Nude Nuptials

The Moss has married. The Croydon-born babe wed her rock and roll star on Friday 1^st July and my, my didn’t she scrub up well.

Despite beautifully air brushed images of Moss in her latest campaigns (think the eternally youthful face of YSL Parisienne) being churned out continually in every magazine on the shelf, it is certain that the paps pictures don’t lie.

And recently, Moss has been looking ‘tired’.

Her nuptials were the perfect occasion to scrub up a treat, invest in some serious r and r ahead of the special day and pull together an elite team of make up artists to ensure that the day is remembered for all the right reasons. Charlotte Tillbury was charged with the task of create a beauty look that would truly stand the test of time in one of the most photographed weddings of the year.  Tillbury has out done herself with a natural, sophisticated yet fun look resulting in Moss walking the aisle a masterpiece.

A natural finish on the skin, just the right level of bronzer to offset the cream of her veil and dress. Kate’s signature look hasn’t changed drastically over the last decade, so it seems fitting that her wedding make up should also reflect that. The casual cat flick of eyeliner helps to emphasise her feline eyes that might have been lost under the long waves of her sun kissed hair.  (Oh we love those roots just peeping through.)

Moss has managed, no she has mastered, the effortless chic look of the noughties and her wedding styling is a testament to that.

Be that babe…

·      Hide away your party bags with Laura Mercier Secret Camouflage (£29)

·      Enhance your natural skin tone with Clinique tinted moisturiser (£21)

·      Sweep D&G Animalier bronzer (£31) across your T-zone to create a faux sun glow

·      A lick of Topshop Desert (£8) across your lips for a natural finish

·      Trusty and a bargain use Rimmel London Exaggerate Liquid Eyeliner (£5.29) for the perfect cat flick

Karl 4 Freja IDST

The Karl Lagerfeld and Freja Beha Ericsen love affair continues.The AW 11/12 campaign is a vertaible feast for the ideas. From the petrol blue grey hues, right down to Freja's catlike, mischievous facial expressions captured by Karl. Absolutely adore their use of an old school Photoautomat. Vielleich hat er es in Deutschland gefunden?

Lieb Lieb.

 

Mariage de la Moss

Enfin, the wild and beautiful beast has been tamed. 

Tamed by a rocker, by tradition and by a beautiful white veil.

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. 

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.


Ginge. 

Rosie Huntington-Lovely

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?

Rock and roses

I've been longing for real France times so have monitored some of latest news to see what I can create a tenuous link between.


Et bah voila my offering. Even if I have yet to feel a burning desire to writhe around in the back of a luxury car, rubbing rose petals all over myself - you just can't knock the Moss for doing so, and in so much style.


Never has a lonely back seat journey been so erotically charged. The YSL campaign for Parisienne is about to launch a second mini film with the English vedette. More of the same I hope. 


Can't help but think of Kevin Spacey's naughty teenage temptation in American Beauty whenever roses are so sexualised.


For now enjoy part one, and contain yourselves for part deux.


Sur le pont de Paris..on y danse on y danse.

Lipstuck

 Not the biggest fan of the tattoos, mostly because I can't imagine myself with something on my body forever. My siblings hold very different opinions to me opting to decorate their bodies in a brightly coloured melange of 'well' thought out designs. From my parents name in a banner being held aloft by swallows, to the piercing green eyes of the Afgan National Geographic girl, my brother is well and truly tatted. Piercings, on the other hand, I am a massive fan of.

Too many times I have read make up articles advising young and old women alike to 'let your lips do the talking.' Talk about stating the bloody obvious.

The wonderful americans have seriously upped their lip decorating game.

Rather than tattoo the inside of your lip with something as moronic as 'bite me', why not reignite that childhood love of all things transferable and get a transfer tattoo across your lips. So rad. Available in an array of colours and patterns - Who's Jack lip transfers will leave admirers wondering 'who is THAT'. 

Who's Jack yeah?

I fancy leopard lips. For the moment I'll make do with my Topshop, No 7, Barry M and Bourjois lipsticks... oh the glamour.

Barry M Glitter lipschtick

Until you walk a mile in my shoes

But which?

Asos Heist £70

Toms classic cream £33

Topshop Kosy £50

From the city girl who'd rush around the streets of London in the Heist, to the cream and casual Toms girl who slurps on smoothies in East London right down to the girl who likes nothing better than a long cotton dress and grandpa's chic Kosy slippers. The girl is mine.

Summer is only Winter with you

A trip down memoire avenue on itunes throws up some absolute classics and some interesting stories to boot.


Pinback - Fortress - reminds me of rushing home from weekend jobs to watch The OC on tv. The first teenie drama I really got into. What wasn't there to love - young hot new faces, serious hair quality and the most ideal soundtrack to accompany my teenage heartbreaks. 


