A festival of rams.

It’s been a week since Jo’burg’s RAMfest which is the time needed to recover and process the 12 hours spent in the searing sun with friends, drinking vodka and Red Bull, eating Chip Stix and watching band after band − pretty much my idea of the perfect day out.
The weather was good to us (almost too good as evidenced by the red necks and noses the day after) and Riversands gets two thumbs up as a venue close enough to civilization to get cell phone reception but just far enough into the middle of nowhere to avoid noise complaints.

Here’s the good, the bad and the ugly of RAMfest 2011:

THE GOOD
The festival was world class in terms of organisation. I never spent longer than a minute in a queue for food and drinks, the “bathrooms” were clean almost until the end (which as anyone who regularly attends these kind of events knows, is an impressive feat) and the everything ran on time.


Props to the organisers, stage hands and sound engineers for an unbelievable platform that lit up like a spaceship once the sun went down. Without sounds like a hippy, it felt like we were part of something special when it became dark enough to appreciate the structure and sound which echoed through the estate. Even surrounded by hundreds of people, there was something very intimate about singing along to international bands we thought no one else knew about. Having already spent a week in South Africa, both Alkaline Trio and Funeral for a Friend seemed at home on our soil and their sets were fun, casual and a dream come true for those still sober and strong enough to enter the mosh pit.

THE BAD
There’s not a lot I can honestly complain about so let me take a moment to be overly critical. The line-up remains a mystery to me. I felt ashamed that a unique and acclaimed band like the BLK JKS who fill venues overseas, were given the dismal first slot of 11am when only a handful of people were there. Yes, their sound is unlike anything you’ve heard before and therefore not commercial enough to get a lot of radio play but watching them in action gave me goosebumps.

Too bad most people were still asleep at home during their set. There were also a couple of bands on the line-up (I won’t mention names for fear of being pelted with rotten fruit by die-hard fans) who don’t appear to have done anything new in the last couple of years. I completely understand their appeal to band-aids who’ve been with them since the beginning (Lord knows I’ve spent much of 20s watching the same bands sing the same songs) but with so many new and exciting acts out there, I have to wonder why they made the list.

THE UGLY
Die Antwoord. Before you reach for the rotten fruit again, hear me out. Putting them in “the ugly” section is a compliment and no doubt what they’re going for. I’ll be the first to admit that I was keen to see them again. I originally stumbled across them at Oppikoppi two years ago just before they hit the mainstream and assumed someone had slipped something special into by brandy and Coke.

Now armed with some insight and info about Yo-Landi, Ninja and DJ Hi-Tek, I was curious to check them out with fresh eyes. And I’m none the wiser. In fact, I get the distinct impression they are having a good laugh at our expense. They are probably just as surprised as anyone that they’ve been able to take this zef act as far as they have and can’t believe they’ve managed to sucker so many people into paying for CDs and concert tickets. In what may very well be the most successful art school project ever, Watkins Tudor Jones and his better half Yolandi Visser have immersed themselves into their crass characters, getting nice normal people to sing along to their degrading lyrics and making a fortune. It’s genius and I applaud them for it but it doesn’t mean I want to see them again.

So, what do you do?

I love Fridays, especially those that fall after another successful deadline. Yesterday we sent our April issue to the printers with only the usual glitches. Nothing tastes as good as a collective CLEO sigh of relief feels.

People often ask me what magazine editor does and I usually laugh them off with something like: “wear Prada and drink champagne”. The truth us that even I don’t always know what I’m doing but let me explain as best I can.

Sometimes it feels like I’m living in a parallel universe because we plan so far in advance and I’m often working on three issues at the same time. This week we looked into our crystal ball and planned our June issue, while signing off the April issue and getting started on May (all of which are going to be fabulous by the way). My head is spinning. I can’t decide whether I should be wearing shorts or coats, whether Roxette is hot or not and if letting your roots show is a hair do or a hair don’t.

We discuss features, fashion and beauty while deciding how things are going to look, sound and feel. We plan photo shoots, interviews and competitions all the while trying to keep costs down and quality on the up and up.

Once a month, I sit down with our advertising team to discuss upcoming issues and ad opportunities in the magazine. I’ve often read reader complains of certain mags having too many adverts and not enough content and while I agree that content comes first, people don’t always understand that it’s the advertising that pays for the magazine and without it, we wouldn’t be able to sell CLEO for a mere R19.95. Good advertising isn’t a compromise. It should be something that offers a service, gives value to the readers and makes them think: “I’m so glad someone told me about that sale/sunscreen/cell phone special”. When I was younger I used to pour over beautiful ads for perfume or jeans, cut them out and save them somewhere to inspire myself on bad hair days, fat days and down-in-the-dumps days (don’t tell anyone but I still do this).

I’m also constantly in touch with readers on Facebook and Twitter. I honestly do want to know what you’re up to, what you like about the mag and what you want to see more of. It breaks my heart when people complain about not receiving their subscriptions or prizes and while it’s not always under our control we do try to sort it out, I promise.

