THE LBD: AN EDUCATION

The little black dress is an item of clothing that unites all women in style. It is the epitome of staple-dom, and a steadfast 'fix-it' item for any and every impromptu fashion dilemma. 

The little white dress tried to get a look in over the summer months but the longevity just wasn't there (forget cost per wear, the ratio of concern is 'wear vs wash' - obviously black overrules white in this ongoing rivalry). The ubiquitous LBD was deemed 'a uniform for all women of taste' by Vogue in the 1920's and has since become somewhat of a cult classic with Chanel bringing the LBD to the masses whilst Hollywood embraced it's mysterious/sexy/polished/femme fatale qualities in numerous films (e.g. Holly Golightly's chic LBD and pearl set in Breakfast At Tiffany's & Marilyn Monroe in 'The Asphalt Jungle').

(The iconic image that a million women have tried to emulate)

However, all of this had no effect on the Boyfriend as I tried to convince him of the LBD's necessity to my closet's well-being; plus he'd never heard of 'Breakfast At Tiffany's' - it pained me to type that. Selecting Christmas presents with your loved ones remains a place of contention. They plead for you to 'help them out' and select a few items - 'to make a list' - only for them to  nitpick over everything you've chosen. Your preference doesn't matter. But I thought, "not this time pal!" 

Versatility doesn't translate into the male lexicon it would seem. Whether he thought I was exaggerating the potential outfit possibilities of the LBD I'm not sure, but after a quick google search to back up - what he considered to be my postulations - the dress was bought. In spite of this however, he continued to question the place of the LBD in my wardrobe. Did I need it? What shoes would I wear with it? How would I style it? This last one irritated me to breaking point. Was he fishing for further gift ideas? Or was this an affront to my styling capabilities? I couldn't be sure either way. 

(Casual dressing down to a T - or should I say, LBD?!)

I can kinda see his lack of understanding. In man land the closest thing to the LBD is erm, clean underwear? In that every man should own at least one but that doesn't necessarily mean that they do. I guess you could say that what the LBD does for female fashion, fresh underwear does for male cleanliness. However, I digress… 

(Monroe, exposing her lesser known asset…)

The only resolution I figured, was a show and tell, so I took to polyvore to bring my LBD to life, going from night to day - and hopefully putting this issue to bed. The *intended* lesson here: LBD's rule! 

The Day Time Look

(Dress: Zara; Jumper: La Garçonne; Jacket: modekungen; Hat: Vans; Sunglasses: Net-A-Porter; Backpack: Mulberry; Shoes: Superga; Necklace: Pink Mascara)

Keeping it casual in neutral colours; offset with warm reds, dark teal suede and layers galore & Nothing says 'off-duty' like a contradictory woolly hat and shades combination.

The Night Time Look

(Dress: Zara; Jacket: Moschino; Heels: Valentino; Clutch: Poppy Lissiman; All Jewellery: House Of Harlow 1960)

Amping it up with a slinky pair of heels and fun accessories - because nothing says 'night on the town' quite like red, orange and green. Are you with me? There's nothing like a colour clash to lift an LBD!

I plan to leave my computer casually lying around in his company; open on this very page and hope that this becomes the catalyst for his indoctrination education into the realm all things fashion - dahling. Will it work? Who knows but my back up plan is to play 'Coco Before Chanel' on repeat while he sleeps and hope that seeps into his subconscious. Watch this space. 

(Images Via: lovelyish.com, atelierblog.com, vogue.fr, lamodelmafia.com & Pinterest)

WHAT TO WEAR WHEN...

…YOU'VE GOT A SPOT

(Flaunt it if you've got it. Hide it if you don't)

Sometimes life happens, stress builds, hormones interfere and the stars align to really screw you over. 

As luck would have it I'm actually living through the aftermath of this right now. I'd like to say that I took it on the chin but I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. You see the consequences of the aforementioned fucking nightmare have manifested themselves upon my chin. The old 'mountain out of a molehill' has no place in this scenario, as I am in fact currently attached to what is essentially an extra limb, a bullseye, a spot. But I don't feel like this surmises the magnitude of the issue properly. If it continues to grow at this rapid pace, I'd estimate that it will be self sufficient in about two days. Am I being too graphic? Good. Now you have an inkling as to what I've been going through. As least I'll have someone to keep me company whilst I watch 'Made In Chelsea'…  

I've now started introducing myself with an apology; just to clarify that I am in fact fully aware of what's going on down south of my mouth and yet I'm still brave enough to leave the house. (FYI: I'm imminently awaiting the arrival of my balaclava). My mother keeps listing the benefits of water but I'm afraid drowning the thing won't work. 

