Fringe benefits

I've been considering a change in appearance for a while and given that i'm petrified of needles and scalpels (and feel it would be spitting in the face of my mother to defy my genes too much) my hair was one of the few tools I had to play with.

Growing a moustache was out (give it a few more years) so back through the family albums I went to glean inspiration of what might have suited me once upon a time.

My answer: a fringe. My logic: i looked cute with a fringe when i was 6. I did however ignore the fact that I looked hideous with (or indeed without i imagine) a fringe at the age of 12, but hey the brace has gone and the spots don't command eye contact these days.

Off to the hairdressers I poodled with a rather optimistic photo of Zooey Deschanel and a dream of a better life to follow. Snip snip snip.

Now is it me or is it a bad sign when people either hesitate when asked if they like something or choose not to even mention the fact that you've had a radical appearance-altering haircut? I ask because these were my first 6 encounters post fringe (here-on-in refered to as PF). Granted my hairdresser has an obsession with straighteners so it was more Worzel than Zooey to start but still, i'd at least have liked a big of feigned fringe-appreciation.

                                             Zooey - The girl who launched a thousand fringes

Over the next 3 days fringe-loathing took up my every waking thought: it's too hot, it's wonkey, i'm going to get spots, i look 6 years old... but as my hair came out of shock and i went back to work for the first time PF the bang loving began. It certainly helps that i work in advertising where fringes are super cool and it's almost good to look odd/ugly/androgynous whereas i have no doubt that had i worked in another industry (or indeed not in London) i would have been met with silence or refused acknowledgement.

I am now almost embarrased at the fringe love, it's raining down like a torrent of petals every step i take (well kind of) however on meeting my mother the other day, the women for whom i disregarded botox or a chin implant let us not forget, pre even "hello" I was met with "i hate it, it doesn't suit you". But give it time and even she'll find it hard to remember life pre-Fringe.

Dog Judo anyone?

A playful little something has entered my life and brightened my working day.... "Dog Judo"

http://www.dogjudo.com/

I can't remember how i came across it but all i know is that i'm hooked. Is it the awkward animation, maybe. Perhaps it's the sadistic Rexley, or could it just be the fact that i tweeted Roy (yes, i messaged a fictional dog) and am now the proud owner of dog judo badges, t-shirt and a postcard of Roy's dad - Rik Mayall.

Yes yes this all sounds a bit mutts, sorry nuts, but check it out and if you don't like it you must be barking.

Over and out

(Team Roy)

Ben 10 my shoulders ache!

Wanted: One eager couple. Must love little boys more than little girls. Proven experience necessary in playing with cars, pretending to be horse and painting. Knowledge of zoo animals and Toy Story a bonus.

Stepping out of our adult-only bubble we spent the weekend in Diss with a good friend of mine Maria, her husband Paul and Max (5), Oscar (3) & Lucas (1) (kids not dogs i must stress).

With the boys growing up quicker even than i'm developing wrinkles, they remember me from visit to visit so it takes far less time for them to go from shy to shoulders. This was, however, the first time I subjected my boyfriend Chris to the delectable madness and the result was impressive.. 

Whilst i consider myself a fairly child-friendly character it appears that Chris was born to be a horse, give shoulder rides, play mind-numbing games with balls and cardboard and tell whopping lies to small children. The result: a rather noisy and certainly strange legacy left on the already hectic household.

In the space of 24 hours he had the 2 boys who are old enough to talk screaming "Zulu" at the top of their lungs without knowing why or when this was appropriate. He taught them to mimic in a strangely posh accent "oooh have a banana" which quickly changed from banana into just about anything (that's not going to get annoying mum and dad - honest) and he had them believing that he ate spiders for breakfast, lunch and dinner (apart from Saturdays when he was allowed to substitute arachnids for a Chicken Biriyani).

But my favourite moment of the whole weekend came whilst Oscar, the angelic (for 24 hours) 3 year old, was sitting on my lap on a rather futuristic looking see-saw in the park. Chris stretched himself across the plaything to get it moving at which point Oscar turned to me and whispered "Oooh, Chris is so long", and to be fair to the lad why would the opposite of short not be long?!

So back and slightly bruised our bubble is once more in place. And next time we visit all 3 will be walking, talking and still guilible...

My favourite jewellery designer...

