Ohhh, today was meant to be such a good day...It was the day my ASOS delivery was meant to arrive. Well, when I say 'meant' it actually 'did', there was just a huge glaring problem with it.
Surely everyone knows the feeling - you find yourself casually browsing a website then, all of a sudden, you see it - POW (that's for you, J!) You find the exact item you have been searching for for ages. It's the perfect colour, the exact style you have been looking for - it's like seeing an oasis mirage in the middle of the desert. Well, that's how I felt the other day when I stumbled across some lovely grey tailored shorts on ASOS. They were really cute, not too short to bare the old bum cheeks, yet not so long they look like you have borrowed a pair of your Grandad's long-johns. Ideal. Plus they weren't too guilt-inducing on the old bank balance:
So, with glee, I whipped out the debit card and purchased the shorts (along with a couple of hair bands, some more House of Holland knee high socks and a cardigan...) I then sat back, satisfied, and waited for the day I were to get a knock on the door from the postman.
Fast forward to this afternoon. There I was, tapping away at home on my laptop, when the buzzer rang. When I realised it were my ASOS delivery I got very excited and, after eagerly grabbing my parcel from the postman, sat down on the sofa to unwrap the parcel of love. First I saw the shorts in their packaging. My first thought was, "oooh, nice colour." My second thought was, "they are quite a nice length". My third thought was, "WTF IS THIS??? ARE THESE SHORTS MEANT FOR ONE PERSON OR TWO?!!" Yep, you have probably guessed already. My shorts had arrived, but instead of sending me a size 8 they had sent me a size 16. I was gutted. It was like asking Santa for a Ski-chic Barbie and receiving a jigsaw puzzle. Or a mug with a dog on it. Or alcohol-free wine. Naturally, I took it all in my stride, and calmly and rationally thought that these things happen sometimes, that everyone makes mistakes..
..Did I heck.
I was fuming. I'm ashamed to say that I (very childishly) threw the shorts on the floor, loudly declared ASOS to be a bunch of f**k wits and stamped my foot so hard our irritating OAP neighbour actually knocked on the door asking if I was ok. Of course I couldn't tell her the real reason was that I had flown into a full-blown, toddler-style sulk over receiving a pair of shorts that were as useful as a chocolate teapot. I made up a lame excuse about tripping over the pile of shoe boxes in the hallway which I still haven't got round to moving yet. She bought it and naffed off. Thank goodness.
After collecting my thoughts I have since logged on the site this evening to try and re-order the correct shorts in my size. Just as I was starting to calm down, I saw the words every shopper lives in fear of: OUT OF STOCK.
Nooooooo! Damn you ASOS, damn you! Talk about kicking a girl when she is down!
So sadly the search continues. I am still lusting after a pair of tailored grey shorts. STILL. Oh well, I guess this gives me even more of an excuse when M nags me for online shopping in the evenings - it's like a challenge now, and I sure ain't going to be beaten!
Now..Where did I put my debit card?!.....
On another note, the brand new A/W '10 Kate Moss range has gone on sale today. I'm particularly loving the iconic pansy print tea dress and brown scallop-detail leather jacket - perfect for dressing up or down with heels and a clutch for evenings or brown leather boots and tights for the day:
www.topshop.com
Happy shopping!
Tuesday, 2 November 2010
Monday, 1 November 2010
London Calling..Let the Chaos Commence...
After spending the weekend with the girls they managed to persuade me to put aside my busy work schedule in the evenings and try and breathe some life back into my blog. I admit that I have been utterly rubbish with updating this, but I have had good reason! I started working for an American company called LivingSocial two and a half months ago and have been tirelessly working away to launch LivingSocial Bristol. There have been some ups (namely managing to secure some fabulous deals for all the lovely LivingSocial Bristol followers) and some downs (slipping on my arse on a shiny floor when meeting the GM of a very well-established venue in Bristol - to name a few) but we are finally there and launching on Thursday. Marvellous. Don't forget to register here if you want to receive daily emails with exclusive deals on spas, salons, restaurants and experiences in Bristol:
http://partners.livingsocial.com/deals/how_it_works
Anyway, shameless plug over, let's get on to the juicy stuff - shopping!
As I mentioned, this weekend I went to London with my lovely friends C and J to stay with my other equally lovely friend H who has recently moved there. On Saturday afternoon we decided to do some leisurely browsing around the famous Portobello market and what an experience that was! I LOVED it. Everywhere you looked there were little stalls filled with exciting and unique little knick knacks - a true shoppers dream. As someone who has only ever shopped in your standard high street shops (with the occasional naughty slip into designer - Net-a-Porter, I love you but my bank balance hates you) I couldn't believe how amazing some of the pieces on offer were. The girls and I quickly fell in love with one particular stall selling vintage mini-pocket watches on long necklace chains. They were stunning - really beautifully detailed and unlike anything I had ever seen before. Needless to say, we all rifled through the huge selection and each settled on one. A bargain at £10 each and, as I was informed by H, not dissimilar to those sold on the Rock and Rose jewellery website for £40 each.
