eagerly anticipated disappointment

Apparently tonight will be the party of the year. I’m sure mine may be good; friends, alcohol, a prettyful dress and the knowledge that I’m the owner of a brand new canon will all help. I cannot agree that the past new years eves have been the parties of the year, however I’ve had some good ones. Everyone claims new years is just a “major let down,” but I quite like it. My miniature, week long extension to the Christmas period. 2009 has been a fantastic year, I don’t think I’ve ever jam packed so much into one year. Even when the parents took me and my sister abroad every year on marvellous, magnificent holidays I still pleaded to travel the five hours across the good olde English countryside to Cornwall. Both, having spent their own childhoods chock-a-blocked into a caravan in the West country, declined my appeals. In 2009 my wish came true. Of course the idea was to learn how to surf for future travels, of course it was the weekend of the first snow in Bude for four years. Typical. Nevertheless, I have decided I will one day live in Cornwall, the most beautiful and inspiring place I've ever been to. Even if there was snow on the sand; which by the by is really, really weird (but) wonderful. 2009 was my year of travels. OMG I got to go to frigging Thailand! I got to backpack for two months of my life! I got to live on a beach, in the cliffs in a tiny shack with the most amazing view I have ever experienced. I got to share my home with a friendly 12” lizard and a water-loving snail. I got to scuba dive. I lilo surfed. I bloody well slept on ‘the beach’ beach! I shared sand particles with Leonardo DiCaprio (swoon.) 2009 was the year I once again took to education. I took to education like a duck to water. Dear God, thank-you for the creation of University. I will never regret my debt, I will never regret my choice of course, I may think about regretting my choice of Uni but I never truly will. Why? Because I have met some of the most amazing friends, I have had the most fun in the past three months and I can barely remember any of it (oh alcohol, what do you do to me!?) 2009 I finally got to watch Caleb and fellow Followill’s at Reading Festival. OK the dude truly smashed my hopes and dreams. You know how they say you should never meet your idols? Never more true than the moment the band of my dreams smashed their guitars, threw them into the audience and walked off stage, not with a wave, but showing the elusive, rock star, one finger salute. Still they were amazing and I am thankful that I have seen them, I still love them, it must be something in the water. My love and respect for many a band grew and grew; Friendly Fires were amazing, Alexisonfire did not disappoint and Florence Welch was breathtaking. Even Radiohead were good, and I’ve never liked Radiohead! 2009 was amazing. A damn good year! A year of irresponsible behaviour (maybe my last year of irresponsible behaviour.) Certainly the last of my teenage years. The proposal of twentyten is truly terrifying. The unknown. The unlikely. The year of my twenty’s. The past decade of my life has seen me attend three different schools, a University. Visit nine various countries, a habit I prey will continue in this new age. I've grown up, the world has changed. The next ten years are terrifying. The noughties was supposedly an age of peace and happiness, alas terrorism has continued. The world is not the liberal arena I hope and dream it could be. In so many ways the noughties was a decade for progress. In so many ways the noughties was a decade of hate, of oppression. Seventy years since the Second World War and the BNP are jabbering on about who-wants-to-know-what! There is not a need to fear the intelligent, just the cunning. There is no reason to be scared of the informed, rather the ignorant. And England is currently full of those.

2010 will be the year i can vote. And I will certainly be doing this. Women fought for me to have that right and I shall gratefully use it.

Other 'plans' (resolutions are never kept, this word may work miracles for my will power) include:

Continue to go to all of my lectures.

Actually pay for gym membership and go.

Make this a fashion blog apposed to a ramblings blog!

Do something good, maybe volunteer at a charity shop?

And learn to use my most prized possession, my Canon 40D 17 to 85mm lens (yay!)

Oh and start sewing more! Happy New Year world. I wish you all the best for the next 365 days. Make them worth your while!

"You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself, any direction you choose." Dr. Seuss

where were the childhood butterflies?

