Buiniga Beauty

Buiniga Beauty

“Represent yourself as yourself, not someone else because the day will come where all that’s required is to be yourself and you might forget.”

Mr. Matthew Terry (Model, Musician, Personal Trainer)


R. T. B

R. T. B

These three beautiful, intelligent and friendly Fijians who are also models on the catwalk by profession were  a part of the friendly and enthusiastic crew organizing the successful fashion show event.

MHCC Fiji Fashion Week Fashion in Paradise 2013.

Attending a Mini Fiji Fashion Show at Five Dock, Sydney.

Saturday 13th April, 2013.

To His Coy Mistress

Simply worthy to be graced in our spare time, this form of literature is thoroughly enjoyed and recommended to be passed on from one beautiful mind to another.  As recommended from a dear friend.  Happy Reading!


Had we but world enough, and time,

This coyness, Lady, were no crime

We would sit down and think which way

To walk and pass our long love’s day.

Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side

Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide

Of Humber would complain. I would

Love you ten years before the Flood,

And you should, if you please, refuse

Till the conversion of the Jews.

My vegetable love should grow

Vaster than empires, and more slow;

An hundred years should go to praise

Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;

Two hundred to adore each breast,

But thirty thousand to the rest;

An age at least to every part,

And the last age should show your heart.

For, Lady, you deserve this state,

Nor would I love at lower rate.

   But at my back I always hear

Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;

And yonder all before us lie

Deserts of vast eternity.

Thy beauty shall no more be found,

Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound

My echoing song: then worms shall try

That long preserved virginity,

And your quaint honour turn to dust,

And into ashes all my lust:

The grave’s a fine and private place,

But none, I think, do there embrace.

   Now therefore, while the youthful hue

Sits on thy skin like morning dew,

And while thy willing soul transpires

At every pore with instant fires,

Now let us sport us while we may,

And now, like amorous birds of prey,

Rather at once our time devour

Than languish in his slow-chapt power.

Let us roll all our strength and all

Our sweetness up into one ball,

And tear our pleasures with rough strife

Thorough the iron gates of life:

Thus, though we cannot make our sun

Stand still, yet we will make him run.