The Inconvenient Bag - GIVEAWAY!

I think we all realise by now that continually accepting new plastic bags at the supermarket checkout is not best practice. I try to remember to carry around a calico or canvas bag so that, whilst I will inevitably have to accept some plastic or cardboard bags, I can at least try to reduce my environmental impact on a daily basis.


Classic design $11

I rather like these shopping bags from The Inconvenient Bag, a small American company, whose motto is, “saving our planet one bag at a time”. The name comes from their belief that though it may be a small inconvenience to remember to use reusable bags when shopping, it's worth the effort.


Beatnik design $11

The bags are much more durable than the usual calico bags: they have a gusset which enables them to hold 45 pounds and they have a flat bottom for better support. But they are still easily fold down-able for carrying in a handbag or purse. I've been carrying one for a week and am impressed.

The Inconvenient Bag have very kindly offered to give three readers an Inconvenient Bag of their choice. Just leave a comment below to tell us in what kind of bag you normally carry your shopping.

This giveaway is open to readers with US & UK postal addresses only

Bloom & Blossom Mother & Baby products

With the announcement yesterday that yet another old girlfriend is happily pregnant, I have barely a friend left in London or New York who isn't in possession of a bump or babies. On the plus side, it also means I have an army of willing volunteers to try out mother & baby products for LLG. That's because I won't run any beauty product on here unless it's been used but, given my resolutely single & child free status, there's not much point in me using stretch mark cream & nipple balm.

So a few weeks ago I arranged for the hero products from the lovely looking new mother & baby range Bloom & Blossom to be dropped off at my friend Ayla's London house. She's due to drop her second infant at the end of the month, so is perfectly placed for massaging unguents into her skin in between stopping her firstborn massaging carrots into her hair.

The background:
The Bloom & Blossom collection's USP is that it uses only the absolute essential number of ingredients in each product - no filling out their jars with cheap mystery ingredients with unpronouncable names - to reassure mothers that the products are completely safe for babies. For complete transparency, each product has a description of what each ingredient is, why it has been selected and what it delivers. The makers claim that with an active ingredient inclusion level of between 5-10%, their products are some of the most effective on the market. For mothers looking to keep both their pregnancy and their baby as clean as possible, there are no parabens, SLS, petrochemicals, synthetic fragrances or colourants in any of the range.

ANTI STRETCH MARK CREAM £18.00 (150ml) Total number of ingredients =12
Omega rich shea butter & cocoa butter help restore skin tone and provide a protective barrier to lock in skin’s moisture.There's a 10% blend of the active ingredients horsetail leaf extract and chasteberry

Ayla's thoughts: This has a strong expensively natural herbal smell. It has a nice texture, although it left my skin feeling a bit sticky whilst the product absorbed for about half an hour. There's a noticeable moisturising effect, and it contains exactly the natural products you would look for in a stretch mark cream.

SOOTHING NIPPLE BALM £11.00 (30ml) Total number of ingredients =5
This will help heal and protect sore nipples. It contains a 5% blend of the active ingredient organic passionflower extract and is safe to use during breast feeding. It can also be used to help treat other sore skin conditions, such as dry and chapped skin and lips

Ayla's thoughts: The packaging is gorgeous and it looks and smells really good. I tested it out as a lip balm too and it was very effective.

REVITALISING LEG & FOOT SPRAY £9.00 (100ml) Total number of ingredients = 11
Formulated to alleviate water retention and to refresh tired and heavy legs, swollen ankles and feet. The collagen boosting properties of aloe vera and tangerine leaf oil also improve skin tone. It contains a 10% blend of the active ingredients horse chestnut seed and yellow sweet clover extracts.

Ayla's thoughts: If you like a strong herbal-y, citrus-y, wood-y smell to revive tired limbs, then the Leg/Foot Revive Spray is perfect. It is very moisturizing so it does leave your legs a little tacky afterwards. I used a spray all through my last pregnancy which was invaluable and I recommend them.

Ayla's summary: The products all do exactly what they promise. They seem very natural and well thought out and I think the packaging and presentation is gorgeous. The whole range ( & I notice they do gift sets) would make wonderful presents for first time mothers who have a bit more time to spend pampering themselves than harrassed second timers! The price point is less than other premium ranges on the market, which makes it very attractive but obviously it is more expensive than other basic products out there. If this had been on the market during my first pregnancy I would have bought it all.

www.bloomandblossom.com

Saving the best for last: why I've stopped stashing for the day that never comes

India wrote in The Sunday Times last week: "How nice it is that the concept of “for best” should since have become extinct". She was referring to dinner parties, but it's a conversation that my sister and I have been having for a few years now.

When I moved to America I had to pack up my London flat. Eight years of living there whilst working in fashion and beauty journalism meant that every cupboard, shelf and cubby hole was crammed with lovely stuff. Not that I ever used any of it. No, I was saving it all for best.

Those lovely Wolfords? Nah, I'll wear the scratchy cheapo ones instead in case I ladder them. That delicious Ormonde Jayne bath oil? Oh no, that's for dates & special parties. Silk lingerie? For boyfriends only. The linen sheets I inherited from my great aunt? I can't even think why I didn't use them. It's not like I was saving them for my trousseau.

Lil'sis really takes the biscuit on this front: her bathroom cupboards and shelves are packed four deep with expensive goodies: largesse handed over by my mother and me but every time I stay with her, I see the Herbal Essence in the shower rack and the supermarket hand lotion by the basin. She got cross when I told her I was writing this piece: "Nooo, please don't. Everyone laughs at me as it is about those shelves."

I pointed out that if this encouraged her to actually use the lovely products daily instead of waiting for a mythical event to make it worthwhile, it could only be A Good Thing.

Our reluctance to use the beautiful things we have stashed away stems from our growing up years when my parents spent every available cent on school fees & on mortgage payments. There wasn't any cash for luxuries and we eeked out anything wonderful that we were given, keeping it as a bulwark against the quotidian grind. That habit has stayed with us both, although it's no longer necessary.

When I packed up the flat I was horrified at the amount of unused loveliness gathering dust whilst I spent money on the cheap stuff, and vowed that I would start using everything I had been given. After all, I could see no prospect of getting through it in this decade.

I quickly realised how much nicer daily life can be when you are using a jasmine scented hand cream rather than Atrixo, that I felt so much better wearing a cashmere sweater or a frock to walk the dog instead of schlumpfing up to the Heath in holey leggings (they'll only get muddy, I used to reason).

After all, what on earth were we waiting for? Why can't today be made just as wonderful as the prospect of tomorrow?

Culturelabel.com

Because I'm flying back to England shortly, I need to get my head around Christmas presents a little earlier than usual, deciding whether to get clever in New York, or just order it all on the interweb, and have it waiting for me in the UK by the time I get back.

I'm quite tempted by the not having to lug shopping home option now that airlines are charging for a second case, and websites like CultureLabel do make the whole process super easy. This new breed of online consolidators take product from all over, present it thematically in one place, and then leave you to follow the direct links to the website that actually sells the product. What makes them different from normal shopping consolidation & affiliate sites is that they curate the products they sell, rather than just mindlessly listing a load of old tat.

Their USP is a collection of products garnered from sixty leading galleries, museums, artists and culture institutions, (everywhere from the Saatchi Gallery to English Heritage), many of which are either artist-designed or limited-edition products. And, if you think this all sounds a bit po-faced, may I direct you to my current favourite pick from the site?



Radio Controlled Tarantula £24.47 from The Natural History Museum
Scuttle, spin and scare from up to 140m away? Yes ,please for my godson who would LOVE driving everyone up the wall with this little horror.

From the sublime to the chic, this bag from the ever fabulous Ally Capellino is a brilliant present for, well, everyone:


Ally Capellino Satchel Bag created especially for the Tate £35.23

And for the always impossible to buy for designer-y friend with impossibly high standards, may I suggest the V&A Pattern Limited Edition Box Set at an extremely reasonable £30?



A repository of ideas for designers of all kinds, this box set contains the first four titles (William Morris, Digital Pioneers, Indian Florals and The Fifties) in a new series of books containing patterns from the V&A archive. Each book includes a CD of all the images which can be redrawn or reworked.

Most of the 60 sites will ship internationally, so usage isn't restricted to the UK.
www.culturelabel.com

Rosie Huntington-Whiteley named as Victoria's Secret Angel

Most models do not lead the life the public envisions for them. Instead of drinking Champagne, shooting in the Caribbean and walking for Prada, the majority spend their time working off their debt to their agencies, shivering in studios and being treated as expendable deaf mutes by casting people on go-sees.

But there are exceptions: good commercial girls, the smiley ones you see in catalogues but never in editorial, can easily pull in six figures each year and, of course, there are those girls fashion followers all know who manage to get great editorial and prestigious ad campaigns.

Hovering above all of these are the chosen few who manage to snag contracts that pay millions for a few week's work a year to ensure exclusivity.

The mother lode is not a Milanese fashion house or a cosmetics giant, but the bordering on tacky lingerie powerhouse that is Victoria's Secret. Every few years they announce the signing of a clutch of new Angels, girls who have been groomed to act as celebrity spokesmodels for the brand.

"We don't subscribe to that nameless, faceless model routine," said Edward Razek, Victoria's Secret Chief Marketing officer in a 2007 Forbes interview. He's not exaggerating: Angels become global household names, most of whom are recognisable by theri first names alone: Gisele, Helena, Karolina, Adriana, Tyra, Laetitia. Heidi Klum is the most long-standing - she's been with the company since 1999, but this year Victoria's Secret have a problem.

Of the seven angels who started the year, the most recent appointment still working as an Angel is Miranda Kerr who was signed in 2005, and three of them have become pregnant, including Karoline Kurkova who has stepped down.

Time for a fresh batch of Angels: Victoria's Secret announced the appointment of five more today: Emanuela de Paula, Lindsay Ellingson, Candice Swanepoel, Chanel Iman & Britain's first Angel,Rosie Huntington-Whiteley (pictured above & below), currently Model of the Year at the 2009 British Elle Style Awards. Looking at the line up, I'd guess that Rosie is being drafted to fill in the 'classy looking girl' slot. (Victoria's Secret being known for having a diverse line up that runs the gamut from sought after editorial girls (Doutzen) to sexy American cheerleader type (Marissa Miller).)



Who cares that you have to wear outfits of gob smacking tackyness when you've just signed what is reasonably assumed to be a multi-million, multi year contract?

(news via The Cut)

Just a load of blather

It’s so long since I’ve been outdoors that I am etiolated and my hair is a birds nest. Low grade ill is just so damn dull. My legs ache and throb, my head hurts and I want to sleep All The Time. I’m on antibiotics (doxycycline) already for a tick bite (thank you Bambi & Bassets) I got a few weeks ago so I’m either fighting off that infection or I have some unspecified autumnal lurgy.