I woke up this morning and I thought bugger it. I can't camouflage the damn thing and I can't think of a disguise inconspicuous enough - the last thing I want is to attract more attention or potentially get arrested. I was left with little more than my trusty cover up and the sacred cavern that is my wardrobe. I thought about carrying a guitar around with me but figured that was a tad emo kid - and with my MySpace account having been deactivated a looong time ago, I felt that my therefore undocumented efforts would be a total waste of my imaginary  natural talents.  

(Ahh the polo neck; a wardrobe saviour. Every time)

When in doubt, some people dance it out. I however, see clothing as my saviour. I started with the lipstick, which is a rarity, but I had to do something to distract myself from my beacon-like chin. I steered clear of my usual red shade - coordinating your lips and cheeks is de rigueur but not so much matching them with your acne… Next I did the 'logical' thing and went straight to the shoes. I wanted to keep attention below chin-level; short of a self-inflicted camel toe, attention grabbing footwear was my only option - not that that was too much of a chore mind you! I chose a pair of red, crushed velvet, cross strapped wedge booties. I figured the description alone would divert their attention long enough for me to scarper if needed. I - rather festively - paired them with my bottle green trousers, replete with zipper ankle detail. The potential adjustment of these would offer an invaluable reason for ducking and ultimately never reappearing again. 

I then went in search of a top. Things were getting that desperate that I actually debated going topless, but does a pimple really warrant such a display of indecent exposure? Or worse, potential pneumonia? Perhaps I need to reassess my priorities… After much thought I decided that the answer to both was probably not. A white top was thus chosen and involved a Bugs Bunny motif front and centre because everyone loves Bugs Bunny, right? RIGHT?! Throw in a couple of 'what's up doc?' and maybe have a carrot prop to hand and it would all be gravy. (I don't get that phrase either.) I accessorised with a thick gold link chain necklace - my thinking being that when worn in fluorescent lighting it would have a blinding effect to onlookers. Crafty ey?!

(A magpie's dream)

I added an array of bracelets in the hope that the delicate jingle jangle would have the same distraction effect as a rattle with a child. And I will unashamedly admit that I was fully prepared to cry 'RATTLE SNAKE!!!' if it became necessary to do so. The resultant outfit was somewhat reminiscent of a Christmas tree but I'd take that over being compared to an upside-down cyclops any day! 

(Lastly, laugh is off baby)

As with all traumatic occurrences in life, I have taken something away from this ghastly experience, and that is that next time (sods law is just too strong for this not to happen again) I will forget all of this rigmarole and simply tell any gawkers to, talk to the spot. Possibly paired with a hand gesture for good luck!

(Images via: the manreperller, Pinterest & my own) 

WHITE TIME, WHITE PLACE

I'm trying out this thing called saving at the moment. I'm wavering between steadfast stinginess and outright extravagance (a recent panic buy resulted in last minute tickets to see John Bishop - Boyfriend's bday snuck up on me unannounced this year shall we say…) Yes I agree, it's an odd time of year to pack away my pennies but I often find myself in such backwards situations (e.g. dying my hair blonde for Winter). These predicaments are of my own making and I take full responsibility, but God, it sucks sometimes - especially during this festive season. I wouldn't necessarily call it Christmas on a budget, I'm just choosing to forget my purse - a lot. 

(Type A: The slouch fit.

Image: Nellie P via Pinterest)

Isn't it weird that as soon as you turn your back on consumerism, the only thing on your mind is buying stuff? And stuff of any variety at that. I am inundated with bags, shoes, jewellery, let's not even start on clothes… I am fully aware that I don't need anything, my propensity for acquiring new stuff is purely materialistic. Despite my childish yearnings, so far the rationalist in me has won out. I turned down what is probably the bargain of the century today when I walked away from a Karl Lagerfeld bag that was discounted from £549.00 to £149.99. I also found a Ralph Lauren red puffa jacket, complete with leopard print collar for £48.00, I tried it on then promptly put it back. Lets just say the speed at which I walked out of the store could have led me to be mistaken for a common place thief. How come this stuff never happens on pay day? 

