My Sunshiny Life











I like shoes a LOT!  Not quite to the extent of Imelda, but I do have a sizeable shoe collection.  My favourite shoes are a relatively new addition to my wardrobe.  They’re House of Harlow Peeptoe Heels – snakeskin with a hint of gold. 

Unfortunately they didn’t rock the look I wanted the first time I wore them, as I didn’t take blister plasters out, and ended up with bright blue plasters on the back of my heels.  I looked like I was turning into a smurf, one little patch of skin at a time .

Then I found out about a new website called Upper Street and I was literally drooling as I browsed through.  A site where you can DESIGN your own shoes, yes, your very own creation!  Choose heel, sole, style, materials, colours – the works! 

What a bloody fantastic concept and one I will be embracing whole heartedly.  I haven’t ordered any yet, as I want to sit down and think my creation through, taking into account what I have/want/need in my wardrobe.  You can get yours here

Advertisements


I’ve been living on tenterhooks for the last few months, pulling together plans for Missy G’s Bridal Bash Extravaganza.  To give you a bit of background, Missy G is a driven, focussed, A type, Completer Finisher, Personality.  I am not.  I’m disorganised, a little bit helter skelter, an ideas person – not a person responsible for the deliverables, not interested in the finest details.  She was a little apprehensive about my project management skills, I was even more so.

Not to worry, with help from B and Nikki we pulled everything together for a smashing event that she’ll remember forever.  It was killing Missy G that she didn’t have any idea about our plans and I was enjoying this immensely.  In fact I started enjoying it a bit too much, in a slightly sadistic way.  On Friday I told her that she was to meet me at Liverpool Street station at 4pm.  Then two hours later I changed the meeting place to Waterloo and said that I already had her bag packed and I had her passport (momentarily forgetting that the eurostar now goes from St Pancras).  She rang me in a panic, had I packed her bag or had Mr J?  Then she got all excited that we were going overseas… I felt terrible.  You’re meant to downplay things and then surprise people, not build them up and then dash their hopes!  So I quickly said that plans had changed again and now we were meeting at Leicester Square.  She refused to believe anything I said after that.

Friday night was a warm up to the main event on Saturday, with only 5 of us in attendance, well 5 and a bit as Jake who is less than a month old slept through everything.  We had a fashionista high tea, a Pret a Portea, at the Berkeley Hotel.

Pret a Portea

The ladies who high tea

Everything was served on lovely Paul Smith designed crockery, cake stands came out filled with super cute handbag cakes, dress and shoe inspired cakes, cucumber sandwiches and lots of little yummy picky savoury things. All this was washed down with cold, crisp champagne.  Sometimes life is very very good.

Savoury and Sugary Treats

Pret a Portea Handbag

Bikini Bod Biscuit

We sat there afterwards, on a massive sugar rush high and looked around the restaurant… Lacy noticed first and then nudges and whispers made their way around the table.  Well it was only Victoria Beckham one table away from us!  I suggested that Missy G get her photo taken with her, but you couldn’t have done that here – it would be a total invasion of privacy (I still thought it was a good idea but no one else would let me do it).  She looked immaculate, very polished and put together.  No, she didn’t have any cakes.

The night was still young and there were cocktails to be drunk so we waddled out, full of cake and champers and made our way to Townhouse.  This bar has the feel of a private members club without the pretentious snooty attitude.  The doorman and bar staff were really friendly and the table service was top notch.  The drinks were fabulous too.

Townhouse

The tone for the rest of the evening was slightly less civilised than it had been, those Pornstar cocktails have a lot to answer for! 

Girls and their pornstars

Yes, the tone has dropped

Yes, the tone has dropped

Someone call these ladies a taxi

Someone call these ladies a taxi

Actually, this sucks, I wanna go home!

Actually, this sucks, I wanna go home!

We still got to bed at a reasonable hour, we needed to be fresh for the main event on Saturday.  Before leaving, Missy G was given a document with items that she needed to pack in her overnight bag and bring along tomorrow.  The suspense was killing her!  Another instalment tomorrow, where all is revealed.



