Let them eat cake (as long as it's stylish)

And believe me folks this one is.

Curator Charlie blew all the competition out of water with a fine Super Epic Rainbow Cake (passed on to her from yours truly, and all courtesy of the wonderfully sweet toothed food blogger, Whisk Kid),  for an art cake bake off.

Six layers, six different colours, and what can only be described as a fuck ton of butter cream. This cake wasn't restrained in any shape or form. Rather, it's the style equivalent of a 6ft 2" Nicky Minaj drag queen tribute act. Oh yes. This fine, fine piece of confection magic won the day, the trophy, and basically wiped the floor with pansy muffins and conformist traditional two layer cakes.

Santa Baby...

...Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me
I've been an awful good girl
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight... 

Sod the sable, I want these: 

Yeah, they're peep toe and we're in the midst of winter, but I figure it could just be a cold snap. Plus opaque tights are back in a big way, so y'know totally practical. 

Yeah, they may be a tad 'out there', a touch 'aggressive', but I don't caaaaaaaaare, they are amazing and I will punch anyone who says otherwise. 

Ahem...sorry. 

Anyway they're by Sam Edelman and available at Harvey Nichols . Shoe boxes are easy to wrap and look so nice under one's Christmas tree, don't you think? 

M Is For Marvellous

Today is Monday. Today I had the day off. Oh yes, sheer decadence in October, why the fuck not?

What did I get up to? Well, since you ask, although it doesn't do to brag....

.... the morning was spent luxuriating in bed, smug in the knowledge that most people were in their hives by the time I'd woken up. After copious amounts of the black stuff (coffee for those not in the caffeine club) and some scrambled eggs, I decided it was high time I took in a bit of culture; namely the Anish Kapoor sculptures in Kensington Gardens, courtesy of the The Serpentine Gallery.

*'Scuse the crappy photo quality, there's only so much a gal can do with her crackberry, k? 

It helped that I love Kapoor's work, it helped that it was a cool, crisp, and occasionally bright day. There was adventure in hunting out Kapoor's treasures, kicking up the leaves as we did so.

I'd recommend taking a look whilst the light and the weather holds. I don't know if there's a deeper meaning to Kapoor's work, and I don't really care. For me, it's the simple pleasure in how they make me feel.

Outfit wise I was wearing the perfect crispautumnaldaylookinfatartandmaybegoforadrinkafterwards ensemble; skinny black jeans, flats (no socks, hurrah!), long wrap cardigan in a deep navy blue, vintage belt, crop biker jacket and a cornflower coloured snood. I'm treasuring the snug, over sized but cute look whilst I can. It's only a matter of time until turning sideways is the only way to get through doors, because you're wearing a gazillion jumpers, socks, hats and scarves.

Work and Play

After careful and extensive research I have decided on my Autumn/Winter 'look'. This will be followed until after Christmas, when I shall review. Any unkind souls who suggest that a review is required due to some additional festive poundage will find themselves off the Christmas card list. Forever. Yeah, that's how I roll.

So, work:

The Joan Holloway. I love this woman - not the actress, she interests me less - the character, Joan. Much celebrated at the moment, I'm fully aware I'm jumping on the bandwagon, but I'm ok with that. Firstly, she looks like a woman, and having always been um, blessed, with a womanly figure it's a relief to see someone I can identify with. Plus she looks banging in a tight dress, clearly likes a pudding and comes across as very comfortable in her skin. This I admire, this I want. Having a inch to pinch and not giving a damn. Sexy. 

I intend to work the prim, but womanly look for work. It's classic, it's classy and makes me feel great, which given I spend 10 hours a day in a testosterone dominated environment is more important than one would think. Footwear? A classic black court. Fail safe.

So what about play? Well, as much as I love the looks above, being that corseted, that 'poured in', I like to be able to reclaim my rib cage and well, breathe. I also wanted something cosier, something that was a bit more 'on trend', that could be easily adapted to normal gal wear from the catwalks, and frankly, something that I wouldn't have to reinvent my whole wardrobe to achieve. So, hello Burberry. Your campaign has been around for months now. It's seeped into my brain box and is claiming squatter's rights. 

Oversized but figure hugging shearling aviator jackets? Check. Soft dresses over boots? Check. Perfect for damp autumnal days, and cool evenings? Absolutely. I like the idea of snuggling into the soft shearling, especially when it gets cold enough to see your breath. Add a snood and a soft beanie and you are made. 

I'm also coveting these. Admittedly they're not over the knee boots as per the catwalk outfit above, but they are big, big news this season. Obviously Burberry again, Christopher Bailey is on fire at the moment. 

Alas, unless Father Christmas is feeling remarkably generous and impatient to get with the present giving, I shall be looking for high street versions.

Life is so unfair.


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A/W 2010 Look Book - Part Trois

The Illusionist

I recently went to see The Illusionist. No, not the one with Edward Norton that was vaguely disappointing.

I hadn't really noticed how CGI and Pixar style animation had taken over so completely, and just how different it is from hand-drawn. It's smoothness, the somehow homogenous quality of every film, despite the different plots, subjects, settings.

This Illusionist is an animation of the old school brigade and it's a delight. Hand-drawn and beautifully imperfect. Intricate, drawings that stemmed from obsessive observation, it seemed all the better able to reflect its human subjects and their own imperfections.

Is one better than the other?  I don't think it's about being 'better', I think it's about appreciating the differences, and not losing the old in our rush to embrace the new.

The Illusionist is, on the face of it, a simple tale of an old French variety show magician who travels to Scotland to ply his trade. What it's also about is the naiveté of youth, and on the other side of the coin, hope in the face of experience, that despite all the signs pointing to the contrary, a big break's just around the corner.

Sounds gloomy? But it's not, it's sweet, warm, compassionate and funny. Poking fun at itself, at the cheesiness of variety acts and the eccentricity of one's neighbours. You get all of this in faded washes of colour, sweeping landscapes, intimate domestic scenes, and an ever present musical score. The score is the script, it tells you what the characters are thinking and feeling, and the sparse use of mumbled French or Gaelic is the punctuation.

If you get a chance, go see it. I don't think it's going to be around for long, and something about being ensconced in the warm, popcorn sticky cinema air makes it all the more charming.  It's like a toffee caress, and the bright modern light you step into when you leave contrasts with a lemon sharpness.

All In The Name of Research

The day started, as all days ideally should, with lunch in the sun. It was all so good, low carb, as all pre-shopping lunches are, and suitably spoilt by some high carb wine, not to mention the sticky toffee pudding (with two spoons natch).

Walking it off meant a mooch around the west end.

We undertook some scientific research *cough* in Whistles on Marylebone High Street. What follows are our current favourites. Alas I need to eat this month, so after fondling the fabrics I sought solace in H&M.

C'est la vie.