Two years ago I had the best Christmas anybody could wish for. I spent Christmas eve at a Chinese restaurant in Gravesend, a place I seldom visit. This was a spontaneous meal on my behalf, my best friend amber simply rang me and 20 minutes later I was on the A2 to the town next door. We then ventured to the pub, being just 17 there was the thrill that I miss about being underage, and strangely everyone I knew from the seldom visited place were congregating in this pub. It was surprisingly fun considering I was with ambers mother and her fellow mum friends. Afterwards we ended in our local town, we didn’t go with everyone else to the only nightclub around because we didn’t have any ID, instead we stayed put to see familiar faces and have a slightly tipsy good time. I was sad not to be in bed by 12, however when I finally arrived home the parents were up and awaiting my homecoming. I woke at half seven as per usual Christmas morning and merely enjoyed a splendid Christmas day filled with laughter, presents, food and family. It was my favourite day ever.

Last year was a slight let down, I presumed this was a one off. But this year had the same feeling, an ordinary feeling; I miss the magic of Christmas. I don’t get a squirmy stomach anymore, I don’t eat too much I feel a little nauseous, I don’t feel like electricity is passing through my veins. I was distressed, imagining this may just be a problem that comes with age, I might not feel the same until I have my own kids to spoil and lie to about Santa. But I’m beginning to think the magic of Christmas is slipping out of reach of, not just myself, but everyone. This year, the petrol station closest to me was open. A small factor to affect ones whole day, but it really provoked my emotions. How, after 2000 years since the birth of Christ and a closure of petrol stations on the 25th of December, can there suddenly be a need for one on this, the holiest of days? Its ridiculous. I sound like a middle aged man, maybe, but how comes every year the shops stay open later after letting people in earlier? Is there a need for boxing day to be the beginning of the sales? If I, a crazy shopoholic, can wait an extra day surely every-bloody-one else can!?

I am not Christian. I’m not religious. Once upon a time Christmas was a time for church going and prayer, but not anymore. The day, like many things in life, may have become just a little bit secular over the years. Yes, many children believe Christmas is purely based around present receiving, and this is a tragedy. Although I am not religious I will never falter in my complete belief in Christmas, even if I have lost my cheer. The day brings families together, however dysfunctional they all may be, it is a day similar to thanks-giving in the states. The one day of the year people will not question why you are buying them a gift. Sadly, I am but a poor student who had to hand make presents this year. But I loved it, and everyone on the receiving end also appreciated my hard work. Maybe even more than a bought present. I love the giving part of Christmas, the talking, the board games and the family. I’m never one to complain too heavily about our consumerist society. Studying fashion doesn’t help because however beautiful, inspiring, creative etc.etc. the fashion industry may be, it is and always will be a business. My future career is practically based around consumerism. But why does this have to merge onto Christmas!? For Pete’s sake, Christmas IS a time for giving nevertheless it doesn’t matter how much the item cost, how glitzy it is. Is it what that person will appreciate and love and use? My aunt used to anger me when, every year, she would buy me presents from Primark. Not because it was before Primark was nice, no it was because she hadn’t thought about what I like, what I would want, what would make me remember it for all the right reasons!

One day, I truly hope, I will wake up on my own accord for Christmas once more. I wish I will feel fuzzy and warm and happy. Happy for nothing more than the fact it is purely Christmas day.

I hope everyone enjoyed their day tremendously, and all your Christmas wishes came true. joyeus noel. x

the not so ugly betty

ohh how i love magazines! every month i purchase vogue and feel the butterflies fluttering around in my belly as i flick through and scrutinise each and every page. i'm not, however, particularly a fan of online magazines. i know i can read the majority of vogue online, i'd just rather not. to be completly honest the only thing i like about online magazines it that they're free!

but betty has changed all that! it's basically a mixture of frankie and lula magazine, combined with quirky photographs and interesting features on all sorts of things. even one i recently read in vogue about the rise of the new WI shoreditch sisters. a free magazine with photography i prefer and vogue style editorials?

yes! yes! yes!

above photograph is titled 'learning to fly', taken by a 15 year old! such a beautiful photograph, love love love it. oh how i'm a sucker for polaroid photos. so lovely, oh and it helps that i'm now getting the doc martens for christmas so i feel no envy :)

it is so inspiring. betty is produced by two final year BA (hons) promoting fashion students who happen to be from UCA rochester, about half an hour from my home. i wish i could produce a magazine this amazing by the time i'm in my final year of uni, fingers crossed!

make sure sure sure you check the magazine out. it's so adorable.

http://www.bettymagazine.co.uk/

move over vogue, betty is my new best friend!

