Select(ive Memory)

Select have dropped my girl crush Daisy Lowe! Huh? They have also got rid of Alice Dellal and Pixie Geldof...which, well, whatevs but DAISY! I love Daisy. Sometimes I look at a picture of her if I feel a bit stressed out and after a short gaze I feel waaaay calmer. I wonder why? (They've been dropped, not why I feel calmer...I don't even want to start probing that particular psychosis.)

Whilst we're here, I didn't know what Pixie had got the cover of Italian Vogue in March. Did YOU?

Ring-a-Ring of Roses

(Image via Curator)

I can just imagine you gesticulating wildly at Rowan Towers when suddenly there is an almighty crash and you have a broken pane on your hands! Please don't let that happen.

The ring is absolutely not me, it is a bit too pretty and delicate for my jewellery tastes, but I think it would be darling on you. I love that you are still rocking out the colour, particularly as I have had to tone mine down. So I heartily approve!

Get Your Rocks Off

Oooh look! This is the ring I bought yesterday! I'm so pleased Aldo have it on their site. Other wise I was going to take a photo of it but it would have been a problem as The Head changed our camera to black and white on my command at J's party at the weekend and now it seems to be stuck there. No so bad in general terms because skin looks pretty in b&w. Not good for show and telling colourful rings from Aldo.However...leading on from our shoe based convo...it's too big. Are my extremities shrinking or is the world just messing with me this week? Either way, it's disconcerting.

I don't think it's dangerously, could-catapult-when-gesturing big so I think it's a keeper. Also, it 'reminds' me so much of a Victoire de Castellaine piece that I might just keep it to look at if nothing else. The only way I could own and hold a real VdeC in my (apparently Lilliputian) palm would involve the word heist and possibly a lengthy jail sentence.

Here is another which is also lovely.

Boat Shoe

Now. That's weird. The exact same thing happened to me yesterday. No, not the same, the opposite. I am sleepy and preoccupied because my Facebook has gone Chinese for the second day in a row, so do excuse me. I went to Faith in Covent Garden (where did that come from? I never knew it was there!) to try on a shoe that I had seen online.

This shoe if we're being specific:
I am still tyring to find a replacement for these you see.

Anyway, it was too high and cheap looking but it was also TOO BIG. I am very definitely a five or a six. I am not a four. My Mother is a four and refers to my feet as looking 'like BOATS' in comparison to her dainty little paws. Seriously! She has banged on about boat feet since I was about 15. She finds me in a trainer particularly hysterical. I find it disturbing because it's probably going to lead to an activity which might result in sweating and aches and pains the next day but hysterical? No.

I was tempted to buy them just so I could take them home with me next time I visit and show her how my foot swishes and sloshed about inside. But they were quite horrid and were FIFTY pounds (from FAITH?! What the?!) so I didn't.

I'm sorry about your shoe problems though dear. They are awfully nice.

In Good Nick

(Image via Nicholas Kirkwood)

I wasn't going to post about it. And really it might be too painful to be so open about this. But I think my heart might be broken.

You know when you are feeling a bit down and you just think, you know what, nothing would make me feel better than getting me a new pair of shoes. A really expensive, impractical new pair of shoes. With really, really high heels.

So off you pop to Dover Street Market, your heart in your mouth, your heart set on a pair of Nicholas Kirkwoods, desperately trying to be rational so as to not get too excited and let yourself in for a disappointment. After all when a girl wants something so much we all know she is likely to be deprived of it. Just to spite her.

So I had convinced myself that I wouldn't find anything I liked. But lo! what is this? The most delightful pink suede and burgundy python bit of frivolousness ever to grace the planet? Is that what it is? Why yes! Yes indeed. My heart soared. I wondered if maybe I was wrong not to believe in fate. Had I been too hasty in judging the world to be a hostile place?

It appeared I had. Because not only was this shoe just about the most delicious little morsel I had ever laid my eyes on, there nestling among many others was a delightful size 38, just waiting patiently for me to take them home.