Next, after treating ourselves to a gorgeous mulled wine, we visited All Saints. For all you All Saints fans out there, this was like the mothership of All Saints stores. I was particularly pleased because I managed to pick up some gorgeous skinny black trousers whilst I was there. The best way to describe them is a cross between denim and leather-effect. They sound hideous but are really lovely on and will look great teamed with a big chunky cardigan and my new flat black leather boots for the day time, or killer heels and a nice top for the evening:
http://www.allsaints.com/women/jeggings/kenna-ashby/black/wph739-5
After a leisurely afternoon we then, typically after realising the time, had to leg it back to Chiswick as we realised that we only had 2 hours to get ready before leaving for our dinner reservation at Gilgamesh. As you can imagine, chaos ensued. Nobody could decide what to wear. Eventually after 13 outfit changes between the 4 of us, 4 seperate discussions r.e the usual "tights, or no tights?" dilemma, shouts of "can you see my love handles?" and one minor beast r.e hair (and I quote, "WTF?? It wasn't meant to look like thiiisssssss!!!!") we were on our way on the tube, swigging Disaronno and Coke out of a Robinsons Orange squash bottle. Hey, the plan was always to get a litle tipsy at the flat before leaving and there was no way we were going to let the bottle of Disaronno go to waste - you can take the girl out of Bristol, and all that!
After a wonderful meal (and a couple of divine cocktails) in Gilgamesh we, once again, realised that we had lost track of time and that we had approximately 13 minutes to get from Camden to Mahiki at Green Park before they closed the guest list. Chaos: Take 2. I don't know if you have ever tried it, but FYI, running at break neck speed in sky-high heels and a short dress past crowds of lechy men down a busy main road to a heaving tube station is by no means an easy feat. The race was on, and it was every (wo)man for themselves. After making the mistake of trying to simultaneously light a cigarette (with a duff lighter) and totter/scamper along trying not to lose track of the others C, sensing my difficulty, exclaimed in manner of a soldier going into battle, "DON'T DO IT SOPH, DITCH THE BLUE LIGHTER - IT'S RUBBISH. WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THE BLUE ONE - IT'S A TIMEWASTER. USE THE RED ONNEEEEEEEE". When spotting the tube train on the platform, and the doors about to close, J actually crashed through two women wearing faux fur coats in what appeared to be slow motion. We had made it. I don't think I had ever been so proud. Our hair may have been all over the place, we may have been out of breath and our feet might have been killing but we made it into Mahiki. Oh, and what a night it was...The one thing I will say is, however gorgeous they are, never underestimate the cripping power of a stiletto heel - or an inbuilt platform for that matter. Ouchy.
True to form, after returning home yesterday I set up camp on the sofa and settled myself down for a hungover evening of internet shopping. After taking some inspiration from an outfit I saw in Mahiki I checked out www.mytights.com to try and find some interesting tights which would provide an edgy twist to a simple outfit. In particular, the House of Holland range are great, and I settled on some black lace-patterned sheer black tights and some cute long socks to wear with boots. I've said it before, and I'll say it again - simple accesories, such as head bands,hair accessories, long socks and funky tights are a really brilliant way to spice up your look without breaking the bank.
For my parting note, I will leave you with two particular quotes of wisdom from this weekend:
"I'm going to ask your opinion, I know these wedges look orthapaedic, but do they go? They are sooo comfy.."
"Look after your nails and, err, your nails will look after you..?"
Don't you just love girls?! ;)
http://partners.livingsocial.com/deals/how_it_works
Anyway, shameless plug over, let's get on to the juicy stuff - shopping!
As I mentioned, this weekend I went to London with my lovely friends C and J to stay with my other equally lovely friend H who has recently moved there. On Saturday afternoon we decided to do some leisurely browsing around the famous Portobello market and what an experience that was! I LOVED it. Everywhere you looked there were little stalls filled with exciting and unique little knick knacks - a true shoppers dream. As someone who has only ever shopped in your standard high street shops (with the occasional naughty slip into designer - Net-a-Porter, I love you but my bank balance hates you) I couldn't believe how amazing some of the pieces on offer were. The girls and I quickly fell in love with one particular stall selling vintage mini-pocket watches on long necklace chains. They were stunning - really beautifully detailed and unlike anything I had ever seen before. Needless to say, we all rifled through the huge selection and each settled on one. A bargain at £10 each and, as I was informed by H, not dissimilar to those sold on the Rock and Rose jewellery website for £40 each.
Next, after treating ourselves to a gorgeous mulled wine, we visited All Saints. For all you All Saints fans out there, this was like the mothership of All Saints stores. I was particularly pleased because I managed to pick up some gorgeous skinny black trousers whilst I was there. The best way to describe them is a cross between denim and leather-effect. They sound hideous but are really lovely on and will look great teamed with a big chunky cardigan and my new flat black leather boots for the day time, or killer heels and a nice top for the evening:
http://www.allsaints.com/women/jeggings/kenna-ashby/black/wph739-5
After a leisurely afternoon we then, typically after realising the time, had to leg it back to Chiswick as we realised that we only had 2 hours to get ready before leaving for our dinner reservation at Gilgamesh. As you can imagine, chaos ensued. Nobody could decide what to wear. Eventually after 13 outfit changes between the 4 of us, 4 seperate discussions r.e the usual "tights, or no tights?" dilemma, shouts of "can you see my love handles?" and one minor beast r.e hair (and I quote, "WTF?? It wasn't meant to look like thiiisssssss!!!!") we were on our way on the tube, swigging Disaronno and Coke out of a Robinsons Orange squash bottle. Hey, the plan was always to get a litle tipsy at the flat before leaving and there was no way we were going to let the bottle of Disaronno go to waste - you can take the girl out of Bristol, and all that!