“We need a new word for Feminism. Maybe the Clitterati?”

This is my profile piece on author Kathy Lette for my Magazine Journalism unit. She came to our Uni, was awarded an Honoury Doctarate and was so so kind as to stay behind and chit chat to us and answer our questions.

Grey. It’s the only word to describe not only today and the typical weather that accompanies any October in England, it also perfectly describes the room I am waiting in. Row upon row of chairs march their way up the back of the hall and while stationary at the bottom of this tower I find it’s terribly intimidating. Like a large rain cloud has slyly slipped past the ajar door and is in front of me in the most threatening position imaginable. The room is buzzing with a monotonous drone, and I decide instantly I want to sit at the top of the chairs, at the back, a little bit closer to the lights; the sort you always get in classrooms. Embedded in the ceiling, large rectangles of artificial lighting are the only source to keep this room lit since there are a severe lack of windows. At the top of the tower of chairs I feel like a bird, flying in the sky and observing all the antics below me. To my right at the front of the stage are the eager beavers, the Writing Contemporary Fiction students who can’t contain their excitement. They’re acting like vultures waiting to gnaw their prey to pieces. But then she enters, and instantly the room lights up as if a builder has knocked through 20 windows in a split second. Half of this light is due to the unruly contrast between the blandness of the room and the woman’s clothing. A pink leopard print skirt suit (“I like the gay leopard look”) just screams confidence, but not in an aggressive way. The suit accompanies red high heels and a red bag covered in what appears to be blow-up hearts: “Isn’t it just like Jordan’s boobs,” she jokes. On top of this fabulous outfit is a red graduation gown, and to accessorise a huge smile that lets us all know this woman has achieved something amazing and it’s a welcome shock to her. The room I found so intimidating before is suddenly transformed into a welcoming place, a friendly sanctuary where this one woman show will perform and entertain me. The monotonous drone turns into excited chatter. I feel relaxed and excited with everyone else, the first word she speaks has me laughing and I know it will certainly be an outrageous few hours. This is the Kathy Lette effect. The Australian author has today been awarded an honorary degree by Southampton Solent university for Doctor of Arts and she couldn’t be more excited about it. “Leaving school at 15 and getting a honorary doctorate is amazing and I say that having kissed Mick Jagger. Tomorrow night I’m having a huge school disco themed party to celebrate. It’s just so surprising when the only test I’ve ever passed is my cervical.” Kathy Lette is a woman brimming with confidence, comedy and innuendos as well as advice. “Laugh yourself into a coma. If you can’t laugh your stuck because just look at what nature throws at you. Hormones are all over the place in your teenage years, then you get pregnant which is the one test you can’t cheat on. You go through childbirth which is unbearable and then the menopause. And when you think it’s all over, you grow a beard.” For this woman honesty is the best policy. And revenge is best served cold. “If you just want something subtle then slip Nair hair remover into his shampoo. My favourite was when me and my girlfriend slipped into an ex’s house. We took down his curtain pole and stuffed it with prawns. The man moved house and of course