Sunday loving...

Not things of fluffy, cutesy, pink Pinterest but things that inspire me, snapped haphazardly by me in a weekly entry I have decided to name Sunday loving.

Pinterest being the hot new thang on the block when it comes to social media platforms. Similar to we heart it in the way it hosts a catalogue of mind numbingly beautiful images, photo shopped to within an inch of perfection. Users can pin, re-pin or heart anything their pretty little heads desire and share with friends as well as share via Facebook and Twitter.

My entries, every Sunday will collate my own findings, workings and wonderings from the week before. The rules are NADA, it will be a free for all until an order or structure comes to mind...my obsessive tendencies are sure to override within a week or two. Scrapbook without the scrappy. But to start I will pursue the erratic.

There will of course be annotations, so that you can read the story behind my shoots. Please note some may be fleeting references to what, when and where, others may be lengthier as I digress into chapters of chat...I'll try to keep it sassy.

To begin with, more salutations for all things Singer. Damn it when will I get the knack for this damn sewing lark. To be completely honest I have not yet given my precious my full divided attention, time never seeming to be on my side. But just wait because I surely will. Mine is a shiny something something in comparison to this old timer:

In the flash light of LFW our pavements have become runways for the fashion frenzied. Street style is now essential for all city rollers, leaving the flat this week has been delayed by riffling RAGE when an anticipated outfit goes hideously wrong. Suddenly I don't give a crap, its old faithful jodhpur skinnies and a thick knit. But this Marc Jacobs carousel of WOW makes me want to be a lady in lace and daisy dresses...if only I were a delicate lil fleur like these broads....

 This shot, courtesy of Walter Rothschild’s collection at The Natural History Museum, is a close up of a Yellow-Nosed Albatross. This kind of stuff normally sends me taxi-squirmy, but the two thousand bird specimens on display are unbelievable examples of 19th century taxidermy. So intricate, and beautifully labelled.

 

I was also all eyes for this out-world-ish fella, all suited and booted and also on display in the Visions of Earth gallery at the museum:

I will leave you with the following from Cecil, because these are without a doubt the most inspiring words I have heard all week. Sent to me from my source of all thing amazing and true, this is something I will look to apply to my everday. Never do I want to be a 'play-it-safer'...

Love Clean Skin...

Take me 'Down to the River to Pray' indeed, zowie this is a campaign that bares all, beautifully and unashamedly. And why not? Why not celebrate skincare, celebrate love and life through the display of sex. First off we all know that it sells, but actually sex is the most natural and apparent thing to us all,  undeniably Ren. (Ren means clean, please keep up).

So after concluding in former posts that my lack of cosmetic identity leaves me without any a beautifying regime, this post on Ren Skincare is no foolery. Having been working closely with the Ren team for the launch of their exclusive short film that embodies the brand as they see it: sensational, honest and invigorating; I too have been seduced by the story.

The film was shot in a fjord in Sweden by Vince Squib, where we see two young lovers discover the thrill and confidence behind healthy skin. What feels or looks better than this...seriously? Sharing this experience, the couple (skin on skin) give in to that inherent desire to...do it at dusk in a scenic Swedish setting, lake and all. Yet to be checked on my list...

When I first watched this, all eyes on me for the initial reaction of a first time viewer, I was a little surprised. Shocker! But actually, I was equally aroused (another shocker) by the way that Ren dared to re-establish their brand in such a confident and captivating way. The track ‘Down to the River to Pray’ by Alison Krauss works in total harmony with the film making it less them fast and fearlessly going at it, more lasting and luscious luuurve making. Take a look, I know your dying to:




Undoubtedly this will rouse many a debate amongst its online audiences, and this is something that Ren encourage above all. As said, they have chosen two lusty Sweds to convey a message that seeks to transcend that of other fleeting beauty brands in arguably an obvious way, but what better means of reaching out to new consumers? 

I was unfamiliar with the brand beforehand, but having tried and tested a handful of the products I think that they do the job, little bottles of WOW actually (hello Ultra moisture day cream). Brands need to be seen to be heard, and this film voices Ren in an all consuming way. If people view it and vow never to purchase their products again then so be it. But for those who see this for what it is, a sensual piece of marketing to share, stir, shock and symbolize...then this will be the first of many films that love clean skin.

Cowshed, join the herd...

A little black and white ribboned box revealed to me a Cowshed giftcard- a belated birthday pressie from the girls at work. If I get one more cow name connotation today...ha! You may have cottoned on to the fact that I am by no means a groomy gal, in that I spend the bare minimum (time, dollar, effort) on hair and make-up. That said this was a very welcome gesture...hmm who to give it to and pass off as my own gift idea? No, really what a treat, or treatment...exactly that, what treatment to choose?

Obviously I needed back up, someone to explain the rule of thumb in such places. That is, nails should not be neglected for so long (like mine), and handy tips like don't drop your towel just yet. The paper thong heads up was also appreciated. I exaggerate...clearly I’m a regular little pampering puff of perfumed delight.

So with me tottered a well esteemed beauty-go-go, know-know gal to ease me in gently AND swiftly hush my questions by ordering champaz on arrival. Jeez you can get almost anything varnished, trimmed or tidied in this place; it’s like Gardeners’ World. But at ten times the cost and with far more attention to pruning...I hope.

Ah ha decided: an eyebrow shape, because mine make Freda Kahlo’s look tame. And despite Beck's repeated 'It’s all about the big brows right now', I am not convinced. So, eyebrows and a Brazilian wax. Yes please, the way God and I intended. Oh and pain free too please.

