Fast and Furious

 

This week I almost killed a pedestrian. Like really almost killed her. I was driving in my car down the Lisburn  Road, belting it out to a bit of Cheryl Cole and didn't see the little old lady stepping out at the crossing.

I made an emergency stop, with my bonnet basically grazing her beige skirt. She got really angry (obvo), punched my car and shouted "EXCUUUUSE ME." Pretty hard-core for a granny.

I pulled down a side street and cried for a bit.

Apart from that I've had a nice week. Today I went shopping and bought these little nude suede shoes from H&M. I've been looking for something to wear with these dogtooth pyjama pants as they're a bit of nightmare to dress.

I own a lot of prints and bright colours but wanted something neutral to let the trousers speak for themselves. I don't want to look too cray-cray. 

Last week I wore them with a pepto-pink jumper and my wedge hi-tops. People were pointing. I thought I looked incredible until I saw my reflection in a shop window. I think I might have to tone it down from now on.

Top - Miss Selfridge - £12

Trousers - H&M - £15

Shoes - H&M - £15

 

Katrantzooouuu

I rarely buy things on a whim. Usually the process is quite methodical; I pick the item off the rail and go to the changing room for an intense scrutinizing period. I assess the fit of the garment, the potential for staining, ripping, shrinking etc. I create at least three possible outfits that the item could create or add to, with clothes already in my wardrobe. And for the final stage, I come out of the changing room, do two laps around the shop and if I'm still convinced, I buy it, as long as it's under a tenner. (I'm cheap, what can I say?)

This shirt was different. I saw it, screamed MARY KATRANTZOOOUUUU in my head, grabbed the smallest size and bought it. AAANNNDD it was £15. I know, I know, employment has made me go nuts with my money. I even picked up a pair of wedge trainers on ebay for £25. I'll be bankrupt soon enough.

And on the same shopping trip, honest to God, I decided to absolutely splash out and get some new lipstick, as I'm getting sick of red. So with the pound signs in my eyes I picked up the new Revlon lip stain balm stuff in a fairly fluorescent orange shade. (wearing above) For the first hour or so it looked great but when I nipped to the bathroom to have a look, my face appeared clown-like. The orange was taking over my face. The residue made it look like I'd eaten a bag of carrots, taken an allergic reaction, had a seizure and foamed at the mouth. Attractive eh? I think I'm better on a budget.

Shirt - H&M - £15
cardigan - H&M  - £10
jeans - Tesco - £10
wedge trainers - ebay - £25

Men in leggings

Tonight I'm heading to the MAC theatre in Cathedral Quarter to see Sweet Charity with the FABB ladies and, if you scroll down, you will see that I decided to wear the stupid shoes again.

I am determined to make these ankle slicers comfortable. Following the advice of Anna Montgomery, I filled them with a bag of water and put them in the freezer overnight to stretch them. But when I took them out in the morning, the stupid demon shoes still hurt so I have resorted to covering my feet with plasters and walking without putting my heels on the ground. This makes me look like a drunken ballerina.

So anyway, earlier today I got the train to Belfast and tip toed the whole way to college to meet my boyfriend. I was standing outside his shorthand class when a man who looked quite like MC Hammer walked very close to me and stopped in front of my face. 

He stood there with his backwards baseball cap, baggy basketball shirt and as I looked down I noticed that he was wearing LEGGINGS. Actual leggings. A man in leggings.

He asked me what I was doing and I said: "Waiting for my boyfriend." He came a bit closer, PUT HIS HAND ON MY BACK, and said: "Would you like me to wait with you?" 

I kid you not.

I politely declined and began to edge away. He then asked me for my number "in case my boyfriend kept me waiting too long" and when I failed to reply, we both stood in silence for a good ten seconds before he just walked away. I hate Belfast Met.

Polka-dot Shirt - H&M - £10

Jeans - Tescos - £10

Belt - Mum's wardrobe

Stupid shoes - New Look - £14

stupid shoes

 I enjoy summer in Northern Ireland. Despite the gentlemen with their taps aff, ladies with their baps out,
excessive sweating and sunburn because it's not hot enough to put sun cream on, it's nice to have a bit of good weather. Even if it only lasts four days.

Along with the blue skies comes that sunny disposition making you forget that you don't have enough money to buy four ice lollies every hour and the fact that it will eventually rain again.

On Monday, I was walking (and sweating) around Belfast and decided to buy a new pair of flat shoes. Now, I don't like flat shoes and tend not to wear them because I have "a well turned calf" and stubby legs that need elongation. But it was warm, the birds were singing and I thought a pair of leopard print pumps for £14 in New Look sounded like THE BEST IDEA EVER.

Of course I was wrong. As well as having no practical need for flat shoes, they are so uncomfortable and have cut my ankles to shreds like a cheese grater. I mean there was real life bleeding and everything.
However, being the tight-fisted shopper I am, I'm determined to find a purpose for these shoes or a way to make them not ruin my feet. I've tried insoles, heel grips and putting bricks on top of them to flatten them slightly. So if anyone has suggestions they are most welcome.

In other news, I bought the latest edition of ELLE today with David Beckham on the cover. He looks ok. Don't believe the hype.

top - old dress from H&M - £10
burgundy cords - Tescos - £8
belt- mum's wardrobe
stupid shoes - New Look - £14

 

And here's a picture of me sneezing.

Ghetto Royale - Chanel Cruise 2013

It's hard to determine whether it's just coincidence or an eerie fashion foresight but somehow Karl's cruise collection seemed to place itself firmly in the present, embodying France's unexpected upheaval at the hands of a brand new president. Cue twilight zone music.

