Furry friend

Snap, crackle, pop- it's the sound of my autumn. Snapping back to reality- it's half way through term and apparently that essay isn't going to write itself. The crackle of jumping in dry leaf drifts, as my inner Fresher entertains herself on the walk to campus. And popping on the heating...because wearing a scarf and three pairs of socks to bed is never a good look.

But, in case you're wondering, here's a more stylish way to stay snug:

A few cold-banishing classics I'd like to be keeping me cosy with Autumn. There's a few dream pieces there that only a spot of lottery winning will allow, but my faux fur favourite is just about on the right side of affordable. So pop to the shops, crack out the debit card and snap it up while you can...

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Where to find 'em:
Shirt- Reiss
Jeans- Rag and Bone
Coat- Topshop
Boots
Bag
Earrings- All House of Harlow

The X Factor- the style stakes are high...

They’re going to make you famous. To prove it, they’ll dress you up as a caricature of yourself, surround you with scantily clad backing dancers and announce your name in a comically booming voice. On the nations favourite talent show, contestants are poked and prodded, groomed and glossed until their mentors decide they’re larger than life enough to stand up to the spotlights. Then it’s time to face the music…but how many of the contestants are ready?

One of the first casualties of the season was a Miss Amelia Lily- only sixteen, but rocking the crowds in short, tight leather and her blonde-turned-bubblegum hair. Sent home after the first live show, Amelia must return to her pre-X Factor life, with little more than fading pink locks and slight Miami sunburn.

Gary’s new favourite toy, Frankie Cocozza, has had no expense spared (except a haircut. And a wash.) in marketing him to the country’s teenage girls, not that he needs any help. As Mr Barlow relives his youth through the tattooed charmer, Frankie knows fame will bring him even more attention from the ladies. With over 60 conquests under his belt no-one could call him shy, but is he prepared for the scrutiny and criticism that comes alongside showbiz? Upon recently returning to his hometown Brighton, Frankie was greeted by crowds screaming “Everybody hates you”. Beneath his trademark tousled mop, his confidence must be shaken.

Finally, the shyest member of the finalists, Janet Devlin. She might have what it takes to succeed vocally, but with all the pressure and paparazzi, what’s to stop the Irish wallflower from drowning in the floodlights?



They've got their serious faces on and there's fire in the background- so you know they mean business.

But it’s not all doom, gloom and rehab predictions- this year’s new judges are a welcome change. Gary may be a little smug like Simon, but seems sincerely interested in his group of competitors. Seeing dollar signs light up Mr Cowell’s eyes when he spotted a potentially lucrative act confirmed his reputation as cold and calculating. Kelly Rowland has replaced Cheryl as the women of Britain’s dream best friend, and it’s easy to imagine Tulisa making a night out one to remember- getting the drinks in, dancing on tables, and perhaps getting a bit cheeky with the bouncers. Louis remains, seemingly bumbling but undeniably successful, to keep light-hearted comedy in the competition.

Like many career choices, becoming a pop star requires hard work, commitment and determination. However, not so many jobs include sexing yourself up into a media-savvy brand, and potentially completely transforming yourself and the way you look. But then how many accountants get to have thousands of fans screaming their name? It’s not without its glamour, but the fame game is a dangerous one, and I’m not sure all of the contestants are ready to play.



It'll take more than a cuppa to prepare Janet for the pressure to come...

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All photos sourced from Google Images. This was published today in my university newspaper, and I posted it up here for those of you not around to pick one up :)

Icing on the cake

How are the latest LV collection and cupcakes linked? Read on to find out... 

Doing filing while the excitable world outside my window is off to do shots is somewhat deflating. All work and no play makes this club-lover just a little bit mardy. But with library books and reading lists building a barrier impossible to break without extensive guilt and awkward seminar silences, I'm going to have to embrace the sensible side of fun. Let's get back to basics, and into the kitchen cupboard. Although, much as I love getting my bake on, a cookbooks place is more 11.30am, not 11.30pm. I should be squabbling with a taxi driver over the fare to Broad Street in a little dress and big heels round about now, but if anything can solve my growing-up predicament, and take me back to the land before deadlines, it's cupcakes.

