UPDATE: I'm rather proud with myself, because despite my obviously flighty and passionate attitude to fashion, in this case I've allowed practicality to reign. Being a fashion victim just isn't cool. I think I'm going for the navy coat, which has two sets of pockets, mainly for that reason. What can I say? I reckon that the fake pockets really would drive me insane. (although there's still time for me to change my mind...)
Last week, I went looking for a coat and came back with a bag. This week I came back with two coats. Now I need to decide which one to keep! Can I please have your help?
This first one is navy blue, a staple colour in my winter wardrobe. It is smart, warm, inexpensive and fits very nicely. The only issue I have is the belt, which I don't like. This could either be cut off or tied in a bow. Another thing is that it is EXTREMELY similar to my old, grey coat, which is also from Zara. Maybe also a little non-descript. Still - it's an extremely useful coat.
The second coat is a little more exciting and a little more pricey (but not much). It's from Topshop, so there are fears of seeing it on every other person on Oxford St in a couple of months. But god, the oatmeal colour is divine - although will it get dirty quickly? And you can see a glimpse of the stunning purple lining in the hood, which is naturally oh so important. The sleeve and back detailing are fantastic. But is the cut a little less classic and flattering? Also, the pockets are fake which may be liable to drive me insane.
Can you see my dilemma??? Please HELP! And no 'keep both' please ;)
Saturday, 27 September 2008
Friday, 26 September 2008
Sometimes all you need...
Is a little bit of retail therapy. Personally, I am a strong supporter of the stance which maintains that retail therapy is way cheaper than actual counselling, and if less long-lasting, just as effective therefore more worthwhile. Plus you'll be a better-dressed depressed person!
Anyway, I hadn't bought anything for a long while, and I was beginning to get a bit stressed. I felt like I deserved a reward for all my hard work and some nice results, and since no-one else seemed to feel the same way.. I set off on a search for a leopard print coat as a nice pat on the back. I came back with this:
Sort of close, yes? In my defence, I'd been looking for a new bag for a while. A neutral coloured leather and roomy bag with gold hardware. Right.
Nevertheless, I am immensely pleased with my pretty little purchase. There is a BEAUTIFUL pink lining, which we've already established is far more important than the actual item. Despite the petiteness, there are plenty of little compartments so that all my stuff can vaguely fit (if I pack selectively). The colours go perfectly with my winter palette of grey and black. Most importantly this bag fits neatly in with my new aim to shop as much as possible from independent designers and as little as possible from the evil high street.
If you want to buy your own completely unnecessary but guiltless bit of retail therapy, have a browse on the Kate Sheridan website. I bought my bag at Spitalfields Market where they sell these bags on a Sunday. There is loads of absolutely beautiful ware being sold at Spitalfields on a Sunday, including accessories with an AMAZINGLY GSOH.
Anyway, I hadn't bought anything for a long while, and I was beginning to get a bit stressed. I felt like I deserved a reward for all my hard work and some nice results, and since no-one else seemed to feel the same way.. I set off on a search for a leopard print coat as a nice pat on the back. I came back with this:
Sort of close, yes? In my defence, I'd been looking for a new bag for a while. A neutral coloured leather and roomy bag with gold hardware. Right.
Nevertheless, I am immensely pleased with my pretty little purchase. There is a BEAUTIFUL pink lining, which we've already established is far more important than the actual item. Despite the petiteness, there are plenty of little compartments so that all my stuff can vaguely fit (if I pack selectively). The colours go perfectly with my winter palette of grey and black. Most importantly this bag fits neatly in with my new aim to shop as much as possible from independent designers and as little as possible from the evil high street.
If you want to buy your own completely unnecessary but guiltless bit of retail therapy, have a browse on the Kate Sheridan website. I bought my bag at Spitalfields Market where they sell these bags on a Sunday. There is loads of absolutely beautiful ware being sold at Spitalfields on a Sunday, including accessories with an AMAZINGLY GSOH.
Thursday, 25 September 2008
The Joker
Funny people are often very unhappy. I do not believe this to be a generalisation, considering how many sad examples there are to back up my statement, and if the said funny person is not currently unhappy then they have almost definitely suffered from depression, unhappy childhoods or tragedy in the past.
I used to hate being seen as funny, because I would get all paranoid about whether people liked my humour or my me. My ditziness or deprecating comments were a mask for what was most probably general angst but which felt tremendously important at the time. As I've grown, I feel that I've become more content, and although I am obviously not happy 100% of the time, I feel like my smiley persona is less of a persona than it used to be. Once, somebody told me that they could never tell when I was upset because I always smiled. Then I went through a period of being irritatingly melancholy. I think I've found a good medium where I can vent my unhappy moments and be able to smile afterwards. There's only one problem.
