BTW

Oh and by the way, just forgot to mention have now seen Cemetery Junction and it is truly marvellous, a little like Flashbacks of a Fool but only 'cos of the 70's setting so in reality I'm lying and it's nothing like it. Still very, very good though. Go see.

JOIE DE VIVRE!

How unabashedly naughty of me to become so lax in my updating prowess. I do apologise, however some of you probably welcomed the break and in that case you can do one. So, what a lot has happened since I last did write, obviously I'm lying as I have a pathetically boring life, but there have been a couple of very satisfying strolls, or more like sits, on Clapham Common in the super-fly weather. 

Semi-Suburbanite activities aside nevertheless, I must draw your attention to the discovery of the best mood elevator this side of Prozac. Whack on a bit of Brigitte Bardot's Moi Je Joue at the worst of times and they'd be hard pushed not to become the best of times. Perfect for wiggling your toes to whilst you coquettishly chose something to wear pretending it's vintage Givenchy as opposed to Primark and you're the star of your own delightful French film when in reality you're probably standing in a pair of M&S knickers in harsh lighting. 

Sophia Coppola's directing job on the latest Miss Dior Cherie ad featuring the tune is pretty sweet, and I don't even like the perfume that much. Go on, have a listen, have a wiggle and put a bit of Ooh La La into that tired morning routine.

P.S. This post is dedicated to Dan Dan, she's dead good.

McCLAREN

"On this cruel, cruel, day... Get a life!" - Vivienne Westwood

r.i.p

LIKE A RUNAWAY TRAIN

Whoa, whoa, whoa. So there's been over two hundred hits since the weekend, bloody marvellous! Here's a nice little song to celebrate with. I think it's rather charming.

SICK AS A PARROT

So I'm like totally poorly at the minute, isn't it ridiculous how a bad cold can make you feel like you've forgotten what it is to breathe with ease. Whilst I lay here in my gross death bed, here is what I'd love to be doing if I were well and able.

I'd like to lounge here for a good few hours:

With some of this to stuff my face with:

Then go and see this at the Curzon Mayfair:

Finishing the day off with about 8 of these:

HELLS YEAH

The brilliant Mad Men's Christina Hendricks has been named "Best Looking Woman In America" by Esquire.

Like, obvs.

I'd happily give my left kneecap to be half as toe-curlingly hot as her.

SAVE OUR SOLES

So I am currently the poorest I've ever been in my life, a good thing one would think, that the sun has finally put his Philip Treacy hat on. Free activities such as park loitering, just walking around and generally sitting become very enjoyable. However, in a true case of Sods Law, my only sandals are fecked.  The soles have come away so I'm flapping down the street like the woman that feeds the birds in Mary Poppins. If I had some money to buy new footwear here is a selection that have taken my fancy, maybe if I go into the bank barefoot they'll give me a loan for £35?

All available from:

ISN'T THAT NICE

In the GLORIOUS sun today, the light caught some coloured panelling on an office and made the street into a little urban rainbow. How soppy!

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IF MONEY WERE NO OBJECT

I'd be all over this, like flies on you know what.

Perfect, don't you think, for one of these:

With this man:

Beaded Silk-Chiffon Kaftan, £1,265 by Issa at Net-A-Porter.

JUST COS I FEEL LIKE

How could this not make you happy?

Bisous xx

PARTY TIME

So to celebrate passing the 500 hits mark, and with many thanks to the super gorge Clara who has left us all to live it up at Interview Magazine in NY, what a hard life eh, here is a little taste of what you can find in the latest issue. I'll accept thank you's written on the back of a fresh pack of Camel Lights, cheers.

All images shot by Terry Richardson and courtesy of:

TRY NOT TO YAWN...

...this is important. For again it is time for that rare opportunity to have an opinion, and be able to do something about it. There are a depressingly large proportion of people I know, and I'm sure you know, that feel voting is useless - that they make no difference - bollocks. If you give a shit about how much the bus or tube costs, vote. If you're in education, about to go into it, leaving or have already left and are looking for a job - definitely vote. It's too important to sit on your arse and do nothing, and if you inevitably moan about something you had the chance to do something about, I for one, won't be listening.