he took the curtain pole with him!” Kathy is a strong feminist, she is all for girl power and at least twice during the day refers to her girlfriends as her wonder bras. What is more important though out of friendship, work or love? “You missed out orgasm.” Despite all the sexual references that leave me blushing just a little bit I instantly see this is one woman who is desperately passionate about women’s rights. “The reason I am a feminist is because women still get 25% less pay than men. We are still getting concussion hitting our heads on the glass ceiling and we’re meant to clean it while we’re up there. Don‘t be turned off by the F word.” As for her opinion on men? “Can you imagine any man not being able to multi-task when it comes to, say, an orgy?” Kathy Lette grew up in Australia and at 19 she wrote her first book Puberty Blues which was made into a film two years later in 1981. Nine novels have since been published, the woman practically created Chick Lit. Plays have been written as have TV shows. She talks of her time as a television sitcom writer for Columbia Pictures in Los Angeles (“I was part of a team writing sitcoms and everyone else was so Jewish, I simply felt guilty for not being Jewish”) with a tinge of regret. While there she turned down the gorgeous George Clooney, later noticing him on the television show ER. “When I realised what I’d done I laid in the foetal position in the corner of the room for two days.” Not that she isn’t pleased with her lot. Kathy now lives in London with two children and her husband, human rights lawyer Geoffrey Robertson: “I can never get any moral ground on him,” she jokes. Her honesty about all matters of life expands onto motherhood which she simply calls “boring.” This woman is completely demystified about being a mother and claims everyone else should be too. “There are a few things you should know about motherhood,” she tells us with a hint of a smile. “When you’re on that operating table one thing is certain. The gender of God is definitely male. When you hold your child the first thing you want to do is put them straight back into the condom vending machine.” Her children have now turned into teenagers, she leans forward and almost whispers “It’s like living with the Taliban.” To begin with I picture the typical nightmarish 15 year old, then the roles are reversed. “I’m not allowed to sing, dance or wear short skirts.” Kathy is the only unruly teenager in her house. Although she jokes about her family it feels like she is hiding something. She’s happy to reveal the antics her and her girlfriends get up to, but it almost seems like she is keeping her family to herself. “You should always keep a little bit of your own identity.” How does this woman feel about writing though, the majority of people can’t stand their jobs. “It’s great. I get to wear my pyjamas all day, drink on the job and have affairs in the name of research.” Kathy is enthusiastic about the eager beaver writers in the front row. “Fight back and stick up for your talent. Take criticism but know when your work is good. You only need two things to be a writer. Something to say and a unique way to say it.” With the promise she will work closely with Southampton Solent university from this moment on Kathy Lette is ready to leave. It has been a tiring day and this amazing character has left us all breathless with her energy and enthusiasm. Any last snippets of advice from the fabulously funny author? “Disarm with charm, then slip your message in. And always remember wordplay is foreplay. I mean how the hell is Woody Allen still getting laid!?”