{August 6, 2009}   Wool and the Gang

What’s this all about then?  It’s a brand new ‘let’s get on the knitting bandwagon’ craze from those cheeky folk at Wool and the Gang.  I have to say I haven’t knitted for years, but I did master the scarf when I was in my teens.  I didn’t progress further than that, but was quite happy to knit scarves so I didn’t mind.  Mindless and relaxing, no worries about casting on, casting off or actually following a pattern. 

I got an email the other day from Sheer Luxe and I clicked through, interest slightly piqued.  It wasn’t very long until my ire was piqued though.  What a bloody rip off! 

Let’s look at one product in particular, we’ll stick with the scarf as we’ve already established my expertise in this area.  So for a Roxy scarf, which don’t forget you actually make yourself, all you need to do is fork out the princely sum of €129.  But hey, they do throw in the wool AND the knitting needles.  They’ve even included a pattern, although god knows why – anyone who’s an expert in scarves (like me) knows you just keep knitting until it’s long enough, or until you run out of wool!  Wool and the Gang, you’re taking the piss. 

My nana would have a fit if I told her, so I won’t because she’s quite old.  I’m ashamed to admit now that I hated the jumpers she knitted me when I was younger.  One of them was like Joseph’s technicolour dream coat.  Now I can see that she was actually quite fashion forward and I miss my knitted treats (once you’re over 18 you’re out in the knitting cold).  Thank god Nana never had to pay €129 every time she churned out another masterpiece, or I’d never have had my (hated but in retrospect loved) technicolour dream jumper.

Knitting Nana Style

Knitting Nana Style



I just couldn’t resist!  I drooled over a couple of items out of the latest collection online and before I knew it I was sitting on a bus heading down to the closest H&M.  Not the busy one, the quiet one on Oxford Street.  I scored two lovely pieces from his collection and I’m absolutely rapt with them.

The first is a peacock wrap dress.  I love wrap dresses and this will replace my favourite one that has a hole in it (very badly sewn back together by yours truly).

Ta Da!  Here’s the Matthew Williamson Peacock Wrap Dress!

Gorgeous Matthew Williamson Wrap Dress

Gorgeous Matthew Williamson Wrap Dress

Now I normally avoid bikini shopping, especially after eating an almond croissant for breakfast, but I loved this bikini and it was perfect for me! 

Hot Bikini

Hot Bikini

As soon as I put on the bikini I looked exactly like the model in the photo.  Matthew Williamson is a genius.

Note to self: Get up early and go running tomorrow and no more bloody almond croissants!



{May 14, 2009}   Matthew Williamson at H&M
This is the scene I captured from the bus this morning on my way into work.
Fashion Hungry Fashionistas

Fashion Hungry Fashionistas

There are three H&M’s down Oxford Street and this was the first one.  These girls are waiting to get their mitts on the new Matthew Williamson collection launching today in H&M.  The flagship H&M store, on the corner of Oxford and Regent Street, was even more manic but the bus was going too fast so I couldn’t snap a pic.

In contrast to this, at the third store there were only a few curious people looking in the window.  Note to self: if I’m ever overwhelmed with shopping desire for an H&M designer collection, choose the third store!  Actually, I think I’ll mosey on down at lunchtime – if these hardcore fashionistas haven’t cleaned out the entire store!

H&M

Check out the collection here http://www.hm.com/gb/#/startns/   Nice come hither look Matt.



{May 10, 2009}   Champers and Dresses

I went bridesmaid dress shopping at the Westfield Mall in White City with Missy G yesterday.  I hadn’t been to the mall before and wanted to check it out.  I liked what I saw, I especially liked the village where all the high end shops are located.  I LOVED Searcy’s champagne bar, which is situated right in the middle of the luxury shops, and I shopped happily, with thoughts of a crisp dry sparkling reward waiting for me at the end of it. 

