WHAT A GIRL WANTS

19. 02. 10

2010-02-19T08:50:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

A fed hat and some sun so I can wear it.

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Now that it's nearing the end of February, I demand sun. For the past few days I've woken up every morning and thought to myself "Today is going to be the day that I buy a Fedora hat". Then I look out of the window and it's as if someone has put my white jeans in the wash with a cheap black bra - it is sickeningly grey. Eugh...

14. 01. 10

2010-01-14T15:37:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

Hairdresser chat.

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Yes, you did read that right. I want hairdresser chat. Now, is it just me, or does everybody come away from the hairdresser feeling better, not just about your fresh wash and blowdry, but about life? Life, with all its curls and kinks; it just feels smoother, more shiny, in better condition when you leave the salon. But why? What is it about the hairdresser that is so incredibly therapeutic?
Well, I think I've figured it out. And it took longer than a full head of highlights to get there: the therapy lies in the chat. You know, that menial, superficial, polite, where-are-you-going-on-holiday chat. The type that you feel so ready for, so practiced in, so rehearsed. You arrive, you sit in the swivel chair, they pump it up, you look in the mirror and feel slightly self-conscious, they offer you magazines, and then it begins. The chat. At first they start with the basics, how cold its been recently, which xfactor contestant you are rooting for, whether you've had a busy week etc. But then, it gets personal, and this is where the real therapy starts. Before you know it, you've opened up: how you really feel about the village bicycle sleeping with your brother, what you really think about your current boyfriend's taste in,well, just about everything and when you really want to hand in your note of resignation, but as of yet, haven't had the courage to do so. The list continues. This is the moment when all of your insecurities come to light. Maybe its something to do with the halogen lighting, the flattering mirrors, the rollers that are pulling your scalp a little too tight or the smell of peroxide. But whatever it is, it's effective. Its a respite from normal life, an excuse to speak your mind, and if that's not worth paying £70 for, I don't know what is...

04.01.10

2010-01-04T02:47:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

To reassess the health stakes of 2010.

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Word on the street is that 2010 is going to be a good year. My only wish is that it delivers. In the last decade we've seen some revolutionary changes. Today in january 2010, everyone is fierce on health; everyone strives to meet their 5-a-day. Ten years ago, the average Larry probably thought 5-a-day reflected his cigarette quota. The Wii Fit has re-established exercise, apparantly yoga on the sofa shifts pounds. I want to believe it, I really do. But something inside me is churning. Is eating 5-a-day really going to prevent cancer? Why does Scotland then only have 1-a-day? Are the XXL kids of Britain really going to lose their second tyre by holding a Wii control and flapping their bingo wings? I hate to be the pessimist, but I'm just not convinced. 2009 saw the rise of the Power-Plate, Yogalates, the Credit Crunch Diet and the Orthorexic, that is, a person obsessed with eating healthily. But is it all worth it? Only time will tell. With Britain becoming vainer and vainer by the day, the demand for quick weight loss fixes, and diets which promise a 28 inch waist by tuesday is ironically getting bigger and bigger. In fact, it looks set to burst. Let's just hope this demand isn't fitted with a gastric band...

17. 12. 09

2009-12-17T08:53:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

A dress with a deep sweetheart neckline.

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I am spotting a new trend and I love it already - The Deep Sweetheart Neckline or DSN. I've been lucky enough to see my recent trend spots confirmed: Arran Jumpers (now on ASOS!) and over the knee socks (Pretty much everywhere! as well as OTK boots)

So DSNs? Think stunning cuts, sharp edges and crisp boning with a wink of cleavage. The DSN is versatile which gives it huge promise. On leather studded dresses? Tough girl femininity. On floaty chiffon? Flirtatious chic. What sets the DSN apart from normal plunge necks, is that the boning allows for variation in shape and structure. They can be squared or rounded, peaked or pinched. The ultimate plus side? You don't have to shop at Bravissimo to wear one. Genius.