After a wonderful meal (and a couple of divine cocktails) in Gilgamesh we, once again, realised that we had lost track of time and that we had approximately 13 minutes to get from Camden to Mahiki at Green Park before they closed the guest list. Chaos: Take 2. I don't know if you have ever tried it, but FYI, running at break neck speed in sky-high heels and a short dress past crowds of lechy men down a busy main road to a heaving tube station is by no means an easy feat. The race was on, and it was every (wo)man for themselves. After making the mistake of trying to simultaneously light a cigarette (with a duff lighter) and totter/scamper along trying not to lose track of the others C, sensing my difficulty, exclaimed in manner of a soldier going into battle, "DON'T DO IT SOPH, DITCH THE BLUE LIGHTER - IT'S RUBBISH. WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THE BLUE ONE - IT'S A TIMEWASTER. USE THE RED ONNEEEEEEEE". When spotting the tube train on the platform, and the doors about to close, J actually crashed through two women wearing faux fur coats in what appeared to be slow motion. We had made it. I don't think I had ever been so proud. Our hair may have been all over the place, we may have been out of breath and our feet might have been killing but we made it into Mahiki. Oh, and what a night it was...The one thing I will say is, however gorgeous they are, never underestimate the cripping power of a stiletto heel - or an inbuilt platform for that matter. Ouchy.
True to form, after returning home yesterday I set up camp on the sofa and settled myself down for a hungover evening of internet shopping. After taking some inspiration from an outfit I saw in Mahiki I checked out www.mytights.com to try and find some interesting tights which would provide an edgy twist to a simple outfit. In particular, the House of Holland range are great, and I settled on some black lace-patterned sheer black tights and some cute long socks to wear with boots. I've said it before, and I'll say it again - simple accesories, such as head bands,hair accessories, long socks and funky tights are a really brilliant way to spice up your look without breaking the bank.
For my parting note, I will leave you with two particular quotes of wisdom from this weekend:
"I'm going to ask your opinion, I know these wedges look orthapaedic, but do they go? They are sooo comfy.."
"Look after your nails and, err, your nails will look after you..?"
Don't you just love girls?! ;)
Friday, 11 June 2010
When 60 minutes is never enough...
Grrr. I love shopping at the best of times. Fact. But speed-shopping during your lunch break? Possibly the worst of times. Honestly, I hate it with a passion. Trying desperately to cram in a cheeky ciggie whilst returning missed calls on your mobile phone and wading through the hoardes of chavs is not my idea of fun. Take earlier, for example. Tomorrow I am due to attend a 30th birthday gathering at a local cricket club, complete with barbeque, cocktails and camping afterwards (yes, I know – me + camping = disaster). Naturally, I don’t know what to wear..When I asked M he said the standard boy response of, “jeans and a t-shirt?” to which I replied, “oh right, ok thanks love..Do you have anything I can borrow?! I love you but there is no way I am going to start dressing like you..” Needless to say, I think you can all gather I am not really a ‘jeans and t-shirt’ kinda girl. Anyway, I had approximately 55 minutes to find something laid back that stated ‘I’ve-not-tried-hard-at-all-‘ and ‘oh this old thing? I just threw it on without a moment’s thought this morning’. Not easy.
First stop (because I am desperately trying to become a reformed shopping addict who actually has some cash left at the end of the month) was Primark. Big mistake. It was hot, sweaty, smelly (seriously, how hard is it to purchase and use deodorant for some people?) and there was a queue the length of the Nile at the till thanks. Great. In the usual desperation I resorted to panic buying and, to be fair to the Primarni, managed to pick up some pretty good buys: A khaki coloured drapey vest-dresss with cute plaited belt to go round the waist to add some definition and a beige long-ish cardigan to throw over the top. All for a total of £18. It took me longer to queue up and pay for the damn things than it did to source them but nevermind…
However good my purchases were, I still wasn’t happy. I was still striving for something more, something PERFECT. With 22 minutes to go I needed to pop to the MAC counter in Debenhams to replace some make-up (why does it always all run out at the same time ‘eh?). Ten precious minutes later (two words: slow staff) curiousity got the better of me and I nipped upstairs to check out Warehouse. Oh, and there it was. Hanging before me was a lovely, yet simple, mink coloured jersey maxi dress with little capped sleeves. At £25 it was a bargain price too. Could this get any better? Well, yes, obviously because I hadn’t tried it on. I could look like a sack of spuds in it and I was desperate to find out the verdict. With new and determined resolution (12 minutes to go) I marched over to the fitting room. To be faced with a large sign – FITTING ROOM CLOSED. Damn. I sighed and ran over the other fitting room – FITTING ROOM CLOSED. At this point I had 8 minutes to go and was losing patience (and boiling hot as it happens – epic fail on my part when getting dressed this morning and deciding on a Karen Millen knitted nautical jacket). With a audible sigh and (I’m not proud to admit this) a quite vocal uttering of a certain 4 letter expletive I decided to just go for it and buy it. What the hell. I can bring it back if it doesn’t fit. Well, in all fairness I probably won’t – I will do my usual and leave it in a bag at the back of my wardrobe for the rest of time I expect. Naughty. Thankfully there was no queue so 2 minutes later I was half-walking, half-running back to the office.
