As per usual, I am several years behind with my latest obsession: eBay. I only got my account about a week ago after WendyB suggested I look for a top on there. Oh my god it is so very addictive. Soon after I began aimlessly searching through the swathes of stuff, I came upon a lovely bag and remembered how much I've been wanting a black leather bag for ages. Yes, eBay has plenty of those.
I haven't watched a single TV programme today, but eBay has filled in more than enough of my revision breaks, and somehow managed to spill into revision time, and last-minute revision time...
I have had quite a rollercoaster experience today. First, the bag I loved and which had stayed at the starting price for several days rocketed fifty pounds higher. Then I found another bag I quite liked and bid and was the highest bidder and there were only five minutes left. Then I started panicking because I decided I hated it and had been blinded by the designer name and the relatively low price and the fact that it was a black bag. All the while one friend was very soothing: 'it's really nice!' while the other just laughed. I never imagined I would be relieved to be sniped.
Now I have find a bag nicer than the two together but there's two days left and I don't know how I'll deal with the suspense. Currently I'm the highest bidder and there's no panic whatsoever. I feel great.
(and I have completely been completely side-tracked from my blouse search, and any chance of a decent mark in my test tomorrow).
Sunday, 28 March 2010
Thursday, 25 March 2010
McQueen-like keen
A thought crossed my mind today as I noticed an exchange between two girls I know on my Facebook news feed.
They were showing each other links to Alexander McQueen pieces on NAP. One of the items was a £90 pair of leggings. Now, that's probably the very cheapest full-priced item of McQueen available out there, so one of them began to seriously consider buying them. Comparatively cheap, yes. Cool, yes. But still, £90 for a pair of jersey leggings with holes in them.
And I started browsing and wondering if maybe I should get a nice skull bracelet or ring. None of them are over £200. Expensive, but perfectly affordable. Now I won't be disingenuous; I do genuinely love McQueen designs and I always have lusted over its macabre glamour. However, I am still left wondering how much this McQueen buying frenzy is because people want what they're buying, or if it's to do with McQueen's death?
I understand the feeling that this is our last chance, that these pieces are even investments. But these are not pieces of couture from the last collection I am talking about. These are simple factory made basics which could easily be churned out for years longer.
All this reminds me of the importance of a name behind any object. There is a skull bracelet I love, but when looked at from afar it just looks like another emo wristband and I cannot deny that part of the bracelet's allure is the beautifully stamped font on the bracelet's inside.
It's the same with an interlocking C Chanel bag, earrings, necklace, whatever. The interlocking C design in itself is not particularly pretty; in fact, it is kind of tacky. It would be futile to deny that we love it because of the connotations of the brand those Cs indicate: French-ness; chic-ness; wealth; the LBD; haute couture; extravagance.
But that's all a bit of a tangent. What I originally started wondering about was the nature of our current bewitchment. Again, let me state that I genuinely do love and wish I could own this or this. But what about the £150 plain basic t-shirts with a printed skull on the front (no detail; no craftsmanship; just a printed skull). In my opinion, the desire for these is more about the ability to possess something which could become rare, whether we want the item in question or not. Perhaps it is indicative of our material celebrity culture. Or a morbid fascination with death?
At the end of the day, I am not sure myself. I would love to hear your thoughts and opinions.
They were showing each other links to Alexander McQueen pieces on NAP. One of the items was a £90 pair of leggings. Now, that's probably the very cheapest full-priced item of McQueen available out there, so one of them began to seriously consider buying them. Comparatively cheap, yes. Cool, yes. But still, £90 for a pair of jersey leggings with holes in them.
And I started browsing and wondering if maybe I should get a nice skull bracelet or ring. None of them are over £200. Expensive, but perfectly affordable. Now I won't be disingenuous; I do genuinely love McQueen designs and I always have lusted over its macabre glamour. However, I am still left wondering how much this McQueen buying frenzy is because people want what they're buying, or if it's to do with McQueen's death?
I understand the feeling that this is our last chance, that these pieces are even investments. But these are not pieces of couture from the last collection I am talking about. These are simple factory made basics which could easily be churned out for years longer.
