No light decision to go blonde..

Ok so as I've mentioned to you before, I've always been a brunette longing for blonde locks, and it was this week I decided it was time to do something about it. With the help of a highlighting kit from good old Asda, and the patience of my lovely housie Becki, we completed a transformation..

After several previous attempts at doing this through hairdressers and their pricey price lists, I honestly think this home kit is the best yet!

Hope you like :)

If its true when they say "Blondes have more fun" then I'm very much looking forward to the next few weeks!

Writers blog, and block

So it seems to be that time where I'm finding it impossible to do anything productive, apart from post to you guys. Its safe to say with all the work piling sky high and deadlines fast approaching that I STILL spend days staring out of the window, watching X factor and tidying my room - all to avoid putting pen to paper and getting on with it.

It's understandable really, what with the festive season upon us when all we want to do is go shopping and get into the spirit of hopefully a white Christmas, (I say "we" for some small reassurance that I am not the only one struggling with writers block??)

However, this being said, I did manage to be constructive enough to do a shoot for magazine photography the other day. Here's some shots of the beautiful Josie..

Location Shoot -

Portrait and Fashion Shoot -

Hope you liiiiiike :)

‘The diary of an unlucky charm’

Firstly, I’d like to dedicate this post to three girls, as without their reckless antics to accompany my own, this post would not have been possible - they know exactly who they are! They say bad things happen in threes.. or in our case, thirty threes perhaps?

Secondly, this is for the reader who believes luck is never on their side, that they are the only ones that seem to endure a number of misfortunes one after the other. I’d like to take this opportunity and state that we too, seem to be equally unlucky charms.

It’s that time of year for us where 21 is becoming the new 18, the connotation being much more mature, level headed and all in all less dramatic individuals! So when an invitation to visit Oxford Brooks alongside a night out in Leeds celebrating the coming of age for a certain someone, I thought, why not!?

You know you’ve had an eventful four days when a road trip up north finds you asking policeman for directions, taxi drivers for jump leads and kebab men for more mayo.

For those patient enough to read below, let me talk you through it.

Friday 22^nd October

2.15pm.

Board the train. The silent carriage. Struggle to find ‘reserved seating.’ Continue to cause disruption when shouting out a word you probably shouldn’t when in the company of a three year old. Note to self, ‘do not drop the ipod.’

3.45pm.

Arrive at destination, just. After settling into the world of the now safe ipod, become oblivious to the sign ‘Welcome to Oxford.’ A mere chance glance out the window prevents ending up in Manchester. Meet and greet Louise and her fabulous housemates.

5pm.

Birthday dinner at Atomic Burger. Best burger bar by far. However, pleased not to have ordered ‘Godzilla Burger,’ a challenge previously only succeeded by a number of thirty. After a small taste it becomes clear why. NOONES taste buds should have to experience that amount of burning in one sitting. Bravo boys.

11pm.

On it Oxford style. Refreshing game of Goon Pong and naked apron sittings, followed by a hectic night out at ‘Kukui.’ Stamp rape is just the beginning.. drinks all round!

Saturday 23^rd October

9pm.

Hangovers all round. Not feeling too spritely as the alarm makes its debut. Pack, load and off to Leeds. Roadtrip!

1pm.

Set off time. Alcohol? Check. Heels? Check. Sat-nav/map? “Urghhhh!” Half an hour in, stop for directions. Should have predicated going back on ourselves for the duration of 40 minutes. Seeing on a map just how far there is to go is no mood lifter.

5.30pm.

Arrive outside ‘house on corner, black door.’ Desperate for the loo, no one home, the evitable happens. Bush? Check. Wrong house. Shit. Fiiiinally meet and greet Tasha and her fabulous housemates.

8pm.

Lotsss of pre-drinking. Strip-tease for the birthday girl.. and any other prying eyes. Its no surprise a room of eight soared to a guestimated thirty. Queue Louise, spilt vino, and a glass table - what do you get? Enough shattered glass to clear the room. Back to the original eight.

