OH DRESS, HOW YOU ARE TEASING ME...

The Phillip Lim dress began teasing me sometime during the autumn of 2007. I was in Paris and popped into AB33 in rue Charlot. I had seen the dress before and had previously dreamed of buying the whole AW 07 collection. I gasped when I saw it; one of those occurrences where the dress was more likely to become an urban dress myth, never to be found in an actual store. I tried it on. Soft fabric, it fell perfectly, was indeed the dress of my dreams.

I retired to the little Japanese lunch place in the red kids market to mull it over. 310 euros, well I didn't actually have any money but it wasn't that bad, certainly cheaper than London. I went back to the shop - looked at the price tag. NOT 310 euros you spanner, easy to get confused when there's the 3.1 of Phillip Lim 3.1 right next to the price. The dress was 500 and something euros. I walked away.

Some months later:
Flipping through Grazia yesterday, scanning for daft errors, I came across a photo of THE DRESS on sale at Browns. Springing into action I logged onto Browns to find it was actually the less nice version with buttons, not THE dress at all. But I had the scent and the chase was on. Matches had it; I bought it without hesitation over the phone after their website clunked out on me three times - 30% off. I had that nervous feeling you get when you've bought something you shouldn't have. But hey, there's got to be some fun purchasing to balance all the drabness out, right? Oh dear, then I looked at Net - a - Porter. Quite a bit cheaper, should have checked there first. So I bought that one as well and cancelled the other one. I expect the glut of dresses available is because plaid must be considered deeply uncool now that it's been "in" for a bit. I, however have a long term commitment to plaid so I don't care. I GOT THE DRESS. Well, unless some kind of freak accident befalls the courier...

*before I read this back to myself I had been labouring under the misapprehension that I wasn't addicted to clothes anymore. I am a lost cause.

HAPPY NEW YEAR...

BED...

This is one of my favourite images from Charlotte Gainsbourg's French Vogue edit. They used it for the single cover for the track "everything I cannot see" apparently.

I swear Vogue Paris is in league with the tobacco industry. Every issue is full of people looking soigné (or in Charlotte's case bedheaded) smoking a ciggie. Tsk tsk.

My current location and hairstyle are roughly the same as Charlotte's - sans cancer stick naturally.

Ah, Sunday...

(pic: Kate Barry)

I HAVE NO WORDS...

It was just the best Arabian adventure.
Some pictures are here.

Want . to . go . back . to . Oman...

I'M OFF!

I must wish you all a Merry Christmas before I leave for an internet free adventure - which is both exciting (because I've never been anywhere near this region of the world before, or away for Christmas) and a bit nerve wracking (because I don't really want to get stoned to death for a minor accidental infraction of a law I'm not familiar with.) But hey, it'll be sunny! And sandy. And so, so, different.

I'll be back with photos before the new year.

Christmas kisses from Lola who is slightly wary of her new babysitter but has no concept of time, so she will hopefully think I've just been out for a very long walk.

GINGHAM AND GINGERNUTS...

This is what happens when you try to make Christmas ginger biscuits and buy a Tova shirt at the same time. These gingernut biscuits shall henceforth and forever be known as Tova biscuits.

I was sitting there with my dough covered finger hitting refresh for about twenty minutes either side of the shop update time until I noticed that where the sold items had previously said 19, they now said 23. Yep, the shirts sold out before I even saw them go in the shop. I have no idea how that happened, maybe when I looked away for a sec to stir in the golden syrup. Those have got to be the most popular shirts in blogland - but I don't mind wanting the same thing as everyone else on this occasion. It would be quite cool if you bumped into someone else wearing one. They'd almost certainly be another blogeuse - it'd be like a cool secret club. Alas, this is not a club I have been able to join. Ah well, my shopping luck has been almost too good lately so I gracefully accept defeat.

So, back to the Tova biscuits. I cut them ,or should I say it, up into sort of crazy paving shaped pieces and they turned out OK.