Whatever the cause, I am in a VILE mood. It’s all very well having to stay in bed – but I’m a self-employed writer – I can work from bed any day I choose. Being imprisoned here with a splitting headache is a whole different ball game.

I’ve just slunk downstairs for some puppy love, a cup of Earl Grey and a slice of chocolate cake. I have little appetite, but I am hungry. And goodness, what a restorative combination: I feel quite well again
.
But no doubt I’ll have a Godalmighty sugar crash in half an hour and retire weeping to my bed again.

Hopefully normal transmission will be restored tomorrow.

Apology

Apologies for the break in blogging. I'm really not feeling well at the moment; permanent headache and sleepiness. Eurgh.

Backyard Bill

I spent the first few years of my career as a junior editor sitting on a photo desk at a magazine renowned for its photography. I saw the good, the bad and the ugly pass across our lightbox, and under my loup: the latest batch of reportage from Magnum's greatest, travel stories by Raymond Meier & Ellen von Unwerth, Robin Broadbent's still lives, fashion from the likes of Corrine Day, Mario Testino, & Robert Erdmann (ten years on, I'm still in recovery from dealing with him), Lorenzo Agius & Bailey portraits, David Loftus' food work. You name it, our photo director commissioned it.

I wish fashion & portrait photographer William Gentle had been shooting back then, as opposed to appearing on one of the composite cards that scattered my desk-he was modelling then & I booked models, too. Although he says that his blog Backyard Bill “ features stylish folks in their own clothes", the photographs are beautifully composed portraits in quite a different vein from the great modern street snappers such as The Sartorialist or Tommy Ton.

Using natural light, and a clever juxtaposition of the subjects with their surroundings, the images he captures, as in all good portraiture, show you a way into those subjects' inner lives and are about far, far more than the clothes from their wardrobes.

Here follows a small selection of images but I highly recommend a browse through his site.

Everyone's a winner! Etre Touchy Gloves giveaway

Here are the five winners for the Etre Touchy sort of fingerless gloves. As usual, I used Random.org to generate five numbers, and chose the comments that corresponded. A big thank you to everyone who left a comment: there were a wonderful assortment of uses for the gloves, and amongst the winners are a priest, a cyclist and a photographer which I think demonstrates perfectly the glorious variety of LLG readers. (Even Dave Yello, my favourite dinosaur, entered. Although as he wanted them for rampaging, I'm quite relieved his number didn't come up this time.)

No 2: Llefenni said...
ooh, oooh! I'm a techy AND a cyclist! These mega-gloves would allow me to change gear without falling off the bike and THEN answer a call on my Hero, with NO FUSS! Amazing! Thanks for the post LLG, found you through @KirstieMallsopp :-D

No, 7: Alastair said...
Those gloves would be very good for taking a Communion service in a cold country church :-)

No. 18: deililly said...
I live on a windy hill in Scotland. I would be glued into them at this time of year. Both inside the house and out! That would be so great, could use phone/substitute brain without getting cold hands! Black with charcoal sounds lovely.

No.34: Becky Colley said...
It's about time somebody made something like this - usually beauty comes before practicality but it'd be nice to have both! I'm a student photographer frequently suffering from frozen fingers so I'd use mine with my camera. Thanks for the opportunity! x (Grey with rose trim)

No. 83 pretty face said...
ooh I'd love grey with rose trim! I'd be able to turn the pages of my book whilst nibbling on a biscuit in the park :) x

Could you all email me at libertylondongirl at gmail.com for details on how to claim your gloves? Alistair & Llefenni: don't forget to say which colourway you'd like. Thank you.

Divorce

My parents' divorce gets nastier by the second, and this extract from a letter Phil Spector once sent his friend, celebrity lawyer Marvin Mitchelson, listing his romantic version of how a pre-nup should read, resonated rather strongly. Those of you who know me can guess to which parent I am referring.

1. If I like it, it's mine.
2. If it's in my hands, it's mine.
3. If I can take it from you, it's mine.
4. If I had it a week ago, it's mine.
5. If it's mine, it must never appear to be yours in any way.
6. If I'm doing or building something, all the pieces are mine.
7. If it looks just like mine, it's mine.
8. If I think it's fine, it's mine.
9. If it is near me, it's mine.
10. If it's broccoli, it's yours.

Page Six via Gawker

Areaware vinyl decals

I bet that header was the single most exciting thing you've read all morning wasn't it? I used to take the time to craft clever, witty headlines in the manner of a sub on speed until a techy person told me that they were useless for SEO, meaning that my lovely, long laboured over posts would never show on Google because there were no headline keywords for the autobots to pick up on. So it's boring, straight headers for me.

Fortunately the lovely vinyl decals from, yes you guessed it, Areaware, are neither boring or straight. They have the most enormous selection from full wall size images around the $800 mark to smaller $50-150 pieces from some wonderful designers including my beloved Rob Ryan and Glasgow's finest, Timourous Beasties. (Although Areaware is based in America they have distinctly international tastes.) I can think of nothing nicer than having a wall decorated with these slap on, peel off designs.


Bird branch (vinyl) by Timorous Beasties $56

They are genius for someone like me who has the decorating skills of a chimp with a pot of paint and has moved to a country where she is destined to live with someone else's decor choices for the near future. There's very little skill required to attach these to the wall and when you change your mind, move or the landlord gets stroppy, the decals simply peel off for reattachment elsewhere.

There is a plethora of designs for almost any aesthetic from robots to florals, trees to abstracts, but the moment I find somewhere to live in Manhattan in the New Year, I'm ordering the bird branch above. (Much as I love Mr Ryan's design below, I fear it might be a little off putting to any prospective boyfriends I lure back to my bedchamber.)


I love you more than sleep (vinyl) Robert Ryan $120

There are lots of cheerful colourful designs like this:


Crocodile kurbits kiss (vinyl) By Hanna Werning $120

But my absolute favourite is this ceiling vinyl. I work from my bed and love the idea of staring up above me at these frolicking animals. And how wonderful for children too.


Pantheon circle in mist grey (vinyl) By Studio Job $180

Speaking of children there are lots of wonderful animal decals too, from meerkats with angel wings (really) to full size ponies. If this is all a bit too good taste for your liking, how about a single sauscisse for above your radiator?


Dog en kit 1 (vinyl) By Ich & Kar $56

Do bear in mind that most of them custom made, so you are asked to allow a rather staggering three months for your order to arrive. Hmm. Maybe I'll just order that bird branch NOW.

Decals here

The Sunday Times shows some blogger love

The Sunday Times is all over us bloggers this week. There's a properly excellent piece by India Knight (herself blogging here) on women bloggers, which mentions many of my blog faves including the incomparable MTFF, a piece by Belgian Waffling on her blogging addiction with a beautiful picture of a waffle BW herself, and last and very much least, a couple of acerbic comments in the Style section on Anna Wintour's mufti from Show Me Your Wardrobe & myself.

The Times online didn't run the photo we are commenting on, so I reproduce part of the piece below (I think we can all agree I am probably off La Wintou's Christmas card list now):

Blog off! What our bloggers think of Anna Wintour in dress-down shocker

Libertylondongirl.blogspot.com
Staring at Anna Wintour across the Fashion Week catwalks, I’ve always wondered what she might wear if she did normal. And now I know: she looks just like my mother. But with shinier hair.



( I would like to make it clear that my mother is the chic-est mother I know.)

Another thing I love about America

The drive thru ice cream store

The way of the blogroll

Inspired by a mea culpa blogroll post on my friend MTFF's most excellent blog, I thought that this may be a good point at which to lay out the LLG policy on blogrolls.

I have more or less stopped regularly maintaining the LLG reciprocal blog roll which lurks at the bottom of this page. It's just a bit out of control now. I do get the odd request for inclusion which I file in a dedicated folder and every two or three months I go through it and add and subtract as necessary.

Instead of using blogrolls to keep track of other blogs as I did in the days when LLG was a tiny blog, I now use an RSS reader – Google Reader in my case, Bloglines, previously, where feeds to hundreds of blogs to which I have subscribed are aggregated so that I can read all the latest blog entries in one convenient place. I have a folder for everyone that leaves comments regularly on my blog so that I can repay the favour when I can, one for other fashion blogs, one for everyday reads, one for everyday miscellany and so on. If I were to use blogrolls on LLG to do this, the lists would run pages long.

I choose not to use Blogger Following for the same reason, although I make it available for my readers who do choose to do so: the list would be too long to manage. (I will also be leaving Blogger in the near future, so it makes sense to have my blog lists held externally.)

So don’t assume that because you aren’t on a blogroll on LLG or that I haven’t ‘Followed’ you, that I don’t read you – ten to one, I’ll be voraciously reading your latest posts through my RSS reader.

I do have two blogrolls which are relatively up to date: the list of my personal friends who blog, because otherwise they’d be lost in the endless blogroll at the bottom of LLG; and the Thank you for Mentioning LLG list, which acts as a personal recommendation & thank you to those blogs or websites and an aide memoire for me of the things that have been said about LLG out there in the ether.

But there are often omissions – if you don’t use Blogger Following, adding blogs to a blogroll is a bit more complicated than a one click action and, most importantly, don’t forget that LLG is not a paid project, so money work has to take precedence over blog admin, much as I wish that wasn’t the case.

So, if you are someone with whom I have a proper two way relationship, ether or real world, and I haven’t included you, prod me – as MTFF did recently and tell me, rather than glowering away in the ether. I’ll be grateful, mortified, and do my best to rectify it immediately.

Ex-pat friendships

One of the best things about moving to America has been the friendships I have made here. Some are with people I knew already from England, but not well, others are with people I have met since I arrived.

As an ex-pat you never know where or if you will find your niche. Although I knew no one when I first landed, (the girl I moved here with went back to England after six weeks), I was adamant early on that I would not be a puppy dog making friends with everyone in sight just for the sake of avoiding loneliness and now, over 2.5yrs, that plan has paid off admirably: I have a core of a few great friends that I love dearly in both New York & in LA, rather than scores of people I barely know.

And, without trying, they are all enmeshed together, which I rather like, whether through LLG, Twitter or real life. Take last night for example: I know my wonderful hosts here in Joisey, GG & Y, through my close friend H who introduced us four or five years ago in London, well before we all made the move to America. When H started dating M in London, she was just about to move to New York from Baghdad, so we were introduced on one of my trips back to London, & she & I became firm friends ex-Henry in Manhattan. I met fabulous J through another friend, Brig, in New York and introduced her to M, H & the boys some time ago.