12pm.

‘Faversham’ Leeds with more alcohol and music. Dancing and bambi legs. Chicken burger with “MORE MAYO.” Bed. Awesome!

Sunday 24th October

12pm.

In the car. Off to compose the birthday girls present. Phonecall from the girl in question. “We’ve broken down.” We bought more time – lots more time in fact. Battery fails when the time comes to leave the car park we adopted for such creativity to commence. Hero’s would include taxi driver x2, jump leads, and some pushing power.

2pm.

Arrive back at house, eager to see the girl we had travelled so far to see. Queue Georgia, my wrist and the car door. Back in the car - A&E it is. Unfortunately none of the five medics living in the house were in.

3pm.

Refused the hideous wait presented on arrival at accident and emergency. Once more back to the house to present another part of the present. Already on Tasha’s wrist. Exchange it is then.

10pm.

After curry, Michael McIntyre and goodbyes, back in the car for the ride back to Oxford. Longggg ride back to Oxford. Lost again, petrol station, map, directions.

Monday 25^th October.

2am.

Journey complete.

And that’s about it. Ohhh apart from walking into a hanging carcass at the Oxford market the following day. I’m proud to say Monday’s tour of rower’s and the surroundings of the university went rather well. Casual beer by the river, tipsy by lunchtime, standard. More goodbyes, back on the train.. HOME!!

They say bad things happen in threes.. or in our case, thirty threes perhaps? There is no perhaps about it. 

Almost 21 – the key to the door.. or the dance floor?

Firstly I’d like to apologise for my severe lack of posts - despite my full intention and promise to do the opposite. However, now that I am fully settled into the house (that’s right, I’m actually sleeping again), the transfer anddd adapting to the hideous amount of work second year brings, there actually is NO excuse.

And so I present to you both my fear, and excitement of the fast approaching 21^st birthday!

It’s less than a month away and as the title suggests I am a little unsure as to what to think. Hopeful celebrations include hitting the dance floor, most DEFINATELY champers (preferably of the pink variety) and probably NOT getting my key in the door. I get butterflies thinking about putting on the dress that presently hangs on my wall, ready and waiting. An the idea of another one of my mums classic homemade cakes :)

Along with that, however, comes another feeling of butterflies – just not the excited kind.

It may sound strange what with countless underager’s buzzing to be either sweet sixteen, rebellious eighteen or a content twenty-one, and I was no exception. Constantly older relations would plead, “don’t wish your life away,” but like every little girl wanting to grow up, such advice was naively brushed aside. It’s that naivety I miss now. It suddenly hits you when you tell your younger cousin a month before HER big one eight not to ‘wish her life away.’

After flicking through ancient photo albums it became apparent (as obvious as it may sound to those of you more sane), that you can never relive or learn anymore from that moment in front of the camera, on that exact day, than you did whilst standing there. That being said, perhaps it’s not a bad thing. If I hadn’t lived out those moments, I wouldn’t know what I do today. Suddenly the thought of ‘young, fun and living with mum’ springs to mind, just because those are the times our camera happened to flash. And that I suppose is the silver lining. It’s easy to look back and wonder what you could have done differently, but the fact is, you’ll never get the chance. It’s a shame it’s taken me almost twenty years to come to this conclusion.

I’ve always been the impatient kind who reads the last page of the book, before the first, and that’s where I think I’ve been going wrong. No longer will I try to fast forward through life.. I’m learning from mistakes, and how not to make them again.

Almost 21.. sounds like fun.

I look forward to being ‘thirty, flirty and thriving’ just not yet ;)

The best is yet to come – I saw a Christmas tree in Debenhams!!

It’s safe to say summer is officially over. No more Pimms in the sun or sand between toes. But for me I think the best part of the year is yet to make its appearance. After all I did see a Christmas tree in Debenhams!!

