Strike a pose, there’s nothing to it

Maybe I was being a bit hasty when I said my job wasn’t that glamorous… Yesterday I popped into Vogue and interviewed HRF (Her Royal Fabulousness) Editor Alexandra Shulman for the paper. Read the full interview in the Wednesday issue of the GFW Daily on 11th June. So just what does one wear to Vogue House, darlings?! I decided on an ivory satin shirt dress with pussy bow tie that I got for £20 in the sale from Traffic Peoples in Kingly Court. And get this- I was stuck in the lift with an 11ft willowy blonde who goes ‘I love your shoes! Where are they from?’ which forced my hand and I had to admit they were twenty five squid from Debenhams. Ooh, the shame of it all. 

Anyway, I managed to get out in one piece, and as I had to drop in on Blank No More at The Social, an exhibition by a collective whose ‘aim is quite simply to showcase the artists and designers we find interesting and make their work more accessible and affordable to a new audience through the production of bespoke, high quality screen prints’ I needed myself an escort in the form of 6ft Australian fashion photographer Leigh Keily. Don’t we all darlings. Print wise my favourite was Opium by Paul Willoughby, inspired by early century posters from China. Yours for £95 from BlankNoMore.com. 

 

 

 

They’re grrrrreat

Being a fashion journalist isn’t nearly as glamorous as you’d expect. I don’t mince about in Manolos and when I write on my laptop in bed it’s normally with a mint KitKat and a carton of Tesco Value OJ for company. Carrie sodding Bradshaw it ‘aint. The perks come once a season when the press days roll around and you spend a week or so trekking along to various public relations companies as they try and plug their clients over complimentary drinks and nibbles. Today was cult sneaker company Onitsuka Tiger, who went all out and hired the Absolut Ice Bar on Heddon Street.

Full marks to Mischief PR who managed to make a memorable press day, encasing the trainers in ice, serving tasty voddy based beverages and actually knowing what their product is. They are the current leaders of my PR company merit chart. Those bitches at Prada are at the bottom after messing me about with a pair of heels I needed for a photoshoot. After a million phone calls ignored they ended up sending me a pair that wasn’t even stocked in the UK, i.e. there was no point shooting them as people couldn’t buy them. Useless airhead brand monkeys. 

Afterwards I meandered haphazardly (one piece of sushi – breakfast + cocktails = pissed at 4pm in the afternoon) along to the Tiger store on Newburgh Street off Carnaby and picked up my free pair of kicks. Although choice was limited as I have size 4 feet (everything was 5 plus) I found a lush pair of dove grey and turquoise Saiko Runners. These were inspired by running shoes from the late 1970s- basically they have a more breathable upper and thicker sole than some of the other styles. I’m not normally a trainers girl, but I have to say after three hours walking between meetings around London and not a single blister or ache, I could find myself converted.

 

Interview by a vampire

The barbeque went well, you’ll be pleased to hear (see previous post), though apparently I looked more ‘bad’ Sandy from Grease than Marilyn. As Olivia Newton-John had an enviably tiny arse in those spray on trousers I’m choosing to take this as a compliment, though in fairness it was probably the leather jacket and fag hanging out my mouth that did it. Must be getting old- one late night and the body clock is screwed for days.  Not good when I had to get up and go interview The Boss himself, Harold Tillman, owner of Jaeger and head honcho of the British Fashion Council. In his honour I wore a black and white polka dot Jaeger London dress accessorized with a Chanel-esque black and white cardie and my cheapo Debenhams cream patent mary-jane platforms. Tillman (impeccably dressed in a rather dapper suit and tie) was lovely to interview- incredibly friendly and gave me some fabulous quotes, though bless his cottons he was struggling with his Blackberry when I arrived. Goes to show, you can command a retail empire but not fully grasp predictive text. Read the full interview in the Sun 8th June issue of the GFW Daily, distributed at Graduate Fashion Week (8-12 June 08, Earl’s Court) and available in major River Island stores that day. www.gfw.org.uk. 

Barbie clothing

No people, not the teeny little outfits designed for that beloved little plastic tart Barbie (complete with stripper style velcro fastenings- classy) but the dilemma of what to wear to one’s first barbeque of the summer. Of course as it’s still May the weather can change in a flash, so that rules out the pretty Grecian maxi dresses I’m planning to live in later in the summer while pretending to be Diane Kruger in Troy. Instead I shall seek inspiration from the ultimate blonde bombshell herself, Marilyn Monroe. I love her shirt tucked into skinny, high waisted jeans look she wore off-set. They’ll keep me warm and the high waist will hold in all the sausages I plan on eating. Very 50′s Americana darlings, so right now. I shall attempt to recreate the look with a pair from Topshop I bought for forty five quid, a vintage floral shirt, and get the ‘girls’ out in a new baby pink lace confection I bought today, £18 by Caprice. 

The bitch has landed

Welcome to Fashion She Wrote, my brand spanking new (and most importantly, free) blog. Will it take off and make me a richer/less ginger version of Perez Hilton? Probably not. Will it keep me out of trouble when there’s rubbish telly on? Almost certainly yes. And if it keeps me out of the bar and from mauling unsuspecting hot men then that too can only be a good thing. For them. We’re going to be chatting fashion, celebs, love, life, culture, whatever takes my fancy really. After it, it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.