I got here with about 3 minutes to spare. Go me! Now all that is left is to try the dress on at home. Please please please look nice..The only thing worse than lunchtime speed-shopping is Saturday morning shopping. Shudder.
First stop (because I am desperately trying to become a reformed shopping addict who actually has some cash left at the end of the month) was Primark. Big mistake. It was hot, sweaty, smelly (seriously, how hard is it to purchase and use deodorant for some people?) and there was a queue the length of the Nile at the till thanks. Great. In the usual desperation I resorted to panic buying and, to be fair to the Primarni, managed to pick up some pretty good buys: A khaki coloured drapey vest-dresss with cute plaited belt to go round the waist to add some definition and a beige long-ish cardigan to throw over the top. All for a total of £18. It took me longer to queue up and pay for the damn things than it did to source them but nevermind…
However good my purchases were, I still wasn’t happy. I was still striving for something more, something PERFECT. With 22 minutes to go I needed to pop to the MAC counter in Debenhams to replace some make-up (why does it always all run out at the same time ‘eh?). Ten precious minutes later (two words: slow staff) curiousity got the better of me and I nipped upstairs to check out Warehouse. Oh, and there it was. Hanging before me was a lovely, yet simple, mink coloured jersey maxi dress with little capped sleeves. At £25 it was a bargain price too. Could this get any better? Well, yes, obviously because I hadn’t tried it on. I could look like a sack of spuds in it and I was desperate to find out the verdict. With new and determined resolution (12 minutes to go) I marched over to the fitting room. To be faced with a large sign – FITTING ROOM CLOSED. Damn. I sighed and ran over the other fitting room – FITTING ROOM CLOSED. At this point I had 8 minutes to go and was losing patience (and boiling hot as it happens – epic fail on my part when getting dressed this morning and deciding on a Karen Millen knitted nautical jacket). With a audible sigh and (I’m not proud to admit this) a quite vocal uttering of a certain 4 letter expletive I decided to just go for it and buy it. What the hell. I can bring it back if it doesn’t fit. Well, in all fairness I probably won’t – I will do my usual and leave it in a bag at the back of my wardrobe for the rest of time I expect. Naughty. Thankfully there was no queue so 2 minutes later I was half-walking, half-running back to the office.
I got here with about 3 minutes to spare. Go me! Now all that is left is to try the dress on at home. Please please please look nice..The only thing worse than lunchtime speed-shopping is Saturday morning shopping. Shudder.
Thursday, 10 June 2010
Flip? Definite Flop.
I had a funny conversation today with some colleagues. We were all walking over for lunch in Las Iguanas and, naturally, I was clip-clopping along in my sky high nude stilettos. At least three people said to me, “how can you walk in them? Your feet must be killing?!” But the thing is, they weren’t – my feet never hurt when I walk in stilettos. Fact. Nobody can understand it – my mates used to call me ‘asbestos feet’ when I was in my late teens due to my ability to last a whole night on the lash without having to stumble bleary-eyed and bare-foot into the kebab shop (suffices to say I was always one of the MOST bleary-eyed though..) But do my feet become super-strength in direct correlation to the amount of alcohol I have consumed, or do I just have mutant strength?
To be honest, I am inclined to think it’s the latter. Mainly because I love wearing heels all day every day, even if I am popping out to Tesco for fruit and Ryvita (read: Ciggies and wine) and I can do so without complaining. In fact, I think FLAT shoes are more hazardous! Take Ugg boots for example – yes, they are super comfy with their fleecy lining but they should come with a health warning! Come on ladies, how many of you have tripped over whilst wearing Ugg boots? You know, when you drag your feet along as you are walking and stub your toe on the pavement and stumble? It’s not just Ugg boots though – ballet pumps are just as bad! Take this morning, for example. There I was trotting along to work in my ballet pumps (heels in handbag, natch) carrying my skinny vanilla latte from Philpotts and, out of nowhere, I found myself lurching forward and towards the ground. It was fine though…I saved the latte. I did drop my beloved Marc Jacobs handbag though…It’s not damaged though (to be fair, I don’t think it’s ever fully recovered from the cigarette burn. Honestly, it makes want to cry every time I look at it).
Oh, and don’t get me started on flip flops! They are clearly the creation of a sadistic soul. I agree, they are nice and airy and comfortable for wearing in the summer months but are they practical? Bloody hell, no! I haven’t been able to drive wearing flip flops for 3 years now following a harrowing incident whereby my flip flop got wedged underneath the brake (meaning I couldn’t use it). Shudder. Also, how annoying is it when someone steps on the back of your flip flop? I know, I know, when someone does it the natural reaction is to smile and say, “don’t worry about it!” when inside you are quietly thinking, “you shouldn’t be walking so close to me then should you?!!” Then there is the dreaded rubbing of the flip flops between your big and second toes, the calve ache when you have walked too far in them and the sheer sogginess should you be unfortunate enough to get caught in a freak down pour. See what I mean? Awful.
