27 June 2011

Floods and hairbraids

Glastonbury festival, eponymous music fiesta, that rocks Somerset to the core on the final weekend of June.

This weekend definitely delivered in abundance. 

Despite day one's horrific downpour spirits were still high come Saturday and Sunday to ensure buzzing crowds at Chemical Brothers, swaying arms at Paolo Nutini and a bass-driven, hyperactive set by The Correspondents.

More puzzling than the maze of the Rabbit Warren and even more confusing than the wild weirdness of Shangri La was the dress-code and beauty choices of some of the festival goers. In a place where anything goes (quite literally from the inappropriately tiny man thong to a bleeding, baby doll head adorned jacket) I find it really hard to understand some choices that are so evidently not conducive to the unpredictable nature of a festival. 

I'm not a fan of excessive make up. In particular at a festival when it's raining, the loos are flooded, the paths have become a natural mud ski slope and there is a perpetual mist of acid rain.

Rated highly were the natural looking babes. I'm talking wavy locks, emerging freckles complimented by a lick of eye liner and a big fat coat of mascara on the lashes.

I have very little time for the groups of girls who wafted past me in a bubble of plastic perfume, with thick falsies, perfectly manicured paws and layers of foundations crust. Get your priorities right - it's about cider, going natural and literally LETTING YOUR HAIR DOWN. ( Batiste may be your best friend...)

Loving the Glastonbury look - mud whiskers and all. 

23 June 2011

Escape to the country

It's sale time. And I think I've finally mastered it.

Long gone are the days of rifling through piles of fugly clothes from 1999 in a mixture of rayon to nylon fabrics. I would feel my pits perspire without even daring to touch them. Giving my personal sweat factory a rest this year since 2011's offering of sale goods is a little more appealing, if you look in the right places. (See Lip Lulu Guinness Clutch ) Safe from the comfort of my office chair, or occasionally my duvet's cocoon - the sales are most tactically approached via internet.  

One brand currently leading the pack is Asos. A clear fire winner when it comes to mastering the social media dragon with a plethora of puzzles, games and initiatives to get customers engaged - but all for what?

I have to be brutally honest and say the Asos sale compromised mostly of old, badly fitting, ultra cheap material exposing, terrible tat, something not even a Bon Marche shop window would display. We are talking about cheap Asos own-brand tat. Clothing we didn't want to buy in the first place ( offending item - brown chunky knit short sleeve number) and second time round it's still about as appealing as sticking your head out of a moving London underground train...with a hangover.

To avoid all this hooha, I'm escaping to Somerset. For sunshine or showers, I will be spending a few nights under the Shepton Mallet skies and silently hoping the rain holds out and I can fully enjoy some fine music with some fine friends. Fine Cheese.

Sure - I'll be wearing my 2007 clothes. But at least they lasted buddy.

Will drop you a few pictures upon my return.


5 June 2011

Des chaussures d'ete pour mes pieds d'hiver

I managed to skillfully avoid a large chunk of AW10/11. I might have missed out on the 'camel' hype, but I'm secretly glad I did. Ginger and camel don't work so well together. Mostly I am glad to have missed out on the majority of those dark nights, cold days and miserable winter attitudes.

In their place I was subject to some serious sun rays and some carnivorous mosquitoes. I'm like catnip to mosquitoes. Something about my sweet ginger blood that drives them loco. Consequently I am now scar city - you can trace my journey around the Caribbean with the different coloured scars on my feet. 

So now the nicer weather is pretending to nudge away the dark clouds over London, my feet are itching to be freed. 

Weapon of choice - a pair of espadrilles

Sandwich your feet in a cotton and a jute rope lining and ta da you've got a sweet little espadrilles like the rest of Europe. Baffled as to why it's taken so long for these beauties to hop across The Channel. Comfortable, utterly versatile and dirt cheap these shoes were the choice of workers across the Mediterranean before being placed up on that fashion pedestal by all things designer. 

Here are some of my favourites. Shoe like?