Then I made about three more batches and eventually learned that a teeny tiny ball of dough on the baking tray spreads out to make an enormous biscuit. The recipe is from the Rose Bakery (love that place) cookbook Breakfast, Lunch, Tea and it's for Hot Gingernut Biscuits (P.150).
But it's the packaging of them to give to friends I enjoy doing the most. Wouldn't Martha be proud? I really think she would.

p.s. the recipe is here

UNDERMINING THE WHOLE "I DON'T HAVE A LOT OF CLOTHES" THING...

S: So is that your new navy coat?

Me: No, it's at home.

S: But that coat's navy. Why do you need another one?

Me: Well, you see this one is for when it's not that cold and the new one is for when it's really cold.

S: Exactly how many navy coats have you got?

Me: Er, counting...about...five?

S: So you need one coat for when it's sunny but cold, with a slight northwesterly wind, a different one for when it's sunny but just a bit warmer with the chance of drizzle and so on.

Me: I'm so glad we understand each other.

GRIDSKIPPY CHRISTMAS...

I keep forgetting to mention what I've been doing over at Gridskipper.

As you know I am something of an expert on Christmas shopping, having a large extended family for which at the last count I had to buy THIRTY FIVE presents for. (Due to a cunning master plan put into practise last year, of point blank refusing to do the shopping for the first time in fifteen years, thus making others realise the ridiculousness of it all; we have slashed the present giving (and receiving) and guess what? No one really minded and Christmas feels just as Christmassy, if not more so now. And I have more time to buy better gifts. And less achy arms.)

But, what to do with all this knowledge of gift buying?

I have helpfully compiled a guide of places to buy cool Christmas (sorry - Holiday*) pressies for under £50 in London; which if I do say so myself is...well I'm pleased with it anyway.

Then, somewhat linked in my mind at least, there's a guide to London's Cosy (Cozy*) Drinking Dens where I shall be resting my weary legs by the open fire supping a pint of Guinness and eating packet after packet of salt & vinegar crisps as I survey my loot of just TEN presents this year. Ten, pah! Easy.

*I use US English on Gridskipper...confusing for my brain!

WINTRY...

Frost, crisp air, sky changing colour, hats, mittens, mulled wine.
I like it.

I also like expired polaroid film...

OH NO!...

Kaaaachung! That is the sound of yet another US interiors magazine biting the dust. Since the US seems to be a pretty accurate barometer of reading habits, any British folk who don't read anything online, never not ever and there's plenty of 'em believe me, had better start getting in the habit of scrolling. It will happen here eventually too. (Personally I have saved many trees and have read about far more interesting things since my conversion to the ways of the interwebs.)

That was a digression. What I was going to say is that if anyone in the US wants to do a magazine swap with me before Blueprint dies next month, (that is the Martha Stewart Omnimedia published Blueprint not the British architecture mag) drop me an email at lolaisbeauty(AT)hotmail(DOT)co(DOT)uk. I think the final issue will be Jan/Feb.

Blueprint has been really hard to get hold of here and the couple of issues I had I really liked - appealed to the perfectionist in me, what can I say - I care. I'd also like to swap for a current issue of Domino. So let me know: British Elle Decoration, Living Etc, whatever - I have loads of back issues of those as well so I'd be willing to swap two oldies for a newie of Blueprint or Domino or something.

I am suddenly transported back to the times of Michael J. Fox Back to the Future sticker swaps.

EDIT: Thanks to a commenter I discovered that though they stopped stocking Blueprint in Borders Oxford Street after the first two issues - they do have it in Tottenham Court Road Borders. And guess what? I went, I saw, I didn't like the Christmas issue! Sorry Blueprint, I'll buy the last one of you in January I promise.

VIENNA IN PICTURES...

My first impression of Vienna was a bit like this:

I don't know about you, but all that Verboten business compels me to stand on the wrong side of the escalator and ride my bike in the pedestrian lane.

Luckily, after a bit of this:

and numerous courses of this:

Oh, and a slice of this:

Things seemed much better. Oh, and we displeased the authorities by rushing into the museum twenty minutes before closing to see this:

 There were also trams. And beer. And the first opera I've ever loved/stayed awake through.