These are just a few of the reasons why I am a dedicated wearer of heels. Speaking of lovely heels – check out these beautiful Louboutins. Pure porn for girls, and a snip at £1,225 (gulp):
To be honest, I am inclined to think it’s the latter. Mainly because I love wearing heels all day every day, even if I am popping out to Tesco for fruit and Ryvita (read: Ciggies and wine) and I can do so without complaining. In fact, I think FLAT shoes are more hazardous! Take Ugg boots for example – yes, they are super comfy with their fleecy lining but they should come with a health warning! Come on ladies, how many of you have tripped over whilst wearing Ugg boots? You know, when you drag your feet along as you are walking and stub your toe on the pavement and stumble? It’s not just Ugg boots though – ballet pumps are just as bad! Take this morning, for example. There I was trotting along to work in my ballet pumps (heels in handbag, natch) carrying my skinny vanilla latte from Philpotts and, out of nowhere, I found myself lurching forward and towards the ground. It was fine though…I saved the latte. I did drop my beloved Marc Jacobs handbag though…It’s not damaged though (to be fair, I don’t think it’s ever fully recovered from the cigarette burn. Honestly, it makes want to cry every time I look at it).
Oh, and don’t get me started on flip flops! They are clearly the creation of a sadistic soul. I agree, they are nice and airy and comfortable for wearing in the summer months but are they practical? Bloody hell, no! I haven’t been able to drive wearing flip flops for 3 years now following a harrowing incident whereby my flip flop got wedged underneath the brake (meaning I couldn’t use it). Shudder. Also, how annoying is it when someone steps on the back of your flip flop? I know, I know, when someone does it the natural reaction is to smile and say, “don’t worry about it!” when inside you are quietly thinking, “you shouldn’t be walking so close to me then should you?!!” Then there is the dreaded rubbing of the flip flops between your big and second toes, the calve ache when you have walked too far in them and the sheer sogginess should you be unfortunate enough to get caught in a freak down pour. See what I mean? Awful.
These are just a few of the reasons why I am a dedicated wearer of heels. Speaking of lovely heels – check out these beautiful Louboutins. Pure porn for girls, and a snip at £1,225 (gulp):
Wednesday, 9 June 2010
Pampered Princesses, Styled Tresses and Posh Dresses.
Following on from the Vegas nuptials, C and P got married in a UK ceremony at the weekend – where I was lucky enough to be a bridesmaid. It was an absolutely fabulous day, and C looked stunning in a beautiful Maggie Sottero number. Our bridesmaid dresses were gorgeous – the perfect colour and style for the occasion. As an added bonus, they all fit perfectly too (thanks to the alteration of Celia – Master Tailor Extraordinaire – who had a grand total of 5 days to alter 4 dresses (!!)
The ‘getting ready’ beautification process kicked off on the Friday night before the wedding with face masks and nail painting in full swing. Though we soon ran into a problem – namely when C mentioned that none of us were to wash our hair the morning of the wedding as the hair stylist team had requested it. Cue horror amongst the ranks. It was as if we had all been asked not to wash in the week leading up to the event! Cries of, “NOOOOOO – no way, I will feel GROSS,” were exclaimed. True, for many of us it was an act out of our comfort zone. Surprisingly I took it in my stride though, and was particularly non-diva-esque (yes, I know – shock, horror). Do you know why? Because I had remembered to pack my trusty Batiste dry shampoo, that’s why! A rigorous shampoo and condition before bed and a few squirts of the wonder product in the morning and I was good to go. I have always been a fan of Batiste as a little hair pick-me-up and now they have added in new lines to the range – namely products for blonde and brunette hair. Perfect. In fact, here is the finished article, post-styling on the day:
Many thanks to Doug Hobbs and the team from his Bristol salon, Hobbs, for their patience. At one point Doug actually exclaimed, “Blimey – you are a feisty lot aren’t you?!”
In addition to a hair stylist team, C had booked a MAC make-up artist (thank goodness – due to my lack of sleep the night before I needed some major facial reconstruction work). She was incredible. When I said down I looked like a haggered old bint (albeit with great hair) and when she had worked her magic I looked..I looked….HUMAN! Human with a flawless complexion and dramatic eyes. Hoorah!! Of course this lasted approximately 18.5 minutes before I stepped outside into the glaring sun, but nevermind ;) Also, note to self: Scuttling around on all fours on a roof terrace trying to avoid being seen having a cigarette is not a good look, neither is it beneficial to said hair and make-up. The only problem is, I LOVE MAC make-up and – typically – was asking the artist what everything was as she was applying it. As a result, I have just gone and spanked a load of cash on the MAC counter in Debenhams. Bad times. Though I can particularly recommend the primer and the mattifying loose powder. Amazing stuff.
All in all it was a wonderful day, one of the best ever. The funny thing, though, was that despite looking all elegant and lady-like, I was still my true self…By that I mean whilst greeting my other half, M, the conversation went in the following way:
M: You look gorgeous – like an angel.
Me: Cheers dude. I am sweating like mad in this frock! Can you hold my flowers whilst I have a fag and then go for a wee?