I think I've lost my funniness.
I do still make people laugh and smile and I like that. When I'm in a particularly sarcastic mood, I can be pretty witty. But I really am beginning to worry that soon I won't have any humour left. God, I realise how ridiculous that sounds now but I made a resolution to write at least a page of fiction every day and started yesterday; I was shocked to discover how terribly, horrendously angsty I sounded! Today I wrote a couple of short pieces inspired by rainbows. The first was just generally trying to be intelligently symbolic and metaphorical. Hmmm. So I decided that the second would be a little lighter. It turned into a piece of micro-fiction about a messed up little girl with a screwed up family background who ends up running away. I have decided to share it, because as they say, it is essential to be able to endure humiliation if you want to be funny. I'm OK with that:
I used to hate being seen as funny, because I would get all paranoid about whether people liked my humour or my me. My ditziness or deprecating comments were a mask for what was most probably general angst but which felt tremendously important at the time. As I've grown, I feel that I've become more content, and although I am obviously not happy 100% of the time, I feel like my smiley persona is less of a persona than it used to be. Once, somebody told me that they could never tell when I was upset because I always smiled. Then I went through a period of being irritatingly melancholy. I think I've found a good medium where I can vent my unhappy moments and be able to smile afterwards. There's only one problem.
I think I've lost my funniness.
I do still make people laugh and smile and I like that. When I'm in a particularly sarcastic mood, I can be pretty witty. But I really am beginning to worry that soon I won't have any humour left. God, I realise how ridiculous that sounds now but I made a resolution to write at least a page of fiction every day and started yesterday; I was shocked to discover how terribly, horrendously angsty I sounded! Today I wrote a couple of short pieces inspired by rainbows. The first was just generally trying to be intelligently symbolic and metaphorical. Hmmm. So I decided that the second would be a little lighter. It turned into a piece of micro-fiction about a messed up little girl with a screwed up family background who ends up running away. I have decided to share it, because as they say, it is essential to be able to endure humiliation if you want to be funny. I'm OK with that:
I had a best friend, and sometimes she liked to pretend that her name was Rainbow. Sometimes it was Princess Luna India Rainbow, or Dr Rainbow Bowman, or Sparkle the Rainbow-Catcher. But mainly she just liked to be called Rainbow. On our first day at school, my Mum tied my hair back and made me wear my brand-new navy blue boots. I hated them; I’d wanted to buy the pink satin pair which would have made me look like a ballerina. A very scruffy ballerina, my Mum said. Of course, my friend was wearing her shiny red shoes which she told me her Daddy bought from Dorothy Gale. I believed her, but later my Mum told me that Sophie’s Daddy had been living in
When I went back and told all this to Queen Rainbow the Great, her purple mascara began to run and she said that Hawaii was very beautiful and when she was older she would be Queen Rainbow the Great of Hawaii. She told me that Son of a Bitch was what they called the Kings in
Once, when my goldfish died, The Rainbow Detective told me that the Evil Witch who pretended to be a dinner lady at our school must have poisoned her, because she’d poisoned her Mummy too. I couldn’t sleep at night for three days, and then my Mum promised me that Sophie’s Mummy just had a little accident and that evil witches didn’t exist. Barbara was actually a very nice lady. The next day at school, Runaway Rainbow said not to believe her and that Adults are just very good at lying. She’d formed a plan of action: I’d bring in the new bicycle I got for my birthday (for her), and the old one in the shed (for me). Then we’d run away at lunchtime, before the Evil Witch tried to poison us too. In the meantime, we’d have to be very careful not to drink any orange juice.
I didn’t bring in the bicycles. Miss Rainbow Star was very angry and said that I’d broken the rules. She didn’t speak to me for a week, apart from once, before she ran away. The last time I saw her, Blue Bird Rainbow said to me that I was her very best friend ever. She gave me a friendship bracelet made out of daisies and said that she was going to find the Land of Oz, like the song that Judy Garland sings in the movie.
I still can’t see a rainbow without the black mascara running down my made-up face.
Wednesday, 24 September 2008
A Flickr of Light.
Sometimes, I enjoy art. However I am ashamed to admit (coming from an arty heritage) that a lot of 'important' art just doens't speak to me. I can look at it, appreciate the talent that would have been required to create it or maybe, in the case of most modern art, appreciate the fact that it's revolutionary. But it just doesn't excite me, or seem beautiful to me.