All of us came together for supper here in Colts Neck last night to celebrate Halloween, H&M's recent marriage, impending baby and new house purchase (in London - gd for them, bad for me), and Y's new American work visa.

So we were two Americans, one Frenchman, one New Zealander and two English people. And, if we count the dogs, which I certainly think we should, then we can add one Estonian & one American Basset Hound. Which just about sums up America for me: one big melting pot of fantastic people.

NMSF Christmas Cards

Four years ago Rachel & Andrew Canter lost their baby Jake, my dear friend Emma's nephew, in wholly avoidable circumstances. In his memory, they set up a registered charity, the National Maternity Support Foundation, which works to improve maternity care, stop the closure of maternity units and, given that it is Jake's charity, improve bereavement counselling following the death of a baby.

I know charity support is a very personal thing and, as I have so many wonderful mothers who read LLG, I thought I would let you know that NMSF are selling Christmas Cards to raise money, which you can view and purchase here.

FRIDAY GIVEAWAY!: Five pairs of Etre Touchy gloves

I have a special Friday giveaway today: the makers of the Etre Touchy lambswool fingerless gloves which I featured yesterday were so happy with the response from y'all that they have offered five FREE pairs of gloves for LLG readers.

All you have to do is leave a comment below telling me what gadget you'd use (maybe a camera or iPod) or job you'd do whilst wearing your gloves (photographer or make-up artist perhaps), and I'll uses a random number generator to pick five winners on Monday afternoon. This giveway is open to readers worldwide.

Please state which colourway you'd like:
Charcoal with turquoise trim, Grey with rose trim, Black with charcoal trim or Chocolate with mint stripes.

Object of Desire: Monique Péan Holgate Ring

Holgate ring by CFDA/Vogue Fashion Fund finalist Monique Péan.
18 carat recycled yellow gold with a 4 carat aquamarine $2850

www.moniquepean.com

Previous Objects of Desire here

Now, where was I?

Well, it’s all go here in the East Coast’s version of Stepford (my fellow blogger MTFF lives in the West Coast’s). I did dusting today in preparation for our pre-Halloween supper party tomorrow, and managed to finish the ironing which has been on top of the washing machine for two weeks. (All of you who came here for tales of fashion-related New York glamour may leave now.)

Our Halloween pumpkins are carved and they would have been in position on the front door step, looking suitably scary, but for the ravening local wildlife which took a large chunk out of the bat pumpkin overnight.

We brought them indoors for safety this evening, only to discover a few hours later that the puppy had chewed out the bat’s eyes. There’s obviously some Sophoclean metaphor to be drawn from this but frankly I can’t be arsed to work it out.

I’m still ploughing through the Gmail inbox of hell. I managed to clear out the LLG one last week, which was relatively simple as I only had 452 unread emails and most of them were press releases pushing soap powder, erotic chocolate, and designer collaborations thought up by FMCG marketing gurus with giant cheque books and dumbass clients. I have created a folder called ‘Lunatic Story Pitches’, the contents of which I shall no doubt regale you all with one day.

Unfortunately I have 958 unread emails in my work Gmail account which is more daunting, as not only do they have to be read but most of them require some kind of action to be taken. I’m quite surprised that I have any friends left, given that the chances of my replying to their email, let alone writing one off my own bat, before I have dealt with the work backlog, is less than zero right now.

I’m also planning England: The Return. It’s not a permanent one, thank Christ, but I am flying back for six weeks or so before/over Christmas to finish The Great Attic Clearance™, remove my mother from the iron grip of divorce-related neurosis, drive my sister to the point of insanity by spreading my possessions over all surfaces of her one bedroom flat, acquire some more parking tickets for my father's car, and prod the faithful hound.

Blog Awards & Memes

I have been very remiss over the past six months in acknowledging blog awards and memes. I'm about to do a big catch-up post on LLG, so if you are one of the lovely bloggers who has been kind enough to give LLG an award that I haven't acknowledged on here, I'd be very grateful if you could leave a comment here to remind me, or drop me an email at libertylondongirl at gmail.com

Thank you! LLGxx

Etre Touchy sort of Fingerless Gloves

When I first received the press release about Etre Touchy fingerless gloves I thought what the Dickens? Another ho ho ho one time buy stocking filler.

But I dutifully hopped over to their website and had a look around. And by the time I'd thought about it some more, I thought they were kind of genius.

Their raison d'etre is to allow you to manipulate iPods, crackberrys, etc without removing your gloves in cold weather. At first, I had thought God how addicted do you need to be to wear a silly looking glove just to be able to play with tech toys? Then I remembered how many times I've tried to text or use my Nano with gloves on - epic fail. So I guess if you are in an outdoor situation where access to a communication device is vital then these would be a winner.

But what really sold me was this picture:



Because if you *have* to work outdoors - as a photographer, stylist or makeup artist on a shoot, for example, then these could be absolute lifesavers. They work too for reading braille.

And they come in a suitably James Bond colourway too for macho men:



Unlike other ones I've been shown, they are 100% lambswool, and are available in Charcoal with turquoise trim, Grey with rose trim, Black with charcoal trim or Chocolate with mint stripes. Large orders can be custom coloured which would be great for teams etc.

£19.99 or $32.63 at www.etretouchy.com

Nicolas de Stael

Tempete


Ciel de Dieppe ou Les Toits (1952)


Cap Gris Nez

I first saw Nicolas de Stael's paintings in the Musee Picasso in Antibes in 2000. I just stood there staring, transfixed/ A few years later he was the subject of a major retrspective at the Centre Pompidou in Paris and I wandered through completely lost in his world. He isn't so widely known outside of France, as he enjoyed success as a painter for just ten brief years before committing suicide in 1955. If you'd like to know more, his wiki entry is here

Groundhog Day

I was complaining only yesterday that, whilst we have herds of Bambis frolicking over the lawns here, groundhogs are in particularly short supply now that hibernation time approaches.

I am very taken with these furry native American creatures: I had my first sighting ever from a car in July and was beside myself at the cuteness. But today is the first time I have actually seen one up close, pottering around the back yard. It mooched around for five or so minutes, before shuffling back into the undergrowth. Made my day.



ps Just discovered that they are also known as whistle pigs. Love.

Starbucks Via Instant Coffee

I work from home and loathe milky coffee, so grabbing a Starbucks isn’t a priority in my life. Occasionally I pick up a black venti red eye between external meetings if I am flagging or sleep deprived, but that’s it. I'm more interested in the coffee I drink at home.

Because I drink my coffee black, without any artificial sugars or syrups or any of that weird shit, how it tastes straight is of paramount importance to me. I want a strong, bitter taste with a round finish that doesn't taste burnt or caramel-y.

As you may have gathered I’m English, so instant, as we call it, is ubiquitous back home. I’m not going to pretend it’s better than freshly brewed coffee, but Nescafé's Black Gold, Cap Colombie & Alta Rica, or Carte Noire are more than adequate as backup everyday drinks when you can't be bothered to brew a pot for one person, certainly better than most filter/drip coffees you buy from stands or corner stores – and they are strong, with absolutely no relation to the insipid instant coffee you can buy in American supermarkets.

The only reason why I don't bother with instant here in the US is because of the dearth of good instant on the American market, & I am presuming that that is why Starbucks are pushing their new instant coffee, Via, right now.

But Christ it’s expensive: $2.95 for three servings!

The most expensive UK instant coffee I could find on Ocado.com was Nescafé Black Gold at £3.55 per 100g grams. A serving is considered to be 1.8gms. That makes a serving cost of 6p or 9c give or take.

How HOW can Starbucks justify $1 a serving?! It's not as though Starbucks coffee is *that* delicious in the first place.

And, here’s the kicker: Via is absolutely disgusting. I was given a sample at a Starbucks store yesterday: it tastes acrid & charred with no roundness. Possibly the most disgusting coffee, instant, or fresh brewed, I have ever tasted: I couldn’t even bring myself to finish the little sampler cup. Yuck.

Good luck with that Starbucks.

Soothing morning viewing

This was shot three years ago but I never tire of watching it.



And, in case, you were wondering how 250,000 rubber balls were poured down one of the steepest streets in San Francisco, here is the making of film:



(via Inspire Me Please)

Minnetonka Moccasins

I am obsessed with Minnetonka moccasins. Obsessed, I tell you. This burning love crept up slowly over a few years, and has developed into a long lasting relationship.

It all started back in 2006, when a very nice man, who worked next door to the idiot boy I was then dating, invited me to his office to have a squint at the shoes he imported from the US to the UK.

Being a fashion editor an’all, I was intrigued. In the small room were multiple shelves of moccasins. So far, so whatever.

Then I tried on the Moosehide Driving Mocs. Instant convert. The super thick cushioned inner sole is marshmallow soft; they were definitively the most comfortable shoe I had ever worn. (One of the reasons that they are so comfy is that traditional moccasins, unlike normal shoes, have their sides and sole constructed from one piece of leather which is then sewn to the upper, and which allows the shoe to flex and shape itself to your foot.)

The very nice man generously gifted me two pairs, the marshmallow-y driving shoes and a pair of classic beaded Thunderbirds, but I was busy being a high heel wearing fashion editor and, when I moved to New York a few months later, there just wasn't much call for flat shoes in my life.

Fast forward to the beginning of this year just after I left my US magazine. Running around on assignment in New York and driving nearly 5000 miles around California, I needed comfortable everyday shoes. I dug out both pairs and I've pretty much worn them to the exclusion of anything else. It doesn't hurt that they suddenly look right with everything from bare legs & shorts to skirts & opaque tights.


(My feet in Santa Barbara back in April)

They also make those suede moccasin boots that are always being photographed on Kate Moss et al. (Minnetonkas are the ur-moccasins in the American commercial market: they've been making them since 1946.)

UK: www.minnetonka.co.uk (official website, every style available)
US: Net a Porter (ankle & knee boots only)
Zappos (Neither style pictured above but a pretty wide selection nonetheless)
Minnetonkasales.com (very wide selection including the ones above)

They are substantially cheaper in the US, but I don't advise UK purchasers to order them from US websites: by the time customs, taxes & postage are paid, the difference often evaporates.

How to carve a Halloween pumpkin

Head out in pouring rain to farm stand:



Give self muscle spasm pushing autumnal accoutrements to car:



On arrival back home take two pumpkins:



Place on steps for carving inspiration:



Take high class carving tools:



For the terminally stupid:



Make a lid:



Ignore wonkiness caused by using pixie sized 2" mini saw (because no one trusts you with the carving knife).