I never used to thrive that much in the heat, and therefore, winter was my preference.  As a child, winter came with all things good - warm snuggly jumpers, Christmas, sometimes snow, and of course my birthday. Even now I think with the exception of fashion, it beats summer hands down. There are still birthday celebrations, the occasional white stuff, and what’s not to love about the one time of year everybody comes together to celebrate a HUGE holiday worldwide. Not forgetting the epic seasonal feast shared by all.

This year will be even more amazing than the last with my visit to NYC in December!! Something exciting will be seeing the city that never sleeps glistening in lights. I feel it’ll be pretty hard to resist that festive feeling.

I still remember when my dad jokingly told my younger cousin, then, aged five, that Santa does not come to Liphook – understandably there were tears, and she continued to hide under the kitchen table when we visited for years afterwards. But that memory instantly takes me back to the time my brother informed ME that the large man with the white beard may not be all he’s envisioned to be. He persuaded me in my naïve little world to meet him on the landing Christmas eve and he’d prove it. Understandably after witnessing something I’d rather not have, I tumbled down the stairs only to take comfort in a pile of shoes. Unsurprisingly he legged it into bed and denied all knowledge. It was only last Christmas he confessed to such antics, leaving my parents in as much shock as I received that tragic night.

What’s the reason for my writing this you ask? Well over the last few months I’ve shared with you my change in attitudes and opinions, and feel I owe it to you, as readers, to keep you updated. The now, rather humorous example above shows that recovery is always possible. At that time my world literally seemed to have crashed down, but even now that I know said white bearded man may not ALWAYS visit, I still get as, if not more, excited than I did on Christmas eve.  

After my final PT session last week , I can confirm I don’t find myself cringing upon a glance in the mirror anymore. After researching numerous crash diets, and witnessing the deranged effects, the only way to do something about such insecurity is simple. Eat less. Move more. And that I’m afraid is the secret.

The consumption of alcohol has also changed dramatically. It has got DRAMATICALLY worse – but it is Freshers after all :)

Ok so the guitar learning still needs much more work. But hey, that’s why I brought it to uni.. lessons anyone?? Candidate needs to be patient, patient, and more patient!!

Speaking of uni, I am now perfectly settled in my new house with the girlies. No longer will I have to endure the cleaner ramming her hoover against my bedroom door – although I feel I may just miss when the kitchen becomes the occasional bombsite the morning after the night before.  And I hope those last minute all nighters will be something of a past time.

However I will not be missing my ability to turn carefully applied make-up into a face of black mess a few hours later. Last year I did seem to make full use of my tear ducts, despite it being one of THE best years I’ve had so far. To this day I still don’t understand why a percentage of 2009 was spent opening the flood gates, but long gone is that year, as are the panda eyes. Perhaps the fact I was a caffeine pumped, emotional insomniac most of the time didn’t help? Who knows.. maybe the summer filled with Pimms and sand did work its magic, and with the best part of the year still to come, I think I’ll be just fine :)

And for all the F.R.I.E.N.D.S fans out there.. 

“That my friends, is what they call CLOSURE”

Single Sadness vs. Mating Madness

I completely believe in method journalism, fact. I believe it’s impossible to give an accurate account without personally undergoing the topic in question, fact. However, I also feel its hard to truly experience something without previously reading it - and therefore, you have the power of the written word.

A recent girls night opened up questions I’d long buried within my head. And it is now I’m finding myself thinking more and more about the above statement “Single sadness vs. mating madness.”

What is it about our human need to question qualities that others long for? There are always two sides to every story. You get the loved up couples often confessing the desire to let loose and have a meaningless one-night stand filled entirely with passion. Then there’s me, a long time singleton, like others I’m sure, who would quite like a man to share a bed with. A man who is more than just the best mate, and more I suppose, for keeps.