HELLO. MY ARM HURTS BUT DON'T FEEL SORRY FOR ME...

...because the injury is due to carrying too many clothes at the Mulberry press sale yesterday. Whoo. It's way too dark today to take pictures but I got the coat I wanted, (£995 on Net-a-Porter) for cheap! Also a bluebell print button down chiffon dress (for those Stevie Nicks moments), print bow blouse (love that word), a super long scarf, little tan leather gloves, a pale pink knit, a bag (supposed to be a manbag) but would perfectly fit a MacBook which I'd be able to buy if I hadn't just blown the Mac fund at the Mulberry press sale. Oh, and a couple of Christmas pressies I can't mention.

Quelle fun day. Thank you, thank you, nice lady for inviting me, you know who you are. You know when you were little and you'd wake up on Christmas morning really early because you were so excited and you knew you were going to get loads of presents? Well yesterday was the adult version of that, sponsored by Visa.

Oh, the dedication. I got up at six am to meet my partner in shopping for a sustaining breakfast. She, meanwhile, had got up at FOUR AM for the journey to London. While I waited for her at the Wolseley I read the Guardian, as you know I find it imperative to keep up with current world affairs. Oh, OK it was because it came with Louise Bourgeois designed giftwrap. Instead of reading the paper I looked at the pretty pictures in Charlotte Gainsbourg's guest edited French Vogue (which I like very much, perhaps even more so than Sofia's).

Eggs Benedict, plenty of coffee then a casual stroll to Mulberry to find an enormous queue snaking up the stairs. Once inside everyone made a beeline for the bags and something in my mind whispered, "The coat" so I ran off to find the coats and there it was, just one and in my size. I love good fashion karma. 'Twas a bit of a bunfight, but in a manageable, friendly way and we were very happy with our bargain loot.

A bit more shopping, open sandwiches in Liberty's tea room, (so civilised! except I kept spilling mine all over the table) could.not.carry.bags.any.more. My Cinderella shopping companion had to go as well so I went home to drop off the bags, on to an appointment then BACK to Liberty to meet C for the card holder evening (ginger cocktails, room to move and 20% off). I bought a few stocking fillers but not much else. Shopped out you see.

WHY DON'T YOU...?

...is of course the title of Diana Vreeland's famous Harper's Bazaar column in which she invited readers to wash their child's hair in champagne or to turn an old ermine wrap in to a bathrobe.

It was also the name of a kids TV programme in the 1980s; the title song of which went "Why don't you, why don't you, just switch off your TV set and do something less boring instead" which always struck me as a strange sentiment at the beginning of a TV programme. Maybe that's why it's not on anymore.

If you're in London this weekend why don't you:

* Go to the Cheshire Street and Friends Christmas shopping evening on Friday. I went last year, I think I blogged about it - yep. Mulled wine, mince pies and good design make a lovely combination. Shelf have got some new Shinzi Katoh stuff (pictured) which I get very excited about.

* Go to the Open Studios at Cockpit Arts in Deptford this weekend. On Gridskipper this week I profiled some of the designer-makers showing at the Open Studios, which is on all weekend. Again, I went last year and got loads of inspiration and a few gorgeous, unique Christmas presents - you end up doing that one for you, one for me thing. You can read my piece on it here or browse all the designer-makers and artists at Cockpit Arts here.

* Be in a film with Jude Law on Friday. When I went to see The Darjeeling Limited at the cinema, before Hotel Chevalier (the Wes A. short before the main film) they showed another short with Jude Law buying some fish from Applebee's at a deserted Borough Market, then standing outside and kind of wandering round. The film was quite arresting once all the females in the cinema had stopped muttering about Jude Law being a smarmy git. (Not that he was acting a smarmy git kind of role.) All I got from the short was that it was something to do with Tate Modern and then it said Friday, 30 November 11.30am. That's all. Well after a bit of investigation it turns out that if you go to Borough on Friday at 11.30am (and I'm usually there around then) they're going to re-enact the whole thing with whoever turns up. Clever marketing eh? I'm quite intrigued as I don't know how they're going to be able to film effectively just before Friday lunch time with tons of people spilling out of The Market Porter pub and masses of people visiting the market; as well as the additional people who've come along because of the film and oh, all right then, possibly the Jude Law factor.

