Oh. Yeah.

Dearest! Such exciting news! I'm orrf to Florence for my 30th! The Head is whisking me away to kiss me in a poppy field.

I am already stressed out about what to pack. (It goes without saying that my mackintosh squares have already claimed their place in my luggage). Expect much deliberation in a similar vein to that which the wedding outfit has received so far. Oh and btw, I'm on the top table for that wedding so I shall deffo go with the bow-on-head thing.

p.s. Do not let ideas of that silly Marc Jacobs hat enter you head after seeing this picture. Just because Lucy Honeychurch and Mary Poppins do it, it doesn't mean it's right.

In the Nicks of Time

(Image via Topshop)

You see, I like this. In theory. But can you imagine it with the tasseled boots? It would be Rachel Bilson tastic! If only it didn't have the dangley bits, it's such a cute little shape.

Transformers, Gapey Boob Sockets and Red

Goodness me where to start? I have been migrained-d up and lying very very s...t...i...l...l and you've been posting like a fiend! Yikes. Here are my thoughts: Olsens - I love. I always want to prefer Ashley because she looks a bit cleaner but it's always going to be MK for me, even when she dresses up as a transformer (see right, is she an actual robot in disguise?)....Strapless frocks, not usually for the small boobied among us either but I bought one this very day that doesn't leave me with empty gapey boob sockets so that's a turn up for the books and should teach us a lesson to always try on....Mary Poppins hat, PLEASE NO Lucia, NO....the asos shoe unpleasantness, let's gloss babes, gloss...the soup man is clearly an idiot and the bag is nice but REEEEEEALLY expensive as well as REEEEEEALLY small but if I were rich I'd buy it also, so bravo. Phew. I forgot the orthopedic shoe from Red. Er, I don't know what I think about that. Each time I look at it I I change my mind. But is IS from Red soooo, hmmm.

"Oi! Where's the other one?!"

Darling, I fear I might be monopolising the C.O.N.C.osphere, which is probably a bit tiresome. Do interrupt me at any stage...

This bag is small, but this bag is far away...

Oh, pish! Don't you just hate a website that won't allow you to save their images? It is awfully frustrating. Particularly when all you want to do is sing their praises.

I adore this bag. It makes me want to weep ever so gently. When I saw it I think I might have gasped quite audibly and my heart might have soared. I only wish that you could see it more clearly. Actually, hold the phone, why don't I do a link to it? Clever me!

Unfortunately it costs a ridiculous amount of money. But if I was foolishly rich I would buy it in an instant.

Slim edge of the wedge

Are these quirky and cute or are they verging on remedial? Is it wrong that the little "As seen in Red" logo makes me question my choice even further? Even to the extent that I didn't want to post this and thereby be associated with that magazine forever?

In the soup

This is going slightly off topic, I know, but it made such an impression on me that I couldn't go a moment longer without sharing it. I was walking down the street near work when I saw a man going the other way eating soup. Though not guzzling it back like a hot beverage as you might expect, and as would probably not raise your ire, but with a spoon. He was shovelling the damn stuff in like a starving man who had not seen food for weeks. I question that that was the situation. These are dark days, I admit, but not that dark. And I question his utter inability to wait until he was back at his desk.

In a slightly desperate attempt to bring it back on topic I then felt a fleeting sympathy for his wife/mother who would have to clean all those inevitable soupy stains from his shirts.

It's just not acceptable behaviour, is it?

Isn't there already enough suffering in the world?

(Images via asos.com)

I ask you!

I take my hat off to you, Mr. Jacobs!

(Images via style.com)

I think this little boater is delightful. As soon as I saw it I wondered on a scale of one to certifiable how crazy I would look if I floated about town with one perched up top.

Then I saw one. Not the original, but one that has been "inspired" by it, and now I think I would probably look like Mary Poppins. Darn it! I can deal with crazy, but not with Julie Andrews.

(Image via asos.com)

She's got legs, she knows how to use them...

... she never begs, she knows how to choose them.

In the inimitable words of ZZ Top, naturally. Today I think I have managed quite successfully to prove their point. I have come over to your side for the day and I am wearing a very short dress. Although, when we see each other for lunch you will undoubtedly laugh at how generous the skirt length is in comparison with yours. You are, after all, a girl for whom the question is it a top or is it a dress? is rarely a conundrum. Of course it's a dress!!

