The Wedding

OK. So. I am just about recovered after the wedding. It was fabulous! The bride looked DIVINE, the groom's suit was a triumph (after a touch and go moment two weeks ago when an extra button hole had been added in error. YIKES! More of this later.) The Head managed to prove to everyone that he was wearing his kilt in the truest Scotch style by flashing his bottom at every given opportunity and I scraped enough time, after sorting out all the cakes, to sling on the jumpsuit and get some much needed backcombing done. (I was in fact teasing my barnet whilst sat in the boot of my car, waiting for the bridesmaids to emerge - every second counts man!)

Whizza had been unable to find the perfect pair of nude heels (we thought they were supposed to be a trend but on Friday it was looking like the only place she could get a pair would be Louboutin). She had a mad dash down the King's Road literally hours before the nuptials and snagged herself a gorgeous pair in the nick, and looked heavenly. Elle was also debating what to wear until almost the last minute. Everywhere she looked people were trying to sell her frocks that made her look like a human gift (which reminds me I opted against the bow on top of my head, mostly because she and I had by this time spent so much time getting angry about bows I felt it was irresponsible and fickle in the extreme to then adorn myself with one). Anyway she looked fabulous too in the end, and then everyone got drunk and we had a rave. Complete with glow sticks. Two fell out of my father in law's suit pocket when we got home which was odd, but also brilliant. More to follow when I get more pics...!

You and Whose Armoury?

Talking about breast plates made me think of The Magnificent Daphne. She just can't get enough of armour you know. I love that! She wants to make some robotic-ish leggings. Image how those bad boys would blow the JegTregs out of the water! Nice one Daphne!

Let's look at how fabulous you are with your inverse skunky punk hair and the jewellery which probably weighs as much as you and your fondness for le noir, shall we?

Fabulousity!!

The bloom is off the rose

Quite why you would want to look like you took a dive into a herbaceous border and managed to get half of it welded to your chest is entirely beyond me.

Let's hope this isn't a trend that takes root!

Geddit?!!

Your Best Mate's Breast Plate

I am terribly pleased that a skirt from Dororthy Perkins made you feel poetic darling. How lovely! Oddly enough I was click clicking away on that website only last week. Except I was doing so trying to find this HORROR:

(Image via Dorothy Perkins)

Have you seen it? It has been splashed over the pages of quite a few of the weekly glossies recently. It's Hid. E. Ous. AND IT'S ABOUT £50!! I don't understand. From Dorothy Perkins? Which my mother affectionately refers to as Dotty P's whilst smiling whistfully, shaking her head and crossing the road, never wanting to darken it's doors. And she's a MUM. This thing is a sort of floral breastplate. And a fairly cheap looking one at that. Lordy, the more I look at it the more revolted I become.

Accessorize are going for bizarre oversized 'necklaces' too. They are referring to them as 'Statement Jewellery'.They are equally as horrid. I can imagine your face if I were to rock up to one of the only two bars we ever drink in together wearing this:

I believe you would fall about laughing.

(Both images via Accessorize)

This reminds of an actual child's BIB. I'm all for a fugly jewel but...I mean! Are real people buying these do you think?

Pep Talk

(Image via Oasis)

I think the official definition of a peplum is when it is at the hip, a sort of over skirt, if you will. Either as part of a jacket or a skirt. So, clever sausage that I am, I have found a dress that has a peplum and a valance. I bet you hate it! I certainly do.

In my not so clever sausage stage, though, I realise that I did post as you. But I have remedied that now, so you won't look crazy. I logged in as you in order to leave a space just in case you deigned to comment, but soon saw the futility of my actions and so posted something as you instead. Tee, hee! I am kidding. Well, a little anyway. It would be delightful if you were to rouse sufficient energy to post something... anything...!! I'm not fussy.

Do love "An Olsen's" leather tregging, though.

Sunny side up

The colour of this skirt makes me think dreamily about dipping hot buttered soldiers into a perfectly runny soft boiled egg. Or of eating ice cream on the steps of a church in Sienna while the sun melts into the warm stone. Or of driving past fields and fields of sunflowers under a perfect cerulean blue sky.

A skirt? From Dorothy Perkins? That makes me feel poetic? How curious!

Bag of tricks

(Image via Jigsaw)

Isn't this clutch perfection? It is just so sexy and dirty and nasty, but in a classy way. I can feel myself positively squirming in my seat... phew! I want it. Real. Bad.

If I Had a Hammer

Isn't it tiresome this rain? I was over the moon to discover that the moccasin is completely waterproof though yesterday. Yippee.

I thought she looked good too. Generally I find Mischa irrationally grating. I don't know why. But yeah man, she looked good in that maxi.

(Image via Pop Sugar)

I also used to find this lady a bit annoying, without any good reason. But I am warming to her enormously of late. I like the colour of her dress a LOT but I would have preferred it to have done something else around the midriff. I suspect she may go in at that point more than the dress suggests. But overall I like it a lot.