DV image
Jude image

NORTH BY NORTHWEST...

I'll have what she's wearing.
Accessory wise I'd keep the hat, gloves and clutch.
The gun would perhaps be overkill...

And Cary Grant - best wearer of suits in cinema.
Swoon.

SUPERFUN...

*Being spontaneously invited to a Thanksgiving dinner held by real live US citizens (I couldn't go because I'd planned my whole day to the minute)...

*Making squash soup on Thanksgiving that included honey, sesame seeds, lime juice and cumin seeds in the ingredient list. Nice, if a little like a hot toddy...

*The idea of putting "Or You Better Watch Out" at the end of invoices after the bit about paying within 30 days...

*Getting fresh daily bread, yummy cheeses and superior wine all direct from France from the new French owned deli round the corner. It's just like being in Paris - what, did they read my mind? J'aaadooore gentrification...

*Catching my reflection and seeing that while I bumble on about clothes all the time, I've been repeatedly going out in public (and at night) dressed in old, baggy comfortable slobwear. My nails are now painted, my wardrobe re-organised. Bad knackered yet oh so comfy Ugg boots, keep away!

DECISION/INDECISION...

Well, that is funny. Impatient moi went ahead and ordered the Morning Glory Slate (before I got any of your comments!) Then I woke up this morning thinking how really, the print I'd imagined was something like this Eley Kishimoto print which you can't buy just as a fabric:

And how the colour of the coat looks best against fuschia. So I started browsing Volksfaden again and finally decided on this:

A quickly dashed email was sent to try and change the order before they cut the cloth, making it non returnable. Then, browsing Volksfagen again, which is the perfect relaxing activity to distract one from the pile of almost toppling over papers in front of one, I saw this:

Blue eyelashes, oh my...not for the coat, but...

I realised I cannot choose anything because I like them all and it really is such a good way to spend the day avoiding work, as is blogging, hence the blogging frenzy this week. So. I decided to accept my fate. And the nice lady from Volksfagen emailed me back to say that not only had she cut the fabric, she had already posted it to me. So I can attest to the amazing efficiency of the company and I'm sure it will look fine. I'll just have to order some 50cm lengths of my fave prints to satisfy this craving. That or be sent to a home for the textileally insane.

EVERY CLOUD...

I've been looking everywhere for some cute printed fabric to re- line my old "relegated to dog walking even though I don't have a dog" coat. I was thinking Liberty print but they're a bit expensive to use for lining, ditto Marimekko. And all the cool online fabric places are either in the US or Japan. Stumped was I. So what perfect timing that Jenny posted about Volksfaden fabrics. They're 100% cotton and ship from Germany. The prices are very reasonable (to someone used to paying pounds in London. Maybe the prices are just normal.) The Volksfaden website is very groovy and makes me think of all the things I could do with some good patterned fabric. So now I just have to choose one. They have some lovely Japanesey prints and I was thinking of going for something really mismatching and bold but in a (hopefully) good way. Notice I'm not showing you the coat as it is now. This is mostly because if anyone I know sees it they will think I am insane to still be wearing it after all these years. But you'll see, you'll see...

I've narrowed it down to three (the coat is steel grey/blue)

The Morning Glory Slate would "go" the best, but I really like Chestnuts Lichen and Chestnut Branch Eggplant too.

Eenie meenie minie mo...

THANKS*GIVING...

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you who celebrate it. It's such a warm, fuzzy, good holiday that I've decided to celebrate it tomorrow as well. Yep - just me, the cat and America. This year Thanksgiving falls on an anniversary that is hard for me not to mark with anything other than bleak sadness. Hi-jacking the energy of Thanksgiving and actually giving thanks will make it much easier I hope. A slice of pumpkin pie won't hurt either...

{my photo ©}

P.S...

I am talking a load of pants over at Gridskipper. Frankly darling, I am now so enamoured of this lingerie range that I would consider throwing out all my highly sentimental items of lingerie if only someone would buy me this orchid print robe...

