You know when you can’t decide? You ruminate, reconsider and let your mind wander. Then go back over the possibilities which now seem totally different.
It's me, anyway, and this illogical pattern of thinking only makes itself known when i'm considering fashion.
…I love films. After viewing, my opinion is deepened and enriched with further study although it rarely, if ever, shifts to something completely different. I love outfits because when I stumble upon a discarded garment, or dare to try those outlandish shoes which will never work, every now and then, they somehow do.
The 2011 Spring/Summer collection was an example of when I couldn’t decide. The fearless colours atop dramatic shapes initially made me uncomfortable but as I digest them, they begin to make sense.
I was always of the ‘one stand-out piece’ school of thought. Rodarte, however, blew that out the water for me with funky earth-coloured Laura Ashley-styled prints mixed with sheer fabrics and irregular cuts. Bordering on Marvin the Marsian at times but nonetheless, very, very cool and weirdly wearable.
Raf Simons collection for Jil Sander seems to be a winner with everyone, although I have to say it doesn’t do much for me. White t-shirts tucked into burgeoning fluorescent skirts is modern and playful but it all feels unnecessarily garish, frumpy even. For a great look, I think you’ve got to work with the body’s curves rather than flanking them with boxy, over-long shapes.
More neon for Christopher Kane who mixed it with vintage-style flower prints on plain pencilled skirts. A contradictory collection which is, at every turn, bold, if not beautiful. I enjoyed the happy pastel-coloured summer dresses regimented by unyielding string-like detail.
Amid this appreciation of modernity and boldness it is necessary to pay homage to the classics and my favourite collection by far, Jonathan Saunders. Beautifully classic womanly shapes and lengths, floating fabrics, gorgeous greens, clean blues and caramels are the hallmarks of his collection. This embracement of 50s style is subtly modernised with minis, transparent overskirts, asymmetric fabrics, and unusual necklines.
To return to this notion of indecisiveness, it's not always the case. I dearly love a number of old and treasured pieces in my wardrobe. It doesn’t change the fact that it’s exciting to experiment and try out new looks we daren’t dream of (much like the 12” black suede platform wedges I’ve developed a relationship with in Jenners but not purchased yet. I ought to... they’re in the sale).
Hopefully these confused words have gone some way to explaining why girls can’t find anything to wear.
Have a look at the collection here
Sunday, 23 January 2011
Saturday, 8 January 2011
Becky's 2010 Film Round-up
Just watched Mark Kermode's video blog, 'Worst 5 Films of 2010' and have to agree with his comments on Sex and the City 2 being a colossal embarassment. Offensive for all involved.
I'm having a think over the films of 2010 and can't help but feel a bit saddened by the number of remakes and sequels on the go. Six of the top ten grossing films in the US were remakes or sequels. While Toy Story 3 is a great example of when it works, as a movie-goer I'd like to see more original stories, ideas and characters. When the audience feels the brand is being milked for all it's worth, I think it's time to move on. There's an abundance of brilliant ideas and potential adaptations just waiting to be played with. One such example of this at work is 2009's Up in the Air.
At this point, I ought to be honest with you and mention the gaps in my 2010 film viewing. I missed a couple of the biggies; The Social Network (which, I'm told is utterly brilliant), Kick Ass and Exit Through the Gift Shop, spring to mind.
One film I didn't see, though as a result of design, was the Human Centipede. 2010 had its share of horror and I love the genre but the old-school stuff, you know; suspense, excitement, dread... I'm not one for the pornographic gore of Hostel or Splice. So I politely declined the Human Centipede, the trailer for which remains etched in my memory.
On a different note, pleasant surprises last year included Predators which ticked all the boxes. I'm back-tracking to a degree here, after my quips earlier about sequels, but this one was removed enough from the original and good enough to stand alone. The storyline was well-thought out, nicely shot and convincingly acted. And seeing Adrian Brody transformed from the quellazaire-holding-Italian-suit-wearing gentleman into a sweaty, buff army-guy was a lot of fun.
My stinkers of the year have to be Sex and the City 2, Robin Hood (ahem, another remake) and Brooklyn's Finest. SATC2, I think, is a self-explanatory disaster. Robin Hood, while it had a good deal of cash thrown at the problem to make it look very pretty, just failed for me. Crowe appears to be flavour of the month just now and while I enjoy his films, I felt there were a thousand British actors who could have nailed this part (and kept the same accent throughout). Blanchett - another actress I enjoy, brilliant in Veronica Guerin- felt totally wrong for her part and dare I say this, a bit too old for Marion. As far as the storyline itself went, the historical reshuffling felt extrapolated and clumsy. It didn't take me long to lose interest in this one.
Brooklyn's Finest had one major flaw; it was just too depressing. I've no other qualms with the film except its failure to provide its audience with a lifeline as things start bad and only get worse. It's a shame beacuase they paid for a great cast with Don Cheadle, Richard Gere and Ethan Hawke. By the time it finished, my partner and I felt deflated and marginally suicidal. I guess I just don't think a film should leave you without any hope left in your bones which is why I mention it here.
2010, we doth our cap to you. As for 2011, we hope for great things.
I'm having a think over the films of 2010 and can't help but feel a bit saddened by the number of remakes and sequels on the go. Six of the top ten grossing films in the US were remakes or sequels. While Toy Story 3 is a great example of when it works, as a movie-goer I'd like to see more original stories, ideas and characters. When the audience feels the brand is being milked for all it's worth, I think it's time to move on. There's an abundance of brilliant ideas and potential adaptations just waiting to be played with. One such example of this at work is 2009's Up in the Air.
At this point, I ought to be honest with you and mention the gaps in my 2010 film viewing. I missed a couple of the biggies; The Social Network (which, I'm told is utterly brilliant), Kick Ass and Exit Through the Gift Shop, spring to mind.