All this reminds me of the importance of a name behind any object. There is a skull bracelet I love, but when looked at from afar it just looks like another emo wristband and I cannot deny that part of the bracelet's allure is the beautifully stamped font on the bracelet's inside.
It's the same with an interlocking C Chanel bag, earrings, necklace, whatever. The interlocking C design in itself is not particularly pretty; in fact, it is kind of tacky. It would be futile to deny that we love it because of the connotations of the brand those Cs indicate: French-ness; chic-ness; wealth; the LBD; haute couture; extravagance.
But that's all a bit of a tangent. What I originally started wondering about was the nature of our current bewitchment. Again, let me state that I genuinely do love and wish I could own this or this. But what about the £150 plain basic t-shirts with a printed skull on the front (no detail; no craftsmanship; just a printed skull). In my opinion, the desire for these is more about the ability to possess something which could become rare, whether we want the item in question or not. Perhaps it is indicative of our material celebrity culture. Or a morbid fascination with death?
At the end of the day, I am not sure myself. I would love to hear your thoughts and opinions.
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
simple life
There are a couple of fashion-y things I need to resolve: an owl pendant who is currently one-eyed and a boot with a hole in the sole. But currently desire seems to be taking over necessity and whenever I have time to shop (which is rarely), I find myself scouring the shops looking for just one thing: the perfect top.
I know exactly what I want. It has to be cream; slightly pinkish or yellowish but not grey-ish and definitely not off-white. It has to be slightly sheer but not completely, and not silky and not jersey like a t-shirt and not starched like a shirt. It has to have sleeves; not capped short sleeves or off the shoulder but just gently puffed three quarter or all the way sleeves. It has to either have a waist emphasis or skim loosely over my body; none of that drawstring at the hips which makes me look heavily pregnant, please. And some nice embroidery or detailing of some sort would be nice, but nothing which makes it impossible to wash. Also, let it be cheap.
Not so difficult, right?
I thought I found the perfect one, but with its fitted waist a size 16 just didn't work.
Maybe if my fingers were less hopelessly undextrous with a sewing machine, I could let out the bottom of this:
A bit more sheer, dear:
Even in the summer I don't think it would be warm enough to go sleeveless. Speaking of which, how ridiculously disproportionate is the amount of sandals being sold/bought in the shops every year in the UK?
Nearly there, if I had a pair of high-waisted jeans to prevent crop-top territory:
Who knew such a simple desire could be so complicated?
I know exactly what I want. It has to be cream; slightly pinkish or yellowish but not grey-ish and definitely not off-white. It has to be slightly sheer but not completely, and not silky and not jersey like a t-shirt and not starched like a shirt. It has to have sleeves; not capped short sleeves or off the shoulder but just gently puffed three quarter or all the way sleeves. It has to either have a waist emphasis or skim loosely over my body; none of that drawstring at the hips which makes me look heavily pregnant, please. And some nice embroidery or detailing of some sort would be nice, but nothing which makes it impossible to wash. Also, let it be cheap.
Not so difficult, right?
I thought I found the perfect one, but with its fitted waist a size 16 just didn't work.
Maybe if my fingers were less hopelessly undextrous with a sewing machine, I could let out the bottom of this:A bit more sheer, dear:Even in the summer I don't think it would be warm enough to go sleeveless. Speaking of which, how ridiculously disproportionate is the amount of sandals being sold/bought in the shops every year in the UK?
Nearly there, if I had a pair of high-waisted jeans to prevent crop-top territory:
Who knew such a simple desire could be so complicated?
Thursday, 18 March 2010
read, read and read some more
It might be time for me to stop watching TV and reading blogs.
However much I love, love, love these activities, there is the inevitable fact that it means I read less books. And I have realised that if I am to successfully study English I have to read a lot more.
So I have devised a new system in which for the first time ever I plan to finally manage to read two novels at the same time.
In morning and afternoon I carry Lolita with me on public transport. That gets me through about 40 pages a day; sadly, I seem to have become a slow reader. Then in the evening I settle down in bed with an untransportable Middlemarch, which has definitely managed to entirely cure my insomnia.