It’s like the age-old saying: You can’t polish a turd
;)
The ‘getting ready’ beautification process kicked off on the Friday night before the wedding with face masks and nail painting in full swing. Though we soon ran into a problem – namely when C mentioned that none of us were to wash our hair the morning of the wedding as the hair stylist team had requested it. Cue horror amongst the ranks. It was as if we had all been asked not to wash in the week leading up to the event! Cries of, “NOOOOOO – no way, I will feel GROSS,” were exclaimed. True, for many of us it was an act out of our comfort zone. Surprisingly I took it in my stride though, and was particularly non-diva-esque (yes, I know – shock, horror). Do you know why? Because I had remembered to pack my trusty Batiste dry shampoo, that’s why! A rigorous shampoo and condition before bed and a few squirts of the wonder product in the morning and I was good to go. I have always been a fan of Batiste as a little hair pick-me-up and now they have added in new lines to the range – namely products for blonde and brunette hair. Perfect. In fact, here is the finished article, post-styling on the day:
Many thanks to Doug Hobbs and the team from his Bristol salon, Hobbs, for their patience. At one point Doug actually exclaimed, “Blimey – you are a feisty lot aren’t you?!”
In addition to a hair stylist team, C had booked a MAC make-up artist (thank goodness – due to my lack of sleep the night before I needed some major facial reconstruction work). She was incredible. When I said down I looked like a haggered old bint (albeit with great hair) and when she had worked her magic I looked..I looked….HUMAN! Human with a flawless complexion and dramatic eyes. Hoorah!! Of course this lasted approximately 18.5 minutes before I stepped outside into the glaring sun, but nevermind ;) Also, note to self: Scuttling around on all fours on a roof terrace trying to avoid being seen having a cigarette is not a good look, neither is it beneficial to said hair and make-up. The only problem is, I LOVE MAC make-up and – typically – was asking the artist what everything was as she was applying it. As a result, I have just gone and spanked a load of cash on the MAC counter in Debenhams. Bad times. Though I can particularly recommend the primer and the mattifying loose powder. Amazing stuff.
All in all it was a wonderful day, one of the best ever. The funny thing, though, was that despite looking all elegant and lady-like, I was still my true self…By that I mean whilst greeting my other half, M, the conversation went in the following way:
M: You look gorgeous – like an angel.
Me: Cheers dude. I am sweating like mad in this frock! Can you hold my flowers whilst I have a fag and then go for a wee?
It’s like the age-old saying: You can’t polish a turd
;)
Tuesday, 8 June 2010
Dirty Vegas....
Apologies for my lack of blog entries in times of late, I have had a pretty action-packed couple of months to be honest. However, fear not because I am now officially back and plan to update you regularly on my fashion hits, misses and escapades.
A few weeks ago I went on a fabulous week-long trip to Las Vegas in order to witness my gorgeous friend C’s wedding to her now-husband P. In a nutshell I believe I can sum up the entire experience in 4 words: Mind-blowing, hilarious, messy and knackering. Anyway, during the time I was out there I did happen to have a little fashion misdemeanour – all the bride’s fault, may I add, but still a huge misdemeanour nonetheless….
Ok, so on the evening of C’s ‘Official Hen Night’ we decided that fancy dress was in order. But not just some half-hearted devil horns or fairy wings..Oh no. We are talking the shortest-of-the-short sailor dresses and stockings from superb fancy dress retailer Leg Avenue. When I say short, I really mean short. We are talking bum-skimming and (not in my case) cleavage-flashing. There wasn’t a lot left to the imagination I can tell you. However, a few shots of vodka (swilled either straight from the bottle or from a plastic Bellagio cup pinched from round the pool) later and we were all embracing the idea and the cackling had commenced. During the aforementioned ‘vodka-fest’ hosted in our shared room, the other bridesmaids and I conspired to hire a male stripper to come up and surprise C. We figured this sort of activity would fit in with the overall theme of the evening (by theme I mean the loose theme of ‘sl***-sailor-fancy-dress-wearing-vodka-swilling-maniac-women’). After hearing a knock on the door, C opened it to be greeted by ‘Sebastian’ dressed as a sailor captain. I tell you what, Sebastian actually looked a little scared. But, to be fair to him, he snapped out of it like a pro and proceeded to strip down to some little red pants and gyrate up against C. Honestly, I couldn’t stand up I was laughing so much:
But little did I know I would soon be laughing on the other side of my face…When Sebastian asked C to, “pick a girlfriend for some lovin’ treatment,” who do you think C chose? Yes, that’s right. Me. Actually I believe her exact words were, “go on Yates-Round, I know you can take it!!”
Sebastian proceeded to throw me on the bed, hold my legs in the air and, erm, well, simulate a few intimate positions. He then made me stand up and bent me over, thus revealing my big red knickers underneath my dress with ‘HELLO SAILOR’ emblazoned on my backside. But, sadly, it wasn’t only the knickers he revealed – he also revealed the 12-14 size sticker (only size left in good old Primark) I had forgotten to peel off my bottom. Brilliant. He then, to my horror, decided to pull on my hair whilst bending me over meaning a handful of my clip-in hair extensions came out in his hand. The poor bloke. As if being subjected to my sticker-clad bottom (remember, in the US a size 12-14 is the equivalent of 16-18) wasn’t enough, I then made him think he had ripped a chunk of my hair out. I’ve never seen a man so grateful to leave a room before in my life ;)
Just because I feel I left whatever grace and dignity I have ever had back in Vegas – here was the exact moment, kindly captured on camera by C herself…
A few weeks ago I went on a fabulous week-long trip to Las Vegas in order to witness my gorgeous friend C’s wedding to her now-husband P. In a nutshell I believe I can sum up the entire experience in 4 words: Mind-blowing, hilarious, messy and knackering. Anyway, during the time I was out there I did happen to have a little fashion misdemeanour – all the bride’s fault, may I add, but still a huge misdemeanour nonetheless….
