WHAT A BULGING SACK

So I presume everyone's pretty much suicidal about how much they've eaten over the past few days? Get over it - tell Coleen Nolan. This is no place for self loathing. I for one, have been edging closer and closer to my Grey Garden's future, and the worrying thing is, not too sure I'm as bothered as I used to be. I love scarves me.

Anyway, you may recall a little shout out to Santa on my behalf, (pretty easy seeing as it's pretty much right below this post) and well, I have to tell you - he listened. VERY WELL.

May I introduce to you, Viv:

and her mates Mawi 1 and Mawi 2:

Followed by rediscovered old Dolce & Gabbana bag (sadly sans accompanying pink timberlands):

and for shits and gigs the living room, where the magic happened:

And for even more of a laugh, here's Tosca looking so cute I could wear her round my neck and call myself Jeremy Scott:

 

CHRISTMAS EVE EVE

My festive buzz has kind've gone. Not gone gone - just having a little rest I hope? I think it's been all the last minute frantic shopping. In short, I have melted my debit card and my will to live. On the up side, the burgeoning sales provided me with the perfect selfish opportunity to do a Carrie Bradshaw and buy myself a present. I'm wrapping it and everything.

Carvela, Surprise Ankle Boots; Were £150, Now £29, Kurt Geiger

 At 80% off it would have been rude not to surely?

In other news, here's what I've been doing at Motilo recently:

Blue Valentine: Michelle Williams

Virginie Mouzat NEKKED

Paul Smith's mystery gifts

Sky Ferreira: the next big thing

Florence & the thousand machines

Elle Fanning: the new Chloe Sevigny

I'll do one of those posts with all my presents after the day itself, after all everyone loves a smug bastard showing off what they've got. Cough, cough. In the meantime, I did me some Acne Atacoma nails. Lorra love.

It's all about a silver tip.

Chanel Blue Satin instead of black - just to mix it up yeh?

PULLING AT MY PURSE STRINGS

These babies make me swoon - however after purchasing I wouldn't have anything to put in them apart from a load of cut up credit cards. Father Christmas do you hear me?

VICTORIA LOUISE GEANEY FOR ASOS

Big up the UCA Massif as design graduate, Victoria Louise Geaney, wins ASOS 'Cape' competition. The 23 year old has managed to transform the often, pretty dull, shirt dress with this lovely voluminous creation. Having graduated from Epsom myself, it's good to see fellow alumni doing bloody well. I personally love this, but then again give me a bit of drape and I'm more or less sold. Teamed with the so-amazing-right-now rust colour and panelled detail and I wish I had a spare £150 hidden in a sock drawer somewhere. I wonder if she does 'I didn't really know you but we were kind of classmates' rates?

MAWI ME PWEASE

Anything by Mawi would make my Christmas MERRY.

MEG RYAN : FRENCH KISS

What better way to wear diamonds than with a slubby white tee and chinos?

I know this is hardly a groundbreaking ensemble - pretty much all items bar the bling have been gathering dust in Dalston for quite some time now - however, no one pulls it off like Meg. Pre trout pout of course, such a shame. Ah well, she seems fine now, but maybe if she slouched back into some of this gear and left the power suits and straighteners alone she and Parkie could be bezzies..? Who can say, but one thing's for sure - don't give the girl any cheese.

FREAKY & GROSS BUT ALSO KINDA COOL

JOYEUX NOEL TO MOI MORE LIKE

 

This is the result of Ford and Roitfeld having a creative tete a tete in the French Vogue offices, j'adore. BEAUCOUP.

Might be a bit a bit of a snug fit in the old Christmas stocking but this is the only filler I'm after opening on the 25th.

JANUARY JONES NEW FACE OF VER-SAYSE

Everyone's favourite nutty housewife is set to be the face of the new Versace Spring/Summer campaign - having been wined and dined by none other than Donaleather herself.

Make a bit of a change from this a few years ago non?

Read my piece all about it over at Motilo.

MARC JACOBS EAU SO FRESH

So last night saw the preview of the latest variation on Marc Jacob's favourite fragrance, Daisy, take place at Il Bottaccio in London's Belgravia. 

Guests were treated to the rare sight of a real-life horse upon entrance into the swanky do, decorated in an abundance of floral insignia of course. To drink there were the usual fruity martini's, as well as gold or pink champagne, mojito's with a twist and AMAZING crab cakes with lime mayo to soak it all up.

After a few cocktails a steady stream of partygoers jostled to take centre stage in the creation of their very own 'flip book' - but instead of recreating the childhood scenes you may remember from your youth, the 'stars' as it were danced the Charleston and held up signs declaring "I Heart Marc Jacobs" in between fits of hysteria. 

Upon leaving, (not too late, before the alcohol could do any damage) there was a generous goody bag provided, including a hefty bottle of the new fragrance - which is "Eau So Fresh" as it describes - a daisy encrusted lollipop and clear make up bag perfect for the most decadent of RyanAir travels.

