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Twas the night before Christmas...

2011-12-06T13:08:00.000-08:00

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

There's some hints and tips for you guys! But the final link is all I really want,

Merry Christmas Mainwarings xxx

Paving our way to a guilty existence

2011-07-27T04:08:00.000-07:00

I, like many of my friends have been reminded throughout our lives just how lucky we (us ladies) are. Emily Pankhurst paved the way for our parents generation to begin to aspire to equality, and my generation are now even closer to achieving it.

My mother was given career options which consisted of teacher or nurse, my career options were endless, and still are – but trust me, it's terrifying. I would love to aspire to be a housewife and mother, don't get me wrong, I don't think it's easy, but we now have to aspire to be a great housewife and mother as well as have a successful career, great relationships and a degree in plate spinning.

I personally feel this heightened freedom and nigh on equality has created a generation of women riddled with guilt. Having been reminded how lucky I am my entire life, means that settling down, putting anything on the back burner or aspiring to a quiet life is just not an option – myself and many of my friends believe that success is at the end of the month in a hefty pay cheque, the money quilling the suffering of all the suffragettes before us, who couldn't vote, never mind work in the city. I wanted to be an online journalist, which I now am – but what now? Have I proved my point?

And for those of my friends who haven't quite got their dream job yet– I know they wont stop. Living in London, earning shit money or working for free, working stupidly long hours to try and prove that you too – like the other twenty interns - are really keen is the norm. The constant questions “am I actually a talented designer/musician/writer/PR girl?” “Will I ever get that job?” “will I ever get paid for it” and then... “what do I do now?” are just a standard monologue of the twenty something year old woman. Then it becomes, “when will I meet my husband?” “when will I get married?” “will I be too old to have children” it's a lifetime of questions which are rarely answered.

Whenever I just couldn't bare to do one more run to the dry cleaners to pick up my editors cleaning I would replay my mothers words in my head, and I would picture just how great this was, I was working for (as an unpaid postwoman basically) Elle magazine, surely that is great. Well the idea of it is, and the fact that I'm even in a position to be able to get out there and work in itself is too, but no, working for Elle magazine was a pile of shit. But what stopped me walking out of the door? My mothers words in my head and I can guarantee there are a lot of 'daughters of feminists' out there who have to listen to the same thing day in day out, you don't know how lucky you are.

So what can we do? Not a lot I'm afraid ladies, once you get your dream job and meet your dream man and have your 2.4 kids we then have to remind our daughters just how lucky they are, but they'll be faced with massive university fees and even more pressures to perform. Something tells me that cavewomen didn't have these issues, she probably wasn't worrying about juggling a work/life balance and being constantly reminded of her sagging features. Life was tough then, but a sabre tooth tiger on the prowl isn't much different from the 'sisters' out there trying to do one over on eachother.

As spiderman said, with great power comes great responsibility, well Spiderman, you haven't got a bloody clue...

I am the boomerang kid!

2011-07-27T03:39:00.001-07:00

Having amicably broken up with my boyfriend of two and a half years, I found myself in a situation all too familiar with those in my generation. I'd priced myself out of the rental market in London and had no choice but to return home.

I am currently desk hopping in my Dad's office in Hexham, Northumberland, and occupying one of his bedrooms - where my worldly possessions are piled up in boxes between his and my brother's house. The fact is, that people of my age group can't afford to live alone, not in London anyway – and so we find ourselves cast out, back into the big wide world with nothing to show for the past two years of cohabitation than a hefty utilities bill and the prospect of a new life – somewhere else!

Luckily for me, my father and his soon to be wife (the wicked stepmother), have taken me in with open arms, stocked the fridge with diet coke and even put a television in my room - should I wish to watch TV in bed. Sue even asked me if I had any washing to do – MISTAKE! You're making this too easy for me.

Jokes aside, I've assured them that this won't be a permanent move. I'm sure they're very glad to hear it, but the reality is, I've become a boomerang kid just like many before me. The cost of living means that us twenty-somethings are still heavily reliant on our families. Thus, when relationships break down or living situations change, we have little choice but to return home with our tails between our legs, and off-load emotional baggage on those that brought us into the world and continue to catch us whenever we fall.

Unless you're earning a hefty salary, or being funded from afar by wealthy parents the combination of the cost of living and student debt means we're forever relying on our parents, and it's tough. My Dad left university with a £14 overdraft, I left with over £20,000 worth of debt and the next generation of students will be leaving with, well double that and add a bit. The twenty-somethings are, proverbially speaking, up the creek. At least I have a job, that's not the case for many who have just graduated. Who knows what the prospects will be for those forking out £9000 a year in fees for their chosen degree course.

I have to say that as I write this from my Dad's office, having walked to work this morning, I'm breathing a sigh of London relief. No busy tubes, my commute this morning was free, not £150 a month and I get to hang out with my Dad and teach him how to use twitter. I'm one of the lucky ones, but what does the future hold? For me, I'm optimistic there'll be a positive outcome, but for my generation as a whole and the one following, the future is bleak indeed.

A word from my sponsor: “My boomerang won't come back. Having said that she already has!” (I'm told this is a Rolf Harris song)

London NY Fashion Week S/S 2011

2010-09-22T03:40:00.000-07:00

Here's my pick of the trends we'll be seeing coming through to the high street and beyond...

Pleating - whether it's in chiffon or silk, pleated skirts will be big, not the easiest to wear, but oh so chic. (as seen at Richard Nicoll)

Fringing - Twenty8Twelve went Pocahontas and Henry Holland went 70's glam, either way fringing is here to stay.

Studs - yep they're still around, and whilst Burberry's biker jackets and trousers were too die for, they seem a little passe. (but still so hot!)

Burberry

Neon + Pastels - in all the colours of the rainbow pastels are still big, but this season they'll get a smack in the face with neon and acid brights. (Christopher Kane)

Christopher Kane

Cut out and lace - Intricate laser cutting, crochet and lace will be the detailing of Spring

Draping - either trench shaped drapes from Alexander Wang (the king) or loose drapes from Ms Westwood, wearing it loose but structured is the way.

Alexander Wang

Length - it's either skyscraper short or scraping the floor. The micro mini or the maxi is the length for next summer. One for leg lovers and loathers alike!

