I'm sorry. I am. To all you brunettes out there, I'm slowly, but surely moving over to the dark side...or should that be bright side.
A couple of light pieces in August has led to a progressively blonder barnet. Opinions are divided and, may I add, strong. My mum, not one to mince her words, has finally admitted that she 'hated me with dark hair'. Thanks Mum! My husband prefers the brunette look but alas, I've fallen to temptation and there's no doubt about it. It's addictive.
There are so many questions. Where's it all going to stop? How dry is my hair going to get and who in the hell's going to stop me before it's all too late and my silky brunette locks are gone forever. Well, not forever, but we've all experienced the agony of growing out roots. Only Kate Moss can make that carnage look stylish. I will just look gross.
Sitting in the hairdressers for three hours is nothing short of complete pleasure for me. Magazines galore, cups of tea on tap and friendly, funny chat. Perfect. So, with my love of hair salons apparent, it's no surprise that I end up getting excited with my changing look and asking for more each time.
Maybe 2010 is my blonde year and next year I'll go back to black....but first I've got to check out if blondes really do have more fun. I’ll let you know.
Style Twist - not even the most stylish person I know x
Sunday, 31 January 2010
Sunday, 24 January 2010
Biker Chick (gulp!)
Now that I've finally managed to select the correct leather jacket - appropriately practical yet adequately stylish, I needed to put my 'helmet hair' fear aside and get on a moving motorbike.
Today I officially became a biker chick. True, I never thought I'd find myself perched on a bike, exposed to the elements without a safety screen or metal car shell to protect me but...I liked it.
There wasn't much scope for vanity when it came to choosing my clothes. Funny that. When it comes to life or death, one normally goes with the sensible option. So, black jeans, a woolly jumper and the biker gear were the (arguably) boring extent of it.
But let's not forget the truly stylish element of this scene. Without question, whizzing around the beautiful English countryside, with the crisp wind against my skin and noticing details of the journey that I never would in a car, was the style twist to my journey. Who knew trees were so beautiful? Well I guess I did, but my appreciation for a journey's scenery was heightened ten fold during my hour-long road trip.
Now, to the helmet hair. It was, as I'd feared, horrendous beyond compare. Dull, flat, lifeless. Cheryl Cole would've had L'Oreal advert fodder for a year if she'd caught a glimpse of me as I snuck into a coffee shop mid-journey for an excruciatingly over-priced hot beverage with my driver.
I'll have to give the hair planning a great deal more thought before my biking adventure to Paris for Valentines Day. It certainly wouldn't do to be seen in the world's fashion capital looking like I did today. I might not even get through passport control...
Style Twist - not even the most stylish person I know x
Sunday, 17 January 2010
Welsh Wardrobes
Packing for my weekend trip to West Wales on Thursday , I had more than what outfits to pick on my mind. I've got a secret you see. I can't go a week without clothes shopping and I was beginning to worry about where exactly I would attend to said addiction in the absolutely beautiful, yet alarmingly shopless (virtually) Llanarth and Newquay.
My husband once told me that if I bought one more candle, cushion or photo frame he'd...well he didn't know exactly what he'd do but I could tell it wouldn't be to compliment me for my commitment to the soft furnishing industry.
So, if home wear purchasing is paused, what for my wardrobe addictions in rural Wales?
Unfazed by the lack of high street names, I pride myself on my ability to hunt out a stylish bargain in the most unlikely of stores - Newquay's Second Gear store to be precise. Last summer I picked up a John Rocha dress for twelve small pounds and this time, I nabbed a beautiful, fitted M&S Autograph black coat. A steal at £40.
Add this to a £2 heart shaped, faux-crystal broach from Aberystwyth and I'm high on life. My mood visibly picked and a euphoria oozed happily through my shopaholic veins.
An amazing meal at Aberaeron's Harbour Master topped off a wonderfully Welsh weekend for me...safe in the knowledge that my shopping fix would remain dormant until next weekend. http://www.harbour-master.com/
Style Twist - not even the most stylish person I know x
Sunday, 10 January 2010
sNOw Style
You can't turn on the TV or radio without hearing about the adverse weather! People are quite simply, mad for it. Everybody knows better than Michael Fish himself. Weather updates and incessant speculation are commonplace in offices across the country.
But, let's put aside the travel chaos for one moment (I beg) and consider the devastating impact said weather conditions have had on my fashion sense. The desperate situation reached a crescendo on a quick dash to the supermarket this week. I'd had leather boots on for work but, to my despair, they'd not provided the safest soles so I needed a quick change on route.
Making Bambi appear elegant, I slid into Sainsbury's, catching a quick glimpse of my reflection in the glass doors. A black dress, black tights, pink ankle socks and orange gym trainers. Good God, how had this happened?!
The snow does crazy things you see. The basic human need to be safe and warm can take over, even for the most fashion conscious among us. The consequences are somewhat horrific. Snow is glamorous on screen, beautiful in pictures and quite magical in our imagination but when it comes to my personal style, it's been on a snow break for a week....
Style Twist - not even the most stylish person I know x
But, let's put aside the travel chaos for one moment (I beg) and consider the devastating impact said weather conditions have had on my fashion sense. The desperate situation reached a crescendo on a quick dash to the supermarket this week. I'd had leather boots on for work but, to my despair, they'd not provided the safest soles so I needed a quick change on route.
Making Bambi appear elegant, I slid into Sainsbury's, catching a quick glimpse of my reflection in the glass doors. A black dress, black tights, pink ankle socks and orange gym trainers. Good God, how had this happened?!