I DID ME SOME SHANIQUA, AND WHAT?

Finally managed to get my hands(!) on the sold out EVERYWHERE Barry M Instant Nail Effects. Fierce non? Love the juvenile, free with a copy of J-17 aesthetic, matching toes gets you extra smile points.

Check out my piece on Motilo for the full deets.

TOM FORD WOMENSWEAR...

I will add words to this when I am not so excited. 

Karen Elson is all I can manage to say for now.

And maybe gold cuffs to the left - bloody hell I need a lie down.

"Berlin...

...a word that chimes in your chest like a bell. Berlin, a place so bright it pulls down the stars and wears them around it's neck."

As you may be able to guess, someone's been on vay-cay. Knowing nothing about Berlin we arrived on thursday with no awareness of the time, and not a clue where we were going. After standing like Joey and Chandler with the map rotating like a pig on a spit in our hands we finally made it to our amazing hotel - think Marie Antoinette meets The Graduate... Sounds weird I know. 

That night saw the launch of the third issue of the bi-annual style book that is Twin Magazine. Bar Soju played host in the Kreuzberg district and had a definite 'east' vibe but maintained the city's unusual feel of emptiness, apart from the club which was packed and smokey - which was a treat as going outside in this weather to indulge in one's dirty habit is becoming more and more tedious/treacherous. There was karaoke going in the loo as well as free drinks - natch; all in all a good night even though the following morning was slightly marred by the after effects.

Friday, despite the painful start, was our main day to do 'tourist' stuff, see the sights, eat the schniztel etc. After accidentally ordering what appeared to a chicken nugget baguette for brekkie, we ventured out in search of nice parks and iconic structures. After a brief wander past the zoo which was up the road from where we were staying, we waved at an elephant and jumped on a bus hoping to find the Holocaust Memorial, or as I knew it: "the thing with all the concrete bits sticking up". Not a great way to garner useful directions from the natives really. Finding this place seemed harder than locating Nemo, yet find it we did after a couple of hours walking pretty much everywhere apart from around the corner where it actually was; and as much as I'm 'down' with 'street art' and stuff - it wasn't exactly helpful.

The rest of the day passed in a lovely fashion, bar me ordering what pretty much amounted to a milk slush puppy. Travelling back the next morning was not so fun as all the sweet freebies we got in the goody bags from the party were disposed of before our eyes at the airport: Bumble and Bumble hair stuff included. The creme de la creme of bastard transport staff behaviour came in the form of ripping out the inside of my treasured Vintage Zippo lighter which I got for my birthday a few weeks ago, even though it was fine to take there. So arrived back in England feeling a little violated - but don't worry Berlin, Ich liebe dich noch immer.

DANKE.

ME MISS YOU LONG TIME

Love you Dierdre.

X X X

NO SPRING CHICKEN

So, even though it's only been a month, which is long enough I know, I am now actually a whole year older than when last we did speak. After a teeny tiny bit of a quarter life crisis (or mid if that lovely death clock website is to be believed) I am sending a few thoughts out into the ether once more. 

I am now working a few days a week at the oh so chic Motilo, a new avenue which was aided and abetted by the lovely George; and am in by far the nicest office EVER - slap bang in my fave Mayfair surroundings. 

I am also having a little sojourn to Berlin in a few weeks which will be tres excitement but means I'll have to curb my Franglais, so entschuldigung in advance to any German's for my lack of adequate communication. I've heard many excellent things about it so looking forward to seeing what all the jif is about, plus there should be plenty of Bratwurst flying about which is a bit of a dream come true.

I thought I'd leave you with a picture of my new boyfriend, who can currently be found doing a spot of work for M&S at the moment, such a busy lad.

Dreamy or what?

THE BEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN??

Michael Mouris is an effing genius. If you haven't seen A Lohan Christmas or Miley and Zaquisha you should slap yourself round the face and watch them now. Well, after you've watched this.

WHAT ENTRY LEVEL?

The fashion industry has always been seen as alluring and glamorous, glossy magazines have existed for years and born the brunt of ridicule, hatred and blame for the neurosis of women worldwide – as well as the envy of a pretty hefty majority. With the latest swathe of freshly educated graduates now tracking their way to the front doors of publishing houses, waving credible CV’s in the faces of editors and fatigued human resources staff wanting a piece of the action – what hope is there for them?