Back to the power of the written word - I’ve always been one for trashy novels. So it’s no surprise a recent purchase of ‘The Good, The Bad, and The Dumped,” has had me storming through cover to cover. I spent the afternoon perusing the shelves of Waterstones, in search for the ultimate Bridget Jones read, you know, the paperback with the subtext of ‘read this and all your relationship dramas will be solved.’ And so I found this title by Jenny Colgan. The problem is, if I’m totally honest, I’ve not had anything to be dumped FROM in recent years, but I can fully relate to the mental delusion of the facebook stalk, be it of a past flame or current crush. However, after laying eyes on the last page, I still feel just as unsure of my love life than I did before. Yes, it covers the dilemmas I don’t doubt many couples face – boredom, routine and distrust, but that doesn’t mean I want to avoid such a scenarios, ultimately sacrificing the chance to be positively happy.

Whilst looking through some documents on my laptop, I’ve managed to dig out an article I wrote last year on something I did, and still do feel is the definitive response to the statement above..

“Stop looking and you’ll find one.”

“Its these six little words that get pulled out the bag whenever your moaning about being single, or wanting to find that one person you desire to be with for the rest of your life.. the one.

Women aren’t that hard to please. We just want a man who’s a sex God in the bedroom, a professional underwear model, keen masseur and Michelin-star chef. In other words, we’re impossible to please.

At the grand old age of twenty (ok, not so grand, but no longer a teenager), we, as women, are expected to cherish being young, free and single. However, when you get a call from your best girlfriend asking you if you’d like to join her, and her boyfriend for Wagamama’s takeout… you know something’s gone horribly wrong.

So what is it that we want so badly? In actual fact, more often than not, it’s none of the above. On a more practical note we want someone to send us mushy texts when we’re feeling down, to cuddle up with when lonely, or maybe just someone to call our own at that dreaded family BBQ. You know, the one that happens every year without fail, come rain or shine.  I’ll never forget the moment I entered such a BBQ, all on my lonesome after arriving straight from work, and being asked the question dreaded by all singletons in front of copious amounts of relatives you don’t actually remember, but just know your related to somehow. “Still not found yourself a boyfriend then, I thought this year you might have had someone to show off, what’s going on?” Yes, that would be my uncle Nigel, the man with a voice loud enough to send echoes around a room with just one word… enough said. In all honesty, it was this ultimate humiliation that sent my brain into overload, where was I going wrong?

So I did stop looking, and got into the pattern of taking up those offers for Wagamama’s after all.  What’s so wrong with joining your best mate and her boyfriend for a cosy Friday night in? If I didn’t have anyone, I’d hang out with them, instead of hoping every male that brushed past me would somehow guess my number and text for a date within the hour. I have to admit, at one point, I was quite the mentalist.

Enter Jake,* a work colleague I’d never really thought about until I get a text asking to go for a drink. And it was in that moment I did something I thought I’d never do, I waited until the following evening to reply, constantly considering whether or not I’d actually like to be taken out. After months of complaining to my coupled up mates, I’d began to doubt it. What was wrong with me? I started to weigh up the highlights of being single, the ability to have a cheeky smooch with some hot stranger in a club, without the guilt that follows with a relationship. Again, I was jumping the gun, considering I was yet to press ‘send.’

Weeks later and things were going perfectly, we were still together doing all that coupley stuff, the texts, the cuddles, and most importantly the family BBQ’s. So I started to think my uncle Nigel might now finally keep it shut when surrounded by those all opinionated relations. In all fairness, he did - until I realised Jake* had also been doing all of that ‘stuff’ with a certain other. So as it turns out, it wasn’t just me he was keen on – his ex was also a strong candidate.

I came to the conclusion we probably weren’t as well suited as I’d first thought, he liked RnB, whereas I’m more of a Britney fan, much to my shame. He didn’t like theme park rides, whereas I’m an adrenaline junky. He didn’t like to drink much, whereas I do, in fact I decided I quite fancied a drink, or two, or three…

Its not everyday you wake up in your mates bed, her stroking your hair, head pounding and no idea how you got there. I’d had better mornings than feeling that nauseous sickness you get when you attempt to lift your head off the pillow.  “What happened?” I asked. Only to be given the most humiliating response of my life. A brief outline would include being asked to get down from the bar, put my clothes back on and leave the Asda trolley where it was supposed to stay - such shameful antics can only result in a week as an absolute recluse. But this week gave me enough time to sort my head out.

