The Diaries of a Sozzled Scribbler #26

Transcribed by DMETRI KAKMI

1 March 2021

As an international celebrity, feted by the rich and dimwitted, and idolised by those who can’t afford private health care, I am often asked by media to comment on vital matters of the day. I am also a style icon, observed and emulated the world over. This month an icy little woman called Anna Winter asked me earth-shattering questions for Vague magazine.

AW: Three words to describe your style.

SS: Arab Emirates chic.

AW: What does that mean exactly?

SS: I wear a head-to-toe burka and trundle down Edgar’s Road in Thomastown, Melbourne, looking like a Dalek and screaming Shakshuka, much to the amusement of the Mouratidis clan, who run the suburb like their little fiefdom.

AW: A burka?

SS: Yes, nothing underneath so that when the wind blow outside the Secondary College, the fabric flies up, à la Marilyn Manson in The Seven Year Bitch, exposing the family jewels to fragile minds.

AW: What’s the oldest thing in your wardrobe?

SS: My father was a street walker in Alexandria and my mother a bear wrestler in Athens. They died under mysterious circumstances when I was old enough to inherit what they didn’t have.

AW: I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?

SS: A Corinthian column, a large 1950s television set, a Louis IX settee and an armoire fell out of a window and crushed them.

AW: Oh, dear… That was unfortunate.

SS: Yes. They were all priceless antiques. I still own the thong my father wore to entertain Prince Ibrahim of Egypt, and of course I cherish Mama’s leopard skin loin cloth. Actually, Papa’s thong makes an effective face mask for COVID.

AW: I hope you washed it.

SS: Don’t be ridiculous.

AW: The most recent addition?

SS: A beautiful Miyake Pleats Please mango colored, off the shoulder burka that doesn’t make my head look too big.

AW: What would you wear on a first date?

SS: At my great age, dates are rare. If I find myself on an amorous outing, I wear nothing.

AW: Nothing?

SS: One must be ready for any contingency, my dear.

AW: What would you wear on a plane?

SS: A dynamite vest. If it gets too stuffy in the cabin, you can always blow it up and get some fresh air.

AW: To the Oscars?

SS: You can never go wrong with something vulgar and tasteless by Dolce Gabbana. If that fails look to Versace.

AW: What’s your favorite fashion era?

SS: I grew up in Greece in the 1830s and 40s, so I have a soft spot for the pleated foustanela, with the yileko, the leather belt and decorative clogs. It takes me back just thinking about it.

AW: Who are your favorite designers?

SS: Frank-N-Furter. You can’t go wrong with surgical garments worn over satin panties, stockings, garter belts, a brassier. I just adore Divine’s geometric designs and the hemline deconstruction that is neither man, woman, here nor there. And of course Myrtle Snow from American Horror Story: Coven is out of this world!

AW: Do you have a favorite fragrance?

SS: No, I just allow my natural oils to infuse the air around me.

AW: I can smell them from here. What are the three essential items in your wardrobe?

SS: I don’t own a wardrobe. A garment is worn once and given to the poor.

AW: Can you remember a favorite outfit you wore as a child?

SS: My mother used to dress me as Sister Bertrille from the Frying Nun TV series and suspend me from the ceiling for her amusement. How I loved that outfit and the large headpiece!

AW: And your worst fashion mistake?

SS: Wearing a suit and tie to Prince Charle’s wedding to the ill-fated Princess Banana.

AW: You mean Diana.

SS: Her too.

AW: What was your first fashion moment?

SS: I don’t like fashion moments because it implies one is trying too hard. And one must always look as if one is not trying at all. That it’s all been thrown together at the last minute as you fly out the door to yet another exclusive event. Having said that, turning up as Yentl to one of Mr Hitler’s Nuremberg rallies in 1936 did cause quite the stir.

AW: What’s at the top of your wish list?

SS: Grace Coddington’s flaming red hair. Can you scalp her before she leaves your employ?

AW: You missed that boat, honey. Is there a current trend you like?

SS: I love the face painted man with the horned fur cap who stormed Congress. That was the fashion statement of the year. I predict the Antifa thug look is going to be huge.

AW: Is there anything you would not wear?

SS: Underpants. Skid marks on designer trousers is very street.

AW: Who is your style muse?

SS: Me. And my dear friend Grace Jones.

AW: What shoes do you wear?

SS: One can’t go past Chinese foot binding. To suffer for fashion is supreme.

AW: What do you wear on a typical work day?

SS: Work? What is this strange word, work? Explain yourself!

AW: What’s your favourite casual Sunday look?

SS: To dress casual is to give up on life. One must always look fabulous, darling.

À bientôt, mes amies.


The Sozzled Scribbler was born in the shadow of the Erechtheion in Athens, Greece, to an Egyptian street walker and a Greek bear wrestler. He is currently stateless and lives on gin and cigarettes.

Dmetri Kakmi is the author of Mother Land (shortlisted for the New South Wales Premier’s Literary Awards in Australia), and the editor of When We Were Young. His latest book is The Door and Other Uncanny Tales. He does not endorse the Sozzled Scribbler’s views.