At the moment I'm totally crushing on Lipsy's DSN's. All I need to do now is win the saturday night lottery draw. Fingers crossed. Failing that? Well, it all rests on two words: Dear Santa..

09. 12. 09

2009-12-09T14:09:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

Hassle-free shopping.

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I confess. I am a bonafide shopaholic. What started as an interest in fashion has kind of morphed into this burning itch which must be satisfied, no its worse than that, its more like a physical pain verging on a coronary, which must be treated. When you walk past a shop window, do you ever notice that the mannequins started winking at you? Sometimes, if you've had a particularly trying day, they might mouth words at you through the glass, "Come in! Look at this patent, flouro-green, tartan lined bomber jacket I'm wearing! You absolutely have to buy it!" It's only when you've made the purchase that you realise the severity of the situation. You exit the shop and look up: "New Look", the shop name reads. Your first thought? Justification. Things could be worse. I mean New Look does have its moments of a la mode (emphasis on moments). When you dare to review your purchase you notice a flyer pushed inside the bag; it's advertising a teenage disco convention for 13-16 year olds. That's when you realise that you've just purchased an item from New Look's junior range. Life seems truly hideous.
Yes, shopping takes advantage of the weak, but to add insult to high street injury, shopping is also a financial drain. We live in a world of plastic. No cash? No worries - just slap it on the plastic. Sometimes, I wake up and find myself standing in Topshop, confirming a price (around £200), typing my PIN into the machine, pressing enter and watching the screen change from: "PIN confirmed" to "authorising" to "please remove card". It's so quick and so easy and so incredibly horrific.
Thing is, I would never give it up, despite the negatives. Shopping is a part of who I am, and when I go home with my flouro-green bomber jacket, I can at least sleep at night knowing that I've done some good - that's one less gag-worthy jacket New Look junior has to sell...

30. 11. 09

2009-11-30T10:51:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

Starbucks Eggnog Latte on tap.

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This christmas it's all about the Eggnog Latte. Yes you heard that right, Eggnog. I've always been a sucker for Starbucks' christmas flavours. Normally Gingerbread Latte hits the top mark with Dark Cherry Mocha coming a close second. But this year Eggnog is my guily pleasure. It seems ingenious really, why has noone thought of it before?
I asked the young Starbucks man behind the counter today, "What exactly is in an Eggnog Latte?" Of course, I expected a hard-sell description, "That would be, warm milk, an indulgent egg-brandy mix, home-made custard and a sprinkling of warmed ground nutmeg. Would you like cream on top?" Instead he hit me with reality, "That would be, custard powder, dried egg yolk, stabilisers and glutinising agent." My face fell slightly and I think he noticed. I tried to lift the mood by adding, "So no alcohol then?" He just replied, "No...there isn't"
I took my Eggnog Latte away that day, drank it and enjoyed it, emulsifying agents and everything. After all, who am I to judge a good tasting beverage? When it comes to Starbucks I fall into the trap every time. Custard of the fresh sort, or custard of the dried sort, I'm not bothered, but I am ready to crank it up a gear. Eggnog Latte allow me to introduce you to Hip Flask...

24. 11. 09

2009-11-24T10:54:00.001-08:00

A Girl Wants...

To praise the LBD.

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Its a common scenario. You've just rushed in from work. Your flat is a mess, your wardrobe is a mess and you are a mess. You've got to be at this drinks party in a London bar (of the swanky type) in under an hour. Your eyes flit from the shower, to the pile of dirty laundry, to your make up dashed across your dressing table. The makeup is in such a mad disarray that you question what exactly happened the last time you used it - did it insult you? You pick things up in a fluster: tooth brush in one hand, hair spray in another. You ambitiously clutch a MAC mascara between your lips even though you know it's gone gloopy and leaves your lashes looking like tar. But what to wear, what to wear?!
Then you see it. It's jauntily hung up in your wardrobe. Your good faithful, your weapon of choice in the face of danger. You throw it on. Suddenly the room starts spinning and when it stops, everything seems to have been put back into order. Your makeup has even crawled its way back into your makeup bag. At least you think it has, but does it really matter? The point is, you look incredible and nothing else seems to matter any longer. A sweep of blusher, a stroke of mascara and a blotting of nude, matte lipstick and you are ready. You walk out of the door, slipping into your black heels and grabbing your leopard print clutch. You make it to drinks and everyone comments on how good you are looking. Thing is, you don't need to be told and that's the beauty of it all. The dress speaks for itself. You make a mental note to wear this dress more often, but you find that you never do. Its a love hate relationship. When you have all the time in the world to get ready, you loathe it. When you have minutes to spare, you love it. But that's the appeal and that's what keeps you coming back to it again and again...

