SUPERACUTELY

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.