Little-girly, pastel, fairy princess tea-party cupcakes.

This is what I came up with.

Marshmallow Vanilla Cupcakes- Hummingbird Bakery cookbook

Made for the birthday party of a glamorous housemate, I hope she enjoyed nibbling them in the rented hot tub as much as I enjoyed baking them...

Just in case the oven was too hot...

The party was Hawaiian themed, so I felt it was only fair that the cupcakes got into the holiday mood with some teeny tiny beach parasols...can't have the pudding feeling left out now, can we.

My sweet-tooth tendencies didn't stop at the obvious. Oh yes, I kept on tracking the sugar trail until I was sure I had my fix, or who knows what could happen; found by a concerned friend, leaning listlessly against any speaker with a vague baseline, or unconsciously buying out every last elasticated thread of body-con on Asos- I had to be sure I had found a true alternative to the dancefloor I so craved. So you can imagine my hand-clapping delight when I found Mr Marc over at Louis Vuitton had just the thing to keep me at a safe distance from my killer heels...

Louis Vuitton Spring 2012 Collection 

Marc Jacobs has brought a happily-ever-after to fashion that looks good enough to eat...the colours, the feathery-light textures- even the odd tiara- make this crucial for dissertation motivation. Regressing back to my five-year-old self's love of the carousel pony to reign myself in from the Sambuca- why didn't I think of this before?

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What's the hold-up with the chowdown?

(This article is currently in my University paper, but for those of you that can't see it, I thought I'd pop it up here...)

One of many...Carbonara pizza in Sicily

How can a nation be famous for both indulgent food and world-class catwalks? Pizza, pasta, pastry and ice-cream- they’re the kind of tasty treats that the fashion industry doesn’t always appreciate as much as the rest of us. I know the Mediterranean lifestyle is meant to keep you spritely and bafflingly energetic well into retirement, but with that much dough involved, I simply couldn’t see the logic. So when I arrived in Padova, Italy, for my year abroad, I was suspicious of how the local ladies managed to live in streets lined with bakeries and still look slinky in their skinny jeans. But after a few weeks of careful observation, I discovered their secret.

I admit I arrived in the sunny boot of Europe with plenty of pre-conceptions of our European neighbours- I was sure there would be lots of passionate hand gesturing (true), impassioned accordion players providing the soundtrack to bustling street café’s (true), and was on my guard for slick-haired Casanova’s prowling the piazzas (pleasingly not true). What took me by surprise was one particular mentality, woven as deftly and naturally through the culture as a Vespa through cobbled side-streets: moderation.

Just one won't hurt...Cream and Raspberry Tart, Sicily

Alright, so it isn’t the most dramatic revelation, but it’s a concept that sets the bar classily high for many other countries- particularly for Britain, often depicted as a country of excess. As many statistics remind us, we love a good takeaway (recent surveys show that 45% of Brits enjoy indulging in fast food too much to give it up, followed closely by 44% of Americans), we love a drink, or three, even more and, when it comes to letting off steam, it goes without saying that Saturday night indulgence shouldn’t end until it’s well into Sunday morning- in the UK, binge drinking accounts for 40% of all drinking occasions by men, and 22% for women. When it comes to food and drink, we can’t seem to get enough of a good thing.

All the while, it seems Italians are almost supernaturally resistant to the chocolate-to-face-shovelling and wine swigging that some of us (or, at least, me and a few of my friends) are powerless to resist. For example, whilst in Italy one of my two housemates carefully cut a doughnut into four pieces, kindly offered me a segment, and when each girl had savoured her piece, the last quarter was wrapped in foil and left in the fridge. For three days. This, apparently, was normal. Alien as this concept of...wait, what's it called again..."saving chocolate for later" was to me, I have to say I respected it. I’m quite sure that even if I tried adopting such a sensible attitude towards confectionary, it’s likely that I would end up cheating outrageously by finding loopholes, such as alleged "sleep eating", or similar excuses.