21. 11. 09

2009-11-21T14:43:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

To say thanks for her 2 blog awards!

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Recipients are asked to: 1. Thank the person who gave the award to you. 2. Copy award. 3. Post it in your blog. 4. Tell us 7 things that your readers don't know about you. 5. Link 7 new bloggers as recipients. 6. Notify winners of award with a comment on their blog. 7. Keep being awesome!

The 7 things my readers don't know about me are:

1) I want what I don't necessarily need...
2) My worst habit is: shopping compulsively...
3) I have never: seen a celebrity in London...crazy right?!
4) My favourite colour is: turquoise, pink and yellow...
5) In an argument I always win because: what I want is not debatable...
6) My favourite question is: would you like a single or double?
7) I'm an only child - the benefit of this is: I don't know how to share...shame!

The 7 new bloggers I am awarding are:

1) http://themannequinscloset.blogspot.com/
2)http://ahautemess.blogspot.com/
3)http://laejfashion.blogspot.com/2009/11/killer-shoes-literally.html
4)http://secretofficeconfessions.blogspot.com/
5)http://wheredoyoushop.blogspot.com/
6)http://itsnevertoohaute.blogspot.com/
7)http://simplychicblogs.blogspot.com/

Congrats!

LC
xxx

21. 11. 09

2009-11-21T13:54:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

Pick me ups. On demand.

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Wouldn't it be great if a hug in a mug really did exist? I'm not suggesting that I want, or even remotely like, Batchelor's cup-a-soup, but it would be genuinely pleasing if there was a large fluffy monster on speed dial to call whenever you needed a pick me up, of the emotional sort. Sometimes, a diet coke does the job, other times only regular, full fat coke really hits the spot. When its human attention I crave, a chat with a close girl friend usually leaves me laughing. When its human attention I loathe, I usually find solace at the bottom of a pint of Ben & Jerry's. But don't you notice that pick me ups always require an active implementation of some kind? When you're feeling blue, wouldn't it be considerably easier if you could wish a bar of Dairy Milk into your hand and telepathically prompt the T.V. to turn on Sleepless in Seattle? Wouldn't it be blissful if you could snap your fingers and be lying in a steamy, hot bath courtesy of Neom's organic bath oils? It is suggested that pets are therapeutic and increase overall well-being, well if thats true, why are they not given out free on the NHS?
I've decided that what I need is a furry friend of some kind, perhaps a Rufus or a Cattykins. Alternitavely, I'll just go to Sainsburys, pick up a cup-a-soup and wait for my hug in a mug to kick in. If it doesn't, I'll sue on the grounds of false advertising.

18. 11. 09

2009-11-18T14:59:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

More people to go "Faux-Glow".

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So apart from English roses and Geisha girls, can it not be concluded that everyone, and I mean everyone, looks better with a tan? I think it can. In fact, one of the first things you notice about someone when they return from, say, a two week stint yachting in the Carribean (lets be honest a touch of extravagance never hurt anyone...) is their glowing ambience, their berry-brown skin and their sunkissed cheekbones. But, and this is one oompaloompa-lific B-U-T, tanning has got to be done right. I completely disagree with tanning booths. In fact, the mere sight of a tanning booth sign sends shivers to my core. Don't people realise the risks? The thought alone frightens me, and I don't know why other people feel the need to compromise health for a tan. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm all about the tan - trust me. But, I think the only healthy and viable way to go about it is to embrace the "Faux-Glow". Yes, everyone, go for a dip in your bottle of Johnson's Holiday Skin. I'm a bit of a traditionalist and always opt for a good lathering of St. Tropez before I escape to the Land of Nod. But my point is, why risk death when you can get the same effects from Faux-Glow? It all seems a bit extreme for the sake of a tan. So next time some irritating, small-talker says to you, "Darling, you look amazing! You = SO tanned! Me = SO jealous! Where did you go on holiday?", I urge you to reply, ever the epitome of class and cool, "Oh Darling, the inside of a bottle of course, where else?"...