70's - Oh how we love this one! Slim cut flares in denim, embroidered with stars at Henry Holland, neon bright miami prints, metallic hot pants, billowing jump suits, you name it, the 70's have got it and so will the high street next season. Let's start trawling the charity shops now for those vintage 70's pieces, you know what this means... platforms are safe!

House of Holland

Henry Holland - His collection will (as always) influence the high street the most. There'll be long slim flares embroidered in stars in H&M, maxi dresses in neon miami prints in primark and fringing fabulous everywhere inbetween.

Bring on the summer holidays, oh no wait a second they're over, we've got a whole year to wait.

So if I was going to make some pre-season purchases it would be have to be slim flares for smart and a killer jumpsuit for the Christmas party season. Lace up boots are still around, so invest in a good light coloured pair (pale suede would do both seasons) and they'll last another year!

Bring on Paris...

Sex and no City 2

2010-06-07T09:20:00.000-07:00

There we were, me and Ping Pong, fresh from an exhilarating trip around the 99p shop in Enfield, (very Sex and the City) with our cup of pick and mix and a handful of cheap bleach on the old 329 to Enfield industrial estate.

Ok it wasn’t quite Sex and The City, but then neither was the film. I’ve been looking forward to this for months, actually probably a year, but I can’t even bring myself to slag it off!

So instead of slagging it off, here’s how I think Sex and The City 2 will affect 2011.

It’s the 3 T’s…

The tan: Carrie was tanned before she even hit Abu Dhabi and we’re not talking sun-kissed, more sun-shagged. It’s a glistening, deep down tan circa Rimmel instant sun 1998!

The tits: She’s had implants! I’ve always admired Carries rack but it’s always seemed unlikely on such a minute frame. There was no hiding the fact that someone’s been surgically enhanced here! But then it was in a film that freely admitted it was OTT and a reaction to the recession. Bring on the style icon of 2011 – Dolly Parton!

The turban: Hats, headgear, turbans, tiara’s you name it, if it goes on your head it’s going to be big and not just metaphorically. This trend is a godsend for those heading off to sunnier climbs and it’ll be seen in the next few months all over the festival scene. I think Cleopatra will become a big style influence.

So there it is, these coming months and on to next year will see the lavish and the larish hit the high street. Fabrics will move away from digital prints and become heavily embroidered, embellished and metallic in nature and a step away from the structure of the last few years. The jumpsuit is still king, the harem is reinvented and studding becomes either sleek (Miranda) or S&M(antha).

It wasn’t terrible it just wasn’t amazing and had pretty much reached a parody of its former self. The glitz and glamour was there but it seemed the only emotionality of the film was explored in about 15 minutes and therefore didn’t feel as heartwarming as it’s predecessor, which had me and the ladies weeping in the aisles.

Perhaps the blatant product placement and over the top wardrobes were too much, maybe the element of mutton dressed as lamb was just too prevalent. Maybe it was the constant reference to the plight of the Middle Eastern woman, or the single mother or god forbid the mother without a nanny that just didn’t work for me.

We all know SATC is about escapism, but perhaps the fact they escaped half way across the world was just too much – I think I wanted a little more New York and a little less New Boobs.

Why we love SJP

2010-05-21T03:53:00.000-07:00

I’m not alone in worshipping the ground SJP walks on, or shall I say the ground Carrie totters about on in her Louboutins.

Yes, it is primarily because of her unbelievable wardrobe, one, which she was allowed to keep. Can you imagine spending a day in that walk in? Yes, it would be great on the surface until you go to try on the iconic tutu skirt and realize it has a waist on it the size of my fore-arm. Gutted.

So yes, we love her because Patricia Field has turned her into THE style icon of the 21^st century. We know it’s unrealistic that Carrie could afford her amazing apartment her hoard of designer clobber and her cocktail lifestyle, simply on the wage from her single weekly column, the woman doesn’t cook!

Sex and the City isn’t about reality, it’s not even close, but we can believe in the characters, why? Because none of them are supermodels.

Each one has a distinct flaw, and so while Carrie may be my favourite I don’t actually want to be her, why? Because there isn’t a single male on the planet who finds her attractive. We love her, because she isn’t that fit, yep, we’re shallow, she poses no threat.

We want to be her mate, we want to steal her clothes and we want to gossip endlessly about what each punctuation mark in every text means, but we don’t actually want to be, sorry look, like her.

Case in point: I can’t stand Cameron Diaz, the fact that every film she appears in she does a ‘comedy’ dance routine. She’s one of those girls at uni who would get into a water fight wearing a skin tight white T-shirt, then scream like a dick and never trot fast enough to get away from the boys. It’s just too obvious! Yes Cameron, you think you’re a clown, you’re one of the boys, you’re CRAZY, and I think you’re a penis. Why? Because you may be all those things, but when it comes down to it, you’re also incredibly beautiful, have a killer body and you seem relatively down to earth. Ah, I said it.

That’s why SJP is our superhero. She can make any item of clothing look amazing, she can fuck up with Aidan and we still love her, she can act a little annoying and boy mental, but then who can honestly say they don’t get a bit Carried away when romance is on the cards! But at the end of the day, she’d be our mate that none of our boyfriends would fancy.

So, bring on the 28^th May. Off to the cinema with my version of the Carrie foursome, there’ll be tears, laughter and most of all – clothes. Blissfully wrapped up in the reality that Samantha is getting on, Miranda is ginger, Charlotte has a massive ass and SJP is only a neigh away from hi ho silver.

Ugg boots and ballet pumps...

2010-04-13T09:30:00.000-07:00

I can understand why people wear trainers, I don’t personally have any and I don’t like them, but they’re comfortable and if you’re not over-bothered about fashion or you’re a trainer type of guy then no worries, I have no problem with you! However…

If you’re the type of girl (or god forbid a guy) who’s rocking a Ralph Lauren polo shirt and your hair is tipped bouffantly over to one side, please remove those overpriced mounds of sheepskin from around your ankles. You’re walking like a gimp!

Now, that may be because you’re ‘just thrown own’ jeans are far too tight for you or because you’re walking on a 1inch, £200 lump of cardboard tattooed with the word Ugg on the heel. They’re called Ugg’s because they’re Uggly and why they were invented in Australia I’ll never know.

Luckily for the Australians us Brits are more than willing to buy overpriced, unwanted goods from afar and then ship them over hear so we can all drag our feet, trip over dust particles and look successfully nonchalant.