FAVOURITES...

I sense the time is near. My very favourite baggy denim trousers that I've been wearing for god knows how many years are finally on their last legs ('scuse the pun). It is quite possible that the next time I wear them on a blustery day, a small gust will render me trouserless, standing in the street in my knickers, shoes and socks with wispy threads of soft denim flying into the ether around me. The trousers are now at the height of soft slubby perfection, but the moment perfection was achieved, the danger of them disintegrating increased. They have reached their peak and now must, like all things, decay. I can't even remember where I bought them - it was somewhere cheap and high streety - maybe Mango. I've looked high and low for a replacement but nothing can match them. Funny how my favourites are not expensive "special" pieces but ordinary utility clothes that just happen to fit, be useful and look exactly right.

Because I only buy things I really, really like, I expect my clothes to last forever. I get weirdly attached to items of clothing - the ones I end up wearing all the time. The Miu Miu coat I've had for ten years with the shredded lining will not be chucked out, it will be re-lined in cute printed cotton. If I can salvage something from having to be replaced then I'm happy, since there is no perfect replacement. I don't know if it's an English thing - certainly not a modern English thing but a throwback to the old make do and mend culture. I know people think I'm very strange for being like this, especially since I like clothes and fashion so much, but I hate to have an excess of stuff I don't need or like. When I make a mistake and buy something not quite right which gets left hanging unworn I get rid of it.

Looking through my wardrobe there's no clear theme, no clear criteria for what makes something perfect. It's not really a fashion thing, more to do with the fit and the cut and the quality. Which doesn't necessarily mean expensive - my favourite T - shirt is from H&M, not The Row. T-shirts aside, I lean towards the Italian way of shopping where you try stuff on and the tailor alters it so that it's just right. I get things altered or alter them myself quite often; but there's something I never knew about until A introduced me to a tailor at one of the shops in Venice. Despite having worked for big Italian fashion houses I'd never realised that the sarta (tailor) would also alter the look of something you buy to make it suit your style. Bloody hell, it's hard enough to get a pair of trousers taken up in London. And in Italy it's of course a free service.

Anyhoo all this to say that these cheapo denim trews were in fact a cornerstone of my wardrobe and now it all makes sense why I got so upset about my bag getting ruined at the dry cleaners, or why I was fully miffed at my Comptoir des Cotonniers coat only lasting one winter before it went all bobbly. Clothes that really work don't come along every day and excuse me coming over all Trinny and Susannah but it seems to me that this is the way to structure a wardrobe: forget about "Apple shapes with big boobs must wear empire line dresses" and "Are you a skittle or a brick shape?"

So, my winter cornerstones are:
Vintage military navy heavy wool trench coat (age: 60, adopted:10 years ago)..
Teal blue H&M T-shirt.. (age: 5)..
Massive Anna Corinna leather tote (will cry when it dies) (age: 1)..
APC wide leg navy corduroy worker trousers (age: 6 months)..
Stella McCartney for H&M black silk tuxedo skirt (age: 2)..
Beige cashmere APC sweater (age: 2 months)..
Stripy Marni cashmere sweater that I hardly ever wear anymore so it'll last forever (age: 6)..
1940s blouse top with little puffed 3/4 length sleeves (age: 60 ish, adopted: 6 months ago)..
Lyell 1940s style blouse top with little puffed 3/4 length sleeves (age: 1)..
Rutzou blue/grey plaid top (age: 3)..
Vintage plaid shirt (age: ?, adopted 1 year ago)..
2 pairs Miu Miu black wool trousers (age: 10)
White leather Converse (age: 4)..
Nubbly blue wrap long cardi bought in Florence (age: 12)..
Bruuns Bazaar metallic brown/bronze cardi and scarf and Naja Lauf satin kimono dress from trip to Copenhagen (age: 4)..
Soon to be R.I.P. denim trousers (age 12?)..
Long burgundy leather gloves (age 1)..
Vanessa Bruno navy wool button down dress (age 2)..

