Bèbè

What a splendid time for a little late night post! After a hard days labour back in the cheeky little city of London, running many an errand and venturing into the abyss of soy chai tea latte addiction, its bed and bath time for this home bird. Thankfully, i've been the recipricant of some fantastic sleep advice, which in turn is slowly beginning to reverse my habit of insomnia. Sunday nights have always been the most disappointing in the slumber sense, so I suppose the proof will be in the bowl of monday morning Bran Flakes and banana. 

Nevertheless, I felt it apt to unearth yet another ailment of mine - my blasted astigmatism. Although the upside of having one squashed eye is the prospect of a new set of specs, hence the possibly passé Raybans. What the heck, I think they're cool for the time being. I usually plump for a dainty frame in order for them to sort of merge into my disturbingly loud and obscure features that are usually fighting each other for space on my face, now however, what comes with age is wisdom and a sense for not really giving a toss about ones nose to eyes to mouth ratio. 

My outfit to epitomise the coming year. Thigh High Boots and a little Topshop playsuit in a crazy little floral pattern with long sleeves and an open back. Not bad at all for five squid sales bargain. Please, I beg of someone, anyone, to take me anywhere on Valentines night, for the sole purpose only to wear my lovely little suit. :(

In other news, found a cross, decided to wear it.

Oh yeah and I'm gonna bring back leopard print. In a non-ironic, poetic sense. WIZZAR!!

Dolce and Gabbana. Leather. Christmas present. Redeemed my faith in the season of terror! Surprisingly difficult to wear without looking like a two-bit hooker. Well, if you're going to get wet...

...you might aswell go swimming. Sorry. Couldn't leave it at such a disturbing innuendo climax.

I really cannot get enough of Micheal Roux Jr. Is it the eyes? The French? The Omelette Rothschild? Good God! He's just an all round naughty boy.

Still have yet to develop one iota of knowledge regarding the new camera. And I really don't care.

Those I regard as friends will know that I have yet to and most likely will never get my ears pierced. Generally I think it's charming to keep at least one thing about yourself pure and unspoiled, plus I think it looks particularly elegant on occasion, and also lends itself to many a talking point. However, I lament the fact I cannot wear a divine pair of pearls with a black cashmere sweater. I abhor the fact my ears have to go unadorned whilst wearing a strapless gown. That is until I received this incredible set of vintage 1920's clip on earrings from my Grandmother for Christmas. I have since taken it upon myself to collect and archive of vintage clips, also acquiring a pair of pink pears today in a tiny little dive store in Shoreditch. Its my aim to research some fabulous classic designs and perhaps even begin to make them myself! For all those other long suffering ladies who've a pair of lonely lobes!

PS Angel A owns

Cooking and eating to surfeited collapse

http://brandoesq.blogspot.com/2009/12/cookies-and-cream-ice-cream-pie.html

The brains behind the blog Kuidaore, one of my daily (if not hourly) views, truly has surpassed herself once again with the most divine idea. I can't wait until my sisters birthday in March so I can test drive this baby. Essentially an Oreo and Cookies and Cream pie/cake/cheesecake/piecheesecake of some description. I have never been more transfixed and enticed by a picture in my entire life, which says a lot for my so called gourmet superiority complex.

Compared to her archive of exquisite pastries, this months edition seems somewhat butch. An idea that instructs you to look directly down your nose as soon as you hear about it. But please, hold all judgement and pre-conceived ideas and let your eyes linger upon this valhalla of chocolatey biscuity ice-creamy hedonism. Those of a nervous disposition look away now. Those of a sweet disposition, hold onto something. 

Oh forgive me Father, I have well and truly sinned!

Frivolity and cookies and cream is what we need in this barren, emaciated, purged time of year we call January. Why is it considered vulgar to continue the indulgence post Boxing Day? I'm having none of it. Balance is power, have this tart for a bracing breakfast and it'll be sure to keep you going until supper. 

I've been trying to wrack my brains for an alternative combination, however this does seem the most intense combination. Damn I love an Oreo, especially those tiny Lolita Oreos. It's one of those deserts that demands very little manpower with dangerous results. I think I'd cry if someone made this for me. But then again, I am one to weep over a Laduree Macaron (thankyou, Paris Breakfasts). I pondered my gelato of choice, and thought - Praline? A beautiful brittle almond base, swathed in a crown of Haagan Dazs finest. Jammy Dodger??? I think that may be a pipe dream too far. 

Pre Christmas

The workings of my final piece at St Martins. I've got a little thing for Viktor and Rolf ruffles right now. The lady to the right was possibly the most incredible and inspiring designers I have ever met. I guess she'll never know.

Found this picture in a lookbook, ripped it out, no idea who the designer is. Hangs on my wall now. Love the trashiness and movement.

I'm never usually a fan of the Kate Moss Topshop collections, especially this bizarre attempt at emulating the Orient in tacky silk mini skirts and such. I suppose it's something new for now, but perhaps that isn't always a good thing when it comes to mainstream fashion. But hey, I'm a sucker for the Buy Before it Goes section! Perfect size, perfect length for heels. Black is timeless, I'm just hoping the delicate sequined casing will stand the test of time. I can't wait for an opportunity to road test this beauty. Not fashion forward, just a great cut, which tends to speak volumes without the wearer having to say a thing. I'd rough it up with my little H + M leather jacket, although i'm beginning to think the leather on anything trend is a little monotonous. What ever happened to thought going into picking separates? More to the point, what happened to colour coding?! I think its the current Dior advertisement with the women donning scarlet nails, lips and dress. I think it epitomizes aristocratic sex appeal.