Of course, it started with the denial as it always does. Why should I accept the fact he’d been like that with her, when all the time we were together it was idyllic? Then came the anger and finally, acceptance. Obviously my female support network of friends played a huge role, on standby with tissues and chocolate, and the ultimate chorus any dumpee wants to sing “All men are bastards!”

Back to square one. So we go out looking for the perfect person, and then when interest is shown, we hesitate at the risk of getting hurt, only to be… well, hurt when we do decide to go for it. At the risk of being cynical, maybe we just need to sort ourselves out first, before we can be truly happy. Independence is everything.

The one, when he finally turns up, will be ‘nice’ without being a pushover, confident, without being arrogant, funny, but no comedian. Most importantly, he’ll have that special something you just cant quite put your finger on.

In my experience, even if these words aren’t the ones we want to hear, sometimes they’re the ones that we need to listen to. I’m not saying shrug off every guy that shows you interest, although maybe don’t start photo-shopping pictures for your family album after just one date. “Stop looking and you’ll find one,” that, I’ll leave up to you.”

-----------------------------------------------

As a result of such digging, I’ve realised the question of which is better, single or committed, it seems, entirely depends on the situation, and the one you’re committed too.

And so I will continue happily with my sun-lounger reads, in order to escape the mind-fuck that is ones love-life, if nothing else.  After all, if it can happen in a book, it can happen to you.. right?

Bye Bye Blonde Streak – Hello Blonde Highlights :)

If I were a percentage, I would be 90% brunette 10% blonde

That’s riiiight for two years now I’ve had part of my hair a colour that has been frequently in association with my ditzy personality. However, as much as I just adored such abusive comments being thrown in my direction - thanks guys – I thought it time for a change and decided to go with ALL OVER BLONDE HIGHLIGHTS. Something, which you can probably guess, I find all too exciting! God only knows what comments I shall now receive.. buttt I just couldn’t wait any longer!!

For years I’ve envied those women with sunkissed hair and never thought it an option for myself. However, the realisation soon hit me that, whatever your natural shade, you can almost always adapt it to the one you long to be. I wouldn’t go as far as saying you lucky girls out there with midnight roots should grab a bottle of bleach, but equally dramatic decisions have been made by these red carpet celebs, and in my opinion, paid off..

So like all colour adverts seem to state.. 

"Go on, be a shade braver.."

Bye Bye Bambi

OK so with weeks of shuffling two jobs around coming to an end, I now have no excuse not to keep posting on this blog of mine. Excluding yesterdays entries I havn’t updated it for a while and feel its been somewhat half hearted, and for that I apologise. So here goes..

After plunging head first into the uni lifestyle of a first year student, I can definitely say I’ve had THE BEST year! Take the messy nights I fail to remember with the people I’ll never forget, a trip to the fashion capital and the antics of ten buzzing flat mates, and VOILA you have an ace 10 months!

However, its safe to say both my credit card and liver have suffered in the process, two things I’m working on at present. I’ve come to the decision to put an end to the casual drinking until my return to uni in October and the six nights a week start again. I’ve always loved a cheeky glass of vino with dinner, or a G&T in the sun, but I intend to try my absolute hardest, saying bye bye to Bambi. Bambi, of course, being the persona I adopt after too many cocktails - legs flailing, if working at all, whilst slipping into the realm of unconsciousness (as my brother would describe).

So I’ll keep you posted on how that goes, as only a true method journalist would!!

Another decision made would be my attempt to learn the guitar. I’ve always been envious of those that can get their hands to work differently at the same time, and after ten days away admiring those friends that make it look all too easy, I fancy a shot myself. Something tells me experience in playing the flute really isn't going to help me?

Guitar? CHECK..

I suppose that’s all I need then, so there’s absolutely nothing stopping me? Hopefully next time I post I will have learnt more than just the opening chords to JJ’s Banana Pancakes :)

Well at least honour my intensions if both of the above fail.. 