EAR FOOD

So last week I had the pleasure of interviewing The Hit Ups for a friend's new men's magazine, and I have to say I was impressed. Very impressed indeed. Hailing from Bristol, they are fast becoming one's to watch, without clinging onto the cliched "Skins" tailcoats for dear life. Their sound is the good kind of loud yet skillfully executed, and front-man Josh even does some pretty sexy artwork and tee-shirts to coincide. Having already played to audiences of over 1500 at various festivals last year they are soon to begin recording with one of Portishead's producers. Get involved and watch them become just as iconic. 

Show Nuff Love.

PUGH-EEEEEE

So I've been on a bit of a dated fashion TV trip recently, thanks to 4oD updating its available archives I am now fully re-acquainted with old favourites such as She's Gotta Have It, G Girls, This Model Life and best of all Fashion House. The fact that I am dedicating so much time to late Nineties and early Noughties light entertainment is probably quite an embarrassing thing to own up to, err do I actually have a life, but the rewards are so great I really can't stop myself. It's hilarious that what is shown as 'cutting edge' sophistication and improbably chic yet attainable high street style now look as cheap as a sale rail at MK One. I know in another 10 years we'll probably all be thinking the same thing about our masses of straight off the catwalk Topshop and Zara numbers, but hell let's just enjoy it while we can and cross that shoe-booted bridge when we get to it eh? 

Back to my salvation during (numerous) times of boredom - Fashion House. The shows undoubted highlight is the access all areas pass to a young and Beyonce-less Gareth Pugh. He is told by a crazy French girl called Fanny that he likes to show his nipples too much, is told by Valentino he needs to re-think his direction, tells his parents his clothes cost pittance to make but he's going to rinse rich people who can afford to pay what he wants and is unbelievably the first to be voted off. This show is like a mental version of early days Big Brother with all the crazies Italy, France and Sweden have to offer, along with copious amounts of GCSE standard 'design creations' being made from half a meter of maribu and some camouflage and lame tulle. Standout performance definitely comes from UK team leader and Head of Fashion something at Central Saint Martins, David Kappo. I really, really, really want to be his friend or at least stand next to him for five minutes before I die. Surprisingly there's oodles of big names involved, from Naomi to Donatella all paying a visit to the psychotic design house based in Milan. All in all, what's not to love?

PURE SHORES

It amazes me how I have neglected to ad lib about something so dear to my heart for so long. It wasn't until prompted by an incredibly stylish friend that I stopped, smacked my forehead and said to myself "Jesus Christ what have you been playing at." I am of course harping on about the MTV sensation Jersey Shore, featuring nympho-guido's and the best hair this side of Coney Island circa 1983. In my head, the cast are split into three camps, firstly, those I want to be: Snooki and JWOWW, secondly, those I kind of fancy but don't know why, i.e. all the guys, and thirdly: Sammi the not so sweetheart, more dick. She can be in a camp all on her own and see who'll fight over her then. 

I used to go out in Weston-Super-Mare at the age of 15 and let me tell you there is little difference between there and the infamous hot-spot Karma. Yes, I wore pink high heeled Timbs, swigged voddy outside Tesco's and worked my way through a pack of Mayfair Menthols all wearing frosted lipgloss, but I never managed to be invited back to a menag-a-something in a rooftop hot-tub. Shame. With those days regretfully behind me, all I have to cling on to, in hopes of someday fist pumping myself into a frenzy once more, is a never dying love of pickles and a jaunty hair "poof", both guilty pleasures which can be incorporated into everyday life almost seamlessly. However, be careful not to indulge in too many gherkin style treats and keep the coke with your rum decidedly diet, or flaunting your best nipple grazing, naval swinging loin cloth of a top a la JWOWW could prove to be more flab than fab. If I were you I'd be heading to the local retail park to G.T.L. ready for summer quicker than you can say "I'm a Mama's Boy". See you on the boardwalk.

P.S. I didn't include Angelina in my categorization of cast members as she chose not to include herself in the show. I would say sorry for being petty and say she has nice short shorts or something but I won't and I am. What a waster.

I WISH I COULD LOOK LIKE...