We listen to everything you say, even if it’s that you want your granny to be on our cover. While I’m sure she’s as lovely as you say, deciding on our cover every month is not something we take lightly. It’s taken me a long time to realise you can’t please everyone but I’ll be damned if I give up trying. So please don’t stop sending through your suggestions for cover girls. Just don’t be sad if we don’t pick you, Oprah or Courtney Love.
Now for the most unglamorous part of my job: sorting through emails! I get hundreds every day and honestly, not all of them I reply to. There are the mails from PRs wanting to get their clients in the mag (some are perfect for us, some are for tile grouting services), sometimes they want us to publish pictures of glitzy, celebrity event we weren’t invited to (um, no) and sometimes they want our features lists (why they think we would give away our bread and butter I don’t know).

Then there are the many, many intern requests. We can only accommodate so many people and often only for a few days at a time. I know how invaluable work experience is (I myself spent a day at People magazine a million years ago and now I share an office with them) so here are some “don’ts” for those who do send us requests. Don’t cc other magazines on your email, don’t confuse us for another magazine, don’t forget to use spell check (especially if you want to be a writer), don’t send your autobiography (if your cover letter is too long I’m probably not going to get to the end), don’t get your mom to phone or email on your behalf, and don’t harass my brilliant PA and office godsend Melissa if you haven’t heard from us. Of course there are moments of Prada and champagne, goody bags and rock stars but mostly it’s lots of hard work, brain storming and coffee-drinking. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Dance, dance

It’s been an awesome couple of weeks for music lovers in SA. There was Rammstein (my ears are still blocked but my eyebrows are thankfully intact), N*E*R*D, Faithless and of course U2 – all of which proved that South Africans are more than willing to part with their hard-earned cash for an hour or two of live music, pyrotechnics and showmanship.

Tickets for RAMfest, happening next month in Durban, Cape Town and Jozi, are selling like hotcakes, which also goes to show that bands don’t need to be commercial radio favourites to pull the crowds. Like Rammstein, RAMfest’s international acts Funeral for a Friend and Alkaline Trio are relatively underground bands here but have a strong enough fan base that people will be singing along to their tunes, moshing in the pits and head banging to the guitar solos. (As for me, I’m looking forward to cutting a rug to the happily morbid Alkaline Trio.) On the flipside, it’s equally heartwarming that local musos Die Antwoord, Zebra and Giraffe and Van Koke Kartel are successful enough to sell tickets all by themselves.

Speaking of local bands worth watching, Saturday evening saw me at Town Hall in Newtown for Dance, You’re on Fire’s launch of their debut album Secret Chiefs. If you haven’t heard their tunes Boxes of Tigers, Little War and Blockade on the radio I can only encourage you to come out from under that rock you’ve been calling home and put on your dancing shoes.
The Jozi foursome has concocted an infectious blend of pop, punk and indie tunes reminiscent of Fall Out Boy. Frontman Tom Manners shows off vocals Patrick Stump would be proud of while embodying the swagger of Pete Wentz (yes, the ladies love him and his very tight skinny jeans).

For every catchy tune, the guys had one that sounded pretty much the same, which made for a nice opportunity to refill our plastic cups and make a break for the bathroom. All in all, it was good night out. Special mention’s got to go to Tht Grl DJ whose excellent taste in tunes got the crowd fired up for the band. (Her alter ego Roxanne Maritz appears in our May Music issue as a trend setter on the music scene so watch out for her.) Brotherly DJ duo Double Adapter also hit the decks after the band for their aggressive electro beats and visual explosions which I would have loved if I was five years younger and three drinks drunker. Unfortunately I was neither so I waved to the metro cops as I made my way home for 2am tea and Chuck on DVD.

In pursuit of perfection

It’s been three days since I saw Black Swan and I still have Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake running through my head. And it’s giving me the creeps.

The small-budget, big impact movie about a ballet dancer Nina (Natalie Portman) desperate for role of the Swan Queen, is chilling, brilliant and mesmerising. But it’s not for the faint hearted.
From director Darren Aronofsky, who gave us the similarly unnerving Requiem for a Dream and The Wrestler, the drama gets inside your head and under you skin as Nina battles her insecurities, overbearing mother (Barbara Hershey), suggestive artistic director (Vincent Cassel) and rival dancer Lily (Mila Kunis) to nail the characters of the virginal White Swan and the dark, seductive Black Swan.

The always incredible Miss Portman trained for year for the role and is now preggers with choreographer Benjamin Millepied’s child (I can just imagine how those sweaty sessions went). Most of the dancing you see on screen she did herself with ABT (American Ballet Theatre) ballerina Sarah Lane doubling the most intricate bits.
But her dedication to dance is not the thing that impressed me most. It’s that such a seemingly level-headed, nice Jewish girl like Nat could take herself into such a dark and twisted place and come out the side, smiling on the red carpet for awards season. That’s what makes her performance Oscar-worthy. By the end of the film, she is barely recognizable. And that’s about as much as I’ll say about the movie, except that you simply must watch it (perhaps not with your mom or on a first date).

One half of me can’t wait to see it again. The other half doesn’t think I can put myself through the melodrama again but like an addict in denial, I know I’ll eventually go back for more. Image © 2008 Nu Metro Entertainment. All Rights Reserved

Breaking the ice

After touching up my make-up in my office and coughing and spluttering on a cloud of SJP’s Lovely perfume I headed to Taboo for last night’s launch of ICE-WATCH in South Africa.