But then the crushing moment came. It didn't damn well fit. And yet I am a size 38. Honestly, if there has ever been something to rely on is that my feet are one size and while the rest of me might take on slightly more Rubenesque proportions occassionally (OK, usually) my feet are always ready to slip neatly into a delicate size 38. Mr. Kirkwood it seems does not agree. For into them my feet just would not go. And I wasn't going without a fight. You mark my words. I tugged at that little strap for all I was worth until the assistant squealed at me bitchily "No, no they are too small!" and I had to admit defeat.

I can't tell you how this makes me feel. I am not entirely sure that I will ever get over it. They might have been the ones. But don't you worry about me. After all, there are plenty more shoes in the, err... sea.

(Image via Browns)

Sale of the Centuary

(Image Comfort & Joy Cakery)

Oh I KNOW! Isn't it just the height of tedium. Sad lonesome items handing from mussed up racks. It's as miserable as the 2nd of January isn't it?

Let's have a look at a very nice cake to take our minds off it. It is not on sale. I don't do sales.

Sale Away

For the love of all that is good in the world. Can we not stop with the sale items and actually have something nice in the shops? Please. Before I do something I might later regret. You know, like buying some of it. Sheesh!

Traina Thought

(Image via Handbag.com)

This is Vanessa Traina. I don't know who she is, but I like her style. A lot.

Oh, just googled her, she is Danielle Steel's daughter. That possibly might make me love her more.

Shoulder The Blame

Have you seen this?

(Images via Daily Mail)

Apparently it's a copy of the Balmain.

Apparently.

I take offence to the flaccid shoulder. It's ALL ABOUT THE SHOULDER. So upsetting.

Bravo!

Well played, my darling! Well played!

Dusty Binn(s)

(Image via Yvonne Rohe)

I get Russian inspired shooty necklace. I like it. Am wearing excellent necklace myself today. This is convo with client that happened earlier...

Clinetess: 'Oooh love necklace!'

Self: 'Many kind thank yous.'

Clientess: 'Is Tom Binns?'

Self: 'Is kidding?'

(Is nice, sartorially aware client CRAZY? Am on receptionista and cake maker wages only! Tom Binns is distant and hazy dream.)

Clientess: 'No, really? Is Tom Binns?'

Great, uncomfortable pause, broken only by gentle cough and obvious picking of troublesome cuticle by self.

Self: 'No. 'Is Primarni.'

Clientess: 'Oh! Well! Is good work'

Self: 'Hmm. Thanks.'

(Pleased can carry off £4.50 necklace with aplomb.)

Stick Your Neck Out

(Image via Accessorize)

Darling, you were of course quite right about the necklace. I bought a little gold chain with a little gold horse galloping along it from Accessorize to wear with the disco dancing dress. Sadly there is no picture to be had of it.

While I was in Accessorize I found this little treat. It is pretty awesome, isn't it? It makes me think that if I bought it I would instantly have to be transported to within a Chekov play where I would stare into the middle distance all the time and talk in a deadened monotone about the snow and how things used to be in Moscow and then maybe shoot my lover in the back with a hunting rifle, and then, you know, blame snow blindness and claim that I thought he was a bear. Or something.

Are you getting that? Or is it just me?

Pop Tart

Oh, for the love of God! Can I just say how much I love Ciara. I think she might even be competing with Gaga for my affections. Particularly after the gimp debacle below. Sheesh! She needs to watch herself because there is another nasty, dirty, fabulously dressed pop minx out there.

Plus Ciara has the most insane dance moves I have pretty much ever seen.

And the longest legs.

And she is way cooler than Beyonce.

And did I mention that I love her...?

Today's Gaga

(Image via Daily Mail)

Oh!

Errr?

Oh!

Cole Face

(Image via Catalyst)

Oh I hear ya sista. I have been avoiding all photos or any discussion about Princess Cheryl. I didn't want to admit that it was actually happening. Why the bouffing? And the pouffing? WHY? It's all a bit principal boy isn't it? Slapping of thighs etc.

I don't want to talk about the 'Racy Tinkerbell' birthday outfit. Because that way it way it won't have happened. You see?