Wrench lid off:





Spend twenty minutes removing fibrous insides, obsessing over every last seed:



Abort plan for complicated stencil & go for simplest possible design in line with personal creative abilities. Carve out shapes with doll size instruments:



Ta da:



Am pumpkin carving genius.

Believe this is so until Y presents finished pumpkin forty minutes later:



Curses.

Halloween build up

Goodness I AM excited about Halloween. This year I say no darlinks to glitzy Manhattan socializing (Heidi Klum's annual Halloween party et al) & too many ambitious plans, and yes siree to the joys of pumpkin carving, trick or treating, and eating as much candy as I can possibly manage in the rural environs of Colts Neck, New Jersey.

My great friend H works with my host GG, and is flying in from London to NJ for business. Completely brilliantly his wife (and my lovely friend too), M is coming along, so we have decided to have a pre-Halloween Raclette supper party here on Friday, before we ramp up for the continuous doorbell ringing on Saturday.



Tomorrow we start the pumpkin carving. There will be photographs taken, as long as I don’t slice open an artery. (GG has banned Y & me from using any large knives – we are both uninsured and I have dyspraxia - so we should be okay.)



Photographs: New Jersey pumpkins & gourds last weekend in Colts Neck

Ann Louise Roswald clogs

Revolting: Chanel SS10

If you really feel it is imperative to buy into the clog trend, now that Karl & Marc (kitten heel clogs? Kill me now), have given it a stamp of approval for next season, may I suggest eschewing their eye watering markups, and buying a traditional pair of clogs from talented fashion designer Ann Louise Roswald instead?

She's known primarily for her beautiful prints and lovely pieces, but Roswald’s Swedish father was originally a clogmaker, and in her early collections Ann Louise used her own customised clogs. She has since opened The Clog Studio as an extension of the Ann Louise Roswald brand and sells traditionally made Swedish clogs with orthapeodic wooden soles for women and children. They come in a dazzling array of colours, but just three simple styles.

The Sophia clog pictured is £56 for children & £95 for women.

The Clog Studio

Fall colors in Cheesequake State Park, New Jersey

The fall colours are extraordinary in New Jersey this weekend,



so the five of us (me, Y, GG & les chiens x2) drove out to Cheesequake State Park, Matawan (up near the shore), for a stroll which turned into an epic 2.5hrs walk as we took a slightly longer trail than planned.

Fortunately we were well prepared: GG had ample cookie, apple & water supplies to keep us going in his knapsack. Although maybe next time I might swap denim short shorts, cashmere, Wolfords & wellies for fleece, jeans and hiking boots. (I do possess these things!)

We started off walking through the woods around the lake:





After circumnavigating the entire lake, we ended up at this vista point, where it's hard to believe that we were a scant hour from Manhattan:



We then headed over the boardwalks which cross the coastal salt marshes to the pine forest:





Finch was game:



But was exhausted by the time we were three quarters done:



As were we.

God knows why I thought it a Good Idea to do commando style speed trotting up and down the steep wooden forest steps half away around the trail. Lunacy.

There are more images on my Flickr page.

Single women & the plague of married men

Why is it that I frequently seem to act like catnip on other women's partners and husbands? It certainly isn’t because I dress provocatively, (my cleavage never comes out to play), and it isn’t because I am a flirty kind of person. Frankly, if I was good at unconscious flirting, I wouldn't be single.

Perhaps I present some kind of challenge? Whatever, it upsets me that I am somehow filed in the 'try it on' category by men already in committed relationships. For the record, my father is a notorious philanderer & I have seen the effect that his actions have had on not just my mother but on his string of long term mistresses. I will never be one of those women.

So how is it that yet another man - married, oh quelle effing surprise, - told me recently that I was trouble. I am NOT flippin’ trouble. Don't try to make me responsible for your lack of self control: I'm not the married one making a pass at a single girl who has not even vaguely intimated any sexual interest in you. I have never, ever chased, come on to, or got involved with a married man knowing that he was married. If a man in a relationship thinks I am initiating something then their ego is on fire.

My sister has a theory: that she & I are self conscious & uptight when we are around men we find attractive, but when we are with men who are off limits we relax and consequently are much better company. The kicker is that the stupid vain fuckers mistake our platonic enjoyment of their company for attraction. That in itself wouldn't be a problem if they were able to control themselves. But they can't.

I also think that some men in relationships like to feel that they are still players by flirting with other women. There are also the men who married early, who have become more attractive, confident & successful with age and finally realise that intelligent, challenging women can actually be a good thing but by then it's too late.

Who knows? One could theorise for ever. Whatever the case I am just thoroughly, thoroughly fed up with the inane behaviour of so many married men. I have lost count of the amount of men who have spent an evening flirting with me, buying me drinks, and then revealing their sad punchline at the end of the evening: "I've got a girlfriend/wife". (That's the bit where I then disappear in a puff of smoke.)

Birthday raclette

Two weeks ago today Y managed a double whammy birthday present for GG: a Raclette machine was bought, wrapped and given to GG. Once unwrapped, it was promptly plugged in and we revealed the bowls and plates of Raclette cheese, peppers, prosciutto, boiled potatoes, onions & gherkins.

Along with a rather good bottle of white Burgundy (to follow the bottle of Taittinger we had already consumed). Fortunately, the drinking of water with Raclette cheese is much frowned upon as it is said to interfere with the digestion of the cheese. The Swiss really are very clever.





So I start with one abstemious potato:



Then the melted dish of Raclette is removed from under the hotplate and the cheese is slid over the poor, lonely potato:



But wait! There's one final step:



Paprika sprinkled, one can start shoving melted cheese & potato down one's gullet as quickly as possible. Just in time for the next dish of melted cheese to appear to accompany the next potato. And so on.

I wish I could say that I had stopped eating after I'd finished smearing umpteen little dishes of melted Raclette cheese all over my face. But no. There was more:



Y made a ganache & caramel layer cake of such richness and badness and 65% chocolate that I could only manage a slice. But goodness what a slice it was:



I need to take up running. Or something.

Maison Michel PVC Hat with Mouse Ears

I. WANT. THIS. STAT.

Maison Michel PVC Hat with Mouse Ears - £70.00 from Browns

Clothkits Liberty Print Tana Lawn Bias Binding

This is somewhat of a special interest post, but for those of us with a crafty bent, who like sewing things, the news that wonderful Clothkits are now producing Liberty Print Bias Bindings in Tana Lawn is fabulous news. (Bias binding is normally very hard to find in anything other than basic colours and crispy cotton.)

It would make a wonderful trim for jackets and, of course, is perfect for cushion making or, as Clothkits suggest, for decorations or bunting too.

It's available by the metre and in seven colourways, listed in order that they are stacked from top to bottom: Dunclare, Dunclare, Caesar, Jenny's, Theberton, Janet's Rose, Miles Evans.

To find out more about Clothkits, read my post from earlier this year.

www.clothkits.co.uk

Bobbi Brown Nude lipstick

Whilst in my daydreams I wear scarlet lipstick in the manner of a film star of the 50s, in reality the unholy combination of rosacea and my blonde colouring means that I can wear only neutral lip shades.

In summer, when my morgue-like pallor fleetingly morphs into a bronzed tone through the wonders of the spray tan booth, I occasionally break out Revlon's shocking pink Love That Pink but my 365 lipstick is Bobbi Brown's Lip Color in Nude, which I've been wearing since maybe 2000.

For me the best thing about it is that it doesn't look too obvious: a swipe of it completes my look but doesn't scream, plus the creamy, semi-matte formulation stays nicely put. It also seems to suit most skin tones from my skimmed milk hue at the bottom of the scale through to that of my African-American friends.

UK £15 here & US $22 here

The Empire Fulton Ferry State Park in DUMBO, Brooklyn

This little stretch of sand isn't on a deserted beach. It's right here:



The Empire Fulton Ferry State Park in DUMBO* is wedged between the Brooklyn Bridge and the Manhattan Bridge:



It's the perfect place to take a delicious home made ice cream from the Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory (look for the converted firehouse) at the Fulton Ferry Landing round the corner, and just gaze at the Manhattan panorama laid out in front of you.

*DUMBO stands for Down under the Manhattan Bridge. The area is full of old warehouses, converted into lofts and galleries

More pics on my Flickr feed

Karma is a bitch, or why I won't be buying Billy's Bakery cupcakes again

I visited seven, yup, seven cupcake bakeries in Manhattan on Tuesday afternoon for a story I am researching. The taste results will appear elsewhere, but I wanted to have a little rant about service.

First: the good. Buttercup Bake Shop gave me a warm welcome and, when my two cupcakes arrived at the cashier in a paper bag, I asked for them to be boxed, explaining that I was going to be travelling on a train with them. Not only did the really lovely guy box them without a second's hesitation, but he scrunched up protective tissue paper around them. (See above.) My cupcakes were in perfect condition on arrival five hours later. Ten out of ten.

Now: the execrable. There was quite a line at Billy's Bakery in Chelsea, so I made sure I knew exactly what I wanted by the time my turn came around. Unfortunately dude behind the counter found "one Red Velvet & one Vanilla" too complicated to comprehend" & gave me the, "What are you RETARDED?" sneer when he asked me to repeat myself. Lovely.

Flustered by the attitude I forgot to ask for a box. When I did so at the cashier, explaining that I was travelling, he refused and with zero, well less than zero charm. His charming co-worker manning the till tried to make up for it by proffering a plastic bag. I figured that a review should be based on what the store was willing to give so I took the paper bag of cupcakes and left, thankfully. This is what they looked like five hours later:



Seriously, one box wasn't going to kill them - the other five NYC bakeries I visited all boxed my cupcakes WITHOUT BEING ASKED. Because, hey, they have icing: they're gonna get squashed.

Here's a tip, dude with the 'tude: karma is a bitch. You were unpleasant & unhelpful and now, instead of a lovely picture of a perfect cupcake, you've got a splatted mess with your bakery's name on for all of Google to see.

Why I never lose hope in America

Never let your hopes die

When I was twenty-nine, I dated a guy in his mid-forties. We were together for two years or so before we went our separate ways but it's something he said on one of our very first dates that has stayed with me.

"Now I'm forty-four", he said, "I've come to accept that there are things I will never achieve, ambitions I will never fulfill. I've learned to accept my place on the ladder."

I've always found that thought profoundly depressing and, as I have got older, I have started to wonder where one stops showing promise and simply becomes just the exact sum of one's parts and no more.

So, when I caught sight of this sign as I wandered through Brooklyn Heights for a story yesterday, I felt immensely reassured.

Wallis Camel Statement Collar Coat

Look: in an ideal world we could all afford a MaxMara coat, and spend winter swathed in Italy's finest, but back in recession world, some of us are going to have to compromise.