And on the opposite end of the footwear faux pas spectrum is the ballet pump. Another ‘wear with anything’, overpriced, overproduced pile of useless crap that is no more of a shoe than a piece of cardboard is.

If you want to spend £100 on a pair of ballet pumps, look like everyone else, be constantly cold and get knee and back problems from shuffling around in a pair of shoes with soles the width of silk then be my guest, but I wont be!

I love my gladiator sandals but I fear they may be next on the overproduced, overdone list L

Breeding ground for toffs!

2010-04-13T04:25:00.000-07:00

I don’t know about you but I’ve never seen the point to boarding schools. Maybe it’s normal to have children and then send them off packing from 8 to 18, I just don’t think it should be.

Why have kids if you’re pretty happy to not see them again after their eighth birthday. If you’ve had to pack them off because you’re working too hard then quit your job, you must have a bulging bank account to consider full time boarding, why not ditch the money instead of the kids?

Ofcourse, there’ll be those out there who think they’re providing their kids with the best education possible, well they do the same hours in a ‘normal’ school, maybe you’d be able to bring up a well rounded kid as a parent, rather than paying someone else to do the honour.

There was a documentary on eight year old boarders last night and it broke my heart. I remember that feeling as a kid (I say kid, I couldn’t stay away from home until I was about twelve, I got too homesick!) of not being able to stop crying because you missed your mum and dad so much, because you craved your own bed and their security.

Well watching little April cry every night before bed, every morning before breakfast and then doubly hard once she’d been dropped off after the weekend was horrendous. What was worse is that her Mum crocodile teared at the camers like there was simply nothing she could do. I can see her predicament the butler had been given the day off and the maid was too busy cleaning the hummer. Take her home you bitch, you gave birth to her now deal with it!

Ofcourse the other problem with boarding schools is that they’re the perfect breeding ground for raaaaars. After only a week, innocent eight-year old children were riding horses dressed head to toe in barbour chanting ‘Daddy has a Porsch’. It was terrible, a young geordie girl said larf instead of laff, there must be something we can do for the poor poor rich kids and their trust fund futures!

I'm a closet paper peeper...

2010-04-01T05:49:00.001-07:00

Why do people get so pissed off when you look at their newspaper?

I often find myself a little bored on a journey, especially if I’ve forgotten my book or haven’t had the time to pick up a little morning Metro, so yes, occasionally I treat myself to a read of my neighbours headlines.

The reaction is bizarre, they turn their paper away, you can feel them becoming nervous, or quite often pretty pissed off. I’d understand if I got my pen out, lent over them and started filling in their Sudoku, but I don’t, although I’m now tempted.

I haven’t picked up their phone and started looking through their text messages, although I have slipped a little peak in sometimes and I’m pretty sure what I discovered on one occasion was a nervous boyfriend deleting sexts from an unidentified lady. Oh, that’s why people don’t like it!

So, I’ going to have to hang up my monocle and start respecting fellow commuters privacy, but none of the crimes on my roster will get solved that way – what to do? Remember my book I guess.

Katherine Jenkins, the 21st centuries answer to a posh wank...

2010-03-30T03:21:00.001-07:00

I woke up reminded of a conversation me and Kev had a while ago referring to the “there’s” lovely Katherine Jenkins.

It began as a rant about how dull and unattractive she was (from Kev, not me) which I know is not the common consensus. I can see his point, no one genuinely likes her songs, but all of her male fans genuinely like her tits!

Katherine Jenkins isn’t high brow, she’s brought opera and all that shit to the masses, all wrapped up in a pretty package of blow job lips and big boobs. Atleast Baywatch unashamedly admitted the programme was about slow motion jiggling. Jenkins people are trying to make her the modern day Monroe – ummm no.

What that sticky album in the alphabetically organised shelf of these middles class, middle aged men’s dens actually is, is a high class porn mag. If you spot one of these albums in a leather clad snug somewhere in suburbia then be warned, you’re looking straight at the modern day posh wank.

It’s not pornography as we know it, but for those starved of the real deal, Jenkins is the next best thing. They can imagine what all that warbling does to her toned tonsils whilst making comments like ‘nice set of lungs’ to themselves whilst laughing smugly at their ability to smuggle ‘high brow’ porn into their lounge, under the vise of an opera album. Oh dear, sorry Katherine but you’re the 21^st century version of a wanking sock.

Politics...

2010-03-26T08:20:00.000-07:00

There are many things I don’t know a great deal about, and one of those things is politics. I know which parties I like, whose ideals I agree with and who I think are wankers (BNP), and I know comments like that aren’t particularly political.

So, whilst chatting to Kev last night, someone who clearly knows a lot more about such matters, I magically stumbled across ‘the answer’ and here it is…

Politicians shouldn’t be voted in as parties, each position should be advertised separately and the person most qualified for that position should be picked. I’d like to see Gordon Browns CV and I think I should be able to. I also think I should be able to choose who mans the NHS, I’d like to see a former doctor or nurse up there, they know the score, they’ve done their time on ‘the street’ as it were, surely they’d be better qualified to sort it all out.

I’d like to see an old head teacher sorting out education, or one of my old teachers come to think of it, there’s plenty of really good ones. Once there’s a big old selection of prospective candidates get their CV’s online, let’s have video interviews and let the public decide.

Or, host a talent show! Simon Cowell and Pierce Morgan can host the show and Cheryl Cole can lend her vote to any Geordie up there, at least then a bigger majority of the public would vote, and if they had taken the time to vote they’d have at least chosen who they wanted based on their merits, the person with the most votes get’s the job and the money made from all those phone votes for their sector.

The problem with party politics is the same as putting several different football teams against eachother. Yes, as a whole they’re pretty good, they’re in the same league but eventually one team has to win. Wouldn’t it be much better if you picked the best players out of all the teams that way you’d have the strongest round team and there would be no need for party political bull shit and bitching. It’d be every man and woman for themselves!

Yes, I think it’s genius too, there’d be a lot of unemployed politicians but then they’d get to see first hand the problems us everyday folk face like signing on the dole or paying rent in London (or paying for anything at all come to think of it).

Hmmm, that’s me done for the day, tomorrow world peace...

Food from scratch!

