The Selfie Files: Chela

Look at this girl. She's got a bunch of iridescent lobster legs coming out of her mouth. The Melbourne-based singer Chelsea Wheatley, who performs under the name Chela, first came to our attention via this Kitsuné-endorsed tune "Romanticise" (below)—and irrepressibly bouncy slab of electro-pop. Her soundcloud further supports her sonic awesomeness (with just a hint of Ladyhawke), so we made her take part in The Selfie Files.

This is me with bleached eyebrows and Abbey Lee’s pet lizard, Annie in New York last year. She’s a cool lady with a blue tongue and it was sad to say goodbye.

This is me with three little rascals by the names of Holly (Kookinut Whistle), Wilem (Dinosaur Thirsty Diamond), and Arlo (Bubblehead) Bromley a few months ago on their holiday to Melbourne. My first single “Plastic Gun” was a tribute to them. A while back my friend asked me to cover her job as a nanny for these kids for a month. I was daunted because I’d never looked after kids before, but I gave it a go and ended up hanging out with them for a whole year until they moved to Vietnam. They were like my second family and I miss them everyday!

This is me in their Dad’s (David) bathroom a month ago. I found a stash of wigs in their office. I imagine having lady-like hair like this someday in my 40s when I own a house and I've stopped playing GTA. The giant photograph behind me is one of David’s works, he’s good at capturing naked babes.

This is me with mumbo lips in my sister’s bathroom a few months ago, I got this for a Chela shoot, however as I don’t usually wear lipstick I chickened out. I shan’t let it get dusty, I’ll make the boys in my band wear it onstage. I like forcing them to explore their fabulous sides.

This is my arm when I was in hospital this year.

This is the back of my head last year after I got an aqua undercut.

This is me with some nice people (whose names have escaped me) in Chicago last year. My Aunt gifted me a free ticket to go from Los Angeles to New York for the weekend because she worked at American Airlines. The deal was that I could get onto any flight as long as there was a spare seat, so I got to the airport early to try the first flight of the day. There was a spare seat but I had left my ticket at home, bozo.

So I had it couriered to me and tried the next flight, which was full. They said I could only try one more flight for that day which went from LA>Denver>St. Louis>Chicago>New York. By the time I got to Chicago it was 9pm. After my 6am start I was gagging to get to NY already. When I got to the service desk a lady attendant told me, "You’ve just missed the last flight to New York, I don’t know why they told you in LA that you’d make it." My eyes welled up with tears. She said I could sleep at the airport and try the first morning flight at 5am. I was imagining that there was some kind of special accommodation for people in my situation similar to the Japanese sleeping capsules in Fifth Element. She told me the only place I could sleep was on the chairs in the airport, which didn’t appeal to me, so I sat down and called my friend in New York who then called his friends in Chicago, but they had no room at their place.

So, exhaustion and all I thought, "Fuck this, I’ve always wanted to see Chicago, I’m going out." So I dragged my suitcase to the airport train station where I met a lovely couple who helped me purchase my ticket. We chatted whilst waiting for the train and they invited me out to drink with them, and of course I took them up on the offer. We caught the train to the city and headed for the center of town. As I bar-hopped with the couple, we picked up other wandering city strangers on the way. We all danced to "Party In The USA" and by the end of the night we were holding hands and telling each other "I love you." By 4am it was time to leave the city and head back to the airport with the couple who lived nearby. I caught that first flight to New York where I napped for most of the day. I’ve never heard from my Chi-town party pals since.

Follow Chela on Instagram. That's where selfies live.