I hadn’t been looking forward to trying on dresses, actually I’d been dreading it.  Not because I don’t want a nice dress for the wedding – but my master plan to drop a few dress sizes hasn’t really panned out so far.  At the outset of our shopping expedition I made a declaration that made Missy G’s heart drop – ‘I’m buying a size 10, no matter what size fits now and I’ll make sure I fit it for the wedding’!  Ha, if that doesn’t conjure up a miracle weight loss then I don’t know what will.

We found some lovely dresses, but you can’t make such a momentous decision in one shopping trip and I can’t go into any detail about the dresses or we’ll ruin the surprise.  So we left chiffon, silk, beadwork and ribbon behind and moved to the champagne bar (my weight loss miracle can start on Monday). 

searcys champagne bar

I chose the taster option where you’re given four different pommery champagnes to try.  Missy G went for her favourite (and now mine because I copied her) champagne Pol Roger.  It’s heaven in a glass.  Mine came out on a tray, with four small champagne glasses (they give you nibbles too, big thumbs up) and Missy G’s Pol Roger was served in a glamorous, gorgeous, thin champagne flute.  I liked the pommery champagne but Pol Roger wins the taste test.

ladies who drink

So we’ll be going shopping again, but I won’t be dreading the next time.  The dresses looked lovely on us and there is a perfect (size 10) dress out there with my name on it.  I’ve made a rule (this very second) that each shopping trip must be followed by champagne, which makes me look forward to the next expedition even more!



{March 24, 2009}   My version of insanity

Don’t worry, this isn’t going to end up being a blog about my weight loss journey or anything like that. Just this one post, promise. Actually it isn’t possible for this post to be about the journey, because I haven’t started yet. It’s like I’m sitting in the driveway still reading the map, the car keeps stalling, the train falls off the tracks and I just can’t seem to stay on the wagon. I think you get the point.

So, to keep me motivated I’ve devised a plan. I just buy clothes I can’t fit. I went to Primarni today – I have gotten over my snobbery about it and try not to think about the slave labour issues – and picked up a cute little black dress and skirt for about 10 pence. The issue is, I don’t fit either of them and holding them up against myself and assessing the results in the mirror at the shop, I already knew that. I knew there wasn’t a hope in hell I’d squeeze my body into them. Actually, due to my sheer determination and acrobatic contortions, I did manage to squeeze into them. However the seams were stretching, the zip was protesting and I looked like an overstuffed sausage.

That’s not even the insane bit. On the way home I stopped off and bought a toblerone. It gets worse. Before going to Primark, I popped in to Nandos for a chubby chicken chow down, with a coke.

But I have hope. Hope in a jar. I bought some Spirulina powder today to add to my smoothies and juices, it’s meant to alkanise your acidic body, making healthy eating just that little bit easier. So if we’re sticking with the same weight loss comparisons as before, me taking Spirulina will work better than a sat nav, will jumpstart my car, get my train back on the tracks and crane lift my fat ass back on the wagon.



{February 23, 2009}   London Fashion Week

So I was thrilled, delighted, overjoyed, excited (you get my point) to be invited by Dani (THANKS Dani) to LondonFashion Week. 

I was freaking out about what to wear, so everything I own was given the once over and rejected.  I had some killer pink and black peep toe heels but nothing to wear with them!  After being told by Bec (an hour before I had to meet her and Dani) ‘Bron you really don’t have time to go and buy another dress’  I chose a safe grey one from my wardrobe. 

Thank goodness for my new SPANX dress to wear underneath, its fabulous for sucking in, lifting up and firming all those bits that would be firm if I was a gym girl.  To those not in the know, its a VERY tight dress that smoothes out all your curves.  I put it over my head and that’s as far as I got, I was officially stuck.  Thoughts of suffocating under a spandex dress and having a gravestone that read ‘Suffocated by Spandex, if only she’d got a size bigger’ flashed through my mind and I started to panic, jumping frantically around the room, contorting myself into weird positions to encourage the dress to move the right way.  Even though I nearly lost a breast in the process I was glad to be  safely strapped in and two sizes smaller! 