Ok, so on the evening of C’s ‘Official Hen Night’ we decided that fancy dress was in order. But not just some half-hearted devil horns or fairy wings..Oh no. We are talking the shortest-of-the-short sailor dresses and stockings from superb fancy dress retailer Leg Avenue. When I say short, I really mean short. We are talking bum-skimming and (not in my case) cleavage-flashing. There wasn’t a lot left to the imagination I can tell you. However, a few shots of vodka (swilled either straight from the bottle or from a plastic Bellagio cup pinched from round the pool) later and we were all embracing the idea and the cackling had commenced. During the aforementioned ‘vodka-fest’ hosted in our shared room, the other bridesmaids and I conspired to hire a male stripper to come up and surprise C. We figured this sort of activity would fit in with the overall theme of the evening (by theme I mean the loose theme of ‘sl***-sailor-fancy-dress-wearing-vodka-swilling-maniac-women’). After hearing a knock on the door, C opened it to be greeted by ‘Sebastian’ dressed as a sailor captain. I tell you what, Sebastian actually looked a little scared. But, to be fair to him, he snapped out of it like a pro and proceeded to strip down to some little red pants and gyrate up against C. Honestly, I couldn’t stand up I was laughing so much:
But little did I know I would soon be laughing on the other side of my face…When Sebastian asked C to, “pick a girlfriend for some lovin’ treatment,” who do you think C chose? Yes, that’s right. Me. Actually I believe her exact words were, “go on Yates-Round, I know you can take it!!”
Sebastian proceeded to throw me on the bed, hold my legs in the air and, erm, well, simulate a few intimate positions. He then made me stand up and bent me over, thus revealing my big red knickers underneath my dress with ‘HELLO SAILOR’ emblazoned on my backside. But, sadly, it wasn’t only the knickers he revealed – he also revealed the 12-14 size sticker (only size left in good old Primark) I had forgotten to peel off my bottom. Brilliant. He then, to my horror, decided to pull on my hair whilst bending me over meaning a handful of my clip-in hair extensions came out in his hand. The poor bloke. As if being subjected to my sticker-clad bottom (remember, in the US a size 12-14 is the equivalent of 16-18) wasn’t enough, I then made him think he had ripped a chunk of my hair out. I’ve never seen a man so grateful to leave a room before in my life ;)
Just because I feel I left whatever grace and dignity I have ever had back in Vegas – here was the exact moment, kindly captured on camera by C herself…
Thursday, 18 February 2010
I DO!!
Last year I was honoured to be asked to be my best friend C’s bridesmaid at their upcoming wedding in June. As you can imagine it generated the usual and standard ‘Sophie’ response of shrieking and screaming in excitement, as did the other girls asked. After tracking down a dress she loved, C took 3 of us shopping at the weekend to try them on and see what they were like, and the outcome of the day was very surprising...
When entering the bridal boutique, C tracked down the dress in mind and asked me to try it on, which I dutifully did. The problem was, as you guys are probably aware now, I’m not particularly (ahem) blessed in the chest department. The dress itself was beautiful – knee length and chiffon, but the sweetheart neckline was enough to emphasise my gaping lack of assets. Luckily C quickly noted this and said herself that she wasn’t keen at all. I did point out that it might be because I am not a 6ft bronzed model beauty but Claire was kind enough to say it was the dress at fault, not me (hmm,haha!). So we were back to square one. Sure enough, the three of us continued to try on knee-length number after knee-length number and still nothing was standing out. Until C had a brainwave and suggested we try on some of the longer chiffon dresses with a view to shortening them. H disappeared off behind the curtain to change (it was like being on Stars in their Eyes coming out of that curtain – minus the smoke and dodgy stage make-up though). When she emerged 2 minutes later she looked absolutely breathtaking in the long, Grecian style dress with a sash waist. It was stunning. So stunning, in fact, that C has now completely changed her mind and all 6 of us are going to be drifting up the aisle in gorgeous, long chiffon gowns complete with beachy-style hair. I can’t wait. J and I did enquire as to whether they could make us a dress with built-in boobs, but they politely told us it wasn’t possible. Damn. I guess what I am trying to say is when selecting bridesmaid dresses, similarly to when selecting a wedding gown, allow yourself to be open to options as you will be surprised with what you end up liking.
The dress designer we have settled on is Dessy http://www.dessy.com/uk/ and if you want a consultative and enjoyable dress-finding trip then I would advise visiting the same boutique we visited - http://www.whitelaceandpromises.co.uk/. They have a fabulous range of both bridal and bridesmaid gowns and the staff are friendly, knowledgeable and helpful.
Seeing as it’s my fourth time as a bridesmaid now I am pretty familiar with the procedure – and I love it so much. It is, however, J’s first time. I think she found it a little overwhelming. At one point she actually said, “Guys, can i have a hug off each of you please?!” C and H are obviously kinder than me and readily hugged her...
.. I, however, said “Dear God woman, you have been watching FAR too much Glee!!”
