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THE
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Photography Culture Poetry Art Food Music Fashion Life
Vol. 2 No. 4 July 2014
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Independent Media Inspiring Minds
THE
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WHAT’S INSIDE?
Rachel Plank
Creative Editor
Amy Freund
Editor
Melbourne in the Winter 4
The Integrity of a Journalist 8
Can you guys help me pick a filter? 14
Zoe Kimpton Photography 19
My Friend, Fear 22
Tina Victoria Illustrations 28
What Might Have Happened Vol. 3 30
CONTRIBUTORS:
Zoe Kimpton
Bianca Matera
Stephanie Hughes
Jacinta Mazzarolo
Tina Victoria
Celeste Iuliano
Amy Freund: amy.freund@theaustraliatimes.com.au
Rachel Plank: rachel.plank@theaustraliatimes.com.au
Tatgirl is a young fun magazine that incorporates art,
culture, food and creative and factual writings that are
interesting and exciting!
Our ultimate aim for the magazine is to a provide
a platform where young and upcoming journalists,
photographers and enthusiastic individuals can have
the opportunity to be published, as well as creating an
open discussion for topics and events that are relatable
to the youth of Australia.
Based in Melbourne, TATGIRL has a wide range
of contributors from around Australia and has a
contributor age group from 15 to 25.
It is cooling down so time to heat up your hands with
some beautiful articles. If you are an avid writer or just
want to give it a go send us a message on and join the
TATGiRL team.
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ONE
Hopetoun tearooms
Centered in the middle of the city, Hopetoun tearooms is one
of Melbourne’s oldest and best places for high tea, cakes, in-
teresting tea blends, and pretty much any thing you can think
of to warm you on a cold winters day. Nestled inside the Block
Arcade, Hopetoun oers diners a unique experience inside
this enchanting tearoom, oering high tea sessions as well
as being open for the occasional snack! I would recommend
their chai blend tea and amazing nger sandwiches, just the
thing for a warming winter snack!
Melbourne
in the Winter
Wintertime—this magical realm of beautiful white snow and
crystal snowakes that delicately cascade the streets as men
and women waltz around in coats and scarves.
Maybe in the 50s! But the reality is; whether we like it or not,
winter is cold, rainy and agitating; the artic winds whipping
the faces of anyone who crosses its path, catapulting you
into its frozen abyss form the moment you leave the warm
connes of your bedroom.
But rather than spending your time indoors fearing the frozen
wasteland that lays outside, here are some of Melbourne’s
hotspots to eat, relax and generally enjoy the frozen winter
days and nights.
By Amy Freund
Images by Rachel Plank
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THREE
Ca de Vin
Hidden in between the GPO building and Myer Melbourne,
Ca de Vin is a tiny yet prestigious restaurant in the centre of
Melbourne. Bursting at the seams with giant pizzas and pas-
ta dishes to share, Ca de Vin is a perfect place to go on a cold
winters night after a long hard day shopping!
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Olinda
Hidden in the Dandenong ranges, Olinda and Sassafras are
two of the most beautiful suburbs in Melbourne bursting with
country charm, and are less than an hour from the city. Full
of vintage lollyshops, antique stores and warm little cafes
with open res, Olinda and sassafras are my most favourite
places to venture to on a cold winter weekend. There’s noth-
ing more satisfying then drinking hot soup by the re looking
onto the enchanting trees and rolling hills of the country, a
true winter warmer!
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FOUR
Radio Mexico
Aside from Mamasita on Collins Street, radio Mexico would
have to be one of the best Mexican restaurants I’ve ever been
to! Focusing on share plates, radio Mexico has some of the
best tacos and amazing specialty side dishes, with open res
and blankets for diners to drape over themselves in the cold
winter nights. I recommend the hot chocolate called “choco-
late Caliente” a unique blend of chocolate and spices with an
indulgent shortbread cookie on the side. Perfect!
FIVE
Chill
I know this sounds like a ridiculous and counterproductive
activity to keeping warm, but chill restaurant on Southbank is
actually one of the best and most exciting places to visit during
the frozen months! Sitting on ice blocks and drinking out of ice
sculpted glasses, Chill gives the diner an igloo-like experience!
So get those long johns on and get out of your bed!! Winters
only as bad as you make it!! Take a stroll around the city, you
might just be surprised at what you nd!
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I still remember that frosty sunday
morning mid July 2011. I had just
bought the Weekend edition of Herald
Sun [in Melbourne] and was excitedly
icking through to see my articles in
print for the world to see. I couldn’t
take the smile away from my face. I
was printed. My work was printed.
My name was printed. It was during
my journalism internship for my nal
year of my Bachelor of Journalism at
Monash University. I had worked so
hard to get to this point and it was at
the point, as I was reading this paper,
that I knew that I denitely wanted to
be a journalist...and that that was all I
ever wanted to be.
