Where Does the Time Go?

Well, it's been another hectic week for this Londonienne...

Let's start with the Futurism show at the Tate Modern. Took in the show last Sunday, post a 7th floor lunch and half a bottle of Pinot Grigio. Maybe that's what made the colours in the paintings sing. Or, maybe it was because it was one of the best shows i've seen in a while.

Having studied futurism in my arty days it was good to see a lot of old friends there, Boccioni, one of the Duchamp brothers (who wasn't a Duchamp. I can't remember why, I think Marcel changed his name to Duchamp - if that makes sense. Hey, if it doesn't, it's ok, it's art.). The exhibition was tightly curated and showcased major pieces from the strong holds of Futurism - France, Italy and Russia. It also exhibited women in the movement, who stuck it out despite the misogyny of the times, the movement and its male protagonists.

A riot of colour it overwhelmed and drew you in. In spite of the crowds (that'll teach me to do on the last day and a saturday), I could lose myself in the colour and the form. Simply stunning. Plus I got to see a couple of Picassos and a Braque, showing the link between Futurism and its perhaps better known cousin, Cubism. Simply lovely.

Needless to say an afternoon of art required a relaxed yet chic outfit. Cue pirate boots, boho black dress, long cardie in charcoal and a navy sequin beret. Sienna Miller by way of Paris?

Unfortunately this was then additionally accessorised by the onset of a fearsome cold that's still got me in its grasp. I'm sitting here typing and snuffling simultaneously. I disgust myself and probably quite a few of the unlucky folk who've had to sit next to me on public transport this week.

The highlight of this week has been a haircut. Tragic maybe, but much needed and much enjoyed. Ladies and gentleman, Goldilocks has taken a hike and been replaced by something else. Who is she? I don't know yet. But the long and short of it (ha! Love a bad pun) is that 10 inches of hair has been lopped off and I'm now sporting this season's shattered bob. Think Louise Brooks but without the robotic aspect, think Audrey Tatou in Before Chanel and think a slightly less disheveled Alexa Chung. I feel lighter, literally (10 inches is a lot of hair!), and mentally. In a way it was the final shrugging off of something that had been weighing me down for a while. It's been a bad, mad year, but I'm coming out of it as something different. Better, tauter and more focused. The hair was one of the final steps in the transformation and boy does it feel good.

This weekend i've had the pleasure of attending the opening of a hot new salon in Exmouth Market, opened by two ladies who are very close to my heart. It's chic, yet welcoming, modern without being soulless, and I hope it will be a massive success. Met some interesting people and got to go on a night on the town with the Italian and my gorgeously charming and erudite grandfather. At 93 the man knows what's what and also appreciated my new crop.  The salon is called LIV and can be found here. Get yourself down there for some pampering at non highway robbery prices!

I've also managed to catch the 3rd installment of Bette Bourne's show at the Soho Theatre. Not quite a play, and not a performance, but a conversation. It's autobiographical and explores Bette's life as a mover and shaker in gay theatre and the gay liberation movement. Bette and Mark Ravenhill took to the stage for an hour and it was captivating. Bette's a showgirl through and through, but with a thoughtfulness and keen intelligence underneath the shimmer and sparkle. An unusual saturday night for me, but a lovely one. Outfit? Dark denim, studded flats and working this season's lace trend with a black backless top paneled in the stuff. Add a blazer with a rolled up sleeve and a smokey eye and I felt ready for anything.