When I decided early in my teens that I wanted to be a fashion journalist, the concept was met with confusion and a great deal of head patting. The general misconception was that I desired to be a designer, and no matter how many times you reeled off names such as Suzy Menkes, Hadley Freeman or Colin McDowell they still ended any conversation with “well just think one day you can be the new Chanel!”… er no. Well, after a great many fraught hours staring at the UCAS pages, searching for the right course with enough credibility to ease me into the career of my dreams, I was finally an undergraduate on a respected programme and desperate to be thinking up headlines and stand firsts; all whilst remembering the five W’s (who, what, where, when and why obviously). As luck would have it, during my first term, The Devil Wears Prada was released at the cinema, everyone suddenly knew what I was trying to do and it was great… for about five minutes. Then came the Hills, then the City and now there are too many TV shows depicting what I want to be doing to count on some WAH! embellished fingers.

We were always taught at Uni that everybody moves around in this job, meet the right person, they’ll know a vacancy et voila – you’re in. All this was of course pre recession and before the idea that anyone can do it kicked off and some 13 year old in Miu Miu nicks your ‘entry point’. Nowadays, as much as I love the internet, you need to have a blog novelised and featured in the New York Times bestseller list before anyone will bother reading past the first three sentences of your cover letter. So what are we meant to do? Intern, intern and intern again apparently – despite the fact that you have already interned for over two years and have the managing editor of one of the world’s most renowned magazine’s as a reference, oh and not to mention that you’re poor, poor poor not just “shouldn’t buy those shoes” cash short – we’re talking £8 to last you the week and never mind the rent. Alarmingly, getting a ‘normal’ job is now just as difficult as getting one you actually want, as when all your working experience and demonstrable ‘team playing’ attributes come from successfully organising the return of some invaluable shoes to New York, or ringing and managing to warble in Franglais to Celine to check they still had the same address in Paris for the mailing list of a certain publication.

I’m in no doubt that a proportion of this years graduates are probably already in jobs I can only salivate over whilst straining through the Guardian Jobs pages day after day – I just wish someone would give me the chance to be one of them.

MUSICAL CENTENARY

So it's my 100th post... bit embarrassing I've rambled on that much isn't it?

Its all been a bit sporadic recently, lots to tell but not sure if it's all a bit yesterdays news by now... One thing I did do though was a short review of The Hit Ups new EP. It's free to download at the minute so if I were you I would get. on. that. shit.

Do it HERE

This four piece collective have done it again with this latest EP, not only proving that they are able to evolve seamlessly and without contrition, they’re making some pretty reckless waves that you can’t help but feel the reverberations of. New track Unforgivable is British in the best possible way, the band’s notorious party ethos is seeping out of every riff – if you were after something to make a room of people smack into each other like a bag of angry snakes this definitely fits the bill. Perhaps more commercial in the sense of radio friendly play to their more recent work, but that’s no bad thing. Any potential hook is exploited ruthlessly to make this tune as addictive as crack. Outstanding rhythm has always been one of the Hit Up’s strong points and this EP is no exception, with a slicker sound and a tighter composition; Josh’s vocals course through the tracks like opium in a pumping vein. 66Sexy is similarly as promiscuously delicious as its title suggests – a dirty, writhing incarnation of a song that deserves a sweaty, hair tugging audience, glassy eyes half closed through the bridge until the thrashing chorus shatters your spine. The always evolving band have made something truly rare these days with this EP – credible, unique and defiantly decent music that blows a lot of the competition clean out of the water.

I'M NOT A STYLIST OK?

So don't laugh at my provincial put-togethers. 

H&M have got some cracking stuff in this season and this is what I like and how I'd like to wear it. Been playing about on their website for lack of something more productive to do with my time. If anyone wants to donate to my AW clothe the unfashionable cause feel free.

I'M BAAAAAACK

Whenever I say that in my head it sounds so sinister and Freddie Kruger-esque(?) I scare myself. So I've been away, to France as per usual, and now that I am back I fully intend to post lots of things I've been thinking about whilst by the pool doing my best Ray Winstone. Lisa Love (of Hills acclaim) once famously said "France changes you" - well really she said Paris but who's splitting hairs it's pretty much the same thing - and I've been contemplating if this is, in fact, true. As far as I can tell, apart from gaining 10 litres of red, 500g of Golden Virginia, some nude leather espadrilles, a gold St Christopher and a chunky silver necklace akin to Carrie's when she meets Big on the boat in season 3; all I've got to notice about myself are some rapidly fading freckles and an overindulged palette.

A certain "post-vacance" whimsicality bordering on the morose could be present as is expected when one travels from 32 degrees and enough vitamin D to make your own supplements, to the rather non existent dregs of British "summertime". Distance obviously encourages personal evaluations, and reality can somewhat bite when re-confronted after a jolly absence. 

Cor, talking about bringing down the mood. On a lighter, more hopeful note, I've lots of things to put up so stay tuuuned as they say. 

Bisous x

"LOUNGE LIZARD" BAHAHA

FROG OR TOAD? EITHER WAY AMAZING

MY VERSION OF CARRIE'S NECK GARB

CARRIE IN SAID NECKLACE OBVIOUSLY