Strangely this apathy doesn't extend to photography. The recent bout of photo displaying websites has been heaven for me and when I was introduced to the website flickr a few months ago I became a little bit obsessed. I can spend forever admiring the different styles and obvious talent. How fantastic are the creative and adorable photos of this photographer's kids?
The weird thing is that I am also really interested in the minutae of the techniques and methods used to create stunning photography. I found this lesson on the rules of photography fascinating, despite being terrible at both maths and photography. And I love the tilt shift effect of the below photo, althugh I'm still not sure what the difference between a fake tilt shift and a real one is.
Websites such as phiary and blogs which post interesting photography such as Peachy Hollow (I love the idea of a self-portrait a day... a little voyeuristic perhaps?) are also responsible for my love for photography. Although my photography skills are still absolutely terrible, I think that sites like flickr have been responsible for me falling in love with photography, so much that I've started to look at the pretty pictures in magazines, not just the words, and finding them beautiful.
NB: in celebration of this, I added a new tag: Art Attack, for posts which are solely about the traditional sense of art, but of course one could go on on to argue that films, fashion even food and anything beautiful is in fact art. Therefore my whole blog would an art blog, so I deleted the tag and replaced it with Pretty Pictures. Naturally, not all pretty pictures will be filed under Pretty Pictures, so if you're looking for a post about arty stuff, it's probably under 'my cultural education'. Thanks.
Strangely this apathy doesn't extend to photography. The recent bout of photo displaying websites has been heaven for me and when I was introduced to the website flickr a few months ago I became a little bit obsessed. I can spend forever admiring the different styles and obvious talent. How fantastic are the creative and adorable photos of this photographer's kids?
The weird thing is that I am also really interested in the minutae of the techniques and methods used to create stunning photography. I found this lesson on the rules of photography fascinating, despite being terrible at both maths and photography. And I love the tilt shift effect of the below photo, althugh I'm still not sure what the difference between a fake tilt shift and a real one is.
Websites such as phiary and blogs which post interesting photography such as Peachy Hollow (I love the idea of a self-portrait a day... a little voyeuristic perhaps?) are also responsible for my love for photography. Although my photography skills are still absolutely terrible, I think that sites like flickr have been responsible for me falling in love with photography, so much that I've started to look at the pretty pictures in magazines, not just the words, and finding them beautiful.NB: in celebration of this, I added a new tag: Art Attack, for posts which are solely about the traditional sense of art, but of course one could go on on to argue that films, fashion even food and anything beautiful is in fact art. Therefore my whole blog would an art blog, so I deleted the tag and replaced it with Pretty Pictures. Naturally, not all pretty pictures will be filed under Pretty Pictures, so if you're looking for a post about arty stuff, it's probably under 'my cultural education'. Thanks.
Tuesday, 23 September 2008
Furnishing
Around a month ago, I asked for somebody to come up with a makeover plan for my blog. The general consensus seemed to be that it was fine the way it was, so I left it (albeit a little disappointed at not being able to use my badge). But recently I've started to add things, a header, more labels and today the 'things to ponder' gadget. I thought it was quite cute but it may have to go because of the annoying ads it comes with.
There's another new thing the side, titled 'What's making me happy'. Every so often, I'll change the image up there to what's currently making me happy. Right now it's memories of Mr Hartnett. I quite like the idea of furnishing the blog rather than going for a drastic makeover. It's sort of like moving into a new house; you don't change it completely, you just slowly start adding some personal touches.
There's another new thing the side, titled 'What's making me happy'. Every so often, I'll change the image up there to what's currently making me happy. Right now it's memories of Mr Hartnett. I quite like the idea of furnishing the blog rather than going for a drastic makeover. It's sort of like moving into a new house; you don't change it completely, you just slowly start adding some personal touches.
Beauty and the Books
The Guardian is surely a newspaper after my own heart. The latest Guardian Weekend, which I co-incidentally picked up on the tube (I normally read the news online) was a fashion and literature special, with an interview and accompanying shoot of the lovely Emily Mortimer dressed up as her favourite literary heroines. Here is one of the looks, no prizes for guessing this one:
There was also an accompanying 'fashion-spotter's guide to literature' which was nicely entertaining and led me to start thinking about my earliest fashion/literature memories and realising that a lot of them co-incide.
The first books I can really remember reading to myself and loving are the Enid Blyton boarding school books. Mallory Towers, The Naughtiest Girl At School... I loved them. Maybe this can explain my affinity with the preppy side of fashion: striped blazers, argyle socks, pleated skirts.