A homage to Central St Martins lavatory art

I did a course on Fashion Design and Management before Christmas at Central St Martins Charing Cross site in London. An incredible learning experienced, I can't wait to start the new schooling year down in the town, hopefully either there or at LCF. Anyhow, I was in London - ALONE - for a week. A bizarre time was had; lone diners, walkers and drinkers seem to attract the utmost excitement. I came home with tales of getting tragically stranded in the snow in the wee hours of the morning in Tottenham whilst I was supposed to be residing in Covent Garden, meeting a couple of Yacht salesmen from the Hamptons whilst dining on steak frites at Mon Plasier and ending the night in a gay club opposite my hotel. 

Anyway, second day of the course and a luncheon date down, I decided to photograph the etchings on the walls of the lavs in the college. I found them deceptively inspiring. I think I should do a book or at least a blog dedicated to the weirdness one comes across cubicle-bound. 

LONG TIMES.

I'd like to introduce the original author of Superacutely, a somewhat wiser, perhaps mildly more worldly, and debatably happier version of the embodiment of the previous posts' psyche.

I quote our literacy oracle, LUXIRARE, when I implore that technology has the satanic power to make the masses more conscious, anxious, and damn right more feeble than we already are. It's girl and guy trouble multiplied by infinity, no wonder it's break-up season. As if the world isn't tough enough  on an impressionable youth without having to worry about someone you never truly knew(yet incessantly scour their photos and newsfeed). Boring. Give me something new. I've decided to allow myself access to my blog, not only for the fact I have come to regret pounding my dear mother with my opinions on the fact that we'll be wearing orange this summer or to forego faux altogether when it comes to animal products. BBM also will hold a small place in my palm. That I can just about handle right now. But Facebook? Avoid it for a couple of weeks and come back and tell me how you feel. You'll be self-righteously lecturing those too on the prospect of a more fulfilling life! Aha, much better advice than my disgustingly naively positive outlook in my previous post. Lets just say that by christmas, my outlook on life had naturally shifted. I hope that 2010 is a year for self-preservation for everyone, we must always keep our closest close; however, look after the relationship you have with yourself, it's the one that will carry you through to the end. If you can't get on with yourself then who can you? And another one more lecture to myself before I verge into mummy territory - Don't EVER stray to anothers beliefs because you think it will enrich your own life. It most likely will not. And first impressions are usually right. Oh, and don't fight to be someone's 'friend'. You are young! Concentrate on what is important to you right now, you will reap the benefits in the near future. The touch times are only there to make us appreciate the good. So get ready for that good. DANG! 

These are the lessons I will learn this year. Apologies if that was a tad cryptic and tortured for this early on in January, but I just suffered a mild epiphany.

Normal service has resumed, back to the news!

Just before Christmas I had the opportunity to model for Young Ideas and Chopard at Chatsworth House for a jewelry showcase for customers and the prospective. What a crazy honor, the rocks where incredible as were the rags - as per, Y.I. outdid themselves again with the collection, specializing in the most gorgeous evening wear (above, Moschino backless gown - I NEVER EVER WANTED TO TAKE THIS OFF. It was an Audrey Hepburn moment. I really hope I get a few more of these!) and my Paul Smith floral coat which has since become my staple at the shows. We had to change every quarter of an hour in a little back tent, froze my backside off, but to be doused in the most exquisite jewels was more than worth it. At one point we racked up my get-ups net worth at around £50,000. Casual.

It fit like a glove, a defining moment in tailoring I can tell you. I never get that, the waist is always too large and the ass too small on any item of clothing. The price one pays for a booty. Although I could just spend my days wearing Moschino couture I suppose! All I need is my Milano palazzo and a little black spaniel. 

We had lovely suited escorts to lead us through the night (who's aim seemed to be bagging a Breitling or an IWC with a leather strap to wear through the night). They had a diamond lucky dip! Possibly the most decadent marketing ploy, I want one at my 50th. A fiver for a fumble in a large glass box filled with candyfloss snow, each secreted with five tiny diamonds. We decided that between the group of us, if anyone found one, we would propose to our respective partners. All I can say on that little nugget is 'thank God for Karma!'.

I have another coming up in a few weeks, hopefully with some lovely spring/summer wears to share.

Another exciting venture is under wraps at the minute, I am involved in a little project in London of which I will divulge more when the time is neigh. All I can really say is it involved a SERIOUS amount of calorie counting over christmas, a feat of which I would wish on absolutely nil of Gods creatures. I think only half a mince pie was allowed. Woe of woes. 

I cannot WAIT to indulge, as soon as it is humanely possible I'm enlisting mother dearest to make a vat of Linguine alla vongole complete with bread dripping with garlic butter and I'm hopping down to Maccy's for a Royale with cheese baby.

Farewell.