Now came the hardest bit, walking down the road pretending to be a girl who knows how to walk in heels.  My hobbling gait involves walking and pushing my butt out, whilst simultaneously jamming my foot back into the heel to make sure the bloody thing doesn’t fall off.   Yes, I look very attractive and attract looks for ALL the wrong reasons… although I did have one admirer that day – you take what you can get.  A teenage boy checked out my shoes as I walked (hobbled) past him and said ‘I love your shoes’.  I had immense affection for him and wanted to shout back, I love your hoodie, and your boxers hanging over the top of your jeans!  I restrained myself and gave him a grateful smile, giving my shoes an admiring glance… even though I couldn’t walk I loved them too. 

I finally made it (last, as usual) to the meeting point, where a fashion photographer had been trying to take Bec’s photo, but she was slightly camera shy.  I am notoriously UN camera shy but we walked straight in so he didn’t have a chance to ask me – or for me to ask him to take my photo!  Dani and Bec looked stunning, and the epitome of the true fashionista.  Both tall, blonde and slim wearing gorgeous fashion forward outfits.  I wanted to get a photo of us outside the London Fashion Week sign, yes, I am tre uncool.  They flatly refused, which in hindsight was probably a good thing. 

We strolled around looking at clothes and accessories but the real attraction was the wine bar.  Free wine, free is good, I like free.  We went into a corporate hospitality bit because we’d seen some canapes being passed around but they must have run out because we loitered for a good five minutes and they didn’t reappear!  We tried to blag a VIP bag too, with a similar lack of success.

It was quite amusing to walk around looking at how everyone was dressed, and to see people look you up and down as you walked past.  It was like a meat market, for girls – and they didn’t want your phone number, they wanted your handbag, or in Bec’s case her rabbit fur coat!  We’re still undecided whether it’s ethical to buy an old fur, I think if it’s old fur it’s been dead for a while anyway.  It wasn’t your desire for the coat that signed the death warrant for the bunnies, so I think you’re in the clear Bec.  Just reuse all the old fur, it seems a waste to throw them away and it does look super styley.  Here is her complete ensemble.

dsc027041

We took our seat in the Jenny Packham show and realised that the FRONT row seats one ahead of us were empty, so we hopped over the seats and sat there like we owned them.  Hopping over the seat was VERY hard in a Spanx dress I would like to add.  We sat there with our goodie bags (chocolates and a tulip) and waited for the show to start.

dsc027052

The show began and all three of us gasped, not at the intricate beadwork, nor the stunning beauty of the model – more so for the wasted look and skin and bone appearance of the first model.  If she had not eaten for a week I wouldn’t have been surprised.  This photo isn’t of her but all the models were similarly skeletal.  This photo makes her look curvy to how they are in the flesh.  There is no softness to their bodies at all, gaunt faces, no muscle in their arms, their upper arm is slimmer than my wrist.  Gross. 

dsc02678

 The catwalk was lovely to see but seriously, those models are going to die at a very young age.  How can they survive?  I can’t get across enough what stick insects they looked like!  I was in Krakow last week and after seeing photos of the concentration camp survivors – they look 3 times the size compared to these girls.  Being such a foodie I just can’t get over how you’d choose a career where you couldn’t eat!  I suppose the copious amounts of drugs they ingest instead must take the edge off the hunger.  Some of them looked quite wasted.  So we left the show and delved straight away into the goodie bag and all three of us scoffed the chocolates like we’d never seen food before.  They were delish! 

Just one last thing about the catwalk show… if you ever go, don’t wear sunglasses in the front row (or inside at all) you look like a twat.  Anna Wintour you are not and wearing sunglasses makes you look like a try hard.

Our night evolved from high fashion glamour to a pub showing the football where we met Dan, Alex and Martin … they say they didn’t know the football was on… mmm.   A beautifully cooked dinner of fish and chips sealed my fate as not being cut out for catwalk model material.  Ok, lets not mention, age, weight, height or lack of heroin chic looks that sealed my fate long ago.



et cetera