In my book, there's nothing more crucial to an outfit than a great coat. It's the quickest route to chic that I know. (Which is why my airline luggage was 50lbs overweight last time I covered the European collections.) Find one with a quirky detail, like the collar on this Wallis number and not only will you make a great entrance at smart restaurants and parties, but you can use it it at weekends to cover up your grungiest slob gear and NO ONE WILL KNOW.

This coat isn't going to last for ever, but the wool nylon mix should give it some longevity and it's camel - can't go wrong with a camel coat, especially this season.



Length 89.5cm 80% Wool,20% Nylon. £85 Wallis

AND - for just £7.50, they will deliver to the US

Halloween costumes

I do love a good Haunted House party

Growing up in Smarden, a little English village in Kent, meant that I never experienced trick or treating. There might have been the occasional children's party - I remember one at Vesper Hawk Farm where wonderful F&J organised apple bobbing in the crepuscular Tudor drawing room - but Halloween was more of an occasion for telling ghost stories and drawing pictures in felt tip pens of witches, black cats & pumpkins (which seemed terribly exotic back then), rather than shoving buckets of sweeties down our gullets.

That's partly because Halloween was never a big, popular celebration in the UK and partly because it was always over-shadowed by Smarden's version of Guy Fawkes (Bonfire Night) on the fifth of November when everyone in in the village wore fancy dress and paraded through the village on themed, tractor drawn floats before congregating on the meadow behind the Village Green (the Minnis) to watch a firework display and huge bonfire complete with straw filled Guy Fawkes effigy. *

I remember one particularly glorious year where the Brownies did an Alice in Wonderland float for Bonfire Night, and Lil'sis was the Cheshire Cat. Another year we were a mixed fruit bowl, with me as a bunch of grapes. (Green balloons stuck on a white pillowcase.) But never, ever costumes for Halloween.

That is, until I came to New York, and stuck a wary toe in the Halloween malarkey that goes on in Manhattan. In 2006 I was just visiting, so JD & I picked up a cats eye mask (me), and a blonde wig (JD), at GirlProps in Soho for drinks with some friends.

In 2007 I was with all my NYC girlfriends at Soho House for the Seven Deadly Sins party. I was determined not to dress as a hooker (look, unless someone can convince me otherwise, a nurse/policewoman/cowgirl/Snow White/Alice/whatever costume that consists of stockings, a corset, perspex platforms, micro mini and hoisted up breasts outside of the privacy of one's bedroom is a sex worker's outfit), so went as a Black Widow (avarice) in an LBD, mourning veil, gloves and stilettos.

Last year the theme was horror movies and I had intended to go as a murdered bride. Except that was nixed when the wedding dress I had intended to splash with blood failed to arrive on time from eBay. I compromised and went as a very restrained murdered person in a black silk grosgrain Osman cocktail dress with whitened face, a bloody gash across my neck and more blood trickling down my mouth. (Photo at top.)

I'll be in New Jersey this year. The boys have turned down supper in Manhattan to do the community thing out here, complete with decorated front lawn and candy for the local children, about which I'm rather excited, as I've never seen a proper American Halloween evening. (Running around NYC does not count.) GG was muttering about pirates last week, and I quite fancy a Pirates of the Caribbean style serving wench costume. Although maybe we'll just pop some wings on Finchley.

*(Although why the English still feel the need to celebrate the prevention of the blowing up of the Houses of Parliament & the execution of a Roman Catholic martyr/terrorist four hundred years later is slightly beyond me. Fact of the day: it was compulsory to celebrate by fiat until 1859, to celebrate the deliverance of the King of England. Thanks Wiki for that.)

Halloween candy: gummy earthworms

Whilst researching a Halloween story, I came across these today. Possibly the best trick or treat candy I've seen this year. I can certainly think of plenty of infants of my acquaintance who would relish these worms.

$15 for a box of 100 (plus P&P) from Candywarehouse.com

Object of Desire: Wolford Velvet de Luxe 66 opaque tights

Sure these tights are expensive and seemingly impossible to justify when so many places sell perfectly acceptable black opaque tights.

But here's the thing: these tights transcend 'acceptable'. Each Christmas my mother gives me one brown pair and one black pair and, even though I wore tights pretty much every day until the end of March this year, I still have 2008's Christmas pairs sealed in their packets. That's because the ones from the year before, and the year before that were still going strong. No ladders, no snags, no imperfections.

They are incredible soft & stretchy, warm, and a true unfading deep velvet-y black with not a hint of skin tone showing through as happens with cheaper opaques. I do also have the M&S version and they are very good but they just aren't in the same league.

I don't look after my Wolfords especially well: they are bunged in a 40 degree wash with all my other dark coloured stuff, rather than hand-washed as recommended. And, unless an infant attacks them with scissors, or I accidentally fall into a mowing machine, I guess I'll be wearing them until the waistband perishes.

Believe me, these tights are bulletproof.

UK: £18 from Wolford US: $42 from Bergdorf Goodman

See other Objects of Desire here

The Original Leon Superfood Salad from the Leon cookbook

Leon is probably the best place in London to find a healthy, inexpensive and outrageously scrumptious lunch that can be eaten on the hoof, in a nearby park or at your desk. For three months, whilst I was fashion editing on a magazine based near Leon's original Carnaby Street outlet, I ate the Original Superfood Salad at least three times a week. It's that good.

One of only two dishes to have been on the restaurant's menu since the beginning, it is packed full of nutritious deliciousness. Although it tastes green & summery, it feels especially good in the autumn and winter for warding off the lurgies.

Before the restaurant published its first cookbook, I messed about at home with approximations to it, but I always seemed to overcook the broccoli, forget an ingredient or two and I hadn't got the dressing proportions correct.

So, imagine my glee when chef Allegra McEvedy, one of the founders, put together the official Leon cookbook, sensibly dividing it into a front half dealing with the importance of ingredients, and the back half packed with wonderful, simple Leon & Leon-inspired recipes.

The Original Leon Superfood Salad (Serves two)

2 tbsp quinoa
Salt and pepper
2-3 broccoli spears, cut into bite-sized florets, stalks sliced
120g frozen peas
Quarter cucumber, peeled,cut into slim batons
100g good-quality feta cheese, crumbled
1 handful of alfalfa sprouts
2 tbsp toasted seeds such as pumpkin, sesame and sunflower
½ avocado, cut into pieces
1 small handful of flat-leaf parsley, chopped
1 small handful of mint, chopped
2 dsp lemon juice
4 dsp extra-virgin olive oil

Put the quinoa into a small pan. Cover with cold water to a couple of centimetres/one inch above the grain and let it gently simmer over a low heat until the water has evaporated — this takes about 15 minutes — then cool to room temperature.

Pour a couple of cms/one inch of hot water into another saucepan, add a pinch of salt. Bring it to the boil, drop in the broccoli & peas, cover and boil for 3 minutes. Drain and run under cold water to take all the heat out and keep the broccoli good and green.

Now build your salad in layers: broccoli, peas, cucumber, feta, alfalfa sprouts, seeds, avocado, quinoa and finally the herbs. Only dress it with the lemon juice, oil and seasoning just before you eat it.

I would add here that I don’t usually weigh out any of the ingredients for this salad, being a) too lazy and b) preferring not to have chunks of excess avocado going brown in the fridge. Although I have made it correctly so I know how it’s supposed to look & taste, for me the beauty of it is that so long as you keep the ingredients the same, the proportions of the individual quantities don’t seem to matter so much. Oh & I just toss it all together.



This is the bowlful of goodness I made for JK’s and my lunch today. I used an entire avocado as I knew I'd never get round to using the other half. Likewise, the cucumber: I had a small American ridge cucumber (about half the size of a European hothouse one), and peeled, de-seeded* and baton-ed it all. As we had missed breakfast, I doubled the quinoa content. Oh and I halved the dressing as we had run out of olive oil.

*the seeds are much bigger and quite bitter compared to UK cucumbers

Click here to buy Leon: Ingredients and Recipes

Basset Hound sitting: not quite the sinecure it would seem

I’m dog-sitting in the bucolic depths of New Jersey this weekend. This can basically be translated as having 100lbs of Basset Hound perma-cleaved to my side. They hop, skip & jump along when I head to the loo, sit on the kitchen mat whilst I cook, neatly positioned in between the stove & sink, ready to catch falling snacks and help me break my neck and, when I head upstairs, they sit in the hall whimpering until I come back down.

At night they sit steadfastly at the base of my bed alternately whining and staring at me until I relent and let them hop up. They sleep comfortably, me not so much, one at my feet, one at my side, both on their backs, hind legs upright, spotted forepaws curled on their chests, snoring and occasionally whimpering, no doubt blissfully chasing squirrels in their doggy dreams.

I am woken at 7am each morning by the puppy jumping on my head, demanding to be put down on the floor & thence to the joy of squirrel abuse on the lawn and a hearty breakfast of champions after. During the day I write on the sofa with the puppy keeping my toes warm, and the senior hound lying sentinel at the foot. If I should chance to move, then they go all alerti-dog, ready to vanquish intruders, attack squirrels or scarf my lunch if I am not looking.

If I should choose to be as inconsiderate as to leave the house to forage for food or coffee, upon my return an hour or so later all hell will break loose. I will be greeted by manic rushing around the open plan ground floor, toe chewing, gazelle impressions and general canine insanity. One would think I had been absent for months, not mere minutes. I await the return of their masters with considerable interest as it is hard to visualize what dizzy height their joy will reach.

My Great Grandmother's Vintage Dress

I go back to our family home three or four times a year and, each time I visit, I go up to one of the attics and sort through crates of accumulated family junk valued possessions.

My clearing obsession started with the realisation that, as my parents got older, I would be the one to have to deal with it all at some point and, if I didn't just want the attic contents carted to the tip, I'd need to get cracking well in advance of their clearance being a necessity. Then, with the announcement of my parents' decision to divorce after forty years of marriage, the need to clear the attics became even more pressing. (The house will inevitably have to be sold in the next year or so.)

When we moved to the house too long ago to count my sister and I went straight to boarding school; the boxes of our books and of our childhood toys remained unpacked and have sat there ever since gathering dust, the contents still wrapped in newspaper. In addition there are boxes of documents, suitcases of clothes & linen, towering piles of yellowing Vogue, NME & Tatler and bric a brac too endless to list.

Although I made a concerted attack on the attic above my bedroom last January by disgorging twelve heavy duty bin liners of broken toys and assorted junk to the municipal tip, and and another ten to the hospice shop in Banbury, I still couldn't see clear floorboards. In June I had another go, this time sorting out cases and boxes of clothes.