2010-03-23T06:21:00.001-07:00

What a great idea! Buy this little pot with all the fresh ingredients, chopped, weighed and ready for cooking with the recipe (which is also included)! Genius. I haven't tried one, couldn't tell you where to buy them from or how much they cost, but in theory what a cracking idea. It's the convenience meal of the 21st century... Check them out at mealsfromscratch.co.uk

Raaaaarrrrrrrss!

2010-03-15T05:05:00.000-07:00

For all of you who went to a comprehensive school, I’m sure you already know whom I’m talking about. I thought it was bad enough in Hexham, where private schools spurned the rich mini toffs of the future, but combine wealth with connections in London and you’re looking at the new hybrid creature. They have all the Chanel you can shake a stick at, a disposable income and an easy career accessible from all of Mummy and Daddy’s lovely connections from the yacht club.

London’s ‘cool’ scene is teaming with rich kids who’ve been welcomed with open arms, and it’s easy to see why. Membership to Shoreditch house and is no biggie, Daddy’s probably on the board, and working in one of London’s exclusive industries, (that’s fashion, music, film – basically anything that involves working for free) is no hassle, after all they have a pre-paid flat in London and an endless bank account ready to be blitzed in the east end or west end by a bunch of bell ends!

Am I jealous? Yeah probably! I’ve worked hard and long for free, I’ve been skint for the best part of 6 years, and I still don’t have a sun lounger named after me at the pool of Shoreditch house. I’ve just got my first decently paid job, but I’m in loads of debt and still can’t afford that elusive Chanel handbag that taunts me from the shoulder of every rich kid in the city.

It’s an ironic dichotomy, where as we’re aspiring to expensive clothes and a wardrobe to rival Carrie Bradshaw’s, the Rarrrrssss of this world are working hard to wear the same pair of cut-off jeans and oversized shirt day in day out . The time they spend back combing their hair into a ridiculous side parting, to look like they’ve just rolled out of their (10,000 count Egyptian cotton) bed sheets is a joke!

They are abundant in the music industry. That’s just a plain annoying fact. The difference I’ve found in London to Newcastle however is they are lone creatures. Never arriving in groups but always alone, then as lone entities they begin to congregate, they are drawn to DJ booths, stages and anywhere where they can find some musician who Daddy would disapprove of. Unfortunately for the little Raaarrrr looking for disapproval off Daddy in today’s music scene is a near impossibility. The modern musician is no longer a struggling one, their tour buses have butlers and their guitars are carried in Louis Vuitton carriers, they are not the bit of rough they used to be!

Just as their parents did, these little rich kids are infiltrating the creative arts, simply because they can afford it. Elitism has reached a whole new level, try and find a qualified journalist at any one of the big fashion magazines and you’ll be up to your eyeballs in Lottie’s and Hattie’s who know what’s going to be big because Mummy has Vivienne Westwood’s number on speed dial!

They piss the living shit out of me, please Mr government make work experience and internships illegal, lets get people in creative jobs who god forbid are actually creative and not just people who can afford to work for nothing for their entire lives. Soon music, fashion, film and design is going to be Oxbridge, a bunch of toff tossers inhibiting spaces that they’ve paid to be in rather than paid their dues to work in.

Desperately Seeking Sunshine…

2010-02-23T03:58:00.000-08:00

Every year my long and short-term memory work together to keep life that little bit more interesting. I know that I love winter when it is in the build up to Christmas, but I forget the excitement I get out of it every year until the Christmas decorations start hitting the shops and streets.

It is always as fashion week hits that I start to crave the next season. I’m sick of my fur now, which I welcomed back with open arms in November, I’m craving my open toed shoes now which only a few months ago I moved out of pride of place in honour of my boot collection

I am craving the feeling of sun on my face, of sitting in a pub garden and having a cigarette without fearing hyperthermia. I’m looking forward to heading to Alonissos and watching the orange moon set over a muggy sky, watching the sunset on the old town from the Naval bar and hunting out that anklet again.

I forgot just how beautiful the first crocus on the green looked and how I never wake up on the wrong side of bed when the sunshine through the window wakes me. I can’t remember what the smell of freshly cut grass is like or the feeling of bare feet on warm pavements or grass, but I know I love it and I still will when I feel it again.

By November though I will be fantasising about two duvets, woolly jumpers and ear muffs, mince pies and stockings. Therefore, I have to thank my brain for never letting life get boring as it selectively deletes the joy of each season, letting me appreciate it all over again every year. I am ready for summer now, so if it would just hurry up that would be great…

Minimum Slaves...

2010-02-23T03:29:00.000-08:00

Why am I eligible for Tax Credits when I am on the national minimum wage? Well apparently, it is to reduce stigma for low earners and to encourage me to work. Having worked for a year under the national minimum wage I know that it is not a livable wage, particularly in London. I had to work in internships to get that job and yes by internship I mean working for free. Could I claim benefit at any point of this six month internship period? No, because I wasn’t actively seeking work.

“Really?’ I asked the ever so helpful people at the job centre, “Yes”. I wasn’t ‘actively seeking work’. No, they’re right I was working for free for fun, it wasn’t in the hope that my experience in the industry (an industry which relies on internships and work experience placements) would eventually snag me my dream job.

Ok, that was the first part of the rant, the part that doesn’t support people who are willing to work long and hard to break into an industry and gain a job they love. I am not alone, it’s not just the media, in my shared house, four of five young professionals have put in the long hours and zero wages for the chance to ‘break in ‘ to their chosen industry. These include fashion designers, sports rehabilitators and charity workers! Oh yes, those wanting to do good things like emergency relief in countries like Haiti, have to put their unpaid hours in too.

So finally my hard unpaid work paid off and I gained an ‘internship’ at a reputable publishing house, where I earned the national minimum wage. Overjoyed that my dedication had paid off I went head first into the first job I had ever really wanted, I was a journalist and I had a job!

My contract began for three months, went on to six, then nine and then looked like it could go on to a permanent job with a pay rise and dare I say it a promotion. Well I didn’t dare say it and luckily so, as the credit crunch hit hard at all forms of advertising and our incredibly successful website (the leader in the market) wasn’t bringing in the money. Our team of a web producer, chief staff writer, two freelance journalists and an intern is now down to a web producer and three interns. Why? Because you can pay intern’s minimum wage and their one year contract eradicates any responsibility for their wellbeing.