Jump ahead to three years on and it
hasn’t been easy. I’m still not there and
I’m battling away, getting whatever
freelance work I can get. I worked
so hard for my degree and to build
my portfolio and now it seems that
journalism, as I always knew it and
always loved it, is disappearing not
just through my ngers, but through
the ngers of many journalists who
have put their heart and soul into
the profession worked so hard for. To
clarify, it’s not a profession always
chosen for money, the pay is generally
poor and the hours are long and
tedious and sometimes I’m certain
it seems its only the multiple cups
of coee that actually sees us [as
journos] hit our strict deadlines.
By Bianca Matera
The integrity
of a Journalist
—A life under re
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Images by Rachel Plank
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It’s a profession chosen because of a
passion. But it’s now fading away...
Less than a year after completing
my degree, Fairfax- who popular
masts include The Daily Telegraph,
Sydney Morning Herald and The
Herald Sun, to name a few, announced
the proposed sacking of 1900 sta
from its’ main papers over a three
period. This was followed by another
300 journalism jobs cut from various
media outlets in the rst half of 2013.
The West Australian cut 33 jobs from
their editorial team and a group of
25 were cut from the Australian
Associated Press, along with another
242 with various experience and
expertise. Earlier this year on May 7,
more than 600 Fairfax newsroom sta
went on strike as yet another 80 jobs
were cut from the company. And it’s
not just print journalism taking a hit.
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Earlier this month, the Ten network
announced that its Major Newsroom
hubs were having their sta cut in
half, others cut even further, as 12
journalists become just a measly 4 at
Ten’s Brisbane’s Newsroom, and 24
become a small 16 in Perth. And it is
not just journalists, but cameramen,
writers, photojournalists, digital
artists and producers getting the cut. A
spokeswoman for Channel Seven told
news.com.au that‘a handful of sta
redundancies would be made at their
newsroom’ but declined to give an
exact number.
Last month also saw the production
of Ten’s Early, Morning and Late news
programs cease with many more jobs
made redundant.
What has been the demise of
journalism?
Newspapers haven’t just been a
source of news over the years. For
decades they have provided a source
of advertisements. Eric Beecher,
journalist for The Monthly, writes that
people used to line up in the streets,
waiting for the paper to come hot o
the press, simply due to its’ hundreds
of adverts from jobs to cars for sale. It
was a popular medium.
But these days, people no longer
line the streets. They don’t get excited
over a ‘hot o the press’ paper. They
go online.
“The internet has poached most
of Australia’s newspaper classied
advertising,” the former editor of the
Sydney Morning Herald says.“ For
every dollar they lose in newspaper
advertising they gain less than 10
cents in online advertising. In the US
last year, daily newspapers lost $1.50
in print advertising for every 10 cents
they gained online.
No advertisements in print.
No money. No jobs. The second
contributor to the disintegration of
journalism as I knoof it, is the age of
blogging. Free news is everywhere,
people no longer need to pay for it, it’s
easily accessible at the simple click of
a mouse. Perfect spelling, impeccable
grammar and structural skill taught
throughout a journalism degree no
longer apply. Last year., the Media
and Entertainment Arts Alliance
(MEAA) reported that 4077 students
Australia Wide were enrolled in an
Undergraduate Journalism degree and
a further 16,860 enrolled in a media
and/or communications degree. They
report approximately 3500 newspaper
journalists left in the country. This
leads me to a quote by Former Age
Journalist Rachel Buchanan, “We
writers all need a day job now. You
can’t eat integrity.” She’s right. I, too,
have a day job. It’s not what I dreamed
of, but it gets me by as I make most of
the last pieces of traditional journalism
before they wither away.
“The internet is at once the greatest
and the most destructive commercial
invention in media history.”
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Can you guys help
me pick a filter?
The #selfie
By Jacinta Mazzarolo
Images by Zoe Kimpton
I know, I know – it’s clichéd and almost sleep-inducing when peo-
ple start speeches or articles with dictionary definitions. In this
instance, however, I’m going to make an exception as I think it’s
incredibly necessary to point out that last year, the word ‘Selfie’ was
added to the Oxford Dictionary.
Yes, the Selfie has ocially cemented its place as an acceptable
social practice and bona fide symbol of our fashion industry and
popular culture today.
For those of you who have been living under a rock (or wrecking
ball) for the past few years, according to the Oxford Dictionary,
a Selfie is ‘a photograph that one has taken of oneself, typically
one taken with a smartphone or webcam and uploaded to a social
media website.’
It’s usually punctuated with an outstretched arm, a slight tilt of
the chin, sucked in cheeks and a self-aware eyebrow raise. Once the
flash goes o, the photo is finished with a flaw-diminishing filter
over the top and a hashtag for clarification.