Sugar-coated... Treats at the Chocolate Market, Padova

The Italian powers of self-control also apply into alcohol- it’s one of the few places where people claim they’re just going out for one drink, and actually mean it. That’s not to say Italians don’t know how to enjoy themselves- they throw a mean carnival, and their food markets never fail to excite and delight. Perhaps it’s just that “fun” doesn’t translate directly between our two nations- each with our different ways of using eating and drinking to make ourselves feel good.

Has the Italian influence affected me? Well, next time I find myself with a family-size bag of Maltesers and some spare time on my hands, I suppose I’ll find out…

Goodies- Out for hot chocolate with Tiger in Padova

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Like a Sunday morning

An ideal Sunday activity? Long chats over cafe cake.

Lyrically famed for its ease. Officially proclaimed The Day of Chillax. It has even been fondly awarded a seperate newspaper to the rest of the week on the assumption that, as you'll be looking to leisure out on the sofa/park grass/bed/beach all day, you'll probably need something to do while you're down there. Glossy supplements a-plenty slink from the broadsheets, soothing 9-to-5-ed eyes with the bright and the beautiful. Sunday might be the weeks last, but least it is not- from inside our snuggest hoodies, we can saunter through arts, fashion, literature and photography from across the globe, without padding further than the newsagents. Culture as easy as one, two, cuppa-tea.

But... it's Monday tomorrow... for many a day synonymous with clock-watching, uniform, railway platforms...  morning streets a drifting panorama of umbrella domes and parapets, weary pinstripes and pencil skirts housed beneath.
 
These artists take the edge off the commute by keeping it weekender all day every day...why save easy-access culture for Sunday best?

Carmen Chang- Before I Die
(have a nosey at her website here. The photos below are from her website.)

It's one simple question with an endless flurry of answers. Carman Chang transformed a street corner in New Orleans into a real turning point (see what she did there...). Leaving chalk for passersby to fill in the gaps, she conjured a charming harmony of the quirky, the cliché, the random and the romantic from what could have been just another walk-on-by.

Demakersvan
(see more gorgeous wire designs here. The photos below are from their website.)

The Dutch design house Demakersvan rejects the idea that basics should be... basic. Under their steely touch, the humble fence becomes capable of so much more than simply splitting apart A and B. It might even distract from the destinations it divides, unfurling and flowering into a sight-to-see in it's own right.

Iepe & The Anonymous Crew

(have a looksy here for more on the film they made...)

Adding a little colour to the commute at an intersection in Berlin, Iepe and his team of guerilla painting cyclists tipped rainbow puddles onto the road, which were spread and stretched onto previously joyless grey concrete by over 2000 vehicles. It was all water-based and environmentally friendly, so hopefully no-one got cross, and there was nothing left to do but enjoy driving through what looked like a giant's paint-ball fight.

Here's hoping your weekend is worth the wait, and Sunday is the relax-a-thon it should be... :)  

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You've been a very naughty girl, go to my room...

Kasia triangle bra and Kasia big knickers

I'm pretty lucky, in that quite a few things make me genuinely happy. You know, that eye-creasing, smile cracking hopping-from-foot-to-foot that somehow makes you feel like you're fizzing and glowing at once. Of course, there's all sorts that make me the more common-or-garden sort of perky, like the obvious sunlight through the curtains in the morning, or a tinny car radio piping pop, and steering-wheel-tapping pleasure, into a drawn out journey, or particular varieties of pic-n-mix. But then there's the rare stuff, the gold label of happiness that only appears from time to time, but that makes you frantically want to ring your mum and tell her all about it, very fast and even more high-pitched, when it does.

At the risk of sounding vaguely smug, I've had some very merry moments across the board lately. And up there with the best of them has to be the offer of an internship with luxury lingerie brand Lascivious. In contrast to the cool factor of this opportunity, my reaction was flailing myself around the kitchen like a puppet on manically jangling strings, until setting fire to my tasselled poncho on the hob, while simultaneously pasta-cooking and animatedly enthusing to a housemate. I can confirm, however, that I am in my final few days of the six week placement, and have not yet set myself, or anyone else in the studio, alight. Thank God for microwaves.

One of the reasons why I applied to Lascivious was because of the striking yet classic femininity they show through their brand (as well as being all sorts of sexy), and the Autumn/Winter collection, released on July 27th, demonstrates this perfectly...

