Liz Skitch: the blog

Over the last 40 days I have been wearing Mumus around the home, in the suburbs and the inner city, on trams and on bicycles, to rehearsals and gigs, to pubs and clubs, to banks and even to the doctor’s surgery for a papsmear! And pretty much everywhere I go, I have experienced a sense of juxtaposition. Like being a piece of tropical island sky jammed into a concrete jungle jigsaw puzzle. But when I arrived at the Woodford Folk festival, set in a natural valley in sunny South East Queensland, it was like the Mumu had finally found its home amongst a sea of hippies, bongos, green hills and gum trees.

My large and light cotton Mumus were perfect for the hot sticky weather and not only that but they looked fabulous. It didn’t take long for others to join the Mu- movement along the way, which reached a climax on New Years Eve. There was a tribe of us, all Mumu clad, dancing under the stars to the Maloya rhythms of ‘Simangavole’. They are these four Island Divas from Reunion Island. And guess what they were wearing? You guessed it!

Thanks to one and all who joined in the Mu- movement. Mu- me, Mu- mu, Mu- you!

10 reasons for the 40 day Mumu Challenge… that aren’t true.

I am hiding a really bad rash.

I am putting on weight for a role.

I am starting a religion.

They are crotchless… need I say more?

I was visited by an Angel, she told me to do it.

To keep away the mosquitoes.

(Look at my watch) Because it is time.

In a past life I was a large Papuan woman. This is what the missionaries made me wear.

Went shopping at Spotlight and found this great material!

It is my camouflage… can you show me the way to the large couch made out of this pattern?

It is day twenty – six of the forty day Mumu project and only the most outlandish and oversized of my collection remain to be worn. At this stage of the game I am finding the project testing my will to leave the house. When one is wearing something spectacular and out of the ordinary to say… the shops or the pub, one attracts a lot of attention. But the kind of attention where the eye of the passer by is caught, their gaze lingers long enough for it to be noticeable, but they quickly dart their eyes away to avoid being accosted by the ‘crazy lady’ in the ‘strange clothing’. And that just about sums up my overall ‘look’ of late: CRAZY LADY!!!

To make things worse, I have just moved to a new town and I am meeting a lot of new people. At first I didn’t want my every social interaction to involve a conversation about the mumu, so more often than not, I didn’t bring it up, unless they did. But now that I am wearing the kind of garment that screams, ‘This woman is either the owner of 100 cats or she is going to tell your fortune then suggest swinging with your husband’, I inform whoever I am talking to about the Mumu Challenge in 10 words or less. Then try to steer the conversation to other things…

I think we can all agree that no matter what city you are in, Friday nights bring out the most tragic victims of fashion. And I am not going to pretend that I have not been a part of Paris Hilton’s army in the past, teetering around like a try hard drag queen in too high heels and spending the whole night refereeing the fight between my too tiny dress’s desire to climb upwards exposing my undies and the opposition’s attempt to continually pull it down and in the process threatening to flash boobies.

These tragic nights always take me back to my first ballet class. When mum sent me along in my leotard but little did I know that I had it on backwards. Hence I spent the whole class fishing the black Lycra out of my bum whilst trying to get the low scooping V- line neck to cover my nipples.

Well, those days are long gone and the Mumu is my answer to solving the Friday night fashion crisis. I would like to start an army of Mumu wearers to take on the Paris Hilton army. But it would be a peaceful protest. Come, victims of fashion, join me! Throw out those silly little frocks! The days of teenie bopping are over! Slip into a Mumu, put on some sensible shoes and dance your Friday night blissfully away!

When wearing a Mumu and a great matching pair of sunnies, I sometimes feel like I am in a disguise. Not just any disguise but a really comfortable one that leaves most people a little confused about where you come from or what kind of ‘look’ you are going for. In fact, that sums up how I often feel when getting around the town in my Mumu. It is like you have turned up to a costume party but you are the only one who really dressed up… everyone else has made a piss weak effort. And let’s face it, life is like a costume party. Everyone is trying to dress up as something or someone but no one will admit it. We live in a state of denial, pretending that we don’t really care about fashion. When in fact, it can take a long time to look like you haven’t given it any thought at all.

It would be arrogant of me, however, to think that I am the only one wearing a costume with pride. Take Peter, for example, the accordionist that I met on Degraves St. He’s not afraid to admit that life for him is a Bohemian Costume Party… Not only does he sport a fine moustache and accordion, he also runs his own costume shop! Inspirational.

They say that you don’t choose the Mumu, the Mumu chooses you and until today I had always liked this theory. It helps me in the morning when I am standing in front of my rack of Mumus and rather than try to decide which one to wear… I move into a zen like state, there is a flurry and a blur of movement and color and without knowing exactly how it happened, I am dressed.

