Ooh hoo – I’ve been tagged. I’m rather chuffed, seeing as how my blog has only really been in proper existence since March this year. Take a bow lovely, lovely Mrs Fashion. (For those of you who are rather confused, tagging is a way to connect different blogs, usually by way of a questionnaire.) Here are my answers to the burning issues of the hour.
Three Things That Everyone Thinks Are Gross, But I Think Are Cool
You may laugh but I bet most girls over a UK size 12(US8) have several pairs lurking in their lingerie drawer. Whilst I appreciate the work of the 1970’s feminists in releasing us from the bond of the obligatory girdle, (after all who wants to wear a panty girdle in the summer?), I say elasticated knickers are a bloody genius invention – not just because I have a bit of a tummy issue – but because a lot of pieces just look better over a smooth silhouette. Next season’s sexy pencil skirts for a start. And it’s not just curvy women who harness the power of Lycra.
That Roland Mouret Galaxy dress that the press went bonkers over a few seasons ago? Constructed with super max, hold it all in power net so the dress practically stood up on its own. By sucking everything in, it was guaranteed to make any woman look amazing in photographs; it’s no wonder it was so popular. John Galliano also bangs on a lot about the importance of foundation garments for many of his pieces for Dior. Bottom line: if you are investing heavily in a designer piece, for Christ’s sake, wear the appropriate underwear. (Although I must admit that on occasion I secrete a properly sexy pair of black lace AP knickers in my handbag, and rush off to the loo to do a quick change should there be a possibility of anyone other than me seeing my undies.)
Until I was commissioned to write a piece on internet dating I thought a blind date was A Very Bad Idea. Fast forward three years and, in between proper boyfriends, I’ve now been on 32 blind dates and counting. I like meeting new people (except at parties) and, at the very least, it’s always amusing in some way. Internet dating I’m still suspicious about, but if a friend dangles a new boy prospect, I’m so there. I’ve never met a boy I wanted to go out with this way but I’ve made some great friends. In fact on my very, very first blind date I met PS. He had enough nous to realise I was better friend than girlfriend material and, two years later, we are the firmest of firm friends.
Perhaps it’s just the orderly little plastic trays and dinky glasses, and that flying makes me ravenously hungry, but I love eating on ‘planes. I went through a phase of taking delicate sushi meals in addition to my gallons of Evian on ‘planes in the manner of a fussy starlet and eschewing the hot meals, but I just ended up eating them as well. And the ice creams during the film (bless you Virgin), and those weird tasting Worcestershire sauce flavoured bags of pretzels. Yummy.
Three Things That Everyone Thinks Are Cool, But I Think Are Gross
I really, really hate them. In fact, make that all parties convened in order to celebrate something by a PR: film premieres, product launches, fashion show after-parties. The whole damn kit and caboodle. Firstly I have an enormous fear of having to go up to talk to complete strangers. Secondly, they are no fun whatsoever. I know this sounds churlish as the patina of glamour surrounding such events makes them seem desirable but, trust me, no one is really, really enjoying themselves. Nine out of ten people are being paid indirectly to be there in some capacity, whether it’s the celeb on the junket tour for their movie, the D-Lister trying to raise their public profile, the PR making it happen, the hack snooping for a story, the model looking for a boyfriend, the modeliser looking for a victim, the magazine publisher or fashion editor there to ‘support’ the advertiser and/or designer, or the freelancer looking to network. And everyone secretly wants to have their photograph taken. The only people having a good time are under the 25 yr old assistants who can afford a hangover and whose peers are also getting legless on the free booze, who have no children or husbands, and aren’t jaded old boilers like myself. (Of course, I’d be mighty pissed off I wasn’t actually invited, but that’s another story…)
It’s not the connotations of the grape that I dislike, although it is the toe curling choice of many classy birds on the pull, & I know that it’s what properly amazing white Burgundy is made from, etc etc. But I just don’t like it very much. So there. (But I can’t resist a chuckle or two when I hear gormless girls saying they don’t like Chardonnay and promptly ordering Chablis (same grape darling).)
It makes your hair stick to your lips, usually tastes disgusting, and boys hate getting sticky gloop smeared over their faces when they kiss you. A thoroughly counter productive ‘beauty’ aid if I ever I saw one.