Where are those babes these days? I expect Mischa Barton is looking in the mirror crying at her crack tortured face, crossing her fingers in hope that her next accessories collection makes it 'big'. At the other end of the spectrum shy star Rachel Bilson has recently been papped basking in the barbadian sunshine with relative hottie in tow - I think we know who came off better here.


It's funny how things that seemed catastrophic and life changing at the time are little more than laughable memories to me now. Memory is a funny and very selective thing. 

From C Magazine March 2011 - The girl still got it

Papa got a brand new...

Life.

So it's official. I'm slamtastic, slamublous, slammy, slamsome and mostly importantly slam-permanent. 

Happily nestled somewhere between the wonderful Leather Lane and the delights that only Gray's Inn can offer, I've found myself a little spot to call my own. 

This morning basking in the british sunshine, post pathetic run, Madre embarked upon one of her favourite Sunday treats. Stories of when we were young. Whilst usually I'm tempted to turn the invisible volume button to low and nod/smile where appropriate, my ears were pricked with interest rather quickly by a new story. 

When I was just a wee sprog my Pa worked by Farringdon, talk about following in footsteps. Unbeknown to me I've been taken up and down Leather Lane heaps of times. Whilst I have no recollection of this at all, I love that the powers that be have allowed me to gravitate back to the area to appreciate it once again. In the past it was the only place near work for my Pa to bring exotic fruits in the bleak midwinter back to pregnant Madre, today Leather Lane offers a whole host of strange goods.

Amongst other traits (stubbornness, a mighty height and a hardworking ethos) I have inherited from my Pa, the one I for sure see on a daily basis is his love of rock music. He owned that afro and headband look, he wore the high waisted flares with style and introduced me to many greats that I still just can't get enough of. 

Latest purchase made me think of him. And perhaps how he'd laugh at me in my Beatles t-shirt.

T-shirt H&M - Paul McCartney bare foot, because that's how the dead walk.

These are a few of my...

Favourite things.


Rouge resplendent, wild and unruly -  the Ginger people are never far from view.  I'm going to make a faux pledge to try and mould these random musings into something slightly more ordered and themed. As much as I love writing about things I find hot, sexy, annoying and interesting sometimes a girl has just got to do it for her people. 


I'm looking for gingers, red heads, rusty beards and strawberry blondes. All shapes, sizes, ages and sexual orientation please.


(An ice cream van is going round my village - what a keen bean)


Of course, on top of a celebration of this copper craze I'll continue to post things you care about even less.

The utterly charming and astonishingly down to earth Christina Hendricks. Face of the Palladium Vivienne Westwood Get A Life Jewellery collection. Not a real ginge.

Three German Ginger lasses swapping notes at MuffinMan, Hannover, Deutschland.

Ginger sister with a big bad bow - Linden Nord, Hannover, Deutschland. Faux.

Tyre Swing Berlin park. Unreal. But ginger.

Kind of creepy, mostly well loved. Ginger and Blonde dolls. Am Hohen Ufer Flohmarkt, Hannover, Deutschland.

Een leuke kat in Amsterdam, The Netherlands.

WLTM

January Jones shot by Testino for Versace Accessories

Life Admin

The sun is playing hide and seek, and I'm getting a bit sick of losing. I can't cope with the on going jacket on jacket off role play. I need to know NOW what is going on with this English weather. We have a tumultuous relationship, and I'm pretty sure weather UK is in for a serious dumping.


It's one of the first things I do when I wake up - check the weather. Rolling over in bed to check online or sometimes I dare to peek through my blinds at the grim reality. Not once this week have I been pleasantly surprised. A big two fingers to the cruddy cold we've been having.


Enough bitchiness about the weather - how English have I become? (Seriously no other nationality can drag out chat about the weather like the Brits) 


I rate my week about 8/10. I won some divine boots on eBay this week as a pay day treat and cannot wait to take them out for a spin. But they do not suffice. I will permit myself to purchase one more thing this week I tinks. It's just about bloody time.


Here is a selection of things I am looking into currently - draw inspiration from what you will.

Beauts Blue Scooter - loved cruising around Les Saintes on one of these babies even though 80% of the time I thought I might die.

Pear Drops - sweet and perfectly formed - As good as when we were kids?

Arterton being turned into a human oil slick on the set of Bond. Where's the new Bond at?

Portman - can this woman do no wrong?

Not enough people appreciate TinTin.

Mourning the loss of two of my besties, who are now travelling in Brazil. They've exchanged Patisserie Valerie for cheese/bread of Brazil.

The British Museum is incredible. Great mood lighting and excellent collections. I want a naked ceramic lady in my house.