In 2014, it is virtually impossible to log onto the Internet or social
media without being bombarded with duck faces. While the act of
taking a picture of oneself has been around forever, the populari-
sation of the Selfie came about with the rise of smart phones, most
notably, the iPhone 4’s front-facing camera.
Many use it as a platform to share their life experience and to
express who they are. Jemima, 19, sees no issue with this form of art.
“I’ve never really understood the negative connotations to do
with taking Selfies. I think it’s a great, convenient way to communi-
cate your life and loves to the world,” she said.
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Selfies are not just an art form reserved for the average person—
models, performers, reality TV stars, designers and even politicians
have jumped on the bandwagon. None have been more publicised
than this year’s famous #oscarsselfie which became the most
retweeted tweet of all time and garnered thousands of imitations for
weeks after the ceremony.
In fact, the Selfie used in these spheres is an ingenious tool for
self-promotion. Justin Bieber’s Instagram is rampant with top-
less Selfies of himself that send his faithful followers into frenzy.
Whereas, people like Alexa Chung and Cara Delevingne often use it
to show o their outfits or latest beauty looks. For every ten pho-
tos, Kim Kardashian has been known to post one of her behind on
Instagram.
This, however, does border on the narcissism side of the Selfie
culture, a place where cynics have branded it the hallmark of the
‘Me Me Me Generation’ or Millennials. While many see the Selfie as
an uplifting form of self-expression, others have named the phe-
nomenon conceited and egocentric to the point of delusion.
Caterina, 53, was “horrified when an innocent campaign to
raise money for cancer research” by posting a no makeup Selfie for
awareness, was turned into a dishonest parade of exhibitionism and
competition of who can outdo who.
It is very telling of the impact, when many people today cannot
enjoy an activity or get together without documenting it as a Selfie.
And of course, who can forget the self-arming assurance of a like
from friends?
Whether the Selfie is a sign of our confidence or narcissism as
a generation, chances are, it’s not going anywhere anytime soon.
I just have to scroll down my Instagram or Facebook feed to be
reminded of what every person I have ever locked eyes with was
wearing last night.
But first, let me take a #Selfie.
#selfie
“It’s also makes me feel really confident and proud of the way I
look, and I love seeing my friends do the same thing,” she continued.
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Zoe Kimpton
Photography by
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My Friend, Fear
There’s a lump in your throat
that you just can’t swallow. Warm
beads of sweat begin to form on
your brow, trickling down toward
the empty pit where your stom-
ach used to be. The dull ache
between your eyes intensies as
your temples tighten like a vice,
pushing all shreds of reason and
positivity from your mind. Yet
somehow, your catalyst is your
greatest comfort. The fear which
has brought you to your knees
lifts you up again. It comforts
you, because things are perfect
the way they are. No good could
have ever come of it.
During life’s most challenging
moments we often rationalise
our decision to hold back. It can
be hard to accept that lingering
feeling that we’ve let ourselves
down, and so we convince our-
selves that it would never have
been a positive experience. In
this way, fear is an interesting
thing. It obviously serves an
important purpose as the base
instinct that keeps us alive. At
least I’ve told myself this many
times. In year 9 I was the only
person on school camp who
didn’t try the giant swing. This
was not because I was a coward.
Oh no. My survival instincts were
just more nely honed than my
classmates’. I was on the right
side of the natural selection
process. And yet I couldn’t help
but envy my friends as I watched
them soaring above me, smiling
human pendulums swinging to
the rhythm of my growing un-
certainty. Why had I let my fear
stop me from trying this?
Some people thrive off fear,
survive off it. Often they’re the
adrenaline junkies whose rush
comes from staring down that
crippling wall of doubt, and giv-
ing themselves over to chance.
Then you have people like me,
who enjoy the safety of routine
and the certainty of the familiar.
While this approach to life guar-
antees a certain level of comfort-
able happiness, I’m sure many
would agree that it can become
a little boring. There are only so
many times that you can avoid
doing something that scares
you before you start to feel that
you’re missing out.
It was this reection on missed
opportunities that recently trig-
gered me to make a change. I
had had enough of seeing those
around me taking risks (both suc-
cessful and unsuccessful) and ulti-
mately learning new things about
themselves, while I remained the
same. It became very clear that
F
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there is little reward in playing
it safe. So, I set myself the chal-
lenge of doing something that
scared me every day.
At this point I should clarify
that this doesn’t mean going
base jumping on a daily basis.
There are many things in life that
scare us, and they can range from
skydiving, to giving a presenta-
tion, and even to balloons. Doing
something that scares you merely
requires you to step outside your
comfort zone. It means knowing
that the situation you’re in has
limits that will keep you safe, and
that your fear is the only danger.