Kasia waistcoat, with Suki bodysuit

Kasia waistcoat, with Suki bodysuit

The Lascivious Autumn/Winter collection struts effortlessly ahead of the competition. The Kasia set is on-trend with fringing- boldly framing here and coyly concealing there, it's a true weapon of seduction- as are the Suki pieces, a crisp, slick interpretation of the fetish looks that are whipping the season's catwalks into shape.

The Josefine basque's lace curves smooth the body into its chicest form- with an air of Parisian glamour, you'll just have to get the silky boudoir and tall-dark-and-handsome to match.

Josefine basque and briefs

If I had to choose a favourite, it would be the Niki set, if not purely because it solves that most basic of bedroom problems, since the dawn of the brassiere- a zip instead of a bra clasp. It's the latest in boyfriend-friendly technology.

My six week stay with the genuinely lovely Lascivious ladies has flown by, and I would like to thank them very much for having me, and for being so eager for me to learn from and enjoy my time with them- I hope I've been handy! I will be sad not to see you all next Monday morning, but I hope we can stay in touch.

I suppose all that remains for me to say is I'm going to be adding a piece or two of this brilliantly naughty lingerie to my Christmas list- because Santa, I've been a very, very bad girl all year, I promise...

Visit Lascivious here and see for yourself!

Photos from Lascivious website and Asos.com.

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Skin deep

Cymbeline- 2011

Good things come to those who wait. But what's glamorous about waiting? What self-respecting starlet would stand for being scribbled on the waiting list; drum their manicured fingers while humming to "please hold" music; peer over superior shoulders, hovering at the wrong end of the queue?

The waiting game? They just won't stand for it. But there'd be a standing ovation for these... Because these looks don't leave a girl hanging; taking 'brand' eerily literally, for these designers fabric is just the beginning, scrawling their signatures straight onto your bones. Flesh and fashion meld until each complexion sweats with pattern, and colour-steeped pores glow to show a style so strong, it'll creep right under your skin...

Picked from a few recent seasons, it's some of the best ways to be at one with your garment...but be careful what you wish for. Take care to check now and then that it's you wearing the dress, not (quite) the other way around. Flaunt these show-stoppers a little too long, and under the heat of paparrazi flash you might not feel the cold glitter start to steel through your veins, or the lace gracefully unfurling across your throat...

Maybe beauty is better left safe in its seams, resting tame and muted inside carefully defined sartorial lines. How close is too close? Perhaps these models found out...

Wandering motifs at Marchesa

Marchesa- Fall 2010

 Marchesa- Fall 2010

Marchesa- Fall 2010

Gilded limbs at Michael Van Der Ham

Michael Van Der Ham, Spring 2010

Michael Van Der Ham, Spring 2010

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(All photos are from the respective designers websites.)

At ease

Looks like they've found a comfy spot. Making themselves at home, the clouds plumped snugly on my rooftop have nestled down to drizzle that bike ride out of my morning...
Well, as I can't beat 'em, I'm joining 'em- I've found a cosy corner of my own, and have built myself a Sunday nest. Books and bits and bobs rustle in curls of duvet, my sleepy vision is blinkered by the XL hoodie bowed over my bed-hair, and juice, cereal and last night’s pudding experiment are an easy amble away. Everything is in order.

What's next? I squint through the half-open shutters to the bleary drench-fest outside. The clouds are doing what they do best, so, as I don't have a pillowcase-size sack of pic-n-mix to inhale in the first five minutes of a film, I'll stick to cooing at shiny prettiness on the Internet instead.
It's a shame I can't do both; firing sugar, spicy new fashion and everything nice at me, all at once...all that's missing is Chemical X, and I'd be the latest edition to the Powerpuff Girls. Although, I think my designer of choice today definitely has the X-factor...I wonder if that would work too...

Christopher Kane

Austrailian Vogue, April 2011- are those Full Moon Party remnants on her arms...?

