creates in her creative space is one of no ego – we all noticed there were no huge personalities in the room trying to dominate the process. 'When you speak to other writers, they've all got nightmare experience of people who were too big for the room.'