To date, this challenge has
seen me do a number of things
that I have been proud of. Some
have been great feats, like the
rst time I went on a rollercoast-
er, nding the courage to swim in
the ocean, and choosing to head
off on my own to live and study
overseas. Others have been
smaller victories, such as tasting
seafood for the rst time in years
(I still don’t like it!). Despite the
diversity of these experiences,
they all hold the same weight for
me: they’ve all taught me that
I am capable of more than my
fear would have me know. It’s
easy to see that this experience is
common to others who have set
themselves this task. You need
only go online or watch the news
to see how much people accom-
plish when they allow themselves
to be brave. Moreover, you come
to understand how much fun you
can have by pushing yourself to
experience things that you would
have otherwise never known.
For me the challenge contin-
ues, and each day brings with it
a new and rewarding experience.
But, even with practice, it is al-
ways a struggle to abandon your
apprehensions, and commit your-
self to the unknown. As such, in
this time I’ve come to learn that
sometimes the moment in which
you surrender yourself to the idea
of doing something frightening
can be more rewarding than the
activity itself. It’s this victory over
fear and the limitations that we
set for ourselves which gives us
a sense of the innite possibility
that we possess. Above all this
has taught me that, in the end,
one thing always holds true: the
only thing that we have to fear is
fear itself.
By Celeste Iuliano
Image by Rachel Plank
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image: inhabitat.com
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image: inhabitat.com
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Tina Victoria illustrations
Visit her website: www.tinavictoria.com
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What might have happened:
Vol 3 - The chase
By Stephanie Hughes
Images by Rachel Plank
It is a rare, sunny day. Clever folk are spending it outside, enjoying the
heat and warmth while they can. Most of the town seems to be in the park
in which a lone man sits on a metal bench. His trench coat shields him
from the running children beyond; they do not see him. His shades are
drawn, but he watches them pass.
Where are you? he wonders as he scans the park. William tunes out
the sounds, the squeals of little children, and searches for his quarry. He
looks over groups of mothers, gangs of fathers and pairs of elderly stroll-
ers. He pays no attention to passing dogs and wildlife, no real interest in
the trees or grass beneath his feet.
Come out, come out wherever you are, he thinks sardonically with a tiny
smile playing on his lips. He strokes the gun on the inside of his jacket.
His eyes dart to the opposite side of the park. A flash of red behind the
shrubs. William rises from his seat and storms across the park, children
scattering like mice before him.
‘I can see you, Hector!’ William shouts for the whole park to hear.
‘There’s no use hiding now!’
Immediately, several rounds explode from behind the bushes. William
leaps to one side and rolls into a crouch.
‘I’m not here to play games!’ he says with menace. ‘Don’t bother fight-
ing back - you will lose!’
And like the bullets from his gun, Hector bolts from behind the bushes,
his red jumpsuit acting against him: a beacon in the crowd. William
stands, removes his gun and aims. A nearby girl looks his way and screams
like a banshee. William clasps his hands over his ears.
How on earth do they scream like that?
The screams carry, like a contagion, and soon all the children are
Images by Rachel Plank
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whimpering, crying, shouting, scattering. William exclaims in irritation:
Hector almost at the end of the park.
With a grunt, William takes o, gun in hand, sprinting as fast as his legs
can take him, faster than he’s ever been in his life. He approaches Hector,
quicker than he thought he would, and a smile breaks across his face from
the sheer thrill of proving himself wrong. He is so close now, Hector is
almost at the road, William raises his gun, cocks it, pulls the trigger.
Hector’s body flies forward as the bullet catches him.
‘Ahh!’ he cries melodramatically and rolls in the dirt. William walks
towards him.
‘I told you!’ William sneers. ‘You can’t beat me!’ He grabs the front
of Hector’s jumpsuit and pulls him up towards his face. Hector chokes
and splutters.
‘Shouldn’t have worn red, should you?’
Tears spring to Hector’s eyes.
‘Billy!’
The astonished admonishment rings through his head. A thrill of dread
runs through him, down his spine, as though a demon approaches. He
turns to face the sound.
‘You’re hurting Hector! Let him go and apologise, now.’
Their mother stands before them with her hands on her hips.
Billy’s fantasy crumbles before him. He drops his plastic gun to the dirt.
He once again is a child with the rest of the park. He releases his brother.
‘Sorry Hec,’ he mumbles.
Hector stands. He brushes the dirt o his jumpsuit.
‘I get you next time,’ Hector replies and smiles broadly.
Billy laughs and their mother giggles with relief.
‘Just be careful, will you?’ she says nervously. She kisses the tops of
their heads.
They toddle away, saying ‘Piew! Piew!’ and ‘Ahh!’ interspersed with
the joyous giggles only little boys can make.
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