Scattered on my desk are the books on which I am currently writing a life-devouring essay. There is also my abandoned copy of Visions of Gerard, just because I love it.
In my bag is the discounted early Charlotte Bronte short novel I bought for £2 off. Doesn't it look pretty?
Slight panic set in today after the excitement subsided when I took delivery of a free set of books of Shakespeare. Free, because they are part of an essay-writing course.
All these books definitely create the feeling that I am reading, reading and reading some more, even if Lolita is the only book I am actually reading at all. Oops.
However much I love, love, love these activities, there is the inevitable fact that it means I read less books. And I have realised that if I am to successfully study English I have to read a lot more.
So I have devised a new system in which for the first time ever I plan to finally manage to read two novels at the same time.
In morning and afternoon I carry Lolita with me on public transport. That gets me through about 40 pages a day; sadly, I seem to have become a slow reader. Then in the evening I settle down in bed with an untransportable Middlemarch, which has definitely managed to entirely cure my insomnia.
Scattered on my desk are the books on which I am currently writing a life-devouring essay. There is also my abandoned copy of Visions of Gerard, just because I love it.
In my bag is the discounted early Charlotte Bronte short novel I bought for £2 off. Doesn't it look pretty?
Slight panic set in today after the excitement subsided when I took delivery of a free set of books of Shakespeare. Free, because they are part of an essay-writing course.
All these books definitely create the feeling that I am reading, reading and reading some more, even if Lolita is the only book I am actually reading at all. Oops.
Sunday, 14 March 2010
healing
I really need to improve my time-management skills.
I spent ages messing around with the self-timer on my digital camera, realising the utility of balancing the camera on a stack of books (finally, a use for all those weighty volumes I buy...), trying to successfully snap my new heels.
They're not exactly new. They are a few years old, only I recently managed to persuade my mum to give them to me seeing as she has only worn them once since she bought them.
You see, I don't wear heels. I am tall-ish so they would be pretty conspicuous on a day-to-day basis. I am not so down with dressing up. Comfort is the main thing I take into consideration with footwear. I walk a lot. And my feet are bigger than those of most of my friends so I don't partake in the whole sharing shoes thing. All elements not very conducive to heel ownership.
But I do love heels, and on Friday I felt a bit frumpy so I decided to put on these heeled boots. Wow! Immediate difference to my entire mood, posture, aura. I love that I don't feel very dressed up either due to their boot-ness.
Still, the click-clack when I walk makes me feel a little grown-up, so I'm thinking a softer heel is next on my list. Maybe a nice crepe-y wedge? Suggestions, lovely readers?
I spent ages messing around with the self-timer on my digital camera, realising the utility of balancing the camera on a stack of books (finally, a use for all those weighty volumes I buy...), trying to successfully snap my new heels.
They're not exactly new. They are a few years old, only I recently managed to persuade my mum to give them to me seeing as she has only worn them once since she bought them.
You see, I don't wear heels. I am tall-ish so they would be pretty conspicuous on a day-to-day basis. I am not so down with dressing up. Comfort is the main thing I take into consideration with footwear. I walk a lot. And my feet are bigger than those of most of my friends so I don't partake in the whole sharing shoes thing. All elements not very conducive to heel ownership.
But I do love heels, and on Friday I felt a bit frumpy so I decided to put on these heeled boots. Wow! Immediate difference to my entire mood, posture, aura. I love that I don't feel very dressed up either due to their boot-ness.
Still, the click-clack when I walk makes me feel a little grown-up, so I'm thinking a softer heel is next on my list. Maybe a nice crepe-y wedge? Suggestions, lovely readers?
Thursday, 11 March 2010
memory triggers
Twenty-four months ago, I took this photo
When I look at it, it reminds me of the beginning of my love of France.
It reminds me of that awful phase when I was obsessed with fashion and beauty and I wore the most beautiful clothes (because I could afford it then) but I paired them with the short thick slugs of eyebrows, braces on my teeth and an unfortunate haircut.
It reminds me of the deepest, sincerest love I felt for the beautiful French trainee teacher. That one took me a good six months to get over.