16. 11. 09

2009-11-16T09:13:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

A new car. Preferably a convertible VW Beetle.

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Woody is very very special. He has a yellow gear stick, different coloured seat belts and dice in the rear window which say 'Bitch'. The dice are flourescent blue and Woody is dark green - they clash with a hideous professionalism. When I first got him, it was love at first sight. He wasn't the most flashy ride, but he had charisma, and that's more than you can say for most W-reg cars. Anyway, last week, something awful happened. Now I blame it entirely on the weather (hard to miss the incessant warnings and horrific downpour - especially when you're wearing imitation white Chanel pumps, that decide to prove their fakeness by turning an awkward shade of green in the rain). Anyway when I came back to check on Woody after a weekend away, I opened the passenger door to find a sickeningly deep pool of water filling the foot space. Woody was leaking.
I knew his age was always a factor, but at the time I was young and desperate and he could give me everything I wanted; freedom, independence and mileage. But now I've started to realise, maybe Woody isn't so good for me anymore. I mean he's had practically everything about him changed apart from his body work, he's just not the car I fell in love with. Besides, no one likes a financial leech do they? So I've decided I want a replacement...no, I want an upgrade. To be specific? A convertible VW Beetle. Not only are they adorable but they have classic, timeless style. Roof down on sunny days, roof most definitely up, on rainy ones. Woody seems a world away from the car I now have in mind.
So, Christmas list item No. 1 anybody?

13. 11. 09

2009-11-13T09:50:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

To be tri-lingual.

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There is something very, very off-putting about a small child that speaks in more than one language. Have you noticed that? One minute they are grinning a gappy smile and asking for lollipops, crayons and play dough (how adorable!) but when you can't provide it, that smile turns sour and next thing you know they are abusing you...in German. They seem to take pleasure in the fact that you don't understand them. This actually causes them to say it louder and more aggressively. And why shouldn't they? After all, you don't actually know German and of course, you didn't provide the play dough. I would love to be tri-lingual, or at least bi-lingual. For starters, you would never be outsmarted by said child ever again! Somewhat more romantically, you could go to Paris and speak fashion a la Francophone. You could speak the language of love, wear dark sunglasses and tie your hair in a chignon. You could say "oh la la" and be taken seriously for once. And you could pick up baguettes from the boulangerie and not feel like you are revising GCSE French. Yes, I want to have a mother tongue and another tongue. Learning a language as a language to be learnt, takes away its mystery, it takes away that "je ne sais quoi". Well, it seems that my chance for bi-linguality is past. So I guess I will just have to make do with my memories of year 11 french, Madame Frites and her endless obsession with Clementine videos. My consolation is that even if I do forget all of my French vocab, immaturity means I will always be able to acknowledge when I am, "en retard" and that in itself amuses me greatly...

11. 11. 09

2009-11-11T05:36:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

To reprimand the onesie and apologise to Postie.