After I'd been through our baby clothes & the contents of Great Aunt's Joan's linen cupboard I noticed an obviously vintage purple garment bag hanging from the pipes behind the hot water tank. Grasping the heavy brass zipper, I pulled it halfway down and peeked inside. Something lacey and delicate was in there.

Throwing it through the hole in the attic floor to my bedroom down below, I slid down the vertical folding steps to investigate further. Inside what was evidentally its original bag, was a couture quality lilac crepe and guipure lace day dress with matching crepe coat with bow embellishments.

My mother thinks it must have come from Great Aunt Joan's flat when it was cleared upon her death ten years ago and, upon further investigation, she turned up a photograph of her parent's first wedding, (they married other people subsequently),in 1939, with Grandpa's mother wearing the dress.

Great Granny Wormell had immaculate taste - amongst GA Joan's possessions were piles of her handmade lingerie from Paris, Ferragamo shoes from the 30s, crocodile handbags, wonderful furs and more. She was small of stature, maybe 5'2", with tiny feet. My little sister is a similar height and a size UK8 (US4), so I bullied her into trying the frock on. Eventually, after confiscating her magazine, sweetie supplies and, finally, the dachshund she agreed.



The dress wasn't just her size, it fitted her immaculately. It was the correct length, the sleeves fit, the waist and hips seemingly moulded to her shape. I find it extraordinary that a full eighty years later one of my great-grandmother's descendants should be her exact physical match. We already knew that lil'sis and she had similar shaped feet: Granny Wormell's bespoke shoes fit her perfectly, but for their bodies to be identical is astonishing.



In perfect condition, I suspect that it has been hanging in that bag since our great-grandmother removed it after the wedding. I'm not sure what we'll do with it, but I rather hope that lil'sis finds an opportunity to wear it, especially since she has the same colouring as the original owner. Bridesmaid dress, maybe?

Guest post: Jan Moir, The Daily Mail & Stephen Gately

There was, rightly, much indignation yesterday over columnist Jan Moir's piece in The Daily Mail, about the death from natural causes of the young pop singer, Stephen Gately of platinum selling Irish group Boyzone which, amongst other spurious statements, seemed to infer that that his being gay was a direct cause of his demise.

It wasn't just her controversial views that got my goat, it was her shoddy journalism & flawed reasoning too (B follows A, so therefore A caused B). A writer friend here in the US, Mr Avocado of The Avocado Papers made some excellent points, so I asked him to be my guest blogger today:

"Certainly Jan Moir has every right to say whatever stupid shit she wants. But her free speech rights don't extend to automatically having The Daily Mail as a platform for her free speech. That's a privilege, not a right, a privilege which just a handful of people have, and a privilege The Daily Mail has every right to revoke.

But it is one that I imagine The Daily Mail would revoke only if people stopped reading her, not just because she said something inflammatory. (She didn't make shit up, after all, like Jayson Blair; she just drew some extraordinary conclusions from a very small number of facts and revealed, at the very least, that she's a terrible journalist.)

As it is, I'm all for idiots like this woman having platforms from which to speak their ill-informed free speech. I think laws such as those in Germany that ban Holocaust-denial speech are appalling and dangerous. Let the yahoo-bigot-troglodytes espouse their hate-speech in the open so they can be publicly mocked and discredited."

Black & white pagoda parasols and umbrellas

I do like a proper umbrella when I go out in the evenings, never having really understood why one would go to all the bother of dressing up, only to unfurl a scarlet Disney or black exec pop-up umbrella in the rain. Equally I've found at festivals like the Big Chill when the plan is to do lolling on the grass (as opposed to frantic dancing), that a pale parasol is perfect for those with a morgue-like pallor - like myself).

My umbrellas of choice would come from James Smith & Sons in London but, given my tendency to lose anything that isn't tied to my body, my compromise solution, when I haven't got a nice man to hold my umbrella, is to buy my parasol supplies on-line at a tenner a pop from whoever is selling them cheapest that day. (I've seen this style or similar on sale for upwards of eighty quid at specialist umbrella suppliers, so it's worth doing your research: keywords are parasol umbrella).

These must be the biggest bargain out: I love the pagoda point and tassled handle. I'm forever being stopped in the street and asked from where I have bought my brolly.

The only drawback is that they aren't ideal for transatlantic travel: being too long to fit in a suitcase, full size brollies have to go as a separate piece of hold luggage, with a sticky barcode label wrapped around the handle, adding to the pile of things for me to misplace whilst checking in. However, amazingly, they always seem to arrive unbroken on the conveyor belt at the other end.

I found these ones for £9.99 each + £3 postage here. In the US, I've often seen them on eBay.

Beauty product of the day: Elemis Japanese Camellia Oil

A few years ago I started using oils on my face and body, as an occasional alternative to more traditional cream based moisturisers. Often they are purer, needing no preservatives or petro-chemicals to stabilise them, and they can deliver a more concentrated shot of goodness to tired, dehydrated skin.

I've tried plenty (John Masters Organics facial oils are wonderful) but I'm particularly fond of Elemis'Japanese Camellia Oil which I take travelling in hot, dry climates as it's such a great all-purpose restorative product.

Traditionally, the Japanese have used camellia oil for the care of nails, hair, scalp and combination skin. In the Elemis product, it's blended with sweet almond oil and I've found it works well combed through on hair as an emergency overnight solution for dry hair and, although I've never used it specifically on my nails, my hands are noticeably softer after applying it as a body moisturiser.

Which is where it really comes into its own: after I've been in the sun or skiing, my parched, crocodile skin drinks this up and in twenty four hours my skin is restored to its more usual supple smoothness. I've also found it useful as a massage oil: it's aroma neutral so it can be used on those averse to fragranced oil or as a carrier oil for essential oils.

It's available from Elemis in the UK here, and in the US here.

Photography exhibit: Water on the Lens at The Movieum of London

It's Friday, so what better than some truly extraordinary photography to take you away from the quotidian grind?





These astonishing underwater images are all taken from Water on the Lens, a collection of behind-the-scenes photographs taken during shoots for various films, TV shows, commercials and pop videos at Pinewood Studios. (Umpteen Bond movies, Slumdog Millionaire and Jake Gyllenhaal's new movie The Prince of Persia have all been shot there.)

I have enough difficulty staying afloat, so I can't begin to imagine how underwater photographer (and commercial diver) Phoebe Rudomino manoeuvres her equipment around the extraordinary Underwater Stage (U Stage) at Pinewood. It houses a vast permanently filled water tank (holding 1.2 million litres of water), and stars including Keira Knightley, Jared Leto, Sharon Stone, Matt Lucas and James Blunt are amongst those she captured whilst they performed underwater, alongside sets from Casino Royale, The Da Vinci Code, EastEnders, Elizabeth: The Golden Age and Dr. Who.

Hunter Boot*, the quintessential British waterproof rubber boot manufacturer who are rather aptly sponsoring Water on the Lens, have very kindly offered LLG readers a pair of tickets to the exhibition (details below). First person to leave a comment (asking for them) gets the tickets!

*Like all good country girls at heart, I love my Hunter wellies. Click here to see my pair.

Credits:
Top photograph: ‘Imagine’ Total Hydration body wash TV commercial 21 July 2006
A recreated Parisian apartment becomes a watery, hydrated version of real life and the model ‘floats away’ at the end of the advert.
Middle: Keira Knightley photographic campaign for Fresh 2O 3 December 2005
The photographer Candice shot Keira Knightley submerged in haute couture dresses and jewellery for a photoshoot to promote water charity Fresh 2O.
Bottom: Olay's Spa Exfoliating Ribbons TV commercial 28 June 2007

Water on the Lens, sponsored by Hunter Boot, forms part of The Movieum of London in the Riverside Rooms, County Hall, Southbank, London SE1 open now until 28 October 2009.
Tickets £12 adults, £10 concessions, £8 children available from Ticketmaster.

Animal egg cups by Quail from Liberty of London

Comforts of home: I am obsessed with boiled eggs at the moment. Bashed on the top, eaten with a teaspoon from an egg cup, with very buttery Marmite soldiers on standby for dipping purposes.

And I'd really, really like to eat my egg out of one of these glorious egg cups by Quail from Liberty of London.

Click to take you through to each:
Badger, Otter, Guinea Pig, Scottie, Swan, Duck
All £10.95

Lavazza 2010 Calendar by Miles Aldridge

I've been on deadline all week. I know exactly how she feels.

I love my espresso too.

Shot by Miles Aldridge at Cinecittà and inspired by Fellini, the 2010 Lavazza calendar is based around six classic Italian songs. Says Mr Aldridge of Baciami Piccina: "I like the idea that the woman is in love with the coffee and with the coffee cups. It is the middle of the afternoon; she closes the bedroom door, gets all the coffee cups and kisses them and has a sort of erotic love affair with her coffee cups."

Hmm. Maybe I don't know EXACTLY how she feels.

Purple asparagus

I spent a very pleasurable forty minutes in the food porn heaven that is Delicious Orchards this morning, prodding produce, concocting fantasy supper menus and throwing veg into my basket.

When I got home and unpacked my spoils it became obvious that I had bought many wonderful things but little that comprised an actual meal.

But when faced with purple asparagus, which I have never seen before, at just $2.99lb I was powerless to resist.



Likewise I also seem to have five different varieties of local & heirloom apples, Jersey sweetcorn, four types of brassicas, alfalfa, four types of chillies, and some local mushrooms. And a whole lot more besides.

I'm considering just steaming the corn and asparagus, melting a bucket of butter and having a dripping chin evening. (I'm home alone dogsitting for a few days.) Screw the regime minceur.

Aritzia: the Canadian fashion store you really should know about

Wilfred Satin Back Crepe Drapey Tux Jacket $225 USD

This is the jacket I have been thinking about for the last month. It's a deconstructed black satin- backed crepe tux, which hangs beautifully, with just enough slouch and insouciance. It would be perfect over black cigarette pants, sleeves pushed up, with some good jewellery, spindly heels and a cloud of scent. I really need this in my wardrobe tout suite.

It's by a label called Wilfred, which is exclusively available at Aritzia and, like the rest of pieces in the line, it's well cut, thoughtful and brilliantly priced.

Aritzia? I hear you say. Yup, hadn't a clue either until I walked into their latest store in Short Hills, New Jersey and immediately started fantasy shopping. I can't remember the last time I actually found more than one piece I wanted to buy under one roof.

The Aritzia mothership is based in Vancouver, with a slew of stores across Canada, and a slow creep of openings down the US West Coast (Seattle, Santa Clara, San Francisco, Portland). There's one in Chicago and the above mentioned Short Hills, but nothing in New York as yet.