If it's wrong, he doesn't want to be right... Bringing us the best in bad taste since 2006, Mr Kane and sister Tammy keep fashionistas clawing at his collections every season. Fall and Resort 2011 are as crisply entrancing as always, as well as pushing the limits of textile use with bright, fluid ease. As a general rule, colourful, squidgy liquid-filled plastic and high fashion aren't lucratively combined. But when your graduate collection- brass rings, lace and the brightest fluoro whipped, short and glowing, skin-tight onto his models- is shipped straight to a Harrods shop window, then rules must seem like a bit of a yawn.

It's also a pretty smart business ruse; if your designs boldly skim the brink of wonderful-and-wacky and, well, cheap-and-tacky, then anyone who attempts a Kane copy, without his immaculate skills, fabrics and wit, will undoubtedly topple right over into tastelessness. (His Resort '11 sandals show off Kane's visual intelligence- as the great Tim Blanks of Style.com noted, they're, "maribou-trimmed platforms, ironic bordering on camp, and a joy to behold".)

Resort '11

Resort '11

Fall '11

Fall '11

As a proud owner of one of his Topshop Collection pieces (scooped off the sale rail for £15... I suppose even King Kane can't win them all), I can see the morning fading blissfully unnoticed into afternoon, behind the flicker of catwalk slideshows, eyebrows lifting and furrowing in delighted absorbtion, and the level of cornflakes in my box being, distractedly but surely, nibbled down to dust.

Probably a good thing there's no pic-n-mix in Padova...who would want to be out, in that weather, saving the world in time for tea, when you could be tucked up with hundreds of Kane creations strutting across your laptop?

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Slow Start

It's a bit ironic really- I'm sat, sub-face-pack, in a beautiful, fashionable country shaped like a boot, while fixated on books/sites about beautiful things, like boots, worn by people packing some serious fashion face.

Don't give me that- you try being doped up on volcanic meringues and deepest-fill jam tarts from down the road, and then attempting wistful insights. Too much of Mama's 'special' home baking is making me just that. When's your Dumbass Day?
So, before we go skipping across the cobbles, tramlines and sheened store floors of Padova, I've got a few screenshots instead of snapshots. The focaccia made me do it.

Will Cotton

Mr Cotton has one of THOSE jobs. One that makes you take one scornful look at your snowballing university debt and dog-eared lecture notes and think, "Someone had to earn their living making delicious mess, big bucks and an renowned name for themselves from crafting big heaps of cake- why the Bicarbonate of Soda wasn't it me?!". Astounded jealousy aside, this man has his cake and sells it, recently to none other than Miss Katy Perry, who hired him to design the set for 'Calfornia Girls' video, and to paint her 'Teenage Dream' album cover.

Elie Saab (http://www.eliesaab.com/)
If a particularly diva-ish strain of the Ancient Greeks ever chanced upon a time machine, they would sashay aboard, tailors in tow, and head straight for the runway of Elie Saab, as they RSVP-ed to those amphitheatre premiers with a smile. Hopefully said time machine would break down enroute, somewhere in or around my kitchen. Stand aside chiffon, it's thigh time.

Marc Quinn

Down a street here, over a canal there, and in no time the Furby and I found ourselves lost in Venice last weekend, something which we didn't have a problem with at all. 'Lost' doesn't seem quite the right word. 'Lost' would imply a certain emptiness, a bland loneliness, and that there weren't bakeries, spritz bars, trinket shops, mask stands, glass stalls, gondolas, balconies, bridges and abounding quaint crumbling gorgeousness absolutely everywhere you look. In fact, I don't think I've ever found so much whilst claiming to be 'lost'.

During our rewardingly aimless wander, what should we find but a painting I've never seen by a forgotten favourite- Marc Quinn. Known to favour kitcsh, riches and risk (he once made a live-size sculpture of his own head, "Self"- using 4.5 litres of his own blood, created Roman-style statues with people with disabilities in place of gods, and designed a golden sculpture of Kate Moss in a pretzel-like yoga pose), it was just a little bit cool to see this intriguing mind set to canvas. Even as a self-confessed Modern Art Anarchist, the Furby was taken by it too.
(Couldn't find the exact painting...but here are some other nice ones. The one that got away was better though, promise.)

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