I've just finished eating up August Vogue. It tasted like steak and mushroom pie in a smokey-oak pub whilst wearing as many woolen things as possible. Its this sort of time during summer when I am completely content, but occasionally, whilst lying in the garden or on a wander, I let myself think about wearing thick socks, sitting in front of fires and eating a lot of soup.
Winter welcomes the return of classics like trench coats, tailoring and tweed with open cable knitted arms. Summer is a bit of a slut in that respect. She doesn't have long, meaningful relationships with her wardrobe, taking her wool coats to dry cleaners or protecting jumpers from moths. She buys viscose maxi dresses from primark, wears them with a giant brown plastic belt slung round the hips and then throws it away at the end of August. This year, Trend has been affecting Brighton like never before.
This newly developed strain of the Trend virus has been quietly mutating since about last July. It doesn't survive the winter well, but once the temperature creeps up it begins to infect the vulnerable (people who get their legs out at the first hint of March sunshine) and the symptoms start to appear in early July.
The main indication that someone is infected is if they are decked out in full current-New-Look-window-must-haves regardless of whether it looks good or not. Examples this year is a studded and or cuffed gladiator sandal paired with brain scrambling printed tiered maxi dress, wide belt (ergh), cropped denim jacket and some kind of hair accessory.
The cure? Pry copies of Look/More/New/Now/Style from their fingers, and maybe set up some kind of NHS emergency phone line for advice. The lady with the kind voice on the other end of the phone will tell you to drink plenty of fluids and to please stay inside. It's very contagious.
Wednesday, 7 July 2010
A little bite of Amsterdam. Filming anything and everything. I tried not to use cliched backing music, but I think 'Tulips of Amsterdam' is going to make a comeback so I thought I'd get in with it quickly. Afternoons spent having tea and cake, evenings serenaded by accordion playing restaurant owners, climbing trees in vondlepark and wondering who was going to fall off their bike first.
The artist shop where Van Gogh probably bought his paints and pastels. Dutch doing green grocer ads. They do it nicely. Amsterdam supermarket equivalent. Is it right to want to buy food just for the labels? BREAKFAST. little bench friends.
Sunday, 4 July 2010
As a first time Mac buyer and still feeling very much in love with my 5 month old computer (aka Mr Macbook) I've rarely let him out of my sight. This is all well and good but it means I have had to transport it to and from University. Luckily, for convenience and aesthetics, it fit nicely in my lovely vintage basket that I bought from a flea market a couple of weeks before. Perfect! So everything was happy and Mr macbook and I were a bit like newly-weds, I'd trot back and forth from uni with a smile on my face and my basket in hand.
One week in, and the trot had turned into a heave and the smile had turned into the biggest grimace you've ever seen in your life. Honestly. You coudn't see my face for grimace. As the weather got hotter, the layers grew thinner, and soon, the lovely vintage wicker-basket handle was creating an imprint of its weave into my shoulder. I padded the silly handle out with a scarf and soldiered on. I was not the only mac user in the world. Man up.
All the self motivation thinking at myself didn't work. The basket was discarded to its new home by the front door and I carried my mac around in a cotton shopper. My shoulder looked like it had been exposed to african sun and then scrubbed a bit with a loufah.
So I asked about. How do you carry your mac to uni? Oh I have a rucksack. Blergh. A Rucksack? I'm child sized anyway so if I carried a rucksack about I'd either look like a mature child trying to break into Brighton University graphics studio or a foreign student. Neither was appealing. So I ignored everyone else's advice and went and bought an 'over the shoulder' bag from H&M. Vintage/Satchel/Army ish, with a nice buckle in the middle to adjust the strap. It sort of worked actually. Until I ran for the train and the nice buckle broke...with the macbook inside. Gulp.
One £200 bill for fixing the charging unit later (H&M you owe me £200 damages £200 emotional trauma compensation) the over the shoudler bag was basically spat on in rejection and the last resort was dragged out from under the bed. The dusty black sports rucksack decorated with cobwebs and an umbro label.
This wouldn't do. Even French Students had rucksacks from Quicksilver or Roxy. I was standing on the bottom rung of the ladder of respectable rucksack brands. So I did what I knew best and bought something which looked vagely attractive for 99p off ebay and crossed my fingers. Luckily it arrived complete with maroon plaid and tan leather detailing. Ok so it was't padded, and I do have a bruise in the small of my back from where the macbook hits my spine every time I take a step forward, but at least it came at the same time as Vogue fashion editors decided it was time to scrape their own dusty black umbro rucksack equivilients out from under their beds.