So… I head home for the Christmas holidays and talk to my Dad’s partner (who works for HM Revenue and Customs) who informs me I would be eligible for tax credits. Imagine the joy, knowing I probably would not have a job in February that couple of extra hundred pounds could see me through the month where I search for my next position in an ever-competitive market. Perfect! I head back to London with a little trust fund in an imaginary savings account for a rainy day.

Stage one, check online to see if I am eligible. Yes, I am, with my yearly salary and the hours I work, I am eligible for tax credits. Yippee! Stage two, call the tax credits hotline and give them my National Insurance Number, the one I’ve had on all life and is on all my pay slips and the one that means little magic payments come out of my already pathetic wage.

Hmmmm. It appears they don’t have a record of my NI number. They ask me several questions about my name, date of birth and my address at which point I’m informed that they can only send me a letter through the post to tell me whether the national insurance number I provided is infact mine, or not. How do they know that is my real address?

They cannot tell me any information over the phone about me, as it may just not be me asking for my own national insurance number. In true call centre style, I am assured that said letter would be with me in seven to ten days, and asked whether there was anything else they could help me with. I respond with “Well as we can only talk hypothetically over whether it is infact me on the phone, I don’t need any more hypothetical help, thanks.”

Two weeks later and the infamous letter hadn’t arrived. I give them a call and they helpfully inform me that if I’d requested my NI number it would be on the way. There was no way to look into it, as they have no record of any information they have sent out (they put all of that kind of information on a laptop and leave it on a train) so I should just sit and wait.

A week later and still no NI number, by this time I am unemployed, my contract has run out and I finally have the time to sit down and talk to call centre operators for hours on end. First, I sort out my well-earned dole money, this lady was incredibly helpful and I stupidly thought this whole process would be easy.

Interestingly my NI number came up on their system so it must have magically been registered. All chipper I rang up the Tax Credits hotline, only to discover they still could not find my NI number. I played a little trick my boyfriend taught me which is to always call straight back when dealing with call centres as you just might get a staff member who knows what their job actually entails, (can you hear the anger building again?) and I did!

“Yes, we have your national insurance number here, let me just go through some questions to process your claim.” Silence. The phone has cut out and they don’t call me back. Redial. “No sorry we don’t have your national insurance number registered here.” Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! “Oh, yes here it is it must be on the other systems, there are three and they obviously haven’t checked them all.” Perfect.

The claim starts to be processed. How much have I earned in the year?” “Minimum wage” which makes me eligible, but it can only be backdated for 3 months, which is better than a kick in the teeth. “Are you working now?” “No, my last day was yesterday.” “Well you’re not eligible.” “What now?” “No you have to be working at the time of the claim and you have to claim 4 weeks before you’re made redundant or you can’t claim.”

Well, if I’d had my NI number 4 weeks ago when I started this process then I would have had the time to make the claim and therefore be £300 richer! Therefore, if they had sent me my own NI number, or heaven forbid checked on their other system I would be laughing! The final question “Did you know that your job was going to finish on this date?” “Yes” I say, “It was a contract” “Oh well in that case” they add, (stab, back, twist) “You wouldn’t be eligible either!”

So I did what us Brits are only capable of doing when we’re not face to face with the culprit. “I’d like to make a complaint.” They’ll be calling me back in ten to fifteen working days. Score!

OK, here it is, in order to claim tax credits, you have to be earning below £13,000 a year, have at least five weeks left on your contract and you must have absolutely no idea when your contract will terminate.

I have to ask though if they know that minimum wage is not a living wage, then why don’t they make it higher? Why do they create these loopholes, red tape and ridiculous rules for people who honestly want to work, who are willing to do so and will do so for a low wage? Aren’t we a nation encouraging people to work hard at school, have a desire to work and to go out and get it?

London would come to a standstill if its minimum wage brigade packed up and moved on, so I urge you to instantly claim tax credits now if you earn minimum wage. I also urge you to ask questions like why does Borris Johnson make sure that anyone working in his office works for nothing less than £7.60 an hour?

There are many things that piss the life out of me, one is that I can’t help but get angry on the phone to innocent call centre workers, who are no doubt on the same minimum wage that I’m complaining about. I'm still waiting for the complaints department to get back to me!

Brighton Communion...

2010-02-22T09:15:00.000-08:00

For the last few weeks I’ve been accompanying Kev on a little Communinon tour and this week it was the turn of blissful Brighton, one of my favourite places in the world. My past visit’s have showered me in sunshine but this trip’s shower was a wet one, then it is February!

As with all of our cultural trips we pick our hotel through some very fine criteria and that is ofcourse whether the hotel has smoking rooms. We went for Gullivers, a cute little hotel off the pier which upgraded us to a sea view and provided us with an ashtray, yes!

So the rain dampened the day a little but we still managed to hit the lanes for my obligatory ogle at two feathers, the Native American Indian shop in the north lanes and fitted in fish and chips and the arcades (if I had a pub i'd put a 2p machine in it!). The Pendleton blankets are my personal favourite, so when the new job starts I’ll be putting away my pennies to save up for one of these bad boys - £145 to go! You know your getting older when the subject of your obsession is a rug…

Of course the real reason we were there was to enjoy Communion hosted by Tom and Tom at the Prince Albert. I was heading there looking forward to seeing Matthew and the Atlas who I’ve been seriously overplaying recently and I wasn’t disappointed. One minute I was in tears and the next smiling and clapping, there’s not many people who can do that to me. The music sounds like a mix between Johnny cash and Bon Iver, but his voice is so distinctive that it’s impossible to compare him to anyone else, seriously amazing and considering he’s supporting Mumford and Sons in Edinburgh in a couple of weeks, I reckon he’s going to be HUGE!

Ryan O’Reilly banged out some solo stuff too, which reminded of Bruce Springsteen in his American Folk days, so obviously I loved it, but I missed the country vibe that his band brings, another corker though.

So me and Kev hit the lash, Kev more so than me and wasn’t feeling too hot this morning! But all in all a wonderful weekend, looking forward to hitting Brighton in the summer, but not as much as I’m looking forward to the communion launch party next week, if you haven’t got your ticket yet, get on it and you can see what I mean about Matthew and the Atlas.

I am a Sex addict! Hello Tiger...