I hadn't realised it was a chain when I first visited: each boutique is fitted out independently, with a background soundtrack of electronica & indie tunes, often mixed by in-house DJs. The staff are shockingly helpful: not pushy but proffering sensible advice, and the buy is a really clever mix of jeans labels and various bridge & diffusion lines along with their six in-house labels. I spotted Acne, Cheap Monday, Current/Elliott, James Perse, Vena Cava, Loomstate, Marc by Marc, Athé Vanessa Bruno & Earnest Sewn amongst others, and there are books, magazines and notebooks for sale alongside the clothes & accessories.

It's not obvious that the in-house labels are just that: they are mixed through the store, each with a particular angle. I particularly liked the above-mentioned Wilfred, which is fashion-forward and stylish, and Talula Babaton which is more sophisticated: I picked out a great tie waist crepe de chine dress.

So if you fancy the jacket above, the bad news is that it's almost sold out in both the U.S. and in Canada. However, the good news is that they’re expecting a large shipment to hit stores mid-October. Interested customers who don’t want to miss it can also Special Order it from their local boutique.

Visit www.aritzia.com

Winner: Ormonde Jayne Frangipani Bath Oil

Wow, that sure was a lot of entries. Then again it was a lovely & generous giveaway from Ormonde Jayne.

So I used random.org's random number generator to produce the three winners, and they are:
9 Stevey
"I love the way the house smells when you have a cake baking away merrily in the oven."
84 MinxMarple
"When I was fifteen I lost my sense of smell following an operation. It reappeared one mid-winter day five years later. I opened a cupboard, smelt the heavenly bergamot of Earl Grey tea, and literally fainted with pleasure.The scent of Earl Grey tea tells me that all is well in the world, and that's an indulgence of it's own."
94 Victoria Regina
"The sea on a spring day, when the waves are crashing and the seagulls are wheeling above."

Can you please contact me at libertylondongirl at gmail.com so that I can give you the details of how to claim your gift?

Thank you to everyone who left a comment: they were fascinating. Whilst I'm not convinced by puppy breath (sorry Ruby!), I'm certainly with those of you who love the smells of night blooming jasmine, mother's sweet peas, freshly cracked books, woodsmoke, autumn, wet roads and newly laundered sheets.

I will be running a giveaway of something lovely once a week on LLG, so keep an eye out for further posts.

Calvin Trillin on Roman Polanski

As regular LLG readers will know, I, and several blog friends, including the always brilliant Miss Whistle and her friend film maker Allison Anders, had a massive sense of humour failure over the film world's support of Roman Polanski.

This poem by Calvin Trillin was published in The Nation this week

A youthful error? Yes, perhaps.
But he's been punished for this lapse--
For decades exiled from LA
He knows, as he wakes up each day,
He'll miss the movers and the shakers.
He'll never get to see the Lakers.
For just one old and small mischance,
He has to live in Paris, France.
He's suffered slurs and other stuff.
Has he not suffered quite enough?
How can these people get so riled?
He only raped a single child.

Why make him into some Darth Vader
For sodomizing one eighth grader?
This man is brilliant, that's for sure--
Authentically, a film auteur.
He gets awards that are his due.
He knows important people, too--
Important people just like us.
And we know how to make a fuss.
Celebrities would just be fools
To play by little people's rules.
So Roman's banner we unfurl.
He only raped one little girl.

Condensed from The Nation:
Calvin Trillin was born in Kansas City, Missouri, on December 5, 1935, and has been a Staff writer for The New Yorker since 1963. From 1967 to 1982, did a series for The New Yorker called "U.S. Journal"--a 3,000-word article from somewhere in the United States every three weeks. Since 1984, has done a series of longer narrative pieces under the heading "American Chronicles." His syndicated column, "Uncivil Liberties," is distributed weekly to newspapers. He is the contributor of a weekly comic verse to The Nation.

Adamandevil show in Los Angeles

Adamandevil is the very talented & not un-attractive pairing of musicians Scott Fairbrother (l) & Julian Shah-Tayler (r)

I'm biased where LA band Adamandevil are concerned: I stayed for a month or so this spring in the vast Los Angeles house where the band often write & practice, so I heard their extremely addictive music morning noon & night, as well as going along to their gigs. Sure the boys are good friends of mine, (I've known Julian since high school), but I can't recommend their very particular brand of highly charged electro indie pop highly enough.

They are no amateur production: after 3 years of touring the world with seminal London band Whitey and co-writing tracks for the second album (including Wrap it Up which has been heard on The OC, House, and Grand Theft Auto IV) the boys decided to go out on their own, forming Adamandevil together after they had both decided separately to move to America's West Coast in 2007.

Altho they both have solo projects (more of this later), they are currently mixing Adamandevil's self-produced debut album with Danny Saber (David Bowie/Rolling Stones/Black Sabbath/Marilyn Manson), & are celebrating the release of their new video Outnumbered with a free show at the Key club in Hollywood this Wednesday, the 14th, from 9pm.



Key Club, 9039 W Sunset Blvd, Los Angeles, CA

Find Adamandevil on Facebook page & MySpace

www.impossiblethingsrecords.com/adamandevil

The DKNY Cozy

I first saw one of these almost exactly three years ago when the ever chic JD from Show Me Your Wardrobe turned up at Heathrow for a Halloween trip we took to New York before moving over here.

She has the art of travelling down to a T. She's always swathed in beige & cream cashmere & wool, pants tucked into sheepskin boots, hair tied loosely up, looking like she gets upgraded just by existing. I follow in her effortlessly chic wake, dropping my passport & boarding pass, trailing wraps & shawls, arms full of magazines & water bottle, feeling cosseted by her professional traveller shtick.

When I saw her wrapped in her DKNY cozy, essentially a long sleeved cardigan, short and fitted at the back, long and flowing at the front, I immediately wanted one. I hoped it would confer on me the same kind of traveller style that had evaded me up to that point.

But I didn't get round to trying one on until my mother came to Manhattan a year later for her annual Christmas shopping expedition. We wandered into the Midtown flagship store and there, just by the door, was a rail of cashmere cozys emitting a subliminal siren's call. They weren't cheap but they looked great on her. I flexed my press discount; she bought one for herself and, a day later in the DKNY store on Broadway she bought me one too in black merino.

It's perfect: I wrap it around my body under my coat when it snows here in midwinter. I wear it loosely over LBDs when I don't want to reveal my curves at work cocktails, drape it around my torso to look chic with pants and, finally, wear it over a T shirt on planes when I want to look like I, too, might just deserve an upgrade.

Black Merino Wool Long Sleeve Cozy $160 from DKNY.com

My first ever photo sale: slightly bathetic but amusing nonetheless

This, ladies & gentleman, is the fruit of the first ever sale of one of my photographs! Last week I received an email from a very nice lady who had found this photo of mine on-line and asked permission to buy a one time usage from me.

Whilst I worked on a picture desk in my early twenties, and have shot several weddings, I'm no pro snapper, so I was rather thrilled. One of the most rewarding $25 I've ever earned.

Autumn Pumpkin action in New Jersey

It would appear from the Pick Your Own Pumpkins signs every couple of miles or so along the highway, that October in New Jersey would not be complete without wandering into a field, tripping over the vines and hauling off several testaments to the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.

Note that I used the plural. Because there's just no way that the NJ pumpkin glut could be cleared by each household just buying one pumpkin for its doorstep. No, around here you need clusters of the bloody things. Maybe a couple by the mailbox, along with a few smaller ones along the path to the front door, several on the doorstep itself and obviously a couple of handfuls of baby ones for table decorations.

And that's before we've even ventured into the world of pumpkin pie (truly one of the most revolting things I have eaten recently - imagine a slimey gloop tasting of nothing but allspice), pumpkin muffins, pumpkin cupcakes - for the love of all that is holy, what is wrong with chocolate?, pumpkin bread or pumpkin cheesecake.

I mean I get roasted pumpkin, pumpkin soup or even pumpkin risotto, but this mania for adding pumpkin puree to sweet food leaves me cold. Guess it's a cultural thing.

I shall leave you with some gen-u-wine New Jersey pumpkins, doing what they do best.
Being beautifully decorative.



Pictures taken by me at Delicious Orchards, Colts Neck, NJ

Halloween costume

Look I know it's terribly, terribly wrong to dress dogs up. I would as soon put Posetta Baddog in a tutu as I would myself.

But I do rather long for a pair of these wings for Halloween this year:


Bat wings: $18.95 from www.barkerandmeowsky.com

I saw a black pug wearing them in the Greenwich Village Halloween Parade last year and it looked so malevolent, so perfect for Halloween, that I wonder whether they would do the same trick on Finchley the Basset Puppy.

The Daily Telegraph: 20 Best Fashion Blogs

Well, I was thrilled to wake up yesterday to an email from Kiki telling me that LLG had been included in The Daily Telegraph's 20 Best Fashion Blogs list, alongside such luminaries as The New York Times' The Moment, The Selby, Style Bubble and Jak&Jill.

Quick edit: Just received an email here in America to say that the list ran in print in The Sunday Telegraph's Stella magazine today: a magazine I love. I am thrilled!

So, thank you all my current readers for continuing to read LLG: I still find it hard to believe that this blog, which was originally my letters home to London from New York, has grown into something more.

If this is your first visit here: thank you so much for stopping by. Feel free to enter the wonderful Ormonde Jayne Bathing Oil giveaway in the post below, and to take a look at the links to various LLG posts here to give you an idea of the random things about which I write:

A Manhattan Birthday : Misbehaving in style
Breasts vs The Fashion Industry
My Favourite Christmas Present : the perfect heirloom handbag
Dating: Why Do I Bother?
Mushrooms & Mozzarella: LLG's guide to weight gain
Cooking in the English Countryside
The Ivy in Los Angeles (Gratuitous celeb spotting)
How to Make Exercise Pleasurable
Maelstrom at The Met: New York at its Best
What Fashion Editors Wear (when no one is looking)

Ormonde Jayne Frangipani Absolute Bath Oil Giveaway

Now that the Northern Hemisphere's skies are grey and full of rain, a long hot bath is an essential rather than a luxury. Good bathing oil makes the whole experience that much more wonderful, and yesterday I wrote about how much I adored Ormonde Jayne's Frangipani Essential bathing oil.

"The matching bath oil is an exercise in deliciousness: it turns the bath slightly milky, and your skin soft and scented. As the scent diffuses a wonderful haze of flowers drifts upwards in the steam, out the door and throughout the house. It makes me feel as though I am in a seraglio. In the best possible way."