When looking for something special and sparkly for my recent 30th birthday i came across Jessica de Lotz and instantly fell in love with her "The Love Story. Paris 1946" collection. So much so that my lovely group of mates got me a "J" necklace in rose gold. Jess makes them all to order and the wax seal can be designed to your own brief. Take a peek next time you want that special something for that special someone (or yourself!).

http://www.jessicadelotz.co.uk/

I'm only as good as my hair..

I love glamour. I love walking out of the house feeling well groomed and ready to face the world. This probably explains my adoration of 1940’s fashion. And whilst for some people this air of polish comes very naturally (i.e. my immaculate client at IKEA) for me, at this time of year, the perfect hair and makeup are often a world away.

See I’ve been “blessed” with wavy hair, hair that loves to show-off how reactive it is to moisture. So whilst the summer months go by without many disasters, as the nights draw in and the air dampens my mane becomes my nemesis. Take this morning for instance; up early for a powerplate class so had a quick shower, put serum through my locks and went on my way. Fast forward 45 minutes and I’m standing waiting for the bus with hair that can only be described as Phil Spector-esque... joy

Thankfully most people are kind. The people on my team rarely point and laugh and my mum, bless her, actually prefers me with mountainous hair. Even my boyfriend thinks it looks “nice” and “natural”, but he’s a very good liar.

So I say please roll on Spring or at the least a 1940's headscarf revival!

  

http://www.johnfrieda.com/products/product_family.asp?productLine=frizz_ease

The wheels on the bus go round and round

Is stalking illegal? What about if it's unintentional?

The reason i ask is that not 2 weeks ago i found myself in a stalker situation, and i swear i did not see it coming.

Sat happily one morning on the #73 i spotted a guy who had rather good dress sense. Being a fan of people who attempt to break the fashion mold, and given that my boyfriend considers himself a bit of a trend-setter, i decided to covertly take a photo of said man in question to show chris. (Stalker behaviour #1)

Now this would have been fine as an isolated incident however we got the bus together the very next day to see the same guy sat in the same seat. We obviously stared and debated his fashion merit and then it hit us; This was not just some dapper member of the public, but was non-other than a member of danish pop band sensation "Alphabeat". Wow, i hear you cry! (and yes, technically he is a celebrity)


On getting into work that day i excitedly told my team, who rather than saying "oh that's a good "on the way to work" story" twisted my tale to question why, a normally well behaved citizen, was photographing a stranger in the first place (erm, for the love of fashion i protested!) 

I unproductively (unless you're a professional stalker) spent a big chunk of that day trawling the net to deny or confirm that it was said Dane and ascertain why they were in the N5 vicinity! (Stalker behaviour #2)


In doing so i found that a strange interest and warmth towards Alphabeat was rekindled - Fascination was the song that distracted me through many a petrifying internal flight across China, and to this day i thank them for that. Sadly i haven't seen him since however i'm on their mailing lists and following their progress in London... so with any luck i'll qualify for a restraining order soon.

http://www.thisisalphabeat.com/

Am I overly suspicious of lone men in cemetaries?

So first things first, i'm not weird. Yes this blog name refers to death, yes i think black is a great colour (very slimming and sophisticated) but no i don't spend a lot of time in cemetaries.

However there are some beautiful old cemetaries in North London that every now and again i'll take a wander through on a bright Sunday afternoon (Rule #1 - Never go into a cemetary when it's not sunny as it goes from interesting and "ooh look at the dappled light" to eerie and "i may never get out of here alive"). 

Abney Park Chapel - a little eerie in my book

In my limited experience I have however found there to be an unnatural amount of lone, middle-aged men sitting on benches in these dead centres of town. And on a particularly disturbing recent visit to Abney Park Cemetary in Stoke Newington I could swear that the same 3 men kept appearing in different parts of the grounds, despite there not being time for them to get there before we did (Rule #2 - don't go to cemetaries if you have a vivid imagination).

My paranoia was not helped by the fact that i had no sense of the cemetary's size or boundaries so we preceeded to get deeper and deeper into the park until the the trees thickened overhead, the comforting noise of traffic faded and the pathways became less trodden. (Rule #3 - take breadcrumbs)

I don't think i've ever been so relieved to see both a woman with a dog and a park map so with the haste of a possessed greyhound we got the hell out of there and didn't look back. (Don't let me put you off Abney Park Cemetary though as it's truely beautiful if you follow the rules above)

P.S. In case you were wondering the answer to my question, I've since found out that the cemetary is a popular gay dogging spot so yes I am right to be suspicious of lone men in cemetaries. (In this instance I'm also lucky not to be a man or you could be reading a far more traumatic ending.....)

http://www.abney-park.org.uk