the (red head) way to my heart

I have a confession to make. I love ginger boys. While most girls my age blue tac Robert Pattinson and Zac Efron over their walls, next to my bed is none other than Mr. Rupert Grint. At Primary School I simply followed the masses and, to my shame, I was a gingeriest. In my defence though every child was, because being different made you stand out. I still feel sorry for David Stubberfield, the lone redhead in Year 5 Oakfield Juniors. It’s hard to pin point exactly when my transformation happened, when did I began to be attracted to the red headed men of the world? Maybe it was innate, buried beneath a fear of retribution from the other kids, would I have wanted to be associated with the one person everyone else was picking on? Actually, I do seem to recall trying to befriend David once. I was Tinkerbell, he was Peter Pan and no, this was not a dream. We were both at a Peter Pan themed birthday party and just like the little fairy I was rejected. But I was only eight years old and hardly left heartbroken, the incident didn‘t particularly have me emotionally scared for life. However it is true that we always want, what we can not have. One thing I always relate to my childhood is Simply Red. My mum loves them. If there was a theme tune to my youth it would be Fairground which always reminds me of my mother spinning around the living room with the Dyson in hand, the TV off for once, and her uncharacteristically singing along. One thing that always surprised my mum however was how a rather unattractive redhead, not particularly in possession of a ribbed body or brilliant style , could be a ladies man. She was completely baffled and although she loved Mick Hucknell’s music she would never have been throwing her knickers at him the way I dread to imagine she did to god knows which pop star in the 1970s, Cliff or somebody like that. Nevertheless, I did not share my mums view in the matter. Naturally I am in no way attracted to Mr Hucknell, I’m sad to say his a bit too old for me and slightly unattractive. But he has the most amazing voice, the man is testimony to the concept that if you’re in a band you are automatically elevated into a different league. And of course he is a redhead. With age I have become wiser, I’ve learnt that being weird and wonderful IS attractive. Hence my theory behind this strange attraction emerges. An attraction that in my near teenage years would only go from strength to strength. Ron Weasley came into my life. Harry Potter’s brilliantly funny best friend strolled his way into my heart. From the age of seven I have been an avid fan of the Harry Potter books, the anticipation I felt waiting for the fifth, sixth and finally the seventh books is indescribable. Each of my books is falling apart, all of them having been read about eight times over. I simply love them. But of course my favourite was never the tall, dark, handsome and mysterious Harry Potter. No, it was none other than the youngest Weasley brother. Mr Ronald Weasley is the comic relief to the dangerous threat of Lord Voldermort. I can’t help but laugh out loud while reading his immortal lines, rolling on the floor at his terrible faux pas’ and his disastrous love life. I defiantly have a special soft spot for Ron. Soon my love of the character was transferred to a different redhead all together. Ron Weasley was adapted for the big screen by the brilliant Rupert Grint. In the first film I loved how adorable he was, the little eleven year old boy with a mop of the ever fascinating ginger hair and a heart melting smile. I seem to remember someone once watching the trailer for the most recent Harry Potter film and laughing: “Oh god look at the state of Ron Weasley these days, he used to be so cute.” I was instantly insulted on his behalf, but also my own. I felt a tinge of embarrassment, this was the one celebrity I defiantly fancied. He was my guilty pleasure. Even now I somehow find him attractive, and my dream became a reality at Reading Festival 2009. While browsing the army surplus store in the campsite my friend turned to me, knowing how excited I would be, and simply said: “Someone just said that Ron Weasley is here.” Upon hearing this simple sentence I went crazy. “I must find him and rape him!” I screeched. Then somebody behind me began to laugh. As I turned around it was truly a movie moment. In slow motion I turned, I heard angels singing as a beam of sun light shined through the clouds and there he was. Mr Rupert Grint. Possibly the best, yet most embarrassing moment of my life as I began screaming and leaping about like a giant blonde frog. I won’t lie, the feeling was not mutual. The poor boy looked rather terrified, but they rejection did not dampen my spirits. I can’t particularly explain my obsession, but I think it is simply a fantasy. Many young girls grow up wishing to be a princess and to be a princess, you must marry a prince. I wished I could meet one, and the fairytale would become reality. I thought it through and logically I had a greater chance of meeting Prince Harry. William was always a bit older than me, Harry was more my age and he has always seemed so fun. Maybe when I was older, I thought, I might meet him in a club or share a taxi with him. The hair didn’t hurt much either. I personally believe this is where it all started, wishing to be a princess. I’ve never had a red headed boyfriend, I probably never will, because I simply admire them. I respect the uniqueness, I love that they stand out, not because they are cocky but because they are a red headed. I think truly I’m just like every other person in the country; tall dark and handsome makes my knees quiver every time. But the odd red head will always make my heart flutter.

simply the best

every month i pretty much have a small hernia if i don't get vogue. this month i saw it once and didn't pick it up, i then spent 2/3 weeks looking in every shop that southampton has to offer. alas i couldn't find it. i think i appreciated vogue november 09 more because of this, when my mother finally found it in sainsbury's at home i couldn't wait to read my long awaited copy! and it did not disappoint! i usually read vogue because i love my monthly fix of well written articles and commentary on fashion, and i like the prettyness of it all. it doesn't mean i can ever purchase the majority of bits and bobs they feauture. that was until this month... 'more dash than cash' appealed to me on so many levels.

