You can tell Anon Annie...

I have a confession. See this 'vinaigrette'. See how nicely all the components sit in harmony with each other? How pleasantly the faded greens and milky whites are warmed by the natural tones of the wood pallette. What a fabrication, a flimsy web of styling whimsy. The truth lies deeper. I am Annie and I am a chronic surface hoarder.
It was much worse when I was younger. When I studied art I had a generously sized room in an old Herston house with a fleece in the bookshelves amongst the paint, turps, pens and charcoal.
There may have been some excuse for the art stuff as it was a share house and we had to contain the idiosyncrasies of our studies to our rooms. I lived with two med students and an engineering one. I did not wish to find surveying sticks in the broom cupboard and preserved body parts in the fridge. Come to think of it, there was not much else in either of those storage cavities so it would have been permissible with warning stickers.
It was the dressing table that was always a little hoarderesque. It's my little wasteland. The surface where I let my inner grub run amuck. Does anyone else remember those old Glomesh hand bag ads in the Woman's Weekly in the 80's. I was fascinated by what women like Kate Fitzpatrick might have in their bags. Whilst pretending to do my mother's word search (she was more a cryptic crossword gal) I would examine the ad: "You can tell a lot about Kate Fitzpatrick by Kate Fitzpatrick's Glomesh bag." (or any other Australian iconic women of the time who I can't remember)

And there it would be, it's innards spilled across a surface like some disembowelled Myer catalogue. There was always lip gloss and Oroton sunglasses and maybe a Zippo lighter. I don't really remember what was in it just the sheer voyeuristic pleasure of checking out what was in a stranger's handbag. Repressed little Conny-whacker!

It would seem my dressing table is no better than my student days and I will blame the deeply entrenched influence of the woman's weekly subliminal advertising prowess.
Anon Annie likes bangles and Clarins and photos of her babies. She must have liked being pregnant and Issey Miyake although she hasn't worn it for a while judging by the dust on it. She likes big rings and op shopped crystal and ceramic kitsch ornaments. Maybe she likes to put a bird on it. See the brooch and the pendant and the owl- there's definitely a bird thing happening.
She likes bracelets and beads and seems to like chuppa chups unless they are there to bribe one of those children. There seem to be a lot of children. Maybe she sponsors them all in a foreign orphanage. She likes art materials. Maybe she intends to make art one day between 4 and 5 a.m. on a Tuesday. Oh look. There's always a lip gloss.
There they are. The orphans crossing the river border to escape a foreign regime or they might be feeding ducks.

They must be hers. They are in the drawing and that's her. Unmistakable with the legs akimbo and four glorious strands of hair whipping in the wind, arms flailing about with an infant midair.
I bet she always has lip gloss.