Gwithian ’10 - Sun, Sea and Sand

Welllllll mostly just sea and sand, but that’s not to say certain members of the group didn’t catch a ray or two, that’s right BURN BOY!! Ok the weather may not have been at its best, but collapsing tents with shocking waves to ride aside, that’s not to say we didn’t make the most of it, we had the chedder game and ‘PROVE IT’ after all :)

 So another ten days on our favourite beach and we certainly raved it up, thankfully this year however there was no need to call 999! As always we had the T-shirts and the Goon addicts itching for another game of FENNIS, but along came a new addition to our holiday.. the SHAGWAG, aka the campervan! That’s right, the lovely yellow camper that allowed us to arrive in style and comfort, all very pleasing indeed!

 As much as I would love to blame this camper for our delay upon arrival, I can’t. Seven long hours, and after constructing the catch phrase of “AA” that would happily see us through the week, that award can only go to the Peugeot that failed to function further after 45 minutes on the road - nice one Porge :)

Its fair to say this year was a true battle between the sexes, with both guys and girls refusing to admit defeat in most tasks, tent-erecting being one of them. However in failing to remember tent pegs, us girls did have to turn to the competition after the realisation that pegs are in fact fairly vital towards camping attire, and so “Mr Incredible” was born, HUH!?

Note to self, it is apparently not funny to hide someone’s wallet, leave to shower, and find that in the 30 minutes you’ve been gone they are turning grey and on the verge of cancelling cards. In my defense, the rules agreed upon were..

1. No DAMAGE to personal possessions such as phones, wallets and ipods
2. No water damage to ANY personal possessions such as clothing, bedding etc

Simply moving such items to various parts of the tent did not break any of the above, and after an entire holidays underwear collection had been paraded around the male tent, I say ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR!!

Although the weather failed to hold out most of the time, the one night it needed to shine, it did. Our third night in saw us beer in one hand, hog roast in the other, listening to live music until the early hours. Add the sea breeze and raving individuals, its idyllic. Scars from stacking it on the walk home and unexplained parker found in the tent, are just minor glitches on the perfect night. ALMOST perfect night. MY perfect night was witnessing that shooting star that has just kept getting away from me those twenty years previous. I may have only ever seen one, but having a song written about such miss fortune just about makes up for it!

And so we reached our last night, in which most took the sensible option of getting an early night, most, not being me. Yes, that’s right, someone decided to go for a late night walk, clear her head and say goodbye to Gwithian for yet another year.. unfortunately things didn’t quite go to plan. I mean, you don’t expect gangs of hoodies in such a chocolate box setting after dark, more like the sound of the sea and little else? WRONG. Nor a middle aged transvestite from Birmingham swerving to run you down?! To be fair the only hood that was up was mine, but I didn’t think I’d come across the latter either. The only amusing part is that days earlier I had been informed by fellow members of the group not to talk to strangers.. 5 years old? Apparently I am, yes!

Not to worry, I wished upon that star.. so lets just see what happens ;)

Gaga about the saga – TEAM RILEY!!

That’s right, the moment we’ve all been waiting for has finally come, and although I did refrain from wearing my “I heart Edward” tee, I can’t say I’m not utterly in love with the new Twilight film, Eclipse. And it's no wonder everybody is quite literally going gaga with the media going equally as crazy also.

With Taylor Lautner never failing to impress and new boy vampire Xavier Samuel all present and correct, there was even more reason to stay glued to my sit right until the last credit.

Action packed with the right dose of sexual tension, I’ve seen Robert Pattison in a whole new light, he’s not just a pretty face, check this out.. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7H47oQH1TW4

For anyone out there that isn’t quite getting where I’m coming from on the Twilight front, I definitely recommend having a scan of the books – its all very easy to get carried away with the eye candy, forgetting Meyers beautifully written and hypnotic novels. So if you ever want to borrow.. feel free!