i laughed (not mockingly) at the make do and mend shoot. it was amazing to see what they had done with every day utensils. my favourites? maybe the clingfilm body-con dress with marigold glove shoulders? so on trend, and D&G inspired sleeves or the cotton wool ball skirt suit complete with toilet paper shoes? quite possibly the 'cutest' picture i have ever seen and isn't the skirt suit big this season as well?? it was the cleaning lady (ours at uni is the mysterious mary) on crack, listening to lady gaga and being truly inspired! i loved it, it was fresh and different. plus i imagine shona heath, william tempest and peter jensen had the most fun ever changing carrier bags into circus-esque, cup sleeved dresses! the most wearable of them all was the preppy, chanel inspired mop-head skirt and tea towel cardigan held together with pegs! i love it, i'm so close to being inpired enough to make my own! 'the dash cash directory' was the most useful a to z i have ever fallen upon. when i have finished re-reading and re-reading i might (disgruntingly) pull it out to keep in my bag. or i could photocopy it... tip off's of the best charity, vintage, haberdashery and outlet shops. great 'get creative' ideas that inspired me enough that i got off my lazy ars and sewed lace on everything!! i honestly went crazy with the lace! if i have time tonight i might even wack out the lace again! all in all my favourite vogue yet. georgia jagger made me feel old though. i wish i was 17 again! but she looked hot, asos dress on the front cover! i loved the colour co-ordination of red lippy/red background. the first photo featured of the roksanda illinic for whistles dress (deep rich blue, i want to say electric but i think it's a bit brighter than electric...) well the blue dress/too -gold-almost-yellow hair/red background look amazing together! and ohh the next pages green dress might actually be my favourite colour contrasts! aaaand it's all so affordable (well student living budget permitted..)

I LOVE VOGUE NOV 09!!!

the joy of ikea

strangely, the majority of people actually HAVE experienced ikea the way i have when i was little.

once upon a time when i was a little girl and less materialistic, my mum and her friend, along with her daughter, would take us to ikea. while our little sisters played in the 'babies' area that we were too tall for, we would roam around ikea, imagining we were shopping for our family home, our holiday home, our pent house flat etc etc. we would 'ohh and ahhh' at what we liked, and in typical childlike manner loudly discussed what we didn't like and, i dread to imagine, propaply describe how it looked like poo!

ikea was a magical place, it was filled with miniture homes that, to us, were like giant dolls houses. after the living room, bedroom, office and child's sections we would stop at the cafe for meatballs and chips and gravy (the BEST meatballs and chips in the world!) then onwards to the kitchens, the rugs, the arty and the plant section. all the way through the store we would have the opportunity to steal pencils, mayonaise at the cafe (which i still do due to student funds) and just ogle at all the beautiful bits and bobs that i'd designed for my own home.

to some this might seem strange. when i've said to people before about how much i love ikea they are completly baffled. some people though, my sort of people, know exactly what i mean. my mum dragging me around a homewear store doesn't sound like fun, but with a child's imagination it's the best thing in the bloody world. forget thorpe park and disney, ikea is just as fascinating!

the nostalgia that ikea brings to me is often revisited. since me and friends have been able to drive i can remember 5 magical and wonderful trips to ikea. the purchase of woodoff (my russian boyfriend, trapped in a swedish world), the maze of thurrock where ikea is and my awful (mostly late) directions, numerous tastings of meatballs, ape dawg on a trolley and many more.

rebecca carey and matthew sandford are my regular escorts. the joy we have had in a warehouse of furniture is peculiar to say the least.

since being at university i have already been to ikea twice with the roomies. meatballs have been consumed, pointless purchases have been made and paparazzi style photographing has taken place. free meatballs in october was meerly an excuse to eat two helpings! we were stalked by security, i bought a pair of moon boots and a crocodile door stop that does nothing of the sort! £1 meatball meals will now be a weekly ritual, and i'm sure i'll fritter away some more money.

the joy of ikea is that it simply makes me feel like a child again!

a fond love of mr. burton and his crazy world

johny depp's make-up looks fantastic! i love the costume and prop design in tim burton films! matt lucas and alan rickman will no doubt be fantastic as will helena bonham carter. i've only just read the book after having it for about 10 years now and i liked it, can't wait to see burton's version! 2010!