2010-02-19T07:05:00.000-08:00

As Cheryl mimed the ironic lyrics to Fight for This Love at the Brits, my mind went out to those cheated in the past few months. Tess Daly, Toni Terry, Elin Woods and Cheryl Cole have all been cheated by their partners, the press and the countless, in some cases, other women.

Surely for Cheryl, Toni and Elin the fight is a losing battle, just how many waitresses, hookers, strippers or team-mates girlfriends is too many. I’m going to say one. Am I an idiot or is infidelity, infidelity, whether you stamp a big sex addict label on it or not?

The problem I now have is the aftermath. The questions blurted on daytime TV, is text flirting cheating (ummm… yeah!), should you forgive and forget (in some circumstances maybe) can you forget (wouldn’t have thought so), should you get divorced or think of their kids (these are surely intrinsically linked)? Why are all of these questions driven at the woman?

Surely the real question is what is wrong with these pathetic, insecure, inadequate men that makes them go and seek affirmation from anything with a pair of suspenders and the word easy tattooed on their forehead, you’re married to Cheryl Cole you lucky twat!

Of course, there lies the problem. Men do not cheat with better-looking, challenging women; they cheat on their partner with a plainer, more boring, and easier option. The no questions sex scenario is their dream, they are not looking to discuss nuclear physics over a fruity red, they’re hammering the mini bar and talking about their ball skills.

DUMP HIM! Yes, you get financial security, but you will get a canny payout on the count of infidelity and most importantly some self-respect, and the respect of your children who learn that when it comes to love - trust, honesty and loyalty are paramount. Don’t fuck with Mummy!

It seriously makes me question the ‘love’ in these relationships, was it ever there? Cheating is cheating, sex is sex, but marriage should be marriage, let’s stop laying the blame at the Christian Louboutins and pin it on the football studs. Tiger is out of the woods, but the poor guy is a sex addict! Would he have stood by his wife if her chocolate addiction had turned to obesity, nope and I bet he wouldn’t be judged for that either! We’re still living in a mans world, where it is more shocking to be dating a younger man than it is to be sowing your wild oats like Warburtons were depending on it!

Fake isn't just designer...

2009-10-15T11:52:00.000-07:00

Perhaps I’m just stating the bleeding obvious, but I’ve never understood why people don’t go straight to the source for their dream item. With trends popping up with names like biker, highland fling or grunge, it’s not hard to work out what I’m about to say.

My biker boots are my mum’s from her midlife motorcycle crisis she shared with my Dad (sorry guys!) and my jodhpurs are from a saddle shop I bought in market Harborough before I went to get my bridesmaid dress fitted. The decorative rings around my boots are from a military stall on Portobello and my biker jacket, oh yeah that’s from Primark because I couldn’t afford the real thing!

OK it doesn’t always work, but it is often the fact that buying a vintage look dress will cost you more than a charity shop frock, or a leotard from American apparel will set you back an arm and a leg where as your local ballet shop will be a steal.

Perhaps I’m looking through rose tinted glasses, perhaps heading to the highstreet is just plain easier, but it doesn’t take away the feeling of wearing the genuine article. After all you wouldn’t pay more for a counterfeit Chanel over the real deal would you? I guess I’m just saying, think before you buy, take the time to investigate your options, it’s fun! I'm currently investigating a tartan rug to wear as a skirt and i'm still after that illusive navajo jacket, go to the source i've claimed, off to America then. One Day...

Banjo's and Barns

2009-10-14T11:57:00.000-07:00

It appears that there’s a new place to be seen in town, or country should I say and that place is the barn. Denim feels comfortable here, the texture of hay and wood sits amicably together, there is a rustic charm which we all admire, or is it just us city folk?

Speaking of folk, I can’t help but notice that too is rearing it’s delicate head. Laura Marling may have started it, now Mumford and Sons are really meaning it as are Cherbourg and a host of other sincere people. The album artwork has a handmade approach, often drawn by the artists themselves, in an era of downloads, CD artwork is becoming collectible again.

Why do we like it? Maybe we’re looking for more earthy satisfaction in the era of the credit crunch. Perhaps clubs and cocktails were in fashion when we had reams of imaginary cash spinning out of our credit cards and overdrafts. Perhaps as our belts tighten our horizons widen and we’re left gaping at pastures new, deep and simple. When the money is dwindling maybe we look to the simple pleasures in life, like rolling around in hay, afterall the birth rate has soared in recent months. It seems listening to an acoustic track laden with banjo plucking has never been so satisfying.

After all, what is fashion other than perpetual motion in action. A constant hike down a country lane which has until recently resided in the city lights. Chanel have spotted it, their S/S 2010 was a homage to all things country, Lily Allen, the least 'diva-ish' of the celebrity world played with a live band as models line danced down the catwalk. Hardly the over indulgent Chanel of yesteryear, which featured gigantic indulgent structures.

Mumford and Sons hosted a barn dance for their album launch party (an album now sitting at no1 I might add) and have today been shot for Vogue, hardly the glamorous models of the millennium.

Personally I welcome the change. Music, fashion, food perhaps, even life with a more organic and humble approach. Humble? Chanel can’t be referred to as humble perhaps but it’s aesthetic is certainly getting there.

The throwaway culture of the credit crunch kids is over, bring on music with longevity, fashion that will last and a greener outlook on life, even if it does just mean hanging out in a field drinking cider with mates.

2009-07-27T08:39:00.000-07:00

I have just this second returned from Camp Bestival! The lovely folk at Nickelodeon kindly put me (and my boyfriend) up in a podpad! It sounds exciting doesn't it, it was basically a wooden tent, complete with blow up bed, plastic windows and a carpet, it kept us dry (even though it didn't rain) but was still around a 3 minute walk to the toilet, which is 3 minutes too long in my view. I did catch some good bands, Laura Marling, Mumford and Sons, Hayseed Dixie and BonIvor and enjoyed some lager in the sunshine! Lovely...

While there I snapped the best of festival fashion in the 13-18 age group for my day job at www.sugarscape.com. Pretty damn sure I wasn't that cool when I was this age, but then again the internet hadn't even been invented and I didn't know what a mobile phone was!

2009-06-19T08:25:00.000-07:00

One of my strange but enjoyable activities I enjoy in the priavcy of my own room on a quiet Monday evening is the wardrobe overhaul! Four times a year I give the rail a rest in my heavily laden wardrobe and relieve him of his incredibly important duties.

