Wednesday, 2 December 2009
Sunday, 22 November 2009
horrif
being a team edward, team vampire kinda gal, my thoughts turn fairly frequently to the horrific. making friends with six half-grown kittens while barely legal on strongbow made me feel kinda gothic the other night. it was a beautiful moment.
then the next day my housemate was looking at jobs. then i started looking at jobs. then i did the whole google: 'i-D internship', 'nme internship', 'dazed internship'. cos i really want to work for those magazines, don't i? or, actually no wait, let me rephrase that. i want to work for those magazines without having to do the wanky student newspaper thang. which i've done, and which just bores me to tears. really not keen on prostituting myself to what the 3rd hockey team's been up to, or which topshop-clad 'trendsetter' is stalking campus.
okay, so i've ruled out the horrific option of prostituting myself to university-supplied pseudo work experience in order that i can say that i've got something 'in print' on my cv. for that read, 'it's in print framed on my grandparents' wall and wrapping the chips of hundreds of hyde park residents right now'. so, well, let's cut out the middle man and start an e-zine. you know, one of those where the people who run them get famous in super-small circles, and get quoted by hanna hanra and that's about it.
hey, wait a sec, i'll start a blog. because of course i'll set the world on fire. because i'm so different? because i've got one of those fringes? because i hang with the cool kids who make their own e-zines with features on 'cool' bands who are actually just their mates who play down the local pub twice a month? maybe it's not for me, espesh as i don't have one of those fringes, i don't hang with the cool kids, and i'm about to go and cheer olly on in the x factor on telly.
so, um, can i just, like, get successful without trying? because at the moment all i know is i spend a considerable amount of my reading time thinking how i could probably have just as good a stab at current fashion/music/art hybrid journalism, it's just that i don't fancy being proactive enough to stand the smallest chance of getting there. and i know someone who did an internship at the nme, and she made tea for a week. and that's it.
then the next day my housemate was looking at jobs. then i started looking at jobs. then i did the whole google: 'i-D internship', 'nme internship', 'dazed internship'. cos i really want to work for those magazines, don't i? or, actually no wait, let me rephrase that. i want to work for those magazines without having to do the wanky student newspaper thang. which i've done, and which just bores me to tears. really not keen on prostituting myself to what the 3rd hockey team's been up to, or which topshop-clad 'trendsetter' is stalking campus.
okay, so i've ruled out the horrific option of prostituting myself to university-supplied pseudo work experience in order that i can say that i've got something 'in print' on my cv. for that read, 'it's in print framed on my grandparents' wall and wrapping the chips of hundreds of hyde park residents right now'. so, well, let's cut out the middle man and start an e-zine. you know, one of those where the people who run them get famous in super-small circles, and get quoted by hanna hanra and that's about it.
hey, wait a sec, i'll start a blog. because of course i'll set the world on fire. because i'm so different? because i've got one of those fringes? because i hang with the cool kids who make their own e-zines with features on 'cool' bands who are actually just their mates who play down the local pub twice a month? maybe it's not for me, espesh as i don't have one of those fringes, i don't hang with the cool kids, and i'm about to go and cheer olly on in the x factor on telly.
so, um, can i just, like, get successful without trying? because at the moment all i know is i spend a considerable amount of my reading time thinking how i could probably have just as good a stab at current fashion/music/art hybrid journalism, it's just that i don't fancy being proactive enough to stand the smallest chance of getting there. and i know someone who did an internship at the nme, and she made tea for a week. and that's it.
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
so, here i am, a few months later, writing from the Basement.
we've flown the nest, and as far as i know it's been gutted and redecorated, so it'll be our nest forever. which is a lovely thought.
sitting here at the end of the tunnel, three essays behind me, is a pretty sweet feeling. now it comes to planning where to go, what to wear and who to see.. starting tomorrow with CONTROL part II, which is at cockpit (always a good start) and features my lovely friend matthew, otherwise known as Monsieur, dj purveyor of all that is disco, boogie and proto-house. he ALWAYS plays me diana ross, and he always gives a bloody good show. good show!
the basement is starting to look like home too, since i put up a curtain. thank god for pulling eversoslightly too hard on the disgusting office blind on the window. it was spoiling my decor, which is mostly polaroid-and-painting based. i've got the lovely joy division next to my lovely wardrobe. it's pretty much perfect.
it's time to go for drinks near THAT house now. let's hope the view through the bar window is as tasty as the cheapskate £2.50 fake-tail i already know i'm having.
we've flown the nest, and as far as i know it's been gutted and redecorated, so it'll be our nest forever. which is a lovely thought.
sitting here at the end of the tunnel, three essays behind me, is a pretty sweet feeling. now it comes to planning where to go, what to wear and who to see.. starting tomorrow with CONTROL part II, which is at cockpit (always a good start) and features my lovely friend matthew, otherwise known as Monsieur, dj purveyor of all that is disco, boogie and proto-house. he ALWAYS plays me diana ross, and he always gives a bloody good show. good show!
the basement is starting to look like home too, since i put up a curtain. thank god for pulling eversoslightly too hard on the disgusting office blind on the window. it was spoiling my decor, which is mostly polaroid-and-painting based. i've got the lovely joy division next to my lovely wardrobe. it's pretty much perfect.
it's time to go for drinks near THAT house now. let's hope the view through the bar window is as tasty as the cheapskate £2.50 fake-tail i already know i'm having.