Sounds really boring, eh? Well at any one time or another I am usually wearing at least one of these items. Hmmm, lots of navy. Only one thing bought new this season (APC sweater). And that military coat goes through phases. Some winters I don't wear it at all but it's perfect for now - although it has always vaguely emitted an odour of curry powder.

What are your favourites/cornerstones and how long have you had them?

TO BALANCE PREVIOUS RANTING ...

Alternatively: Well, make me miss Paris why dontcha...

"...they're not comfortable at all and I don't wear them, but I love them..."
"When you ride a bike you use only the toes, so you can wear heels as high as you want..."

(no direct link, click on "Marais-Go-Round" to watch)

COMING UP....

The Dec/Jan issue of Paris Vogue guest edited by Charlotte Gainsbourg will be out on 29 November...

Tonight there's a FREE screening of This Is England at The Prince Charles Cinema...

The Darjeeling Limited will be released in the UK on 23 November. I've been waiting so long...have you seen the Wes Anderson short Hotel Chevalier with Jason Schwartzman and Natalie Portman? I watched it online a while ago but it looks like it's been removed. You can now only see it screened before The Darjeeling Limited or watch the 13 minute short in 4 parts on Youtube ...

On Gridskipper today (Beaujolais Nouveau Day) I encourage the drinking of wine for breakfast. Oh, you already were...

ABSOLUTE GIRLCRUSH: LOUISE BOURGEOIS...

Well, maybe girlcrush is a little flippant when discussing the idolisation of a ninety five year old woman. She is officially my heroine. But before I finally dragged my arse the short distance over to Tate Modern to see the LB exhibition I knew her mostly as an art world personage - from pictures such as the one above taken by Robert Mapplethorpe in the eighties (and used in a Helmut Lang advertisement in the nineties.)

I thought I would be telling you how I got to the Tate, was strangely underwhelmed by "The Crack" and found myself randomly standing next to Ewan McGregor for the second time in the last ten years. Poor besotted chap; he's obviously been trying to track me down all this time since our first brief encounter and just couldn't find the words once I was within reach. I understand, really I do.

Blah blah blah, everything else fell away as soon as I entered the Louise Bourgeois exhibit. Ten rooms of work, one room in particular that contained the "cells" (rooms constructed out of reclaimed doors, a wooden water tower or metal cages filled with various objects) propelled me back round it three times. I'm not going to attempt to play serious art critic so I'll just leave it at saying it was the best exhibition I can remember ever seeing. Of her sculptures, even those that deal with the most distressing themes and are made of distressed materials are resolutely beautiful.

As I walked out of the exit I felt I wanted to go to Louise Bourgeois's house and have a cup of tea with her, hang out and get a glimpse of her daily life. At just that point I noticed the large video screen just outside the exit where they were showing the 1991 (I think) Arena documentary on her. The part I walked in on was where she's in her kitchen, opens a cupboard that contains ten neatly lined up jars of marmalade, takes one down, then tells the interviewer that all spoons must be cauterised over a flame before use to remove the germs, then proceeds to iron the pages of the NY Times flat.

I love her. She certainly has a special kind of magnetism that a huge crowd of people stood or sat transfixed watching her in the full length documentary being by turns destructive, flirty, argumentative, cute, petulant, wise, funny, serious, vulnerable, tough, but always with this particular stubborn twinkle in her eyes.

{img © The Estate of Robert Mapplethorpe}

YA BETTER WATCH OUT...

Oh dear. Try watching this without pissing yourself laughing...
It's my new catchphrase.

FLICKRER...

I'm an intermittent and not very committed flickrer. Once in a while I'll put up a few photos and I like to look at those of my contacts but me commenting is rare. I just kind of dip in and out....but I'm pretty happy with it like that. Even happier when I'm contacted (as in made a contact!) by someone whose photostream is as amazing and gorgeous as Marikska's.

From Marikska's Flickr:

CLICHÉ LIKE SUNDAY MORNING...