Several of you commented on how wonderful it sounded, and here's your chance to try it: after I posted, Ormonde Jayne got in touch with me to offer my readers three 100ml bottles of Essential Bathing Oil in Frangipani Absolute, worth £48 each. The Bathing Range is entirely free of parabens, mineral oils, sulphates, petrochemicals & GM ingredients, and has added moisturising botanical extracts which really do leave your skin feeling soft afterwards. (They will also include a 2ml perfume sample.)

So to qualify for the giveaway, just tell me what you consider to be your favourite fragrant indulgence? A scented bath, a new bottle of perfume, an apple pie just out of the oven...

Leave your answer in the comments below and I will pick the three winners using a random number generator and post the results on here next week.

A huge thank you to the lovely people at Ormonde Jayne!
www.ormondejayne.com

The Saatchi Gallery & Channel Four's 4 New Sensations 2009

4 New Sensations was launched in 2007 by Channel 4 and The Saatchi Gallery to find the twenty most imaginative and talented artists graduating in the UK this year. The judges were artist Gavin Turk; Ralph Rugoff, director of the Hayward Gallery, London; critic Louisa Buck; and Alison Jacques, owner of Alison Jacques Gallery in London.

I am very, very proud of my friend Maurice Citron whose work is included in the exhibition. A talented painter and sculptor, he studied at Chelsea and has just graduated from the MA programme at Byam Shaw.

In addition to his inclusion in the New Sensations show, he currently has a residency at The Florence Trust, has just been shortlisted for the Clifford Chance Sculpture Award 2009, and found out yesterday that he has been picked for inclusion in Future Map, the annual exhibition of the best emerging talent from the current graduating year (9152 students) of the six colleges of the University of the Arts London. Yay! Go Mo!


Untitled by Maurice Citron

4 New Sensations is at The A Foundation at the Rochelle School, Arnold Circus, Shoreditch from 9-19 October (12-6pm, Thursday 15 October until 8pm).

www.mauricecitron.co.uk

Days by Philip Larkin

What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

that's a first

I've just suspended all comments for a post I wrote yesterday. I haven't done this before but I was starting to get a whole load of missing the point comments &, in one case, a really rather nasty remark. I don't like personal nastiness seeping onto LLG, (ah hello my old friend Anonymous), and nor do I want people getting their knickers in a twist, so it was just easier to suspend that particular forum.

Some people seemed to take it extremely personally that I was recommending a site that ran photographs of uber stylish, magazine quality (but not always lavish) weddings, and went into extended riffs about how emotions and family were more important etc etc.

I agree completely with them that those things are more important than colour co-ordinating your favours, or whatever.

And if the post was about weddings, bring it on. But it wasn't.

I was recommending Style Me Pretty as one of many sources of inspiration for throwing parties, for beautifully designed letterpress for any occasion, for ravishing flowers and for clever Etsy & vintage finds. They promote young designers, great photographers and interesting vendors, many of whom have flourishing businesses outside of the nuptial world. That's it.

There are many sources of entertainment inspiration out there, and I would hope that everyone is clever enough to take what they need from them and ignore the hyperbole and excess, in the same way that we ignore much of what happens on the fashion runway when it comes to actually getting dressed.

The Pixies: On a Wave of Inspiration

I'm no Nick Hornby, sitting in my bedroom making up lists of my favourite songs or artists, but if I had to really, really think about it, then the Pixies would probably be in my top three bands of all time list.

I think it's probably safe to say that they fall into the 'world's most influential rock bands that didn't play on Top of the Pops or Radio 1' category. Thom Yorke worshipped them, and Kurt Cobain admitted to trying to rip off the Pixies when he wrote Smells Like Teen Spirit.

Els, my best friend at the time, & I saw them play at The Reading Festival in August 1990. Stuck in the middle of the mosh pit, perched on the shoulders of two guys we had just met, we were deliriously happy, in that carefree yet slightly scared teenage way and it remains one of those caught in amber moments for me.

They were hot off the success of their second album Doolittle, and the amped up, grubby indie pre 'festivals are hip' crowd couldn't get enough of them. (The version of Debaser that they played that day has gone down in fan history.) Although Surfer Rosa, their first album has both the glorious Gigantic AND Where is My Mind?, it's Doolittle, that will always be thought of as the seminal Pixies album, a masterpiece, and to see them play it live was, well, awwwwwwesome.

I know every word to every song the Pixies wrote, and when I read this review in The Times today of their four night residency at London's Brixton Academy, where they are playing Doolittle in its entirety, I ground my teeth with frustration that I couldn't be there. (Mind you, the tickets sold out in 20 minutes.)

For neophytes try these songs on Pandora (US) or Spotify (UK): Wave of Mutilation, Debaser, Monkey Gone to Heaven.

Basset hounds on Long Branch beach

Scent post: Ormonde Jayne Frangipani

I can't get dressed without spraying or dabbing myself with perfume. To leave the house without it would be akin to leaving my handbag behind. Unthinkable.

Good scent makes me feel considerably happier. It's something I do for me, and for me alone. A purely private pleasure. I couldn't bear to wear a scent I didn't like. Loathing vanilla fragrances, I was unamused to read a survey somewhere recently that said that the perfumes men love on women usually have a lot of vanilla in them. Not the cloying, thump you over the head Neanderthal thwunk of Angel, but gentle comforting vanilla middle and base notes. Even Justin Timberlake gave an interview recently where he banged on about how much he and all men loved vanilla scents. (Although I do wonder whether he likes those on boys as much as girls).

I was almost tempted by India Knight's recommendation on her lovely blog of Frederic Malle's Musc Ravageur as another variation on the man magnet scent concept. I dug out the bottle of it I had from from a musk fragrance story I did last year, dabbed it on, waited for the dry down... and promptly washed it all off, remembering how I couldn't live with it last time round. I just can't do it. However single I am.

Unlike India, or my mother, I can't get my head round anything but florals. I wish I could but there will be no chypres or bois fragrances for me. I just like florals, both complex and single note.

Last year I went through a spell of wearing Ormonde Jayne's Frangipani and had forgotten how much I loved it until they sent me a lovely bottle of the eau de parfum recently. I've been floating in a glorious cloud all week.

There's an almost crisp top note of linden blossom, magnolia flower and lime peel but the dry down is an intoxicating complex floral dominated by white frangipani, jasmine and rose and tuberose absolutes. Of course there is a musk/amber/vanilla base to balance out the floral and stop it from becoming sickly, but it just adds a roundness.

The matching bath oil is an exercise in deliciousness: it turns the bath slightly milky, and your skin soft and scented. As the scent diffuses a wonderful haze of flowers drifts upwards in the steam, out the door and throughout the house. It makes me feel as though I am in a seraglio. In the best possible way.

www.ormondejayne.com

(Quick note: Ormonde Jayne are based in London (in the delightful Royal Arcade, off Bond Street) but ship worldwide. The Frangipani arrived in under a week to New Jersey.)

Style Me Pretty wedding blog

I read a lot of blogs. And I know I have several memes to which I need to reply, but I wanted to write about the wedding website Style Me Pretty in the meantime.

I'm not getting married, have no plans to get married, am not even sure I really get the whole dressing up in a white frock/spending thousands of pounds celebrating a union that has a 40% chance of failure thing, but I do love me a good party. And I love even more the throwing of a good party.

And goodness these women know how to throw a party: the wonderful typography, letterpress invitations & printed brilliance,


Photograph: Heidi Ryder Photography

the always sensational flowers with never a hint of Interflora horridness,


Photograph: Kate Headley Photography

the Etsy & vintage finds, the pretty dresses, the strings of twinkle lights & Japanese lanterns. It's just glorious.

Go on take a look. It's all just ravishing.

How to catch a girlfriend

If you are a single man then my advice to you would be to beg, borrow or steal a baby Basset Hound. My boys could hardly walk more than a metre down the Long Branch beach boardwalk without some nubile young thing hurling herself at the puppy cuteness.

It's a shame then that all that action was just as much wasted on the boys as it is on me: they are married to each other and, if I were to contemplate some Sapphic action, it would not be with a girl in a pastel tracksuit & Uggs.

As far as luring the men of Long Branch, it seems clear that puppies are also necessary. Although I'm talking about the two puppies wriggling in a sack variety as opposed to the ones on a leash: if the Guido type appeals just wear a low cut top.

After a couple of hours spent fending off the puppy fondlers, we went home to Colt’s Neck, where I reflected yet again that it’s a good thing I’m here in New Jersey to work not prowl.

It's Greek to me: Saganaki or how to put on a pound in one meal

In the late 1970s my parents took lil'sis & myself everywhere as infants. Babysitters were expensive & we were good sleepers, so we would be popped upstairs fast asleep at dinner parties and posted under the table at restaurants, snug in a carrycot. They like to tell me that at six months I made my first visit to Milou's Kebab House, amongst a plethora of Greek restaurants on Charlotte Street in London's West End.

Although we moved to Kent when I was three, we still ate at Milou's on our frequent day trips to London, and grew up adoring Greek Cypriot food: taramasalata, grilled pitta bread, juicy pork kebabs were our favourites. Xanis & Yanis, Milou's sons, knew us all by name and I can remember every detail of the restaurant. I ate my first persimmon there and discovered that I didn't like bahklava.

Then one day we arrived for Sunday lunch and the restaurant was shut down. We moved across the road to the great Venus Kebab House, but things were never quite the same again. Since lil'sis & I settled in North London, Lemonia in Primrose Hill has become our go-to Greek Cypriot place and I miss eating there.

After our beach outing on Sunday, we looked for a place to eat that wouldn't mind us trailing two damp, sandy, floppy eared hounds behind us.


(Gratutious wet dog picture)

We settled on a sidewalk table at It's Greek to Me, & I crossed my fingers that it would live up to my expectations.

It may look like a doner/gyro joint, but thank goodness It's Greek to Me is more than the sum of its parts. The menu doesn't just pander to populist tastes, and there is a very good spanakopita (a spinach, feta & filo pastry parcel), and a dish I hadn't eaten before: saganaki, a shallow dish of baked cheese.



Whilst Halloumi, or squeaky cheese, is a fixture on English Greek-Cypriot restaurant menus (& in my fridge), Kefalograviera was new to me. Wiki tells me that Kefalograviera is a traditional DOC Greek ewe’s milk hard cheese from Western Macedonia, Epirus, Etoloakarnania and Evritania, and is the traditional cheese for saganaki.

Utterly delicious, salty, chewy, crispy around the edges, it's great eaten with grilled pitta.

The culinary equivalent of spreading lard on your thighs.

It's Greek to Me, Pier Village, 44 Centennial Drive, Long Branch, NJ 07740
(There are 7 branches in NJ,)