And while I think I might quite quickly get into the swing of things I was cursing its brevity this morning. It didn't mix well with Oxford Circus at rush hour, a howling gale and an excessive amount of luggage, but I'm sure I will get over it. As I keep being reminded I am wearing a pretty dress, everything's ok, pretty dress, pretty dress...!

Boobs ahoy!

(Image via net-a-porter.com)

If ever there was an item of clothing that does not look kindly on those generously endowed in the breast department it is the strapless dress. I know this well. Many have been the times that I have scurried off with one to a fitting room only to find that with but a small degree of motion I am entirely at sea in an abyss that belongs decidedly more to the room than to the dress. Those things are definitely not designed to keep me anchored in any way. (Am I going overboard with the maritime references? Oops, there I go again, I can't help myself!)

But I have a charming shoulder, and a delightful clavicle and a strapless dress would exhibit them so wonderfully. Why is it not more prepared for the bouys? (I know, I went too far that time, didn't I?)

So even though I find this dress beyond beautiful I must put it out of my mind. I might need a moment.

Les deux Olsens

I know I shouldn't, but I do. Love them, that is. Both of them. Equally. Look how they pout and are smoky of eye! Although there is always one who seems to be charming me ever so slightly more at each moment of the day that goes by. Quite often it is Ashley. She is the one who looks marginally less like a ragamuffin, isn't she? Yes, that one.

Much in the same way that I love Miss. Swinton, which I know you don't approve of, I can have nothing but love for a pair who know how to rock out an extreme trend without batting an eyelid. So while I might guffaw at someone in the street wearing the devil's own booties, I love them on old MK. And I rather suspect I might love them on you too. Good luck with your dreams of high street ripoffdom.

On another note, I would also like to express my extreme affection for their range Elizabeth and James which I find entirely charming and particularly like the photography on the website as it seems to have a sense of humour while being achingly hip. Quite a rarity.

Scandi-sympathies

Funny you should say that about Sweden, since my trip to Norway a couple of years ago I have been completely convinced that I must have Norwegian blood. Those Scandinavian types just seem to have it all oh, so right. As do you and I, so I think the argument really stops there. What more proof do you need, people? Although since I stopped bleaching my hair to oblivion I fear more persuasion might be called for.

In fact, a funny thing happened recently. I was in a bar with a charming and decidedly brunette friend when we were approached by three young bucks wanting to know if my friend was Swedish. As to whether or not they genuinely thought she was I could not comment but they evidently felt it was a good enough chat up line and that we would be impressed by it sufficiently to part with our phone numbers. Needless to say that did not occur and I dispatched the interlopers without so much as a by your leave. (One of them was Welsh and I made a cutting remark about the rugby, if you could credit it, or credit me with knowing about it, anyway.) But I thought it was quite an intriguing approach.

Anyhoo, back to business. Thank you for introducing me to Miss Horstedt, the clothes look delightful. But are probably kept for only the very best occassions, ikke? or ne? (Both are no in Norwegian. A country with two words for no? Get me a piece of that!) I particularly like the mammary rosettes!! Tee, hee!

As to our very own Miss Price, can I elect to have some voluntary amnesia regarding her existence in the world? Would that be possible? Oh, how kind!

Oh Mickey, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind!

I think you may be slightly surprised that I don't disagree with you. While I don't lust after his now mangled face I am still utterly charmed by him. But it saddens me immensely to know that he used to look like this. Boy! He was a real dreamboat! The crush I had!

He might not still look menacing and arousing on a motorbike or in some dive bar anymore (although he probably still attempts it, let's face it) but his rebellious side is coming out by subverting the sartorial norm of the Hollywood A list, which, let's face it, is just boring, boring, boring. Oops! Did I just say let's face it twice? In one sentence? I am obviously thinking of one poor sad thing. (Sob!) So, yes, my heart too sings every time I see him with a white jacket or trouser where others would go black, a necklace with a dog's face on it, an overly large hat and/or a monogrammed carpet slipper.

Bring it on! I say. And if one day you wake up and in some sort of Freaky Friday type escapade had turned into a man I would champion the look on you. You know, though, I can't help but wish he was ever so slightly prettier now...

Mickey Ro(ur)kes

(Image via Go Fug Yourself)

I have a stonking crush on Mickey Rourke. Post surgery. SERIOUS. I'm sad that he seems to have reverted back to wearing a normal everyday shoe and left the monogrammed velvet slipper of the day at home. I was so in to the slippers.