I am being kindly picked up to go and retrieve my car from its post fireworks display/drank a vat of mulled wine resting place. I am still snoozing when the doorbell rings. I brush my teeth and pull on the cosiest clothes I can find. We go outside. I am wearing: bedhead hair, a bobbly cashmere jumper, track pants, Ugg boots (to hand because they now serve as slippers), a pashmina (I swear this is true) and Rayban Wayfarers*. I am not clutching a Starbucks Venti takeout cup or a small dog but I still look like I've just left an L.A. yoga class that started in 2001.

I have no food in the house (as usual) and wonder if I can go to the supermarket looking like this; which I never do on a Sunday as this is when everyone else goes. My entire life in London is constructed (thanks to working from home) around doing things at a different time to everyone else. Work all Friday night, late night partying on a Wednesday, go to the supermarket hardly ever, but at no other time than a week day mid morning.

I decide to brave it, fearing this will be the time I bump into the ex I never bump into. But it turns out, every other chick in Sainsbury's is wearing a variation of my "outfit". We are all wandering round like Stepford Wives played by off duty Desperate Housewives, putting organic this and fairtrade that into our trolleys.

(*Except the Wayfarers should really be Aviators.)

SMELLS LIKE...

You know how sentimental I am about my clothes. Can't bear to part with them most of the time. It's a miracle that two pairs of shoes - worn until totally destroyed to the point of being unwearable - and almost unrecognizable as footwear (one pair Marni, one pair Dries Van Noten) have at last been taken out of the wardrobe and unceremoniously chucked in the bin.

But there is method in my shoe hoarding madness sometimes. Biker boots: Proper motorcycle boots bought in a biker shop in ooh, around 1990. They were the perfect companion to dyed long black hair, holey oversize grey jumpers, a sullen expression and a nice little line in door slamming and whining, "No one understaaands meeee." I had a grungy stoner phase and thankfully it didn't last that long. It turned out that wearing kick arse heels and going to clubs was a lot more fun. But the boots, the boots...So well made, such good quality I couldn't bear to throw them away, infused though they were with that "difficult age". Each time the style came round again I'd put them on, then no, no can't do it. The echo of teenage angst was too strong, the memories of where they'd been - if I remember rightly mostly hanging around under slides in the local park having Thunderbird spilled on them. I tried to wear them last winter and could not shake the taint of teen spirit.

Now I am being told by every magazine I look at to wear biker boots. I go out and everyone is wearing biker boots. I take mine down from their dusty top shelf home and look at them. I sniff them. I consider selling them on ebay and buying another pair sans connotations. But I have yet to see another pair as perfect as these and with inflation another pair would cost me around twice as much. So I put them on, I wear them out. I do not feel the urge to kick anything, loiter outside McDonalds all day or buy a ten pack of B&H; though I did buy a My Bloody Valentine CD recently.

The key, I'm thinking, is to pair the boots with clothes that could not possibly be construed as in any way stoner-ish. So opaque black (not woolly) tights, a short dress, an APC cardi and a smile do the trick. Nubbly knits could be problematic if they have anything approaching a "smoking" hole in the cuff to put your thumb through. Unfortunately plaid (yet another renaissance of something I really like) may also have to be avoided in conjunction with the boots. (I'm looking at you, Judd Nelson.)

The look is somewhere between Parisienne slouch and my favourite phrase du jour coined by Fashionista: The '90s Fashion Editor Look - so funny, so true! And the boots are super comfortable since my own feet wore them in for me. But don't talk to me about Doc Martens. Neither Daisy Lowe in the ads or Agyness wearing them will convince me. I am not going there again. Ever.

IMAGE INFATUATION...

Fully adoring the way Le Train Bleu have shot their Karen Walker stock. There's something about it that makes me go back and look at it again and again. I would never have even noticed those pieces if I'd just looked at the catwalk pics and I actually wasn't too fussed about the collection before I saw these pictures. STOP PRESS: clothes being presented in a way that makes you want to buy them? Whatever will they think of next.

Also, when my hair looks like that I generally consider that to be a bad and shameful thing. How bourgeois of me. All I needed was a Karen Walker scarf.

(via Wiksten via Geraldine)

HOUSE OF POORLY...