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Last week I heard Primarni had brought out a onesie. Yes, a onesie. That is, an all in one, pyjama suit. Well I'm not entirely sure what possessed me, but I bought one. Now I am not pretending to have foreseen the pyjama suit in the fashion stakes come christmas 09, but as an owner, there is no denying it makes a statement. Yesterday morning, I donned the onesie (I was cold, it was cute - could I say no?) I had just finished doing up the poppers when the doorbell rang. I was alone, and from the grunting outside I knew it was the postman (he's a grunter). Anyway, you can imagine my dilemma. Was I ready to come out as a onesie convert? Could I pull off the confidence to look uber cool dressed as an 8 month old baby? Realistically there was only one thing I could do in such a situation. On the first shake my magic eight ball said, "ask again later". On the second, it said "yes". By this point, Postie was grunting and swearing, I made a mental note to buy him a compensatory christmas present. I opened the door, and smiled cheerily, reaching out to claim my package. Postie recoiled in absolute horror. In fact, I think he may have screamed. I knew then and there that my magic eight ball was corrupt. Postie held a chubby hand over his eyes (to avoid the glare?) as he gave me my package, mumbled something in a high pitched voice about having a lot of deliveries this morning and then legged it, almost tripping over his postbag. The onesie didn't go down too well, but on the upside if Postie never returns, I can probably cross him off my christmas list...

09. 11. 09

2009-11-09T00:31:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

Christmas to come early.

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Now, I have never been a christmas fanatic - cold nights, cold days, dry skin, chapped lips, sad hair...urrgh. Anyway, for some reason, i'm feeling strangely festive (you may or may not have noticed) and I am steadily veering off on a mince pie come mulled wine tangent. Is this dangerous? I'm not entirely sure...
I just can't wait to have the affirmative that christmas has come. The gareish wreaths on front doors, the log fires, the smell of Glade spiced apple candles (classy, I know), the lights, the plastic snowmen and the sound of people saying, "well you know its Christmas when the Coca-Cola advert comes on t.v."
Somewhat more childishly I can't wait to have the affirmative that it is now ok to write my christmas list. Yes, I know I'm no longer of christmas list 'age', but that doesn't mean I'm not of christmas list calibre. Let's be honest, it's nice to get presents at christmas but it's even nicer when you know what you're getting. You pick a sizeable present from under the tree, screw up your face and say "gosh, now what could this be!?" - thanks to former christmas list, you know full well that this present has the perfect consistency to be that Matthew Williamson shift you expressed a shamefully unignorable interest in and have had your "buy-me" eye on for...too long. Oh and the little rip in the wrapping? Completely accidental of course. It glints under the fairy lights and shows a sneaky bit of beading and just perhaps the corner of the Matthew Williamson label. Confirmation! Isn't it wonderful how feigning suprise is half the fun when you know the suprise to feign? After all, the delightful horror of my Grandma's "reindeer-series" knitted vest tops (I think last year was Prancer?!) truly fills my "genuine" suprise void.

07. 11. 09

2009-11-07T08:50:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

To bring back the dinner party.

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Is it just me or are dinner parties on a downward trajectory? The dinner party has been a practicing function for centuries, probably even millenia. I mean, Fred and Wilma held their fair share of dinner parties and they were prehistoric. Why is it that today, fun can only be had outside of the house? Clubs, bars, restaurants, cinemas...don't get me wrong, I enjoy them too, but I think the dinner party is in a crisis of facing extinction.
Is there not something incredibly charming about blue soup a la Bridget Jones, or mashed potato that failed to mash, or home made pies that lose their status of "pie" somewhere between entering and exiting the oven? I think the dinner party is the ultimate expression of individuality and you can be assured that no other will be the same. There is also something hugely relieving about knowing your clientelle. You open the door and welcome faces that you actually want to see rather being confronted by your ex boyfriend in a dingy club, who never did understand the meaning of moderation...yes you dated that.
Anyway, I say, long live the dinner party! It's an excuse to indulge in excellent company, a nice glass of red and moreish home-made puddings. At least that's the illusion my guests are under. After all, if Marks and Spencer's won't tell, who really needs to know.

05. 11. 09

2009-11-05T14:13:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

To have a personal masseuse.

