Titahi Bay

Titahi Bay means ‘One cabbage tree.’ To get there from Wellington you drive through the state houses and shopping malls of Porirua then quite suddenly you’re in a gorgeous quiet little bay with sleepy streets and a thriving surf lifesaving club. Of all the years I lived in Wellington I’ve only been there a handful of times. I once interviewed sandy haired identical twins Will and Danny from the Titahi Bay club for Capital magazine. I was taken by their story, intertwined with sun and salt. Their Dad represented NZ at surf lifesaving. He met their Mum and fell in love with her at the club. The boys grew up a few doors down and are now patrol captains. For the self professed “water boys” the beach is their home. “Our club is known for our social side and hosting events. If people from up North are coming down they have events here, cos we have the bar and we’ve got the kitchen, and we’ve got a guy Ken who does the food, big barbies and that. Every Sunday night the bars open and everyone comes down and has a few drinks and a meal.”

But, my favourite thing about Titahi Bay is the boatsheds. Bright, cheerful, peeling. Uncomplicated and uncontrived. Just like gorgeous Ana, with her beautiful, bountiful hair and ghetto fab/female Fresh Prince vibe. Styled by the lovely Katie Collier and makeup by the lovely Kate Hamilton.



Aniseed Valley

The Aniseed Valley in Nelson reminds me of slogging it out thinning apples in the hot summer orchards in the school holidays. Dropping into the cool clear swimming holes that are around every bend was the reward for tired, sunburned limbs and apple addled brains.

This was the perfect place to shoot  teenage mates Juliette and Raina in the lingering days of late summer this year. These Nelson babes have been doing some great work in their fledgling model careers and I can’t wait to see what they do next.

No regrets

We had a rule on last summer’s road trip, no regrets. This meant if either of us saw something we wanted to capture as we drove and drove, we had to stop, or else we would surely regret not doing so.

As we explored the very Northern and Eastern edges of the North Island we meet girls riding bareback at golden hour. Boys bombing off bridges.  Field after field teeming with wildflowers. The best beaches. Sacred burial grounds. Magical forgotten towns that are of course not forgotten, lively communities exist here, just at a slower, lovelier pace. The sun burning down on my bare arm hanging out the window. It was one of those road trips that is just ripe with nostalgia.