Knock knock.. "Whose there??"

WE ARE!! Thats right, five beautiful girlies have just moved into their new house on Milton Road, Southampton, and absolutely love it..

Although I've only been here for two nights, I can safely say the antics have not been ones to dissappoint. Well, if you include climbing out your window ledge and drunkenly greeting any passer by within a 5 mile radius through such lung capacity. And I suppose chucking cigarette butts into next doors garden, unbeknown that they are sitting behind the fence also counts. Obviously after the mortifying realisation that they are in fact right there, one can only act instantly pissed (despite the mere single glass of wine previously consumed), and therefore be chanted at as a lightweight for the rest of the year.. FABULOUS!

Ok so the house isn't perfect at a first glance, and believe me Posh Pads have certainly been informed their pads aren't really so posh with the toilet refusing to flush as the doors refuse to lock, butttt after much persistence I can now inform everyone to give the purple door a knock and come see for yourself!

I will definitely miss halls, especially some of THOSE antics (shopping trolleys in the hallway included), but am loving the fact we have somewhere to call our own, and am embracing the new responsibility it brings.. and if by putting on a pair of pink rubbers and scrubbing the grime from the previous tenants shit hole, I WILL embrace it, yes yes, I will.. hmmm??

Something amusing upon arrival would have to be looking out the window to find our garden consisting of: an apple tree, table and chairs, and other standard gardening items you would EXPECT to find on ones lawn. This, of course, in great comparison to next doors 'gardening items:' 4 shopping trolleys, five stolen signs, numerous broken chairs, and womens underwear victoriously displayed on the washing line.. bare in mind, all tenants are guys!

Note to self, house parties, messy nights and (the odd) shopping trolley on the landing will be embraced weekly, especially if number 120's house party was anything to go by!


OH and remember, the guy next door with the bright green mohecan with snakes and ladders PJ's.. well, just remember him.. :)

Im a Barista!!

"I'll take a skinny, decaf, double shot, extra hot Latte with a sugar-free vanilla shot and one pump of Hazelnut, please.. to go.."

WHAT!??

So after weeks of non-success in the employment business I get a call for an interview - two days later I go for a trial shift.. and TA DAAAAA, I land myself a job as a barista at Costa Coffee!!

When asked mid interview "Why Costa after five years in food retail?" I responded along the lines of wanting to try something new, and I feel that I'm a quick enough learner to take new challenges onboard.. something I totally believed until I learnt the facts of coffee making in all its glory! WOW there's a lot to know, considering I didn't think some things ordered yesterday even existed, (see above) and with not being a huge coffee lover myself. Butttt it's something to embrace and hopefully I'll get there soon enough!



I wish I could say I created such an elegant cuppa as the one above.. but my first cappuccino was pretty good, so I've been told.

This really is going to be a storm in a teacup - so fingers crossed!!

Definitely worth the wait..

So after three failed Personal Training sessions - and no, I'm not just talking about cancellations and rearrangements. I do believe the only way to describe Sundays no show, was in fact that.. a no show. Its bad enough getting stood up on a date, but by someone whose supposed to help you work through your body hang-ups.. I have to admit, it didn't exactly work wonders for my self esteem. To be fair the gym was incredibly professional in offering me an alternative trainer (pretty, skinny, blonde.. I could go on) however, I thought it only right to stay true to myself and continue with the man that promised 'incredible outcomes,' this of course has nothing to do with the fact he is everything you could ever want.. and more! The perfect piece of eye candy to work me through the motions.

BUTTTTT after todays work out I can confidently say it was defiantly worth every penny.. and the wait of course! Despite aching in places I didn't even know I had, I feel one step closer to a whole new me (may sound a little cliché' and for that I apologise, but its genuinely how I feel). It's funny just how much further you can push yourself with something, or someone, visually motivating you :)

And so I shall carry on with my personal program, and hopefully a few months down the line will be thanking Mr yummy in more ways than one.. alright, perhaps not, but a girl can dream!!