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It has been a long, tiring day. You arrive home and open your front door and instead of being greeted by the manic flash of your answer machine or a suspiciously thick stack of letters (aka bill reminders) which have been accumulating beside your manically flashing answer machine, you are welcomed by the wave of a professional hand and a waft of aromatherapy oil: your own personal masseuse...yes!
Now this masseuse is no ordinary masseuse. This is the masseuse of all masseuses; the ultimate masseuse. Masseuse Parfait. Masseuse Parfait doesn't talk to you whilst you are having your massage (as some feel so inclined to do). Masseuse Parfait doesn't tug at your body like a demonic four year old, pulling the limbs off Barbie for fun. Masseuse Parfait has toenails which are a pleasure to inspect, after all, when you're staring at the floor, there's nothing worse than coming face to face with toes of the fungal variety. And Masseuse Parfait has hands like liquid gold. Ah yes, there's nothing better than dozing off under the watchful eye and soothing hand of Masseuse Parfait. What's even better is that MP doesn't stop until you say so, and if you never say so, then MP never stops.
You get the picture... Masseuse Parfaits all round?

04. 11. 09

2009-11-04T09:21:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

To be wrapped in feathers and rolled in glitter.

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I'm just feeling festive. At the moment, I can't seem to get enough of feathers and sparkle. Is that just me being ridiculously girly? Who knows. I've always been somewhat of a romantic when it comes to fashion...
Roses, crushed satin, ballet shoes, posies, netting, froth, diamonds, gold links, pearls, flower garlands.

03. 11. 09

2009-11-03T05:00:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

An office job. Yes you did read that right.

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As I'm trudging my way towards the end of my university degree, my thoughts are turning towards the big, wide world of work. With the recession, jobs in magazine journalism are scarce. It doesn't bode well, does it?
All I have ever wanted is to work within four walls. In my dream office, I arrive at 9.30 and leave at 6. I have my own desk, my own MAC and my own potted plant. The air around me resonates with action, deadline and drive. I get to write all day, boss an intern around (serious pay back!) and drink skinny lattes, no cream. I meet with colleagues for lunch - one of those nouveau health places, with granary bread and hemp seeds. I attend meetings and spring board my ideas and then, on the way out, I briefly catch up with a female colleague. Female colleague tells me that Ginger Nuts and the lady down on reception were caught kissing in the lift by the courier on the basement floor. I smile and laugh because for some reason, office gossip is always more juicy than gossip in the real world, especially when it involves Ginger Nuts...

01. 11. 09

2009-11-01T13:52:00.000-08:00

A Girl Wants...

To fly first class. Always.

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Back in the 1920s, flying was a real luxury. It was a treat to cruise in tin birds and brush cheeks with the clouds. So why today is flying accompanied with a sigh and a rolling of eyes and a big, big bottle of moisturiser? I think flying should still be a pleasure. Whilst air-stewards and stewardesses try their best, how come they never stop that petulant child digging their heels into the back of your seat and kicking creases into your new cashmere jumper? Why do they insist on making your seats so compact that you feel compelled to wear those anti DVT socks (I'm pretty sure that stands for Deathly Vile Trash). Said socks are of course made from nylon and I blame them entirely for the static hair I seem to have aquired by touchdown.
So, I say bring back first class for the masses! Flying is supposed to be enjoyable and I'm pretty sure that with a fully reclinable chair I could once again learn to enjoy cruising at altitude. Besides, with first class leg room, I could actually wear my 6 inchers on the plane without my knees being under my chin.

31. 10. 09

2009-10-31T05:28:00.000-07:00

A Girl Wants...

Her own private collection of Christophe Josse's couture dresses.

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These pieces are truly exquisite. This summer I completely fell for the whole Futuristic come Naturistic come Wet-Behind-The-Ears look. Does that make any sense? I mean looking, smelling and dressing as if you have been dipped in a dewy balm and then flown ten lightyears into the future. Innocent and vulnerable in one light yet obscure and other-worldly in another.
Anyway, I feel that Christophe Josse has projected this naturistic/futuristic look into his A/W 09 collection - and I love it. After all, key looks might end with seasons, but when it comes to futurism, we're living, wearing and designing it every day.

30. 10. 09

2009-10-30T16:19:00.000-07:00

A Girl Wants...

More people to start wearing Juliette Has A Gun - Lady Vengeance. Possibly the sexiest scent ever.