As well as being enamoured with his oddly shaped mush and appreciative of his left field footwear choices I have to say if I was a man, I would dress EXACTLY LIKE HIM. Ha! Really!

Dressage Dress Up

(Images via Helena Horstedt)

Morning! Let's talk about Helena Horstedt. I adore her cute origami'd dresses. Love love love! And she's Swedish which makes me love her even more. (Have we ever discussed my unconditional love for everything Swedish? Or that I am convinced that I AM secretly Swedish. I'm from York for heaven's sake! I MUST have descended from the Vikings. And I have been to the Yorvik Centre THREE times. I mean! Swedish!)

I kind of wish the model in the second photo had opened her eye a little bit more rather than squinting at me a bit. That is my drunkface look when I'm trying to reapply lip gloss in dim lighting after too many strawberry daiquiris, but that's not Helena's fault.

I digress. I covet all of her creations. Although I must say some of them are a bit Goth-pony-club what with the baddass mammary rosettes. But for me, that's not necessarily a bad thing. It is by far preferable to our 'National Treasure' Jordan's offerings after all.

Am I alone in praying that Katie Price does wheedle her way in to the 2012 showjumping team. How amaayzing would that be? And it would keep her occupied and stop the madness that is the Jordan-goes-equine range.

(Image via Zimbo)

The Devil's Work

Look! It's little MK Olsen! How I adore her matted hair and her determination to schlep around town with bags that rival her in size slung over her little shoulder. (Actually the other twin might well be taking a wee nap inside that sac, nestled in snugly amongst the fag packets and discarded lipsticks.)

Let's look at her tiny feet. Now when I first saw these Balenciaga boots I thought they were the devils work. I mean, quite literally. They brought to mind Lucifer's cloven hooves. But now I LOVE them. In fact I have dreamt about them for three nights in a row. I really AM that shallow.

I do hope someone on the high street does a lovely rip off errrr, I mean, takes inspiration from them soon.

An ACTUAL Pegasus on a Pendant

I dig those threads man. You see here we are again. I love a bit of Jigsaw but I look like a lunatic in anything that I try on in there. And I do persist because I love their stuff, and the shops themselves etc etc. The only thing I can ever actually buy there are accessories.

All of those pieces are glorious and would suit you down to the ground madam. What a productive afternoon you appear to be having!

Now weirdly, I found this image through google. (Would you believe there wasn't a scantily clad lady creature to be seen in amongst the 'jigsaw' images. I feel slightly disappointed.) I don't love these jigsaw earring but I DO love the Pegasus pendant and the heart pendant that I think was actually made for me. What a winner find!

(All images via Rocks On)

Loooooove it!

(Image via PoppyTalk)

Love love love it. I think it may well become as dear to me as the pink mac once was. Be cautious on laundering and let's hope this bad boy sticks around. Purrrr chase Kerrina!

My new favourite shop...?

In fact my sojourn into Jigsaw unearthed an untold number of treats.

Right?

Return of the mac: part 2

I have finally found the replacement for my pink mac. Isn't it a delight?!

Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

All I can think now is that there are little sharp mean pointy teeth nestling in there waiting to attack. How atrocious. It makes me feel positively rosy towards the YSL caged boots in comparison. That's how much this grosses me out.

I can't wait to see some poor unfortunate stalking around thinking they are the bees knees when they actually resemble a close relative of Sasquatch.

The Ugliest Items of 2009 - Part 3

Are you aware of the term 'teratoma'? Where cells mutate and start growing their own hair and teeth? The whole process doesn't exactly scream 'FASHION' to me but clearly someone at Balenciaga thinks differently.

Luce the Landgirl?

Dearest. You know what? I have spent at least half an hour trying to imagine you in a denim shirt and it's just not happening. In fact I can't imagine you in a denim ANYTHING. I have NEVER seen you in even a jean. EVER.

Isn't that odd? I think you would look perfectly lovely, but just, not like you. In fact whenever I try to picture you in something so casual I get an image of you as a landgirl...a 'kerchief topping off your crop, a 'can do' attitude and perhaps a sensible shoe. I know I have an overactive imagination but let's leave Rosie the Riveter to her little pocket of history and keep you in the sartorial manner to which I have become accustomed.