WLTM

Sugary teef

So kids are getting fat. Haven't kids been getting fat forever though? Each week it seems the government releases a study claiming that no matter how hard parents, teachers and other adults try, these kids just ain't alright.

My brother has hit 17. Landmark. Or rather, one of the worst ages you can be? Inbetween fun. Still minors and to a degree still bound by educative shackles. 

Like many teenage boys he is an image of character confusion. Somewhere between North London hoodlum and aspirational chef with a hint of anger at the world. In the last year he has become a human hoover, nothing in the area is safe and the quality is completely irrelevant. So goodbye wonderfully expensive cheese I've been eyeing up all week in the fridge. Goodbye all traces of ice cream. And finally goodbye most of the ingredients for my dinner party tonight...

At least he doesn't still pull this kind of stunt.

Doppelgangerin

Yesterday, finally, my red hair played a crucial role in my job. It seems these days you need a little more than a degree, work experience and a lorrrrra patience ( just ask the girl who walks up and down High Holborn everyday wearing a sandwich board bullet pointing her professional experience - ouch.) Today even your hair colour can be a desirable attribute for your role as an intern.


Yesterday, I played stand in for a lovely lady of the ginger variety as she was fawned upon by the hair and make-up posse. The photographer, an incredibly cool bearded guy, learnt my name pretty quickly and summoned me to several rooms to play twinnie. I stood like a bit of a lemon, but as photographers usually do, he worked the chit chat and charm, soon enough I was sprawled across velvet sofas making doe eyes through hazy lighting into his camera.


I'd love to meet the stand-ins from his previous work...

Black suede shoes

Well, it's one for the money,

Two for the show,

Three to get ready,

Now go, cat, go.

But don't you step on my blue suede shoes.

You can do anything but lay off of my Blue suede shoes.

Elvis knew what he was talking about. Suede shoes are high maintenance, and since I am not, I'm saying farewell to a pair of shoes I acquired only recently. The ASOS Ames shoe boots are beautiful. A thick chunky heel and a perfect cut off point just at the ankle, all draped in a luxuriously soft black suede exterior. With bare legs or some chunky socks these shoe boots are the perfect addition to many an outfit. Just a slight problem of the heel height.

Standing at 5"10 already, and having been compared to a basketball player on a few embarrassing occasions in Guadeloupe, I'm always a little hesitant when wearing a heel. When the heel in question is pushing three inches, platform or no platform, I can't help but feel like my head is literally in the clouds.


So the Asos Ames shoe boots have a date with eBay. Let's hope they are a match made in heaven. Au revoir.

Casual Lux Belle

From 1883 Digital Stylist Alicia Tomlinson

Aqua Marina

Original Babe

Oh ya and...

HAPPY NEW YEAR x

Barbados babe

The flame haired babe from Barbados, Jay-Z’s recent success story or just an unconventional pop princess? No matter how you refer to Rihanna, there is no escaping her or her astonishingly catchy chart hits at the moment. Since signing to Deff Jam records at the tender age of 16, she is living proof that Jay-Z has the Midas Touch.

The end of 2010 saw the release of Rihanna’s latest pop offering to her legions of fans. Remarketed and restyled (as with every album), Rihanna has left behind the girly ballads of ‘Unfaithful’ and ‘We Ride’ and in their place; we have a sexier, more confident young woman who embraces her dancehall and reggae roots. ‘Loud’, released in November, has been like catnip to young UK listeners. A youth market that lacks a strong female black pop artist a point emphasised by the current state of the top ten - Rihanna features twice. This matched with a highly publicized performance on winter night favourite The X Factor, secured Rihanna as a club favourite.

Whilst the two singles, which have been released, are no doubt extremely catchy and dance friendly, their videos showcase Rihanna the chameleon. Be it strutting through a convenience store, a field or the night sky Rihanna’s stylist hasn’t skipped a beat. Mariel Haenn is the woman in question. As Rihanna runs around demanding to be treated as ‘the only girl in the world’, a viewer can’t help but be drawn to her tiny cream corset, her flowery shorts and her fluffy jumper. Every item of clothing is desirable and feminine not to mention crying out to be caressed. The beat is hypnotic but the vocals too synthesized. Resulting in a great club track, that unfortunately does not showcase any particularly strong vocal talent.

Seemingly, I am not alone in sharing this opinion since in the UK ‘What’s my name?’ the second single from the album actually nabbed the top spot before its predecessor. The duet sees Rihanna partnering up with one of the most wanted men in commercial hip hop Drake. As they serenade (version 2010) each other, finally we are privy to some of Rihanna’s Caribbean drawl, reminiscent of the anthem ‘Pon da Reply’. Her voice is charming, youthful and original in the pop charts. Whilst the rap and chorus are evidently the strongest parts of the song, inducing mass sing alongs every time I have heard it, the bridge is weak and sadly a reminder that an easy pop structure never fails to sell records.