In recent seasons, Karl has projected himself into the future exploring a more steely, robotic, intergalactic vision but Chanel's 2013 cruise collection spoke poignantly of today. A la mode pastels, wearable boucle jackets and urban brothel creepers spanned current trends to fit easily into our summer wardrobes.

But a simple motif is not within Mr Lagerfeld's faculty, preferring hybridised concepts just to provoke an eyeroll.Never one to neglect lavish historical context, this season it was Ghetto Royale. If you get stuck just imagine Marie Antoinette throwing down some Nicki Minaj.

Frills were tattered and full volume skirts skimmed thighs. And just when you thought tailored gold tweed was affording decadence, tight studded leather tore it to shreds.


When the show was over, Lagerfeld spoke to journalists in Louis XIV's gardens at Versailles. He told them “This was the place where the most civilized frivolity was allowed." Of course, it's unlikely we'll see Hollande throwing money in the air, hosting guillotine parties or integrating cake into his next electoral campaign, but step into Karl's world and a Francophile can dream.

wardrobe malfunction

I was having lunch with my boyfriend today and that weird thing happened where I thought he was staring at my hair but wasn't entirely sure. So I became quite conscious and tried to ignore it but could still see him glancing. And then I grew paranoid. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY HAIR?" I asked him.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong with your hair, it's lovely," he said, but he was still looking at it in between mouthfuls.

 "Well why do you keep staring at me?"

"Ok, it might just be my eyes, but it looks like you have one really dark eyebrow and one really light one."

I finished my burger (because food comes first) and half ran to the toilet with my head down. I looked in the mirror and had in fact forgotten to draw one eyebrow on. But, alas, that was not all.

When I took a good look in the full length mirror, it appeared that my nice yellow dress was not only COMPLETELY see-through but the back of it was hitched up into my jacket, exposing my arse. Eugh, at least it explains the staring.

transparent dress, H&M, £8
cardigan, H&M, £10
ankle boots, granny gave them to me

I'll miss you most of all my darling, when Autumn leaves start to fall

God, this weather is shite. It's warm but it's miserable and you don't know whether you're damp from rain or sweat. Every time I leave the house I feel the need to pack an umbrella, sun cream, wellies and a bikini just be prepared for the sense of schizophrenia.

It seems to have turned from May to October, merging into some summer winter atmospheric hybrid - Maytober, if you will. So, I've hoked through my wardrobe and chosen some Autumnal hues which capture the warmth of our supposed summer and keep me seasonally versatile (if I stay indoors).

Cardigan, mum's
Blousey thing, Topshop, £10
Trousers, Tesco bargain bin £6
Shoes, Kickers £60 and worn to death

Granny Girl

I like granny clothes. I like Laura Ashley dresses, thick cardigans, a sensible heel and thermal underwear. And, I admit it; some times when I'm out in bars and the music's too loud my heart yearns for a cup of tea and Coronation Street.

Today was the CIPR 'meet the bloggers' event and, as I stood in a crowd of snappy dressed youngsters, it dawned on me that I dress like an old fogey. I said to myself  "I must get myself a pair of those snazzy skinny jeans all the kids are wearing these days." But then I thought naah, I'll stick with my patterned dress, pretend I'm Betty Draper and go home, light a candle and have a nice wee bath.

dress, £15 Primark
shoes, £13 New Look

Met Gala 2012

When my alarm went off last Tuesday morning, two things sprung to mind to wake me fully from that sleepy i-want-to-stay-in-bed daze; Met Gala and job interview. But Met Gala first.

I turned on my computer and cursed my slow internet, waiting for pictures to load on the Daily Mail website.  "I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!" I shouted at the screen before suddenly catching a glimpse of Beyonce in a frothy Givenchy dress.

It looked like she'd been shat on by a moth. I was disappointed, closed the computer screen and decided to deal with it later.

When I got home later, I started again with opening the laptop and the cursing of the internet but put the Beyonce mess behind me. Then I saw Anja Rubik the area surrounding her vagina. Boke

The Met Gala epitomises red carpet glamour, retaining the same poise and prestige from year to year so I just couldn't give up on it yet. It was just two bad dresses, maybe I had to dig for the gold.

So I got my shovel and waded through the shit; January Jones, no. Mary-Kate Olsen, a big tanned no. Leighton Meester, dress blending into skin, no. Florence Welsh, toilet roll no.

But then something began to twinkle. Lana Del Rey, with smooth retro waves and a blood red lip, twirled in a black cape that draped elegantly over her glittering chainmail dress. In custom Altuzarra she was an old Hollywood siren, smouldering with her predatory gaze and guiding me toward the light, toward more decent dresses.



This year's exhibition, Elsa Shiaparelli and Miuccia Prada: Impossible Conversations, promised Prada -a-plenty. Kate Bosworth was among those to honour the designer. In her short feathered flapper Prada dress, Kate was dauntless and unaffected by the sea of ballgowns.



Dianna Agron has carved out a permanent place on my best-dressed list. She is able to swing from colour to colour by teaming it with simple hair and make-up and flattering proportions. She is flawless this emerald Carolina Hererra gown with 1950s teased locks.



I know, this is a bit what the fuck did you do with granny's wallpaper but I love Sarah Jessica Parker in Valentino Haute Couture. Although patterned and full length and with matching shoes, I don't find the dress to be dense or overwhelming. I think the colours are elegant and the bow gives it a soft ladylike quality that kind of works.



Rooney Mara has geisha-like poise in this gothic leather and lace Givenchy dress. The slicked back hair and her angular features should add severity but Rooney still manages to appear ethereal and soft.











And in case you're wondering, I got the job :)