;-)
When entering the bridal boutique, C tracked down the dress in mind and asked me to try it on, which I dutifully did. The problem was, as you guys are probably aware now, I’m not particularly (ahem) blessed in the chest department. The dress itself was beautiful – knee length and chiffon, but the sweetheart neckline was enough to emphasise my gaping lack of assets. Luckily C quickly noted this and said herself that she wasn’t keen at all. I did point out that it might be because I am not a 6ft bronzed model beauty but Claire was kind enough to say it was the dress at fault, not me (hmm,haha!). So we were back to square one. Sure enough, the three of us continued to try on knee-length number after knee-length number and still nothing was standing out. Until C had a brainwave and suggested we try on some of the longer chiffon dresses with a view to shortening them. H disappeared off behind the curtain to change (it was like being on Stars in their Eyes coming out of that curtain – minus the smoke and dodgy stage make-up though). When she emerged 2 minutes later she looked absolutely breathtaking in the long, Grecian style dress with a sash waist. It was stunning. So stunning, in fact, that C has now completely changed her mind and all 6 of us are going to be drifting up the aisle in gorgeous, long chiffon gowns complete with beachy-style hair. I can’t wait. J and I did enquire as to whether they could make us a dress with built-in boobs, but they politely told us it wasn’t possible. Damn. I guess what I am trying to say is when selecting bridesmaid dresses, similarly to when selecting a wedding gown, allow yourself to be open to options as you will be surprised with what you end up liking.
The dress designer we have settled on is Dessy http://www.dessy.com/uk/ and if you want a consultative and enjoyable dress-finding trip then I would advise visiting the same boutique we visited - http://www.whitelaceandpromises.co.uk/. They have a fabulous range of both bridal and bridesmaid gowns and the staff are friendly, knowledgeable and helpful.
Seeing as it’s my fourth time as a bridesmaid now I am pretty familiar with the procedure – and I love it so much. It is, however, J’s first time. I think she found it a little overwhelming. At one point she actually said, “Guys, can i have a hug off each of you please?!” C and H are obviously kinder than me and readily hugged her...
.. I, however, said “Dear God woman, you have been watching FAR too much Glee!!”
;-)
Wednesday, 17 February 2010
Going back to my roots....(Yeah)
Ok everyone, I’ve done it….No, I haven’t decided to withdraw my single-handed funding of Net-a-Porter. Equally, neither have I decided to donate my Yves Saint Laurent make-up collection to a passing tramp. ..I’ve gone back blonde!
There were a few reasons behind the decision: Firstly, one of the reasons I went brunette was in the vague hope of appearing ‘sensible, professional and articulate’. I managed to shatter this illusion in one fell swoop recently when, rather stupidly, I was asked my views on the Chilcott Enquiry. I won’t go into details but the words, “I haven’t seen it yet, isn’t that the new one with Jude Law in it?” actually came out of my mouth…Secondly, I thought it would be easier to maintain and cheaper. Wrong. Wrong on so many levels. Rather than visiting the hairdresser for my usual half a head of highlights I found myself spending £8 a week on Clariol Nice ‘N’ Easy in Chestnut Brown (2 for £8 in Boots, don’tcha know). Not only that, I had to go through the massive ball-ache of actually applying it myself! Gone were the days of turning up in the salon to be handed a glass of Bucks Fizz. No, then it was all about digging out the skanky stained towel and desperately trying not to stain my parents’ pristine white bathroom suite. No, the brunette had to go. So one trip to the hairdresser later I am now back to being a blondie. Though I have been shocked by the reaction…
…The first day back to work, for example. At around 3.30pm I went outside for my usual afternoon cigarette break – standard procedure. But this Monday was different. About 30 seconds after lighting up I noticed a man hovering near me. Trying desperately to enjoy my 5 minute break away from my desk I chose to blank him out of my mind…Until he walked over:
Random Man: “Hey, I can’t help noticing but you have amazing calves”.
Me: (uncomfortable) “Oh, err..Thanks…”
Random Man: “Do you fancy going for a drink some time?”
Me: “No. No thanks…Sorry”.
Unbelievable. Utterly unbelievable. I’m brunette for four months and not a single man asks me out and only 36 hours after converting back to my blonde state I am being sleazed on. What is the world coming to? I told M. M laughed. Typical really.
I’m realising that being blonde opens up an entirely new colour scheme for clothing and make-up. Take Saturday night for example. It was M’s birthday and I wanted to wear something nice for our night out in Bristol. In a bit of a break from the norm I decided to borrow my best friend J’s gorgeous electric blue French Connection body con dress. It was perfect! I had actually tried the dress on whilst brunette and didn’t think it did much for me. It looked entirely different with my new honey-blonde locks! The blue set off the blonde perfectly. In my opinion, blonde hair goes perfectly with bright blue and baby pinks, whereas brunette hair goes fantastically with corals and purples. Luckily, the new seasons’ nude-coloured trend will suit both blondes and brunettes. I do have a suggestion though, if you are a blonde wearing nude colours then make sure you choose a statement lipstick to avoid looking washed out. A personal favourite of mine is Revlon’s ‘Bewitching Coral’ – a perfect myriad of red and pink. Another suggestion if you are not brave enough for red is Lancome ‘Hot Gossip’ – a creamy subtle, yet girly, pink. I’m SUCH a massive fan of a lipstick. It can change your look in the space of the two seconds it takes to apply…In fact I am such a fan I have a dedicated make-up box purely for lipsticks…
…27 and counting…
;-)
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