(Type B: The classic cut.

Image: Bacillō via Pinterest)

However, what I find myself completely incapable of leaving behind is a classic white tee. My will power is tested to the point where my resilience is non-existent. To say that I have 'a variety' would be an understatement. My wardrobe is more a curation of the perfect white t-shirt, in all it's many varieties. Yes, they're all white but that's where the similarities end. The fit, the shape, the slouch. Some drape, some dip low, some are oversized, some are fitted - it's a staple for every woman and girl alike - heck even guys look good in them!

(Type C: The oversized/cuff combo.

Image: Fann Weichin)

However, even whilst typing this I'm not sure that I'm even one hundred percent convinced that I really need them all... So when it comes to explaining to the Boyfriend why I broke my 'no shopping' rule merely for the sake of a plain white t-shirt, his confusion is almost palpable and it's contagious. I start to doubt their worth. Do they each deserve a place in the metaphorical wall of fame that is my closet? I pull them out, try them on, dance around. It just feels so right. None of them are in themselves particularly special but the blank canvas possibilities that each offer are truly inspiring. They go with anything, can go with me anywhere, it's the perfect piece - I guess that's why it's a classic ey?

Whether my boyfriend will ever understand this, remains to be seen. Maybe if I bombard him with enough iterations of the timeless staple he'll slowly become indoctrinated? Whatever his proclivities, I will remain resolute in my love affair with the plain white tee. I declare myself indissoluble on this issue, so I'm officially waving my white t-shirt in the face of all those who snub the staple; not as a sign of resignation but of defiance. 

Who said that white was bland anyway?!   

HAPPY MONDAY ?

As the question mark to this post would suggest, I'm really not sure if my monday was a happy one or not... 

(Kicking Monday in the face)

It was more a blur than anything. A sleepless night, broken by my alarm yanking me out of my restless slumber (it was the Pogues so it softened the blow. Marginally.) Rolled out of bed to find my dressing gown wound around my neck (Final Destination 'end of the world' theories ran through my bleary head. Near miss? Maybe I should be considering it my lucky day…) Missed breakfast, though managed to be early to work (a feat that never usually happens), plus I discovered what had been rattling around in my boot - a half bottle of vitamin water and a (now broken) slab of chocolate - the beauty of balance my friends.

Work flew - a rarity - and I only had one eff'd off customer which is always a bonus and FYI it totally was not my fault. The radio on the way home was pretty bleak, with not one of my jams coming on but then again no one cut me up so I can't complain… 

Spent the whole evening doing work, and got a surprising amount done. I think productive would be the word that best sums up my day. All around nothing to write home about - hence why I chose to write it on here… 

What I'm trying to get at is that it's hard to live by the mantra 'live each day like it's your last'. Sometimes the main priority is just to get through the day. Yeah it might be boring and it certainly isn't a filtered Instagram picture that would garner any popularity or 'likes'. But that's the thing, we're all so preoccupied with appearing a certain way and leading a certain life. I read the other day about people posing with Starbucks coffee cups minus the coffee; they didn't like coffee but wanted in on the 'coffee club'. 

(Life is a whirl & good hair doesn't hurt)

Have we really come to this? Is life merely worth living just to look aesthetically pleasing? What about those days when you look like shit, or bugger all happens, or you just can't be bothered? What happens then ey? Do you just cease living until the time it takes for you to reappear on social media? 

Embrace the mundane, because life is so changeable you never know when the mundane will reach the top of your 'most missed' list. 

Bask in the boring nuances of life. I've just made myself a cup of tea and I'm not even going to snap a pic, or write up a witty one liner about my #cupper. I'm just going to enjoy knowing that it's just me in this moment (and now you, you lucky folk eh!).    

YOUNG BLOOD AT CHRISTMAS

Young Blood by sophia2a 

I've always thought that red and black as a colour combo was a little bit of a  cliche. LBD offset with a crisp red pout, a leather jacket with a scarlet manicure peaking out of the sleeves. Timeless, yes but borderline tired, also yes. Maybe it was just my jaded inspiration of late and the fact that all things Christmas orientated have been shoved in our faces for the last too many months!