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I discovered this fragrance about two summers ago whilst interning. Definitely the highlight of my call-ins. Lady Vengeance and Miss Charming are both gorgeous scents with underlying tones of Morrocan Rose, Patchouli and Vanilla. Sounds like it could be a sweet note too far but both are very wearable. Lady Vengeance has got to be my favourite - it has a devilish disobedience about it. I like my scents to say something about who I am, its all very well wearing Mother Dearest's Chanel No. 5 simply because it is "Classic", but what has Classic got to say for itself when you start smelling like an old woman with holes in the back of her stockings and a hair net secured with an off taupe scrunchy?
That's no put down to Chanel No.5 and I can't deny that it claimed its seat in scent heaven as soon as it was produced in 1921, but if you want a perfume that turns heads and provokes smiles, then Lady Vengeance is more than appropriate, after all, naughty is supposed to be nice - isn't it?

29. 10. 09

2009-10-29T15:13:00.000-07:00

A Girl Wants...

An Elie Saab inspired christmas.

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A christmas with frost, icicles and snow. Is that too much to ask? Perhaps it is. But in the land of fashion, weather is no restriction. Since when did comfort compromise couture?
The Elie Saab A/W 09 collection glistened with winter whites and silvers. Beaded bodies and feathered jackets added a romantic edge to classic pieces.
Maybe if it doesn't snow we can all wear Elie Saab instead - it might mean sacrificing our extremities to the chill of Jack Frost, but it would make christmas perfect.

29. 10. 09

2009-10-29T08:31:00.000-07:00

A Girl Wants...

Centre partings to make a comeback.

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Centre parted hippy fringes, dishevelled centre cut crops and chignons with a centre bias...I love them all and want to see more people sporting them on the streets of England!
When someone says centre parting, the mass response is, "But that would never suit my face" or "Centre partings are for geeks". In all fairness, the Geek has done the centre parting no favours. Traditionally envisaged with acne and braces, the Geek's battle with beauty is only emphasised by the centre parting sprouting somewhat repulsively from greasy roots and a flaky scalp.
BUT! this isn't how it has to be.
Centre partings are gorgeous when done right. With a bit of volume at the root, the days of lank cheek slapping hair flanks are long gone. Even better, centre partings actually suit a plethora of face shapes and, just for the record, circular faces look adorable with a longer cut, chunky fringe and long locks to subtly lengthen the face and extend the neck.

26. 10. 09

2009-10-26T15:21:00.000-07:00

A Girl Wants...

To make high socks the new thing.

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I've already started wearing my cream thigh highs over bare legs with a too-cute navy jumper dress.

26. 10. 09

2009-10-26T14:44:00.000-07:00

A Girl Wants...

To work for Tara Jarmon.

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I fell in love with her collections when in Lille, France. Her store breathed femininity and classic Parisienne style. Her pieces won me over instantly. Dreamy, rosy and hazy. Approximately two hours later I waltzed out with three new pieces. Yeh it broke the bank, but it was totally worth it.

On that occasion I wanted it, and I got it.

25. 10. 09

2009-10-25T02:03:00.001-07:00

A Girl Wants...

To be in New York.

24. 10 .09

2009-10-24T04:53:00.001-07:00

A Girl Wants...

Concentration. Work isn't going to get itself done. Perhaps putting on my geek chic glasses will help.

24. 10 .09

2009-10-24T03:02:00.000-07:00

A Girl Wants...

To see some sunshine. Or alternitavely to wear this dress.

24. 10 .09

2009-10-24T02:22:00.000-07:00

A Girl Wants...

A Givency feather bolero.

24. 10 .09

2009-10-24T01:32:00.000-07:00

A Girl Wants...

An item by Matthew Williamson. Any item.

23. 10. 09

2009-10-23T15:00:00.000-07:00

A Girl Wants...

To bring back the Aaron jumper.

23. 10. 09

2009-10-23T14:41:00.000-07:00

A Girl Wants...

Georgina Goodman heels.