As per usual, I arrived unfashionably on time (appropriate for a watch launch I thought) and found some other punctual friends to sip on drinks with while perving over all the pretty colours.

If nothing else, the vibrant brand born in Belgium in 2007, is known for its eye-catching collections available in every colour of the rainbow. There are also once-off ranges celebrating seasons and events like winter and Valentine’s Day and the idea is that collect them for every outfit, mood and occasion. And starting at around R800 you can. The faces also come in different sizes ranging from small (38 mm) to XXL (52 mm) and can be seen on the wrists of Paris Hilton, David Guetta and The Black Eyed Peas (time of your life indeed).


The packaging is just as innovative as the watches themselves and looks like a big Lego brick which, turned on its side, becomes a piggy bank with a slot for your coins (possibly to start saving for your next ICE-WATCH).

The ICE-WATCH is available at Sandton City, Eastgate Mall and Canal Walk and is coming to Menlyn Mall soon.

Lounge music

Last week I was invited by Woolworths and smashbox to the première of Burlesque, the singing, dancing, teasing, sparkling musical starring Christina Aguilera and Cher. Xtina plays a small-town girl who heads to the big city to reach her dream of becoming a star (stop me if you’ve heard this before). When she stumbles across a raunchy club called Burlesque, she gets her foot in the door by becoming a waitress and then dancer with a set of pipes no one knew she had until the backing track fails.

If you’re cringing just reading about the predictable plot, imagine how I squirmed and giggled in my seat as Christina nailed the wide-eyed country bumpkin look with a bad wig and clunky white heels (pet hate No. 372). It’s not that the execution of the age-old tale was particularly awful, it just lost half its impact because it’s been done before – by Miss Aguilera herself in the video for Lady Marmalade and anything from her Back to Basics album. Heck, if you’ve seen Coyote Ugly or The Devil Wears Prada, the element of surprise has been lost.

But it wasn’t all bad. There were moments when I laughed in the right place, mostly thanks to Cher and Stanley Tucci’s witty repartee (she plays the club owner, he’s her gay best friend and right-hand man). I was also hugely appreciative of Xtina’s love interest, played by Twilight’s Cam Gigandet, and his toned, tanned, shirtless scenes (blink and you’ll miss the pinchable butt cheeks!).

The look and feel of the movie is its biggest strength. Decadent, sexy and glamorous, the dance scenes are bewitching and the make-up (this is where smashbox comes in as the only make-up used on set), flawless. Dramatic eyes, sensual lips and flushed cheeks were created by the sexy cosmetics brand which hails from LA and is available from Woolworths. If you’re looking to give yourself a bit of a makeover for the new year, stop by the counter and ask their experts where to start, and how to master liquid eyeliner. There’s also an online tutorial on smashbox.com if you scroll through the videos for the Burlesque Beauty Collection.

Bottom line: if you can enjoy Burlesque for what it is – a glorious extended music video – you won’t be disappointed

Don’t get fancy, just get dancey

Almost a year in the making, the CLEO Bachelor of the Year Awards went off without a hitch. For those who don’t already know, 26-year-old aspiring music producer Dylan “Blayze” King walked away the winner and deservedly so. Right behind him were med-student Tristan Pillay and Jacaranda DJ Robbie Kruse, two of the coolest guys we’ve ever met.

This year we decided to keep the formalities short and sweet because, let’s not kid, no one comes to Clapham Gold to hear speeches. People came to party, and party we did. Champagne popped, oysters and sushi were devoured and mini hamburgers cherished. Just thinking about it makes me want to do it all over again (although I’m not sure my feet and liver could take it).

Happiness was seeing everyone have such a good time, and letting their hair down at the end of a manic year. Of course, there were also valuable lessons to be learnt from the evening:

1. Don’t argue with the bouncers. Those who did got kicked out but lived to tweet about it.
2. Tequila is not is not a mixer (this is a mantra for us as much as it is for you).
3. Always keep ballet pumps in you car. Just because your feet are numb on the dance floor doesn’t mean they aren’t going to hurt like hell the next day.
4. There’s no point in pretending you don’t like Barbara Streisand. Sing it loud and proud.
5. Take pictures, and lots of them (but only post the flattering ones one Facebook if you want your friends to speak to you again).
6. Play hardball with cab drivers. They’ll charge to you too much if you let them.

Thanks to everyone who made the night an unforgettable success. From the bachelors to the sponsors, everyone involved is a dream to work with and we can’t wait to do it again next year (it will take us that long to recover). Major props to Paco Rabanne, Suzuki, Cross Trainer, Lee, Gary Rom Hairdressing, L’Oreal and Black/Up – we make a good team.

A huge high-five to Jeauval and Bobbi Brown who cleaned up the CLEO girls real nice, and the team at Gary Rom who gives me A-list treatment every time.

Last but certainly not least, a big shout-out to all our readers who came to dance with us. You’re simply fabulous and the biggest bunch of party animals we’ve ever met. Mwah!