I didn't dislike the red/black thing in that I'd never dream of wearing the two together or anything, I just didn't gravitate towards them. And to be honest the above looks grew from the unlikeliest of places: a pair of Minnie Mouse ears. Yes. The infamous bow that sat atop the original Disney diva. Some thing's are timeless and Minnie has proved that a statement head piece is just that. So I figured that I'd rework the classic into something a little bit more, me, and here's what I came up with. 

Two outfits, one decidedly more casual than the other. I like the mix of sparkle and slouch, playing with opposites to create (in my opinion) what is one cohesive look. Business up top with a sheer, sequin blouse and functionality down bottom with a pair of leather sports shorts and trainers combo. And I'm really into the idea of tailored culottes paired with some killer booties - note the flourish of colour here to add a bit of whimsy to the sultry black/red palava. 

I'm definitely not opposed to wearing a bit of red at this seasonal time of year - though somewhat of a Christmas cliche it's definitely far from a fashion faux par, plus Christmas has a funny kinda way of removing any divide between the upper echelons of fashion's elite and us mere mortals (the uniting power of a tacky Christmas jumper, ey). However, saying this I won't be teaming my crimson ensembles with anything in the vicinity of green. I'd like to avoid being mistaken for a Christmas tree… If you'd like to hear more of my ramblings on Christmas dressing then check out the article I wrote for The Metropolist, 'T'is The Season Of The Unconventional'.  

I've just realised how un-Christmassy the title of this post is! Whilst blood and seasons greetings aren't the norm, it's red so I'll run with it.   

Alice Olivia black top
net-a-porter.com

Love Leather leather shorts
$590 - brownsfashion.com

Folk wide flare pants
$400 - coggles.com

Nicholas Kirkwood high heel boots
$420 - theoutnet.com

Isabel Marant black flat shoes
barneys.com

Matthew Williamson bead necklace
therealreal.com

Disney hair accessory
$16 - truffleshuffle.co.uk

Anna Sui black eyeliner
beauty.com

Bare Escentuals lip gloss
beauty.com

Bare Escentuals lip gloss
beauty.com

Bare Escentuals lip gloss
beauty.com

FAKE EYELASH FANDANGO: WHERE TO KEEP THEM ONCE THEY'VE BEEN WORN?

I like makeup as much as any girl. I go through phases where my procrastination of choice is actually watching makeup tutorials on YouTube. I vow to contour and buy a million different brushes to achieve 'the look' but then, well life gets in the way or I get distracted by something shiny and that is the indefinite end of that.

(Apparently this is the entire contents of Emma Watson's makeup bag. Why this should interest you, I'm not sure, but it's tidier than my makeup bag so her's wins out this time.)

I am however, a novice when it come to makeup application - hence my perusal of the aforementioned tutorials… I can just about fill my eyebrows in to a relative semblance of one another (remember they're not twins, they're sisters) and I consider this a huge feat. 

I'm pretty handy with a mascara wand too and with the right amount of smudging, I can create something in the region of a smokey eye. (Top tip: The more haphazard you are with your eyeliner application the more authentically Courtney Love-like your make-up will look; because who doesn't want to be a rockstar, right?!) 

(The ultimate lash lust has to go to the infamous Twiggy) 

With this in mind and the fact that my eyes resemble those of a cartoon character (describing them as rather large would be an understatement)I have never really bothered with fake eyelashes. On the one occasion that I did, the bloody things just annoyed me and the fear of them falling off was just too much for me to cope with. I have shunned them ever since. That is until I had my makeup done last Friday. The terror was written all across my face, leading the make-up artist to profusely reassure me that 'everything would be okay'. Turns out that having a professional on hand really does make a difference. 

(I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that my lashes didn't look like these…) 

For a whole day I felt like I was Jessica Rabbit, wearing the equivalent of a giraffe's neck in length above my eyes (I realise that this is a weird analogy but I'm going to run with it…) Night time fell and I knew we had to part ways, but I'd been told they could be re-used so I figured this was more 'see ya later' than  'adieu'. I sat at my dressing table and gave them one last flutter. Once removed, I realised that I hadn't thought this through. Where the hell was I to put them now? 

Here's what went through my head:

My Retainer Case: All I can say is that it was right in front of me, so it was a practical deduction. It might not be an explanation but it sure is a justification. However, the chances of accidentally swallowing one were just too high and I couldn't think of a sensible reason to explain to Boyfriend if this did in fact happen. NEXT!!