Well you know what? Yes it was, ish! Cowshed products are plant-based and contain naturally-derived ingredients, free from nasty crap like petrochemicals and sulphates. The pink wax that is essentially refined sugar melted down to a delicious, runny goo is applied to the area up for removal  (vajayjay...not literally but you know) left seconds to dry and then stripped ( I'd say 94% ) painlessly! Wowza! This makes my former bikini appointments, where I was doused with blue PVA glue like, SCOLDING wax, seem like times of unnecessary (but oh so urgent) torment.

 Hats off to my lady in white, I am as neat as a button and silky smooth. Well worth a visit, budget and occasion permitting, because the results are good.

Cowshed is an ideal place to go for a little body TLC so take  friends, clients, mothers and lovers. Vouchers are available on request so you can treat someone or just spruce yourself up abit with a mani / pedi.
The decor is city chic meets country kitch, and the handful dotted across the UK (Berlin, New York and Miami) are far from the tight lipped, intimidating realms of other salons and parlors. Go with it, join the herd...

Through the eyes of Cecil...

Cecil who? I asked to the disgust of many a fellow perusing the V&A on Saturday. Cecil Beaton is the man behind the beautiful royal portrait collection that is being exhibited there for the Diamond Jubilee Celebration this year.

 I thought I would fashion together a post that sheds light on the man who embellished the monarchy’s public image in the mid-20^th century AND won the Academy Award for Costume and Set design for both My Fair Lady and Gigi.

Yes this is blatantly the face of one charismatic enough to schmooze her Royal Highness...

Whilst his regal snaps are tip top and will be pervading the country all year, Google cites that Beaton was in fact a gent of plenty; an avid diarist, painter, fashion and portrait photographer. In the 20s he was commissioned by Vanity Fair and Vogue where he became staff photographer.

 What I love about this beacon Beaton, besides his fabulous eye for photography, is his ability to fabricate a style that has clearly transcended British couture. His prints were fabulous in his own time, today they are quirky and chic. Take a look below, bravo Cecil!

Commute don't fail me now...

How is it Monday morning again I wonder whilst waiting, or rather swaying in disarray, for my South West sweetheart to swoop me up. Urrrgh the first of five blurry eyed commutes this week. Shitting hell routine is a killer!
The joys of the over ground: the comfort, impecable timetable, endless banter and cheer shared amongst London folk. Nope not a smidge, what a surly lot we are!

Those who smile, mouth lyrics fed via their ipod and slurp lattes, this chipper lot are the freakish. First off: it is below freezing, oh until the onslaught of bodies, woollens, mittens and (bane of my life) Brompton bikes pile into one sweaty mass that is. Second: there is no room to manoeuvre let alone turn the guilty pleasures pages of the metro. And then there’s the third: fate has it that every Tom, Dick and HAIRY who prop themselves next to or up against me have a tendency to pick their nose. And by pick I mean forage repeatedly. Hideous reaches VILE point when, after detection, the happy digger continues to suck finger tips and then in one dude’s case- smooth down the ways and strays of his wiry tash.

 And that's all before 8 am. Before the outpouring onto the platform, before darting around those silly sausages who just can't remove themselves from a novel, newspaper or apple device. Around the happy couples and their morning routine of kiss and linger... "No you go, no you go!'' Then through the ticket machine and I’m off, my James Bond moment, target in sight I race through Waterloo station. Route mapped out and only interchanging for buggies, crutches, luggage on wheels and out of nowhere brollies. I’m fast, fearless and I’m ruthless.

Down the stairs, avoiding the routine bottle neck on the escalator, and through the next ticket swipe. I get to the tube platform, it's five people deep and eight minutes until the next northbound train. Arrrrgghh! At least the station attendant's cockney chant is bound to rise a few smiles! Nope, not a dimple.

Now for the shuffling down the aisles of the carriage, the mistake of clutching the sticky yellow hand rail, someone's crotch, a ponytail, treading on toes, dusty shoulders, judgy glances at my foundation line or wet hair or chipped nail varnish (all of the above) and the sea of bobbing heads. Some days I'll game play: Would I rather? Is he gay, married, famous? Fake Louis real Louis? Who would have the best food supplies in a break down underground situ?

Then I scour the novels on display, a library of choice. Some to my taste (Caitlin Moran...GIRL CRUSH, GIRL CRUSH) others not so. I did see a very unlikely character reading Anna Karenina last week, never again shall I judge a gent by his cover! On the mornings I can't face with optimism I gaze into hairline of by neighbour and will on Warren Street. Those who get up in my grate are the pushing Toms who barge past me to near the doors on a MOVING TRAIN. Seriously... ‘I’m also getting off here'... you ARSE! Why don't I just dangle or Sir, you might erm...swivel?

There are of course a million other traumatic, nauseating scenarios far better and far worse that taunt a commuter’s world. Nature of the beast baby, so like it or lump it. If the career at the destination is worth it then that's why we do it.

Glimpses of humanity (giving up seats, dishing out tissues, lending of phones and free publications of the Stylist) do crop up so let those moments outweigh the rage days. Oh and a TOP, TOP source of mine (haveyouheardthelatest.wordpress.com) has sparked an amendment to this post by revealing the following: http://tubecrush.net/ and yes ladies it's for real. I am yet to meet ANY such specimen on my travels, funny that, but rest assured that on such a sighting I will take back all the bitching and moaning...AMEN!

I draft these blog posts during my daily commute using the 'memo' app on my android, so for this entry the material was right there up close and personal- the whole truth in real time! And I really have just been elbowed in the side of the head. That's it lil old lady, you and me outside...