The snow does crazy things you see. The basic human need to be safe and warm can take over, even for the most fashion conscious among us. The consequences are somewhat horrific. Snow is glamorous on screen, beautiful in pictures and quite magical in our imagination but when it comes to my personal style, it's been on a snow break for a week....
Style Twist - not even the most stylish person I know x
Saturday, 2 January 2010
The Long and the Short of It
It's every girls dream right? To be six foot tall with long legs, towering above the envious (and short) crowd. Yes, that's right, I've heard it a hundred times before. Wait; hold that, I've heard it at least a thousand times before. It can take any number of linguistic twists, but the word tall and a synonym for nice are usually there. Well, I've got a secret to share. I hate it, I really do.
On route to a meeting in London a few weeks back, I was dashing up Oxford Street searching for the right exit when an alarmingly tall gentleman stopped me. 'Gosh it's nice to see a woman of such length', he exclaimed, before bothering me for several more metres, asking if I did the high jump and where exactly I came from. It would not be ok to do that to somebody who was overweight or shorter than average, of that I’m sure!
I've been here before. If I'd allowed it, the next question would have come from the stockpile of Atrocious, Misguided Questions and Compliments for Tall People. 'Did your mother put you in a grow bag?' 'Have you always been tall?' or, let's crack out the originality, 'How tall are you exactly?'. No, sort of and six foot (six foot one if I'm honest but I wouldn't dare).
Welcome to the world of ankle flappers, ugly flat shoes and doing a lunge when somebody takes a group photo and you look like a BFG bookend. Let's start with the ankle flappers.....
Buying a pair of trousers is epic. Knowing you want to avoid Long Tall Sally at all costs (I’ve never been there because that would be admitting defeat), you have to shop carefully. Having trousers skirting your shin, unless that is overtly the intended style, is obscene no less.
With trouser bottoms dancing at the top of your shoes, you’re never going to look good. You’re always going to be a misfit. I’ve learned that hard way. When girls were first allowed to wear trousers to school (our own Suffragete moment), I got no further than the bus stop before I was ridiculed for my short slacks and pop socks. I was desperate to go home but I had to keep face. I survived the day but never again did I wear trousers despite my previous five year war for equality. Who wants equality when you look like a tool?
Topshop Tall is usually a safe bet but I literally need to try on seven or eight pairs to find something vaguely flattering.
Next for the flat shoes. Ignore what the magazines say. Flat shoes look rubbish with a posh frock so then you’re faced with a conundrum - how to find a medium heel that’s not committing any serious crime to your overall look. It’s tough I tell you. I make compromises on almost every pair of shoes I buy. It’s an infringement on my womanly rights I’m sure…to not have one pair that I truly adore! I look longingly into delicious shoes stores and feel really hard done buy. I’ve been dealt a duff hand.
And finally to the photo lunge. It’s appalling. When you’re at least 6 inches taller than most of your girlfriends, a photo is not a flattering opportunity. I know, deep down, that I’d never make it into a girl band (and not just because I can’t sing a note in tune). I’d be laughed off the stage.
I sense that this tall theme is going to be a blog regular so, rest assured, I’ll keep you posted.
Style Twist - not even the most stylish person I know x
On route to a meeting in London a few weeks back, I was dashing up Oxford Street searching for the right exit when an alarmingly tall gentleman stopped me. 'Gosh it's nice to see a woman of such length', he exclaimed, before bothering me for several more metres, asking if I did the high jump and where exactly I came from. It would not be ok to do that to somebody who was overweight or shorter than average, of that I’m sure!
I've been here before. If I'd allowed it, the next question would have come from the stockpile of Atrocious, Misguided Questions and Compliments for Tall People. 'Did your mother put you in a grow bag?' 'Have you always been tall?' or, let's crack out the originality, 'How tall are you exactly?'. No, sort of and six foot (six foot one if I'm honest but I wouldn't dare).
Welcome to the world of ankle flappers, ugly flat shoes and doing a lunge when somebody takes a group photo and you look like a BFG bookend. Let's start with the ankle flappers.....
Buying a pair of trousers is epic. Knowing you want to avoid Long Tall Sally at all costs (I’ve never been there because that would be admitting defeat), you have to shop carefully. Having trousers skirting your shin, unless that is overtly the intended style, is obscene no less.
With trouser bottoms dancing at the top of your shoes, you’re never going to look good. You’re always going to be a misfit. I’ve learned that hard way. When girls were first allowed to wear trousers to school (our own Suffragete moment), I got no further than the bus stop before I was ridiculed for my short slacks and pop socks. I was desperate to go home but I had to keep face. I survived the day but never again did I wear trousers despite my previous five year war for equality. Who wants equality when you look like a tool?
Topshop Tall is usually a safe bet but I literally need to try on seven or eight pairs to find something vaguely flattering.
Next for the flat shoes. Ignore what the magazines say. Flat shoes look rubbish with a posh frock so then you’re faced with a conundrum - how to find a medium heel that’s not committing any serious crime to your overall look. It’s tough I tell you. I make compromises on almost every pair of shoes I buy. It’s an infringement on my womanly rights I’m sure…to not have one pair that I truly adore! I look longingly into delicious shoes stores and feel really hard done buy. I’ve been dealt a duff hand.
And finally to the photo lunge. It’s appalling. When you’re at least 6 inches taller than most of your girlfriends, a photo is not a flattering opportunity. I know, deep down, that I’d never make it into a girl band (and not just because I can’t sing a note in tune). I’d be laughed off the stage.
I sense that this tall theme is going to be a blog regular so, rest assured, I’ll keep you posted.
Style Twist - not even the most stylish person I know x
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