(Image via Pop Sugar)

I also like what Alexa wore. I LOATHE the whimsical cat bag and I think the dress is a bit too big but I will forgive that because I think she looks lovelier than most of the other ladies there.

Tools of her trade

(Image via Handbag.com)

Look! Mischa finally got it right. It frustrates me how often she doesn't quite look her best, I mean, she's got all the raw materials in spades. But she has totally nailed it this time. (Gosh, where are the DIY references coming from?)

It also makes me jealous, and I now desperately want to wear my maxi dress. But it is raining and it would soak up the filthy water like an eager, thirsty pair of Uggs. Then it would become so heavy I would barely be able to support the weight of it. Boo! Let's bring back the sun, shall we? Super!

Legs Eleven

Ewww! I don't like those little horrors one bit. If it's not a valance trying to cut it as a worthwhile addition to a top/skirt/frock (and I learned today that the valance has a title now, a peplum... that still doesn't make it any less of an unnecessary bit of frill in my book) it's a legging masquerading as a skinny jean. And isn't a skinny jean doing a very nice job of being a slim fit demin as it is? In what way is it failing to be what it is? Gosh what terribly constructed and rambling sentences. I am very tired.

When I first saw that you had posted about a JEgging I thought 'Oh dear, the darling girl is confused, a TREgging is what she means!' But of course you didn't. And then I realised that you had posted as ME which now makes me look as though I am chatting to myself, which is entirely possible, but in this instance incorrect. Anyway, treggings,/jeggings, there is a difference. I must say I am fond of a tregging. I am particularly partial to the leather ones above worn by An Olsen. They're lovely!

WARNING!! REAL LIFE SIGHTING! WARNING!!

I take back everything I said. I saw someone in the street wearing this and it was so awful that I just had to warn you.

Admittedly the young lady in question had quite a different physique to yours. She was very bosomy. In fact I think the anatomically correct description for ones that size would be jugs. The kind of breasts that might elicit some sort of comment from an East End market stall holder along the lines of: "You don't get many of those to the pound" Etc., Etc. And they weren't strapped down. And she was running.

Aaaarrrrgggghhhh! My eyes! It was not a pretty sight. So maybe it was just the hideously extreme circumstance, but the top did not look cute. Not in the slightest. Just thought you should know.

By Jingo!

(Images via Asos)

These are apparently "Jeggings" a dark, twisted hybrid of a jean and a legging cooked up in the darker reaches of some evil fashion conglomerate to lure the stubborn pennies out of our wallets.



I, for one, think that my money might be safe.

Chauffeur-nistic

Humphrey Lestrode had not wanted a female chauffeur, and he had only taken on Frederica Wells because at the time he had no alternative.

I saw something that positively turned my stomach the other day. As I walked past Claridges I saw one of those huge boxy cars with blacked out windows that you imagine must house an important member of some corrupt government. Standing nervously along side was the chauffeur. A lady. She was wearing a very short navy skirt suit and some sort of hat, like a bowler with a higher brim, almost like a lady policeman's hat. She did not appear to have been hired for her driving prowess. And as she stood there she looked like she wanted to die, as she was so clearly dressed for the titillation of her boss.

Is there anything grosser than for a man to hire someone (in a non-hooker sense obviously) and then force her into an outfit from some adolescent sexual fantasy while she works? It would be like hiring someone to do your hoovering and making her wear a sexy French maids outfit. Ick. Ick. Ick.

Could Nine

Oh! My! I am ever so slightly lost for words actually. These flip flops look like little clouds. But not in a good way. Is this real do you think or is it an elaborate and slightly late April Fools?

The strange thing is darling, that round our way girls keep on their Uggs even depite the hike in temperature. They wear little singlets, shorts and Uggs. SERIOUS, they do! So that awful pavement slurp is audible all year round for me. Everytime I hear it my mother's voice pops in to my head yelling 'PICK YOUR FEET UP' in a shouty Northern twang. Awful, AWFUL things.

A Flip Flop in Sheep's Clothing

(Image via Kurt Geiger)

Surely even for someone who prefers the winter to the summer months there is one good thing about the increasing heat. That Uggs will finally be put into their boxes and laid to rest for a few months. I can heave a huge sigh of relief that I won't have to listen to the shhht, shhht, shhht that sounds out an Uggian, for once they are on the feet it seems nigh on impossible for the wearer to do anything but drag their feet along the pavement.

But what is this? A flip flop that has been accidentally dropped into the local funfair's candyfloss making machine? No. It is an Ugg flip flop. Because, after all, when our feet are hot and sweaty and need to be opened up to the elements, what they really need to aid their refreshment is a bloody great layer of sheepskin. Right, yeah, I am totally with you, uh-huh, entirely sold on that concept. Now, where's my wallet?...