I re-try any item I am unsure of, those I love get ironed and hung back up, those I hate get put in a special draw for reject clothes that I may love again one day. It is the clothing equivalent of Battersea Dogs Home.

This activity is best enjoyed alone having lost a little weight. Tackle this having gained a few pounds and you'll be crying into a very unflattering pair of high waisted trousers! I'm no Gok Wan, you wont see me cutting arms off t-shirts and applying the obligatory waist belt ghasping 'you go girlfriend get your
bazoomas out'. No it's a subdued affair, a chilled out evening that results in several new outifts and a feeling of immense self worth.

Give it a go...

Soundtrack - Lady Ga Ga
Must haves - Diet Coke and Marlboro lights
Steer clear of - An unflattering mirror

Much love!

2009-06-18T08:34:00.000-07:00

Perfect Design. A concept deliberated for centuries. The combination of an idea perfectly executed, combined with that je ne se qua which makes it stand out from the crowd. Rarely is an item so beautiful.

This feeling surges over me rarely, and comes in the form of footwear. The Balenciaga knee high gladiator had this effect on me two years ago and was clearly the inspiration behind this summers galdiator frenzy. Are you not entertained? Now I am...

Is it subject to taste? Of course it is. Does it come with a hefty price tag? Yes, one I can't afford.

I've just wiped away a tear...

If you are a secret admirer and are thinking of a way to propose - Hunter's Festival Boot, £145, The answer's yes!

2009-06-03T12:18:00.000-07:00

If my fingers are fumbling for the fashion pulse, or life seams that little bit dreary, or i'm limply lacking excitement or inspiration, I turn to my DVD collection. The Labyrinth will always stand out beckoning me like my own personal goblin. David Bowie, 80's, new romanticism and the most insane Jim Henson film to date, it just doesn't get any better than that.

If you haven't watched this classic since childhood, then hunt it out. The underlying sexual tension between Jareth the goblin king and Sarah is understated and strange, in a good way! I used to dream of attending a ball like this in my childhood, infact my love for princesses and poofy frocks which my Gran would make me surely came from this scene alone.

Look out for beautiful statement leather jackets, oversized blouses and jodphur style high wasted trousers, pulled off in only the way Bowie can! I experienced a huge resurgence in my love for the 80's, as is everyone at the moment. Balmain can surely thank this film for the inspiration behind some breathtaking leather jackets out at the moment. Dance magic dance...

Fur, fringe and fair isle

2008-12-09T04:42:00.000-08:00

It's winter, and for me that has brought about the three F's. Fur, fringe and fair isle. The fringe has moved me ever so slightly away from my homage to Cheryl Cole, the fur I wear on hats, coats and gilets, and the fair isle sweater is an on going love of mine. Nothing says Christmas like fair isle sweaters and it really is the season for knitwear. The best thing about this knit is it is so easily picked up in charity shops, look for something garish on the rails, and its bound to be a winner.

Not much of a fan of the fair isle sweater? Then go for aran knit, my brother just bought a beautiful navy blue aran cardigan from Gap, 30% off from one of our many bargain vouchers, and he looks fab in it. Knitwear looks so good on men, they don't wear it enough (in my opinion).

Holidays are coming, holidays are coming...

2008-12-08T07:46:00.000-08:00

Holidays are officially coming, although I haven't seen the full Coca-Cola advert, but word on the street is it's the original, so great news. This of course means Christmas shopping, one of my favourite past times, I love buying presents, but I hate Oxford Street, so a lot of my shopping I hope to do online this year. Having worked in Marble Arch last week, I got to see the Christmas lights, Selfridge's window is awesome, and I love that this year decorations aren't just in the windows, but now adorning buildings, Gap is wrapped up like a big present and Marks and Spencer is covered in gigantic paper chains. Bond Street looks beautiful as always, where less really is more, unfortunately for my family, I wont be buying too much on those streets though.

Tthe dreaded credit crunch has brought about an abundance of offers. I can't count the amount of vouchers i've been emailed, 30% off Gap, free delivery from Asos.com and Argos, this weekend saw the 50% off at Woolworths, which in this selection alone covers so many of the gifts I'll be buying. So, yes, supposedly we'll be cutting back and concentrating on saving money, but we have been told to spend our way out of the recession, (however that works), I don't care either way, Christmas is about families and friends, it's not about presents, but I love the look on peoples faces when they open them... I love it!

Portobello

2008-11-03T11:16:00.001-08:00

For many of us around the country, last week saw snow falling, and it is now bloody cold! So I spent my weekend stocking up on some winter necessities, firstly a fur lined trapper hat from H&M which was a bargain at £6.99, (from the mens department because I apparently have a rather large head!) and then a trip to Portobello saw me grabbing a beautiful vintage fur coat. It's an unusual colour, a kind of cool caramel, and has sexy lining, as well as long sleeves which actually fit (remember; vintage clothing is often smaller than the modern standard sizes and one of the main sizing problems is sleeves which aren't quite long enough) and a high collar. I also picked up some amazing straps from an army surplus stall at Portobello market. The stall is fantastic, it stocks all the military regalia you can imagine, jackets, thermals, army hats and my favourite, chin straps from a royal guards helmet. I bought 2 for a bargain 10 quid, which I will be wrapping around some vintage boots like ornate spurs. I love them.

I already have some leather gloves which are another winter must have, you can get them anywhere on the high street, but charity shops often throw up some cracking one-offs. If your vintage jacket's sleeves are too short, or you love a 3/4 sleeve, then long gloves are a quick and easy way to keep your arms nice and toasty.

I am sad to say, I didn't find my navajo print blanket coat... gutted

Electric or acoustic?

2008-10-30T15:01:00.001-07:00

Looks like next season (S/S 09) the coolest accessory is the guitar!? As the past seasons love of the rock chick and folk inspired hippy have combined to see Vivienne Westwood (the queen of punk) and Chanel (all that is chic) send their models down the runway carrying guitars. I can't really see it catching on, you couldn't carry much in it and it's be a bitch to dance around in a club, but I guess the designers are letting us know that folk and rock will still very much be influencing our wardrobes next year.

I aint getting on no catwalk fool!