Normally this works for me but today… I slipped into a Mumu with bad Juju. I bought it in Kuala Lumpur in 2007 and for some reason I had always avoided wearing it. Maybe the Mumu felt neglected and became infected… with bad juju. I didn’t realise at first and wandered round the house in it for a while. It felt soft and silky on my skin… but the cold morning air started to chill my bones and before I knew it I suddenly burst into tears… with no idea of what was wrong.

I ran into the bedroom to take refuge from the world and caught my refection in the mirror. It was the first time I had seen myself that morning. It looked like a Gremlin had thrown up on me. The tie die was overwhelming, it asaulted my eyes. The person I saw in the mirror was not me, it was an aging hippie, fried at a trance festival.

I felt like a ghost buster as I ripped that mumu from my frame, the green monster flew through the air and landed in a pathetic pile in the corner of my room. And there the mumu with bad juju shall remain, banished from the collection, powerless without a body to wear it.

Every day of the Mumu challenge provides me with a fresh insight into my existence. What I thought was just an experiment in fashion has become a truly existentialist exercise. The Mumu can provide one with an almost out of body experience, lifting oneself out of the mundane and to a higher level of being. This place of enlightenment is known as ‘Mumu Land’. Most people don’t realize that we have all been to ‘Mumu Land’ and it was the British house band of the late 80s/ early 90s, ‘KLF’ that briefly took us there. KLF were truly ground breaking for a variety of reasons and their lyrics shed light on some of life’s biggest mysteries. Make this the soundtrack to your life and discover the ancient Mumu Goddess within.

All bound for Mu Mu Land
All bound for Mu Mu Land
They’re justified, and they’re ancient,
And they like to roam the land
They’re justified, and they’re ancient,
I hope you understand.

They’re justified, and they’re ancient,
And they drive an ice cream van.
They’re justified, and they’re ancient,
With still no master plan

The last train left an hour ago
They were singing ‘All aboard’
All bound for Mu Mu Land
Then someone started screaming ‘Turn up the strobe’

 

Bringing back the underpant tuck.

Whilst slipping into a Mumu can make you feel like a Goddess of sorts… I feel the need at this point to issue an OH&S warning with regards to unleashing one’s Domestic Goddess in a Mumu. Beware of cooking in a Mumu, my sleeves almost caught on fire when lighting the Gas oven… the Mumu challenge almost ended in a puff of smoke. Cleaning toilets is also an activity that is best avoided!

The Burlesque Bar

Thursday 8th December
Join Liz Skitch as MC of “Stand Up and Strip”
8pm, tickets $10, The Burlesque Bar, 42 Johnston St, Fitzroy

Dark Christmas

Thurs 15th – Sat 17th December, 7pm, Sun 18th December, 6pm
The Butterfly Club
204 Bank Street, South Melbourne, Australia 3205

A twisted Christmas Cabaret with the delectable Jo Loth (‘undeniable vocal talent’ Broadway Baby) and the sassy Liz Skitch (‘Phenomenal comic talent’ Scene Magazine).

Do you find Christmas cheer a little more difficult to drum up each year (without the aid of socially unacceptable amounts of champagne)? Already heard one too many Christmas carol and it’s November??? Feeling like you might snap on Christmas Day and jam the $170 dollar curling wand that you had to buy your niece up her pretty little left nostril???
Then you NEED to see this outrageous and very naughty cabaret.

Tickets: $22 Full $19 Concession $18 Groups (8 or more)
Bookings: www.thebutterflyclub.com

Box ‘n Bone

Join Comedian Liz Skitch and Hornstar Donny Stewart in their maiden collaboration, featuring golden oldies and squeezeboxing packed with punches. With a cheeky nod towards Vaudeville, this comic encounter between accordion and trombone is a musical love affair to remember.

Friday 30th December 8.45pm
The Parlour
Woodford Folk Festival

Skitch Tease

An intimate cabaret with comic actress and stand up comedian, Liz Skitch, wearing nothing but heels, fishnets and a tiny squeezebox. Catch Liz performing in The Parlour at the year’s Woodford Folk Festival.

Thursday 29th December
8.30pm
The Parlour, Woodford Folk Festival

Liz Skitch- Stand Up

Sunday 1st January 2012

10.00pm
The Parlour, Woodford Folk Festival

Day six of the forty day mumu challenge was a sunny Friday… the perfect vibe for a slipping into a summery mumu. The above photo (left) was taken out the front of our place in Preston just before I jumped on my bike and rode into the city and back. This called for a classic undie tuck (the mumu into the underpants) I haven’t pulled off this daring fashion move since my Boondall State School days when the undie tuck was the done thing in the adventure playground (especially if you were planning to hang upside down on the monkey bars). Bringing it back.