Glass Jar: With so many of these around the kitchen I thought that this was quite a logical idea. But the resemblance of these lashes to a spider really put me off. If faced with an RSPCA raid would my explanation fly? Doubt it. Moving on… 

Make-up Bag: If I thrust them into the abyss that is my make-up bag there's no actual guarantee that I'd see them again, making this a rather moot plan of action. 

Glasses Case: Anything with the word 'case' at the end became a possible vessel of rescue. I vetoed suitcase but glasses case seemed quite a viable choice. However, the chances of them sticking to my glasses lenses made me reconsider this option. All I needed to do was add an obnoxiously large nose and moustache and I could be mistaken for Mr Potato head. 

A Shelf: So this was my last thought on the matter. I could leave them to rest on a shelf. Although what with them being two miniature dust traps, this did leave me open to issues of cleanliness. Perhaps I can just blag the inevitable dust flecks off as glitter? It is the season of celebration after all… Just don't tell anyone. 

In all likelihood, I'll probably forget about them until I one day see them hanging out of my dog's mouth or stuck to the underside of my sock or something, but any suggestions are always welcome. Until then I'll stick to the familiar safety of my good ol' mascara.    

(Dear Father Christmas, Could I please have one of these this year to avoid reliving all of the hullaballoo as above mentioned? I'd be eternally grateful…)

(Pictures Via: Pinterest, adoreness.com, tumblr) 

20 THINGS I THINK WHILST WATCHING MADE IN CHELSEA

Some people think that watching TV does nothing but vegetate the mind. I however, am always amazed at my brain's ability to go into overdrive when stimulated by, what is essentially, naff TV - in this case the naff-est of them all: 'reality' TV. 

Call it my dirty little secret, my vice, my one indulgence or perhaps more aptly, a habit. Whatever you call it, I realise that I am in the minority of my social circle in that I still continue to watch Made In Chelsea. My compadre's gave up following this staged insight into the exclusive area code, but I recently rekindled my affinity for the posh-set and the Big Brother-like style of following their privileged lifestyles. 

Sometimes when I'm watching (alone) I really wish I had someone to compare notes with, so in lieu of this I thought I'd share my commentary with you all. Here's the 20 things I think about whilst watching MIC.

1 - Good job on the product placement disclaimer - like we need a reminder that it's all staged. 

2 - I wonder if Jamie rehearses his one liners? Yeah he definitely does. In front of the mirror.

3 - Could it just be a coincidence that the *well placed* hole in Andy's top is directly in the camera's view? An attempt to show that moths don't discriminate? 

4 - How big is Chelsea? It must be small considering the amount of accidental bumping's into one another - not to mention their inability to date outside of their friendship group.

5 - Is Alik sweet or annoying? 

6 - OMG defo annoying.

7 - Why would Louise turn up to a hair appointment with her hair looking suspiciously done? 

8 - Two Watsons: they're like the Chuckle Brothers crossed with the badass twin WWE Divas, Nikki & Brie (another reality show that I'm kinda obsessed with casually into).

9 - Wow forgot about Fran. 

10 - Her re-emergence does give me comfort that once off the show they are still in fact alive though.

11 - How come the guys have more voluminous hair than the girls?

12 - I can't stop looking at Louise's eyebrows…

13 - Apparently a peeled banana charm is the new wishbone in necklace decoration.

14 - Surely Mark's one liners are scripted? He's like a pun genius.

15 - How does Lucy know so much? Reckon she'd know the lottery numbers? Do wealthy folk do the lottery?!

16 - Stephanie Pratt has come a long way since the days of 'The Hills'. Wonder if she 'FML' every time she has to introduce herself. 

17 - Since when did guys become so open with their feelings?

18 - Ah the power of a bromance.

19 - 'One Chance Watson' should definitely be made into a slogan tee.

20 - I'm definitely not watching next week's episode… *said as I set the programmer to record*

If you're now totally enthralled by my ramblings and cannot wait to see firsthand what I'm actually referencing, you can catch up on 4od here. Go on. I won't judge.

  

(Images via: tumblr, wherediditallgorightblog.wordpress.com & isthiswhyimstillsingle.wordpress.com)