Rihanna will have to do more than just churn out pop tunes to hold on to her musical crown. Especially as young whipper snappers such as Willow Smith also employ the creative opinions of a certain Miss Haenn. In a world where youth is celebrated, Rihanna would do well to exploit her fun girlish Caribbean roots.

Rapunzel

Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair.

I have a problem. A chronic attachment to short hair on women and long hair on men. Why this role reversal of the traditional gender barnet styles? I really don't have any coherent answers for you. Sadly when it comes to hair, I sort of go weak at the knees for a lady's pixie crop or a fella's pony tail. 

I've been trying for about three years now to grow my hair. In this time a small but spritely friend of mine has regained her beautifully thick locks which she cut short in a moment of madness in second year. When I was younger it was never a problem, and even Rapunzel would have been jealous. My locks would swish around my shoulders quite happily, ignorant to the fact that my teenage hormones were about to kick in, and put an end to their long healthy lives.  Literally cut their lives short. (MUST STOP BAD JOKES IN 2011)

For a couple of years I have obsessed over certain plait hairstyles made famous by Heidi. Right now I want to gauge out my eyes and bang my head on the table in exasperation at the stupidity of people like Heidi Montag who has ruined my google search for 'Heidi Hair'. To bring you back to my favourite hair style of the year please peruse the following images. In addition, try to imagine me stretching my short locks unsuccessfully into some messy plaits. Maybe come February my hair will actually embrace the plaits, and I'll look like some of these babes...

The come touch me plait

The goody two shoes plait

The winter princess plait

Hey a girl can dream.

La forme

de la femme est belle

Ry Cash ACNE cashmere 

Ignored the warnings

People never hesitate in giving advice, warnings and blessings. However, it is often easier to go with your own instincts rather than admit that someone else's opinion might actually be better. 


Some of the most poignant advice I've ever received was given to me in 2007. It was to say that emotions come in waves, moreover they are uncontrollable and unpredictable. It is therefore no wonder that so many people find themselves in therapy many many years after personal dramas. I think that therapy can be an effective service, and an extremely helpful outlet for many people. Naturally, talking to someone you do not know can be intimidating, terrifying even. But it is the first step to reclaiming your self and speaking to an impartial somebody may just be the trigger you needed.


I sometimes wonder if counsellors are like the people listening silently at confession. But more often I think of them as people wearing masks. A mask for work, a mask for home and a mask for alone time. With each new mask you can assume a new identity, gives the phrase 'put a brave face on' a whole new meaning. Today I'm wearing my cat mask, and for the moment I feel safe.

Abby Lee

Chloe Sevigny

Alley Cat

Bond Babes

Throughout time Bond girls have been synonymous with glamour, beauty and an uncontrollable urge to throw themselves lips first at our British hero. 


Each week I like to settle on a new beach in Gwada. I feel like I'm making the most of my time here by meeting this taxing demand. But more and more, as I gaze out at the turquoise rippling sea I can't help but think about some of the babes who have frequented these Caribbean shores for films, photo shoots and pleasure. 


Bond girls always had time to rise up from the waves in various states of undress, but they moved with utter grace and never failed to excite an awaiting audience. There is of course the iconic Ursula Andress, who sadly now resembles someone who takes refuge in a very hot wind tunnel.(Regret that face lift much, love?) But in her hey day the view was pretty sweet and pretty Caribbean. 

As far as the Bond Babes goes though, I have other favourites. I adore the British rose Arterton who isn't nearly as annoying as the overly and unnecessarily praised Knightly. Arterton actually smiles, a smile that ignites her porcelain skin and almond eyes.

  Who's a pretty kitty?

ID 2010

Cinderella

I'm clearly still learning heaps in French, even though I should be smug with a French/German degree already under my belt. Today I had my little girl's fantasy crushed. Cinderella didn't lose her glass slipper, she actually lost a squirrel fur shoe. How's that for a smack of reality? The 'pantoufle de vair' has been timelessly  mistranslated. 


What young girl didn't imagine her Prince Charming chasing after her clutching a dainty (size 4/5) glass slipper? Maybe I was a really impressionable child, I want to pay my thanks to Disney for that. ( Note : Mermaids are an exception to this rule) So Cinderella coldheartedly donned a pair of her dead pet's fur as shoes to the ball, what a peculiar outfit that must have been. Blates a colossal size 7 too. I hope it was really bloody cold, so as to justify such a fashion faux pas.


I like shoes. These ones in particular at the moment.

Toshop Patti