Day seven was another perfect mumu day… beers in the back yard and spent some quality time with our chickens Lola and Camilla. But followers of the mumu challenge, at this point I have a confession. Between Day six and seven, on the evening of day six to be specific… I went to a wedding party but before I left the house I made a mistake. I slipped out of my mumu and into a pretty red dress. I thought it would be for the best… I was going to be meeting a lot of new people and I didn’t want the night to be all about the mumu. I find that sometimes people are overwhelmed by mumu and ALL of my interactions with people become about the mumu. The mumu upstages me.

So there I was at the party, thinking that I looked pretty pretty in my pretty red dress, when some of my fellow mumu party people arrived. They had seen me declare that I would wear nothing but mumus for the next forty days and there I was, less than a week later, clearly breaking the promise. I suddenly felt naked. “Where is your mumu!?” they screamed. They were disappointed, I hid from their cameras, feeling about as trashy as Paris Hilton on a good day. Never again.

The sun in Melbourne is like a friend that can’t decide to whether or not to come out with you. You beg, ‘Come on, come out! It’s going to be so much better if you are there’. And the she goes, ‘I don’t know if I feel like it’. Meanwhile, you are trying to decide what to wear (which mumu to slip into) and she finally tells you, ‘Okay, okay, I’m going to come out’. So you slip into something fun and summery but then on the way to where you are going, she calls to say she is not coming after all. Suddenly it is cold and desolate, an arctic wind bites through your light cotton mumu and she has left you stranded yet again! Get the idea? So, need a Mumu for a chilli day? Try the Mumu Hoodie! This is a special number. Feels kind of like wearing a tracksuit. Very comfy around the home. But can also be styled up, as you can see in the photo of Xanthe Beesley who looked a Russian supermodel in the Hooded- Mu at the recent mumu party.

Today I had to select my Mumu wisely. There was a lot on the cards: the morning in Melbourne, a trip to Brisbane and an audition. I awoke to arctic conditions in Melbourne… this called for a long sleeved number… however, I knew that the Sunshine State was expecting a top of 30. So nothing too heavy. Then there was the audition to consider. What mumu would suit Titania, Queen of the Fairies??? Turns out that it was a very simple decision, I reached for my all -time favourite mumu and it couldn’t have served me better. I felt fabulous all day… apart from experiencing delays with Tiger and having to push my audition back a couple of hours! Walking along the Brizzie rive was the highlight, turned some heads and made some friends.
The only worry is that if I keep wearing all my favourite mumus at the top of this challenge, then the left overs will become less and less appealing. Might be time for one of the oversized potato sacks tomorrow!

Okay it is more a kaftan than a mumu, but perfect for a hot late November day. It finally feels like summer has arrived here in Melbourne and this little Brizzie girl couldn’t be happier about that. Today I had some business in the city and I felt very clever moving through the swarths of men in suits and teenage girls in too tight jeans, with each step knowing that I was wearing the most practical clothing for this kind of weather. I must admit I was a little disappointed that no one stopped me and said, “Hey- I wish I was wearing what you are wearing”, but I could almost hear them thinking it.

I must admit that I woke up yesterday morning (post mumu party) thinking, did I? Did I really make that promise? And will anyone care if I don’t follow through? Following a spot of cleaning up and a shower I went to get dressed and looked into my wardrobe, uninspired. That’s right! That’s why I took on this challenge, to make life easier, more fun and to mix things up a bit. And how could I have even thought of turning my back on my fabulous collection! There it stood in all its majesty, boasting colour and practically screaming at me, PUT ME ON! But which one? The house hold had decided on a trip to Noodle Palace on the Preston High Street for lunch so I let that inspire me and chose an oriental looking mumu. And how did the day go? I felt fabulous stepping out in my mu and turns out the choice was perfect for the consumption of about a hundred dumplings… no need to loosen any buttons.

Day One

The Project:
To wear forty mumus over forty days.
The Rules:
Never wear the same mumu twice
If a new mumu is added to the collection, another day is added to the challenge.
Rational:
To counter my daily teenage like fashion crisis, to rebel against fashion trends, to express individuality, to experience freedom, to brighten the sidewalk wherever I go, to be more graceful and playful and to celebrate femininity.
Definition of a mumu:
A loose often long dress having bright colors and patterns and adapted from the dresses originally distributed by missionaries to the native women of Hawaii.
The Collection:
I have a wonderful collection of mumus which began about ten years ago when I acquired a couple of my Mum’s mumus. Mum is the hostess with the mostess and I have seen photos of mum wearing these mumus at parties that she and Dad threw in the seventies (they assure me that no key swapping took place at these events). I was inspired to throw a party of my own and invite guests to come dressed in Mumus. Years later, we have just had the eighth annual Mumu party and my collection has grown to forty mumus from all around the world and includes designer mumus from the sixties and seventies.