Feeling Kitschy

Definition:
* Work in any of the arts that is pretentious and inferior, or in bad taste
* Art, literature, fashion, dismissed as being of merely popular taste or appeal, sentimental or sometimes pretentious
* Objects that are so bad they're good in an ironic way

"Kitsch pretends to demand nothing of its customers except their money -- not even their time" - Clement Greenberg

I have always been a huge fan of kitsch, especially in fashion. It's no surprise that the run-way seems to have more and more garments that influence the argument of tacky versus tasteful!?

This summer nothing seems bigger with anything from candy coloured dresses to elaborate jewellery gracing the shelves. Accessorize have a huge selection of cute pendants I intend to pick up on tomorrows trip into town :)



With designers such as Emma Bell presenting creations worthy to those with a passion for fashion.. anddd food, its no surprise her brand has recieved international press in publications such as 'Dazed and Confused,' 'Cosmopolitan' and The Daily Mirror.

* SUGAR RUSH * CANDY LAND *




Jean Charles de Castelbajac is my favourite kitsch designer with his many overstated garments that portray such outrageous creations. This season block colour is everywhere..




Celebs have certainly been rocking this look, Katie Perry being no exception..



Because life's too short to blend in..

Flip-flops just won't cut it..

OK so today I'm finding it somewhat depressing looking out the window.. what happened to our 'BBQ' summer!? Buttt if I'm completely honest, it has given me a perfect opportunity to share with you some photography from the Magazine Design assignment just passed.

I chose 'Festival Wellies' for my spring/summer comeback.. as with the festival season fast approaching, you'll need quality footwear to keep those toes dry!

The days of green wellies have long gone with the vibrantly coloured and highly patterned taking centre stage. Making a splash last winter, and continuing that trend into 2010 - those muddy fields will never look dull!

Here are some photo's from the shoot at Ashurst New Forest with my lovely models..








It almost makes you wish for rain.

From pain to perfection..

I can safely say I've had a fab first year at uni, but have come to the realisation that there's only so much partying you can endure before your purse and figure begin to suffer! I know I’m not alone in standing on those dreaded scales each Sunday night, fingers crossed Tuesdays chocolate indulgence hasn’t cost me too much in price, and pounds of course.

I’m not afraid to admit that I have an eating disorder.. I LOVE to eat!! After all, its only half a life without food.. however, this in mind, it can also be half a life WITH food as well. Hence my decision to re-join Fitness First today! Yes, thats right, i've got a four month contract and a rather yummy personal trainer to keep me motivated, and hopefully get me a little closer to that bikini bod!

It doesn’t help when we’re surrounded by celebs that make it look all too easy. For them, cosmetic surgery equals quick-fix, and a trip to a world-class surgeon is our equivalent of a visit to the local supermarket. Earlier today I looked at such surgery junkie celebs and found that for every successful before and after image, came a hideousness that can only be described as a serial surgery fuck up. In the words of Miss Moss ‘Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels,’ but if skinny means crash dieting, I’m screwed! It’s amazing how a number on the back of a dress can severely alter your sanity.

Nope, there's only one way to go about this, and have therefore given myself an ultimatum – remain a fatty, or get on a treadmill!

It’s true what they say, you always want what you can’t have.. I'll let you know how my session with Mr yummy goes :)

.. or should I say storm OUT in Stiletto’s

So I’ve finally got around to starting a blog after weeks of following other exciting posts. I suppose this is my way of sharing with you a few interests and thoughts of my own, be it in the fashion industry, or just day-to-day life.

You’re probably wondering about the title, and that can be easily explained. I’ve always been a shoe lover, particularly of ones I can’t walk in. YES, I’m the girl staggering home bare foot, heels in hand, at the end of the night.. but who says shoes are just to walk in! Yesterday I had the torture of selecting those few pairs that, well, I really will never wear again, and so they found there after life in a charity shop – there’s only so much wardrobe space for beauty once you’ve hit the 30 pair mark!

If the shoe fits.. enjoy :)
xxx