But my very very favourite book when I was younger was Ballet Shoes. I simply worshipped it and must have read it at least 10 times. When I try to analyse what made me love Noel Streatfield's work so much, I begin to notice how much attention she pays to what the characters are wearing, where they got their clothes, even how much they cost. This is a description of making white frilly organdie frocks for an audition:
'Nana went out at once for the stuff, and as soon as she got back, she cut them out, and Mrs Simpson, Sylvia, and cook formed a sewing club to help her. Cook made the slips, Mrs Simpson whipped the frills, which took hours, and Sylvia made up one dress and Nana the other.'
Maybe it is my adoration of Ballet Shoes which has fed my love of ballet pumps (I have a pink satin pair) and impractical silk dresses. Even the austere Jane Eyre takes pride in her simple grey silk dress, a garment which has always stuck in my mind as something I'd like to wear.
Whether there is a direct correlation between my style and the styles of my favourite literary heroines is definitely very questionable, considering the fact that I do not own a single green velvet dress (Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With the Wind owns plenty), even one trench coat (a necessity for Holly Golightly) and have a distinct lack of ethereal Rodarte-style fairy costumes, which most of my childhood heroines would have worn. However it was interesting to realise that there is one thing that many of my favourite literary characters share: an interest in clothes.
There was also an accompanying 'fashion-spotter's guide to literature' which was nicely entertaining and led me to start thinking about my earliest fashion/literature memories and realising that a lot of them co-incide.The first books I can really remember reading to myself and loving are the Enid Blyton boarding school books. Mallory Towers, The Naughtiest Girl At School... I loved them. Maybe this can explain my affinity with the preppy side of fashion: striped blazers, argyle socks, pleated skirts.
But my very very favourite book when I was younger was Ballet Shoes. I simply worshipped it and must have read it at least 10 times. When I try to analyse what made me love Noel Streatfield's work so much, I begin to notice how much attention she pays to what the characters are wearing, where they got their clothes, even how much they cost. This is a description of making white frilly organdie frocks for an audition:
'Nana went out at once for the stuff, and as soon as she got back, she cut them out, and Mrs Simpson, Sylvia, and cook formed a sewing club to help her. Cook made the slips, Mrs Simpson whipped the frills, which took hours, and Sylvia made up one dress and Nana the other.'
Maybe it is my adoration of Ballet Shoes which has fed my love of ballet pumps (I have a pink satin pair) and impractical silk dresses. Even the austere Jane Eyre takes pride in her simple grey silk dress, a garment which has always stuck in my mind as something I'd like to wear.
Whether there is a direct correlation between my style and the styles of my favourite literary heroines is definitely very questionable, considering the fact that I do not own a single green velvet dress (Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With the Wind owns plenty), even one trench coat (a necessity for Holly Golightly) and have a distinct lack of ethereal Rodarte-style fairy costumes, which most of my childhood heroines would have worn. However it was interesting to realise that there is one thing that many of my favourite literary characters share: an interest in clothes.
Sunday, 21 September 2008
wordle
Blogs are collections of words; on the website wordle.net can create a colagge of the commenest words on your blog as of late. This is mine:
I really love it. I've always been unsure of what to make my blog's header because no picture seems to quite encapsulate it - it's fitting that only words will suffice. think I have finally found my header.
I really love it. I've always been unsure of what to make my blog's header because no picture seems to quite encapsulate it - it's fitting that only words will suffice. think I have finally found my header.
Even movie stars get nervous...
Last night, I saw the much awaited play Rain Man aka Josh Hartnett vehicle.
I could go on about Adam Godley's amazing performance, Josh Hartnett's amazing naked chest and what was predictably an amazing night. But there was one thing which stood out for me, something scarily pertinent after yesterday's discussion about perfect flaws: Mr Hartnett's performance. Throughout the first interval, I saw the poor rich movie star stumble over, mistake, rush and repeat his lines more than I have ever seen in any other play. In the second half, he was actually 10000x times better; his nerves had probably calmed down a great deal, but of course I could not help but forgive him instantaneously. In fact, I found myself fall in love with the thespian more violently than any viewing of Pearl Harbour had inspired before. As I kept on repeating to my lovely friend, it was incredibly endearing. Josh Hartnett gets nervous too! Awww...
(a star-struck pretty face who is going to go back and tell Mr Hartnett how much he's improved)
I could go on about Adam Godley's amazing performance, Josh Hartnett's amazing naked chest and what was predictably an amazing night. But there was one thing which stood out for me, something scarily pertinent after yesterday's discussion about perfect flaws: Mr Hartnett's performance. Throughout the first interval, I saw the poor rich movie star stumble over, mistake, rush and repeat his lines more than I have ever seen in any other play. In the second half, he was actually 10000x times better; his nerves had probably calmed down a great deal, but of course I could not help but forgive him instantaneously. In fact, I found myself fall in love with the thespian more violently than any viewing of Pearl Harbour had inspired before. As I kept on repeating to my lovely friend, it was incredibly endearing. Josh Hartnett gets nervous too! Awww...(a star-struck pretty face who is going to go back and tell Mr Hartnett how much he's improved)
Saturday, 20 September 2008
A perfect flaw
Everyone sees perfection in a different way, but I do know that it's very rare to find someone who subscribes to the absolutely pristinely perfect Stepford-wives perfection.
