Monday, March 22, 2010

Paris.

Highlights: My new wonderful Rykiel hat, bought in a fit of jealous rage after seeing Leslie's. Seeing Leslie. Seeing all my froggy friends. Billie painting my eyebrows black. The dinner at Amour. Dancing to Taskforce in the room at Amour while everyone else was listening to Uffie remixed by Justice remixed by Steve Aoki remixed by The Cobrasnake. The green sauce in Mcdonalds, eet eez disgusting so unfortunately I love it. Making threatening gestures at Henry Holland from across the room. Finding out Linsday Lohan is still on an almost inconcievable amount of drugs.

Lowlights: Finding out Linsday Lohan is still on an unconcievable amount of drugs (come on we all loved The Parent Trap, it's kindof terrible). Models talking about modelling, and talking, and talking, seriously there's not much to say about walking up and down a runway, we get it. Bitchy english fashion boys in front of us in queues, different country same attitude. Billie Painting my eyebrows black... I think it might have looked quite odd actually. Not washing my hair for the entire duration of the trip. Basically not washing for the entire duration of the trip. Not going to Laduree. WAAAAHHHHHH!







American Adulterer.

Here I am on my sofa, just popped a bottle of red wine, picked at some well past its sell by date ravioli, poked around the bottom of a unnegotiably empty cake box (and I mean serious entire cake not some silly cupcake) and realised that I have perhaps began the slow and steady path to becoming Bridget Jones. Now obviously this idea of becoming Bridge isn't particularly surprising, nor is it remotely profound, and actually it's probably quite insulting to the real single 38 year old women on lo-carb diets (why is there no 'w'? Cutting off any excess weight I suppose), but still for me, in my prime of 20 and relatively thin, it manages to be a little scary. As I get older I can feel myself becoming increasingly apathetic, last year I almost managed to pass it off as grunge but unfortunately these days it's less 'My So Called Life' and more Marks and Spencer's pyjama department. Make-up lost it's hold over my lips in '05, eyeliner was totally gone by '08, foundation was phased out slowly and finally my mascara tube has been firmly screwed shut. I wore make-up to the theatre last week and it was so distracting that I had to go to the bathroom and scrub it off, either I've developed a strange cleanliness compulsive disorder or perhaps I've just realised that rubbing goo into your face feels wierd. I'm inclined to think the latter. All this however does not help my Bridget complex, and while I've never really been a worshipper at the pedestal of MAC, my clothes aren't getting much sympathy either.

For the last couple of years I've prided myself on the ability to wear a different outfit every single day (within reason, different combinations, shoes, you get the drill), something I casually remarked to Daniel one morning on the way into university. The barely audible reply I got fell somewhere between a scoff and a splutter and basically comprised of "Cough um ahem you wear leggings and a big t-shirt every single day... sigh *I wish my girlfried dressed like a normal person*". Obviously I was outraged, but more than outraged, I was ashamed- it is 100% true. I attempt to write a fashion blog while in real life I pretty much wear a rotation of 5 huge t-shirts and 5 pairs of leggings (ranging from a lovely floral to a classic black but I suppose that's beside the point). If I suddenly got given Cher from Clueless's amazing computer generated outfit picker it would just pick me the same outfit with a different colour fill everyday, but probably with a tartan beret and a satchel... Now while you can't take a boy's comments to heart (he doesn't like my hemp dungarees either I mean HELLO), this one did sting a bit, almost as badly as the time in the 6th form common room when I looked down and realised I'd been wearing entirely American Apparel for a week. My roots have grown out to my ears, something I keep trying to explain to everyone is totally on purpose but I'm not quite convinced of myself and my high heels sit forlornly in the corner gathering dust.

There's only one thing for it, from now on I'm going to make an effort to ween myself out of the pyjamas and into something, anything, which is't 45% lycra. Hopefully with the arrival of warm weather and the ability to stop wearing hideous black opaque tights with everything (I can't say I'd be very upset if I never saw another pair in my life) will lift my outfits out of the realm of safety in which they currently reside. Also how do you wear a knee length skirt under a winter coat? It just looks absurd to me. So here's to my new look, if you see me walking through Spitalfields in a shiny silver minidress, do not mock, remember my early life crisis and be kind. Now I'm off for a bubble bath and a Sinead O'Connor singalong but I'll leave you with an image from Ashish's a/w '10 collection. Need I say more?


Friday, March 19, 2010

Left Only With

Still into these in a BIG way... Those leather buckle pumps for summer are just too dreamy.



Both by Westwood, images www.hervia.com

Violet's Turning Violet !





Thursday, March 18, 2010

OWH MY GAWD.


I suck I suck I know it. I haven't been online for yeeaaars. I went to Paris and bought a hat, and came back and bought some purple tassled desert boots, and baked three cakes (triple layer!!?) and haven't done any reading and have only one more week left at university this term and, and ,and.. WOAH, I seriously need to calm down. Now I have contracted a minor flu, it seems the perfect time for a small catch up. First of all I must tell the story of how the sales assistant at H&M forgot to scan one of my Sonia Rykiel jackets and saved me £50 (!!!). Okay that's told. Now I should probably tell you about how I have Lindsay Lohan's number in my phone... Actually maybe I should keep that one to myself. Basically what all this kerfuffle is ultimately about it AWARDS SEASON. Let's do this...
Actually maybe I've slightly changed my mind and might use this as a chance to showcase the insane insane babe-ness of Diane Kruger, who looked totally nuts in Chanel. Like, the kind of good which is just too good and it should really be my job to whine on her and bitch. But actually she looks amazing every year and wears Chanel better than basically anyone else on the planet (bar Marion Cotillard but certainly NOT Lily Allen). I'm surprised that she got quite criticised on the blogosphere for this dress, maybe because she definitely isn't obese or slightly autistic like dahhhlings of the red carpet this year (ahem Gabourey Sidibe, Alec Baldwin). And on the point of weight: perhaps unexpectedly Sidibe recieved rapturous praise online what what is not something I would describe as particularly anything. In fact the word 'blah' comes to mind. Fundamentally what she wore, navy Marchesa, with diamante, yeah fine, it's fine, if Kidman wore it we'd all yawwwwn (admittedly it would be a totally different dress, with about 75% less fabric), but it makes me wonder whether actually everyone's applauding Sidibe for walking down the red carpet in something, ANYTHING, which isn't a tracksuit? Not quite there yet are we...