I took this photo exactly a year ago. A card I made for my sister on her birthday. A token of my love. (I need to make one tonight pretty soon, actually). When I look at photos of her this time last year, I feel sad about how thin she looks but happy because she was ill and now she's better. When I look at this photo, I don't think about her at all but about the boy I started talking to again last spring and I realise how epically sad it is that a year later my sister has overcome her horrible illness and I'm still wallowing over something silly.
I'm not that shallow though. This photo, taken at little sis's party reminds me of my best friend. Who was there. Who I haven't spoken to for a couple of months and who I haven't really spoken to for over half a year.
I took this today. This book would have been bought by one of my grandparents. I've only read a couple of pages, but I still think it's beautiful, and I love it for the so many hundreds of feelings and memories it triggers.
When I look at it, it reminds me of the beginning of my love of France.It reminds me of that awful phase when I was obsessed with fashion and beauty and I wore the most beautiful clothes (because I could afford it then) but I paired them with the short thick slugs of eyebrows, braces on my teeth and an unfortunate haircut.
It reminds me of the deepest, sincerest love I felt for the beautiful French trainee teacher. That one took me a good six months to get over.
I took this photo exactly a year ago. A card I made for my sister on her birthday. A token of my love. (I need to make one tonight pretty soon, actually). When I look at photos of her this time last year, I feel sad about how thin she looks but happy because she was ill and now she's better. When I look at this photo, I don't think about her at all but about the boy I started talking to again last spring and I realise how epically sad it is that a year later my sister has overcome her horrible illness and I'm still wallowing over something silly.
I'm not that shallow though. This photo, taken at little sis's party reminds me of my best friend. Who was there. Who I haven't spoken to for a couple of months and who I haven't really spoken to for over half a year.
I took this today. This book would have been bought by one of my grandparents. I've only read a couple of pages, but I still think it's beautiful, and I love it for the so many hundreds of feelings and memories it triggers.
| The lamp said, | |
| “Four o’clock, | 70 |
| Here is the number on the door. | |
| Memory! | |
| You have the key, | |
| The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair. | |
| Mount. | 75 |
| The bed is open; the tooth-brush hangs on the wall, | |
| Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life.” | |
| The last twist of the knife. |
Sunday, 7 March 2010
desire
Wow, I hadn't realised that it's been so long since I last wrote on here. I don't know when I would have eventually realised if today I hadn't gone shopping for a gift for my little sister and fallen insanely in love with a million things of beauty which I felt I had to share on my beauty log. It's nice to come back to this blog once in a while after a blogging absence with a post which actually says something other than 'oh my, I am really a very bad blogger, um, sorry about that... what have I been doing? Watching TV mostly'. Which I can still say, because in truth the past week has been mainly occupied with my discovery that you can watch episodes of Sabrina the Teenage Witch online! Childhood revisited, yay!
ANYWAY.
I haven't yet got round to watching the new Alice in Wonderland movie I have excitedly blogged about several times. I am waiting for aforementioned sister's birthday. I have, however, had a chance to discover the Swarovski collaboration with Disney on this new film.
My favourite, favourite, favourite piece is the spilled tea pendant.
Nevertheless, I would happily settle for a Cheshire Cat, my favourite character in the stories. Or maybe a couple of trendy stacked rings to celebrate my love of solitaire.
On a more affordable level are the Disney Couture designs, none of which seems to have the same whimsical magical sparkly charm but which I would still definitely not say no to (hint, hint?)
ANYWAY.
I haven't yet got round to watching the new Alice in Wonderland movie I have excitedly blogged about several times. I am waiting for aforementioned sister's birthday. I have, however, had a chance to discover the Swarovski collaboration with Disney on this new film.
My favourite, favourite, favourite piece is the spilled tea pendant.
Nevertheless, I would happily settle for a Cheshire Cat, my favourite character in the stories. Or maybe a couple of trendy stacked rings to celebrate my love of solitaire.
On a more affordable level are the Disney Couture designs, none of which seems to have the same whimsical magical sparkly charm but which I would still definitely not say no to (hint, hint?)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)