... Julie Hefstrom on the cover of the second Vogue Turkey. Alas, my cheeks are too pink to be red on the head.

Shit rhyming aside, pretty sweet cover non?

ALRIGHT A FEW BAD THINGS...

... But I have a job interview coming up so it's fine.

Addison Boot - Topshop

I DID A BAD THING -

- but it's so totally worth it.

Julie Verhoeven for Mulberry dress - reduced. ALOT.

P.S. I first saw this dress back in October 07 in the Bond Street store for a cool grand and pretty much died. I then saw it once in the factory store in Somerset last winter but at half the price there was no way I could afford it. Then... last summer I tried tracking it down for this Vogue lunch I had and despite calling every single shop in the country and scouring eBay, no luck. Today, in the Somerset store again, there it was, hidden at the back and I swear I nearly had to change my pants. I can deal with being poor as long as I'm wearing this to rummage the bins.

JUST WANTED TO SAY...

... Happy Birthday Mummy.

SHE'S GOT TALONS

Fave new 17 (retro I know) nail polish. 12 year old Lilac  = powerpuff pretty yeh? Best when filed to an oval as opposed to square.

YOU'LL NEVER WALK ALONE

We all know the word "wigga", well I'm like one of those but for Scousers. Both my best friends Danielle and Tony are from the magical place of purple bins and yellow bus stops and I'm well jealous. Liverpool has undoubtedly THE best nightlife in the UK and I never fail to be amazed by a) the drink prices and b) the sheer amount of fucking cool people. Not only is everyone DEAD nice, or sound as it were, there is an unusual percentage of well-dressed people - from eclectic vintage mongers wearing the best that Raider's have to offer, to WAGS decked out in Cricket's finest - Balmain for a night out? Sure. During my many encounters t'up North I have endured: a visit to A&E after shamefully falling off a bar stool, a freshly opened stream of Champagne straight in the eye and most hideously of all, been comatose on the steps of a strange house - yet I still love it. I know the locals probably think I'm an embarrassing pain in the arse when I say 'pya' or 'meff' but I don't care. I'm a "Fouser" (faux-scouser) and PROUD, laaaaaa.

LET'S TALK ABOUT SPECS BABAY...

... Let's talk about YOU and ME. Ahh the effervescent immortality of Salt 'n' Pepper. But obviously we're not discussing lewd early 90's girl rap here. I've needed glasses since I was 14 yet have not worn them for over two years as I feel like they make me look like the lovechild of Woody Allen and Vanessa Feltz. I was so so so excited when I got my first Armani pair, standard mushroom-y black Louis Theroux frames, then after a year I got bored so decided to switch up to a more "experimental" pair of Vivienne Westwood's; which had, and I kid you not, pink, tinted egg-shaped lenses, free floating on a single piece of gold wire that sat across the bridge of the nose and wrapped round to the ears. Teamed with a fringe like that woman of the Compo advert I'm surprised I never got egged in the street. I then settled on a reasonably "safe" pair of Chanel frameless jobbies, which I then found out Paul O'Grady had so they were binned off. Last pair to now were the over popular Prada black visor style, with gems down the sides... hence why I haven't worn them in a while... SO, after literally months of searching (as well as discovering that opticians have the most unflattering lighting EVER) I settled on the cliched Ray Bans in "Dark Havana". What with my well documented financial limitations, I decided to be a cheap-arse and scoped out the specific frame that would sufficiently fit my extra-ordinarily large face, and ordered them online. Worked out pretty well I think, all in all £75 including lenses as opposed to the £200 odd I would have paid in the shops. Please excuse the wanky photo booth shot, it's for demonstration purposes only. Oh, and I wish my hair went like that all the time. 

HOME SWEET

OK, so after an incredibly long period of two weeks I am back nestling in the hearty bosom of my country home. Until recently, my room resembled a dated teenage den of Hello Kitty as opposed to iniquity, however, at New Year we decided enough was enough and sternly discarded of my childhood paraphernalia. Now it's all a bit Farrow & Ball and Cath Kidston, and I love it. Home visits are now like a mini-break in the Cotswolds, I even get folded towels on my bed FFS.