To be frank, it's all just a little bit too creepy. Real people who haven't been replaced by murdering robots simply can't have perfect teeth, perfect hair, perfect bodies, perfect skin, perfect clothes and a perfect smile all the time. Nevertheless, whilst society insisting that imperfect is better, more sexy, we are still implored to try and acquire the perfect teeth, perfect hair, perfect bodies, perfect skin, perfect clothes and a perfect smile with bombardments of cosmetic surgery ads, the latest anti-wrinkle products, pictures of Amazonian models.
Even people who believe that they are being unconventional are trying to channel a form of perfection: a unique yet wholly fashionable look which, whilst not conforming to the Stepford ideal, is perfectly cool in itself. I have previously admitted and moaned about the fact that we're all trying to look perfect, including myself.
Still, I can't deny the appeal of a flaw. Actress Jo Joyner, who played sexy Beth on the TV series No Angels, admits that her admired 'sexy strut' is actually an unavoidable product of a faulty hip. I find gap teeth inexpicably beautiful, modelled here by Vanessa Paradis, who is with the desirable Johnny Depp and is pretty much universally accepted as b
eautiful. I have had braces for a while to fix over-crowding and recently I've acquired a little gap in between the two front teeth, and I have to say I LOVE it. I'll be sad to see it go.
I also mentioned here an overweight character who is seen as the most beautiful in her society. It's a shame that the whole point of this idea is that they're all really messed up and have created their own ideas about perfection, but still an interesting thought.
It's often agreed that complete perfection is unattainable. But if flaws can be perfect, then so are we.
To be frank, it's all just a little bit too creepy. Real people who haven't been replaced by murdering robots simply can't have perfect teeth, perfect hair, perfect bodies, perfect skin, perfect clothes and a perfect smile all the time. Nevertheless, whilst society insisting that imperfect is better, more sexy, we are still implored to try and acquire the perfect teeth, perfect hair, perfect bodies, perfect skin, perfect clothes and a perfect smile with bombardments of cosmetic surgery ads, the latest anti-wrinkle products, pictures of Amazonian models.Even people who believe that they are being unconventional are trying to channel a form of perfection: a unique yet wholly fashionable look which, whilst not conforming to the Stepford ideal, is perfectly cool in itself. I have previously admitted and moaned about the fact that we're all trying to look perfect, including myself.
Still, I can't deny the appeal of a flaw. Actress Jo Joyner, who played sexy Beth on the TV series No Angels, admits that her admired 'sexy strut' is actually an unavoidable product of a faulty hip. I find gap teeth inexpicably beautiful, modelled here by Vanessa Paradis, who is with the desirable Johnny Depp and is pretty much universally accepted as b
eautiful. I have had braces for a while to fix over-crowding and recently I've acquired a little gap in between the two front teeth, and I have to say I LOVE it. I'll be sad to see it go.I also mentioned here an overweight character who is seen as the most beautiful in her society. It's a shame that the whole point of this idea is that they're all really messed up and have created their own ideas about perfection, but still an interesting thought.
It's often agreed that complete perfection is unattainable. But if flaws can be perfect, then so are we.
Friday, 19 September 2008
Relaxation
You may have noticed that recently my posts have been a lot less long-winded than usual; I'm finding that I have to resort to more and more braindead TV watching in order to cope with the hecticness of everything else, whenever I have a moment. But tonight there's nothing on that I really want to watch and I've got a couple of free hours. I considered typing up an idea I had, but it required a lot of scanning, waiting, writing, googling...
Perfect formula for relaxation! Of course, in the end getting the photo to load took as long as typing up a post would have but anyway... here it is: pretty photos (seriously - Italian Vogue's editorals are amazing and I actually plan to write about that in more detail), some nail maintenance, a nice BIG cup of tea and my lovely PC.
What's your perfect relaxation formula?
Perfect formula for relaxation! Of course, in the end getting the photo to load took as long as typing up a post would have but anyway... here it is: pretty photos (seriously - Italian Vogue's editorals are amazing and I actually plan to write about that in more detail), some nail maintenance, a nice BIG cup of tea and my lovely PC.What's your perfect relaxation formula?
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