Monday, 25 May 2009
hatching the nest
I am in the Love Nest listening to Gilmore Girls through the walls. Such is life in the Love Nest, the fourth floor eyrie of my current student house in Leeds. Recently it's been more of a Love-Flown-The-Nest, as the third bird has been nesting in Ghana on exchange, doing good deeds in international development, though I really couldn't say what those deeds were, and it has been left to Little One and me to gather the twigs.
Saying all this, we live in a pretty loose interpretation of a Love Nest, since we're both chronically untidy and spend a lot of the time arguing about who does the washing up, but that's what makes the nights in watching Spirited Away with a double-strength Capirinha even more satisfying. Little One isn't little in any sense of the word, being 5 inches taller and 3 months older than me, but it's a fitting description for the girl who wants nothing more than to live inside the DVD box of High School Musical.
This oddly-feathered nest is where I'll be writing from for about the next two months, before I move to The Basement, a room with a triple wardrobe and not a lotta sunlight. The former, obviously, mitigates the latter. Pale is in though, right? I've had my factor 50 at the ready for about the last month, and only got a chance to crack it out yesterday, missed a bit, and now I've got a red line down my back (short arms, clearly). The Basement will hopefully offer me ample opportunity to cultivate a pallor second only to the lovely Dita, while at the same time offering me the opportunity to let my too-many clothes breathe, suffocated as they are in this room by lack of space.
Watching the Sex and the City film the other day, though, made me glad of my restricted wardrobe room. Now don't get me wrong, I love my clothes, and I love acquiring new ones, but I think if I had that wardrobe he builds her on Fifth Avenue, I'd feel a pressure to shop to fill it, a kind of "must fill all gaps" mentality which would cause havoc with my bank balance, and I'd probably end up with 'space filler' clothes, which will never be loved or worn enough to justify the outlay. Economically, a smaller wardrobe is a lifesaver, as the thought runs first to "oh that's GORGEOUS!" but then there's the inevitable "where's it gonna fit?!" which has saved me from at least two net-filled dresses of late, though this doesn't stop me wanting to dress like the bastard child of Marilyn Manson and Margot Fonteyn. It's all in the volume balanced with the amount of skin on show. I have an extremely detailed Theory of Balance when it comes to clothes, which would put Gok, Trinny, Susannah and that terrifying blonde woman with the scalpel out of a whole lot of work (as I remind the housemates every time Gok gets it horribly wrong).
So there's the first touchy-feely post down. Who, what, when, where and why haven't exactly been addressed but I have touchy-felt upon fashion, which is my number one love, and by way of parting shot, here's my I HEART for the day: the beautiful Jack Penate, one of the only boys who can look good in a baseball cap. Amen.
Saying all this, we live in a pretty loose interpretation of a Love Nest, since we're both chronically untidy and spend a lot of the time arguing about who does the washing up, but that's what makes the nights in watching Spirited Away with a double-strength Capirinha even more satisfying. Little One isn't little in any sense of the word, being 5 inches taller and 3 months older than me, but it's a fitting description for the girl who wants nothing more than to live inside the DVD box of High School Musical.
This oddly-feathered nest is where I'll be writing from for about the next two months, before I move to The Basement, a room with a triple wardrobe and not a lotta sunlight. The former, obviously, mitigates the latter. Pale is in though, right? I've had my factor 50 at the ready for about the last month, and only got a chance to crack it out yesterday, missed a bit, and now I've got a red line down my back (short arms, clearly). The Basement will hopefully offer me ample opportunity to cultivate a pallor second only to the lovely Dita, while at the same time offering me the opportunity to let my too-many clothes breathe, suffocated as they are in this room by lack of space.
Watching the Sex and the City film the other day, though, made me glad of my restricted wardrobe room. Now don't get me wrong, I love my clothes, and I love acquiring new ones, but I think if I had that wardrobe he builds her on Fifth Avenue, I'd feel a pressure to shop to fill it, a kind of "must fill all gaps" mentality which would cause havoc with my bank balance, and I'd probably end up with 'space filler' clothes, which will never be loved or worn enough to justify the outlay. Economically, a smaller wardrobe is a lifesaver, as the thought runs first to "oh that's GORGEOUS!" but then there's the inevitable "where's it gonna fit?!" which has saved me from at least two net-filled dresses of late, though this doesn't stop me wanting to dress like the bastard child of Marilyn Manson and Margot Fonteyn. It's all in the volume balanced with the amount of skin on show. I have an extremely detailed Theory of Balance when it comes to clothes, which would put Gok, Trinny, Susannah and that terrifying blonde woman with the scalpel out of a whole lot of work (as I remind the housemates every time Gok gets it horribly wrong).
So there's the first touchy-feely post down. Who, what, when, where and why haven't exactly been addressed but I have touchy-felt upon fashion, which is my number one love, and by way of parting shot, here's my I HEART for the day: the beautiful Jack Penate, one of the only boys who can look good in a baseball cap. Amen.
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