Get shirty

(Image via elleuk.com)

I know that it was only a second ago that I was persuading you to part with your hard earned cash for a denim shirt, and that really if I love it on you I should love it on me. But as you have rightly noted in the past we are two sides of a coin in terms of our personal style. So while I think you are all about rocking a denim shirt I am not entirely convinced for myself. Even though I love this what would I wear it with? Is it too pale? Do I just have to come to terms that I am not necessarily that kind of girl?

About turn

I'm just kidding! If we can't be fickle and change our minds and flit from one profoundly felt judgement to another that almost entirely contradicts it then I just don't know what. Surely it is our right as women to never be predictable. To think one thing one minute and quite another the next. We are mysterious creatures, there is no telling what we will do. And we refuse to bow down to societal pressures that suggest that once a mind is made up it has to stay made up forever, or even for the next half hour. I am not even sure I particularly like the shoes, but I will fight to the death for your right to change your mind! We are capricious and wayward and we will not change for anyone (except actually, just a minute, we probably will...!)

Danger zone!

Darling, I saw you on Friday, and I didn't think it was untoward. Admittedly I had other things on my mind, but you know me, it doesn't take much for my nasty mouth to run away with me. Particularly at sartorial slip ups.

Just maybe don't do it again. Oh, and put down the kids crockery immediately, Liz and have a burrito!

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta

I think that it is generally known as paedo-chic, isn't it, anything related to Lolita? The heart shaped sunglasses, knee socks, anything resembling a school uniform on a grown woman. As unpalatable as that might be it is considerably more alluring than that dress. Its not particularly paedo enticing, I wouldn't have thought and it sure ain't chic.

The Reiss-on behind the name is?

This is a frock from Reiss. It has a name! That name is Lolita. Giving a frock a name - even an appellation associated with literary controversy - does not detract people's attention from the fact that this dress is reminiscent of an elderly lady's side lamp.

Pleats Please!

+

=

today's look

It was not premeditated to look like a Hurley/Maverick hybrid. It was just a cruel twist of fate that the only jacket to hand this morning was brown leather. With a white jean? NO! I feel kind of, well, ridiculous. I literally just need a pair of mirrored sunnies and I'm convinced that Kelly McGillis will magically appear and drape herself about my shoulders as in the pic above which is all well and good, but she might get in the way whilst I am designing my latest beachwear collection/taking Damian to school/eating two raisins with children's cutlery.

And of course I'm going to be out in town all day! I'm praying it will warm up so I can lose the jacket later. Failing that I found a long cotton cardigan in my desk drawer that I had the foresight to stash in case of need over this turbulently temperatured 'is it spring/isn't it' period. It has been squashed up underneath a lever arch file and is so concertinaed it resembles origami but I'm hoping I can Issey Miyakey it out. Gah!

Can a Leopard Change it's Spots? (Please)

OK. So. Remember a little while ago where I was all 'WHOA HAVE YOU SEEN THOSE LOUBOUTIN RIP OFF SOLES? TRASHALISTIC OR WHAT?' - And I involve an entirely capitalised sentence here because I would have been shouting about it. Well now I have spied these:
Err. Can I take all that back? (I liiiiiiike them.)

OMG we are totally in synch!

First things first: sorry about the pic.

Now on to the post, and ... HOLD THE PHONE!!! I wrote about sleevelessness when you had been thinking about it, now you've only gone and written about that nasty thing that's going around: fringing, when I was thinking about it and was hurrying into work to post how repugnant I found it. What is going on honeybunch? Is it merely a sign that we are completly awesome and that our opinions are just so right that no one can be thinking of anything other than what we are thinking? (I'd like to think so!) Or is it the fact that this season is supposedly without real trends which is scaring the bejeesus out of everyone who depend on trends to get things of the shelves so they are inventing them willy nilly without a backwards glance?

Phew, I feel quite out of breath. But let's just stop the madness. Enough is enough.

I concur

What a total and utter disaster. There is nothing worse than finding the very perfect item only to realise that they are charging an exorbitant amount for it. I recently had the same experience in Zara. I fell in love with the most divinely soft shearling jacket only to find that it cost £500. FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS?? IN ZARA?? In fact, I bet we both had the same facial expression when our fingers fumbled on the price tag. And I bet it yelled "WTF??" and possibly scared small children standing near by.

I think you have made all the points that I would also make, so I will save us all the time and effort and just let you know that I feel for you and will support you in your time of need.

Except I would probably go futher and NEVER SHOP THERE AGAIN... Is that a bit extreme?