The lack of bloggage is because I've been down all week with that virus that's been going round. I'm sure you probably have it, or have had it too (in which case I empathize entirely and also ask that you stay at least 5 metres away from me). I know next to nothing about this kind of thing but I thought that human flu and cat flu were not cross contaminatory. (I just invented a damn fine word.) If so, I think we have just made history.

The little one: yesterday she kept lashing out at me, which I put down to her being bored with my repetitive entertainment repertoire of sleep, vomit, wail in agony, clutch at stomach, sleep, vomit, repeat, etc etc. Then this morning she was a little bit sick. Hmmm still a bit grumpy. Then she literally stole the snuggly thick cardigan from my back by kneading at it - you know that piano playing thing cats do - reminds them of being kittens or something. So I gently took it off as she was so into massaging?! it and she climbed inside it, made herself a little nest which covered her completely and she did not emerge for six hours; sometimes emitting a little shiver or sigh which let me know she was still breathing. I wasn't too worried until I offered to put on Sex & The City series 2 and/or the free DVD I got of the first ever episode of Dallas and she wasn't interested. Poor Loly.

COVER BLOWN BY SELF...

Now I'm just GIVING away all my hard learned secrets and wealth of knowledge over at Gridskipper. This week it's How to Stay Chic on the Cheap. Freeloading blaggers get over there now. Apologies to anyone who previously thought I ever paid full price for anything in London...

*image is of the beautiful and amazing illustrator Ester Pastel...she's chic, not cheap.

STUFF I LIKE on WEDNESDAY...

*a small collection by Alyson omni-talented Fox. I really, really like the little videos...(oh and she has cool friends too)

*parkin/ginger cake and a nice cup of tea...

*gawping at Kate Moss's house (via Fashionista)

*the jewellery at this shop (in Brooklyn - a bit far)

*naps

KEY WORDS...

OK people: here is my latest piece for Gridskipper. Unfortunately it does not feature lap dancing clubs, sex, brothels or anything to do with douchebags. It's merely an informative piece on East London's darling Cheshire Street. I am learning. I should have stuck with calling my piece about shoe designers "Shoe PORN"...Oh well, popularity was never my main concern.

BERNARD...

Meet my new friend Bernard. Isn't he charming? His shop was so enchanting ~ and all his own creation might I add ~ that I asked him to make me a ring. It's very simple, which is just what I'd been looking for. But I'll treasure it even more because Bernard made it...

BLAH BLAH SOMETHING ABOUT THE NATURE OF MODERN CELEBRITY AND THE ROLE OF THE INTERNET...

In Paris I see Clemence Poesy in the 3rd and think, wow there's Clemence Poesy as I walk around the corner straight into a life size poster of her on the cover of Jalouse magazine. Then I realize I have never seen a film she's been in (I'm allergic to Harry Potter and I've no idea what she's done since except look great on Style.com wearing Balenciaga at parties).

I see the most stunning woman walking down rue de Poitou and recognise her as well. I am almost convinced I know her but when I look at her shoes: Prada sandals, it clicks that I don't know her at all. It's Giovanna Battaglia - favourite Sartorialist subject.

I guess my three month self imposed media ban didn't have any effect then.

(Eventually I buy Jalouse with Clemence on the cover and the man at the magazine kiosk who is a sweetheart straight out of Parisian magazine vendor central casting: black beret, thick round black glasses; makes me repeat Jaloooouuuse, Jalooooouuuussse, until I pronounce it correctly.)

BONJOUR FOR A SECOND...

Hello loves, just nipped off to Paris to catch the tail end of fashion week. Also - total unbloodymitigated surprise disaster - the internet is broken where I'm staying. Not that I had loads of work to do or anything...back to the computer on Thursday. Until then you can see where I've been waxing lyrical on my two Mastermind specialist subjects: shoe designers and cafes.

QUOTE ME...

Manolo Blahnik once said:

"I like experimental people." He....admires Nicolas Ghesquière's clothes for Balenciaga: "But his shoes are like furniture. They are like commodes on the feet."

Now might be a good time to eat those words...

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