2008-10-30T10:39:00.000-07:00

I never thought i'd be going to MrT for styling advice, but it seems Givenchy did. Just a quick post to support the 'piling chains heavily around the neck' movement. Either buy them on the high street, nick collars off your pets, or pop down to B&Q and buy metres of chain, then drape them heavily over your chest, et voi la, the Givenchy piled necklace look, very goth and therefore perfect for halloween!

Bond

2008-10-30T07:05:00.000-07:00

Whenever a new James Bond film comes out men’s fashion takes a trip down memory lane. Perhaps the cars are a little out of everyone’s price range but you can accessorize like James. Neck ties might be a step too far for the general gent, even though they look so soave worn the right way, but the classic vintage watch is a great alternative. Rotary have launched a new range of vintage replica watches which are beautiful, and if you think you can pull it off, bring back the watch fob, just as Mr Big suggested in Sex and the City.

So men, don’t leave the house without a dinner jacket (get one in tweed from a charity shop for an aristocratic feel) and you’ll pick up the ladies just like Mr Bond. And I don’t care if its shaken or stirred, avoid the martini, it’s just not macho.

Rockaholic for Toni and Guy

2008-10-30T03:30:00.000-07:00

This is a test shoot I did for Toni and Guy with the styling team from .Cent magazine. A huge thank you to the lovely (and beautiful) Ben Cook the photographer from the shoot who sent these images over to me. This was shot in early September, the rock vibe brought out some early trends, the leather biker jacket, shine leggings and the deconstructive trend coming through (ripped tights) I think the tux jacket and cardigan is a nice look, and love the big hair and sunglasses, always fit! The boys in the picture are from a band, are apparently touring America at the moment, but I can't remember their name, which is helpful!

Sport 1 Fashion 1

2008-10-29T12:00:00.000-07:00

There is no doubt that sport often influences fashion. The V&A have exhibited the collaboration of designers and sports brands to create designer sportswear. Not to mention the fact that you would have had to be living in a cave to have not noticed the super hot Danni Cipriani strutting his stuff round town. As the rugby season approaches try out some sports inspired fashion. My favourites include the cricket jumper, usually quite easy to find in a charity shop and the rugby shirt, it’s warm its versatile and you can get it in any colour. Men have a huge choice, but for me the just out of the showers look is the winner, team shirt and tie and the ever so sexy blazer, I was planning on posting a picture of Cipriani in this get up but found a much better image! With it, a rugby inspired shoot I did a couple of years ago, and a big thank you to Saz who modelled for me in the FREEZING cold, while we sprayed water on her and told her to imagine she was sweating!

Smoking Jackets

2008-10-29T09:07:00.000-07:00

Smoking jackets were de rigueur in the Victorian times, donned by the gentlemen of the house to ensure the smell of cigarettes wouldn’t seep into his everyday clothes and upset his lady friend. Nowadays, we don’t care if we smell of cigarettes, or perhaps less people are smoking, whatever may be the case the smoking jacket has fallen out of necessity. However, it is not necessity that is steering my eye toward this old classic, generally made from silk or velvet and cut to a slim fit the smoking jacket is a versatile creation. Worn as a more updated version of the tuxedo jacket it could have men reeking of classic James Bond and for us ladies, shake it up kimono style a la YSL, and it turns into a chic evening accessory. Roll up the sleeves and nip in the waist, and you can stand outside with the smokers and not look out of place…

Northern Exposure

2008-10-29T08:48:00.000-07:00

Take a look at Northern Exposure, an awesome 90's series filmed in Alaska. You'd think this seasons looks were based solely on the laid back life of Alaskans, as they wonder around in leggings and oversized knits, biker jackets and vintage looking jeans, high waisted skirts in bold prints and my very favourite, the navajo print blanket jacket. Zara have a few blanket coats in great colours, and all the high street stores are stocking biker jackets, so hop on the northern exposure band wagon and treat yourself. Don't fancy a biker jacket, go for biker boots- same difference...

2008-10-29T08:47:00.000-07:00

Starting out

2008-10-29T08:16:00.000-07:00

If you're thinking of trying to get into the fashion journalism route, you have two major options, styling or writing. For both the entrance route is pretty much the same. My advice would be to get some work experience early, university holidays are a great time to build up experience, work on your CV, sound enthusiastic in cover letters and bug people, follow up emails with phone calls (if you can find their number) or send CV's constantly, websites like www.arts.ac.uk/creative-opportunities.htm are great for internships and www2.gorkanapr.com also have work placements.

Once you're in the door its common sense, work hard, be on time and prove yourself. You'll mostly be expected to run the fashion cupboard. You'll be returning goods to designers and PR offices, if you have an up to date fashion monitor (a kind of yellow pages of every designer and clothing brand, stating their PR agent, address and number) this is really straight forward, but always ask if you're not sure, magazines get charged if good aren't returned, so you could be pretty unpopular! You'll probably be asked to do call ins, the stylist will tell you what the theme of the shoot is, and then you will call PR's and ask them to send in certain outfits or items, perhaps you'll be asked to hunt down a jacket a celebrity was seen wearing, the PR's are generally very helpful (if it isn't a friday afternoon) as they want their brand published as much as you want their clothes. If you are lucky enough to go on a shoot, which is great great fun, make sure you note down all of the outfifts, where each item is from and how much it is, you'll probably be expected to compile credits from the shoot.

Lastly, and as my experience showed me, remember you are working for free. Legally you should only do 4 weeks for free and if you're expected to work certain hours and complete certain tasks you should be paid, sorry but this doesn't happen, but don't compromise your integrity. If you are not enjoying your placement, tell someone, anyone, and if they don't want to listen, then leave! It's work experience not a jail sentence. There are horror stories, but from the majority of people I know who've undertaken placements, they are rare, and the placements I have done have been fantastic, great fun and I have met some great people. Most importantly they teach you a lot, and are priceless experience.

Welcome

2008-10-29T08:07:00.000-07:00

Welcome to what's occurring, a general blog on fashion, life and the perils of trying to enter the weird world of fashion journalism. You join me 4 months on from finishing my Journalism degree, 4 years after beginning a fashion degree and many years after the beginning of my aspirations to write about fashion. If you are thinking of entering the fashion world, then get ready for some knock backs and prepare to meet some of the most pretentious idiots you are ever likely to encounter. However, 9 times out of 10 the people you'll meet will be kind and generous and the freebies you receive a welcome reward for working full time for free!!!

Speak soon ...