One film I didn't see, though as a result of design, was the Human Centipede. 2010 had its share of horror and I love the genre but the old-school stuff, you know; suspense, excitement, dread... I'm not one for the pornographic gore of Hostel or Splice. So I politely declined the Human Centipede, the trailer for which remains etched in my memory.
On a different note, pleasant surprises last year included Predators which ticked all the boxes. I'm back-tracking to a degree here, after my quips earlier about sequels, but this one was removed enough from the original and good enough to stand alone. The storyline was well-thought out, nicely shot and convincingly acted. And seeing Adrian Brody transformed from the quellazaire-holding-Italian-suit-wearing gentleman into a sweaty, buff army-guy was a lot of fun.
My stinkers of the year have to be Sex and the City 2, Robin Hood (ahem, another remake) and Brooklyn's Finest. SATC2, I think, is a self-explanatory disaster. Robin Hood, while it had a good deal of cash thrown at the problem to make it look very pretty, just failed for me. Crowe appears to be flavour of the month just now and while I enjoy his films, I felt there were a thousand British actors who could have nailed this part (and kept the same accent throughout). Blanchett - another actress I enjoy, brilliant in Veronica Guerin- felt totally wrong for her part and dare I say this, a bit too old for Marion. As far as the storyline itself went, the historical reshuffling felt extrapolated and clumsy. It didn't take me long to lose interest in this one.
Brooklyn's Finest had one major flaw; it was just too depressing. I've no other qualms with the film except its failure to provide its audience with a lifeline as things start bad and only get worse. It's a shame beacuase they paid for a great cast with Don Cheadle, Richard Gere and Ethan Hawke. By the time it finished, my partner and I felt deflated and marginally suicidal. I guess I just don't think a film should leave you without any hope left in your bones which is why I mention it here.
2010, we doth our cap to you. As for 2011, we hope for great things.
Dunwich Horror... the forgotten film blog
This forgotten blog about the Edinburgh film festival hid on a laptop for a while so here it is making a rather late premiere...
‘We’re still not really sure what it should be billed as’ admit the cast and crew of the Dunwich Horror as they prepare for a Q&A session after the screening of their… film.
It starts much like every other cinema experience. Shuffle along the aisle, take your seat, lights go down, curtains open... But we are told, ‘open your ears and lose your mind’ as we experience this unique adaptation of H P Lovecraft’s Dunwich Horror.
Director Colin Edwards told the audience, “It’s just an idea that I have been mulling around. I wanted to do something on a really big scale, that could burst open the monster horror story. We weren’t restricted by the budget so it was really exciting and fun.”
Horror seems the best choice for such an ambitious venture, heavily reliant on sound, to drive the audience. There are certainly highly enjoyable moments as your mind sketches wild pictures and characters which drift on and off screen.
“Lovecraft’s horrors are almost indescribable. I got a blast that everyone has seen a different film, I think that’s a really nice aspect of doing this,” says Edwards.
Unquestionably, one of the most joyous aspects of the horror genre is the image we conjure up of the unspeakable, never having it confirmed on screen. Using a variety of fruit and veg, salad cream and even badgers to create the unsettling sounds, the film certainly gives you a lot to play with in the confines of your mind.
One downside is that frequently, the sounds muddle together, coming only from the front of the theatre. The monster appearing inches from your left ear would have caused some real ‘Yikes!’ but as it is, there aren’t too many hug-your-neighbour moments. Edwards acknowledges this and said it’s a drawback of such a project since cinemas are not equipped with the high-tech audio systems found in an editing suite, so the finished result may not work quite as well.
Refuting its label as a ’glorified audiobook’, sound guy, Carl said it is designed to be an ‘audio movie’. ‘It’s not a film but a cinematic experience. We wanted it in surround sound and always intended it to be experienced by a group of people.’
At times the film feels over-narrated and character dialogue borders on clumsy as the plot is extrapolates; perhaps a necessary evil of this type of project. The treat of seeing such a film in a festival is participating in new ideas and approaches to film. And without a doubt, the Dunwich Horror encourages you to think about the way you ‘watch’ horror.
Still, those involved clearly enjoyed the flagship project. Edwards confessed he is already thinking about another audio project, once again delving into Lovecraft’s anthology of horror lore and adapting the sinister ‘Rats on the Wall’. This time round he is keen to employ more full on horror. “It’s a great story, it’s seriously stark, disturbing and dark and a really brutal kick in the nuts.”
‘We’re still not really sure what it should be billed as’ admit the cast and crew of the Dunwich Horror as they prepare for a Q&A session after the screening of their… film.
It starts much like every other cinema experience. Shuffle along the aisle, take your seat, lights go down, curtains open... But we are told, ‘open your ears and lose your mind’ as we experience this unique adaptation of H P Lovecraft’s Dunwich Horror.
Director Colin Edwards told the audience, “It’s just an idea that I have been mulling around. I wanted to do something on a really big scale, that could burst open the monster horror story. We weren’t restricted by the budget so it was really exciting and fun.”
Horror seems the best choice for such an ambitious venture, heavily reliant on sound, to drive the audience. There are certainly highly enjoyable moments as your mind sketches wild pictures and characters which drift on and off screen.
“Lovecraft’s horrors are almost indescribable. I got a blast that everyone has seen a different film, I think that’s a really nice aspect of doing this,” says Edwards.
Unquestionably, one of the most joyous aspects of the horror genre is the image we conjure up of the unspeakable, never having it confirmed on screen. Using a variety of fruit and veg, salad cream and even badgers to create the unsettling sounds, the film certainly gives you a lot to play with in the confines of your mind.
One downside is that frequently, the sounds muddle together, coming only from the front of the theatre. The monster appearing inches from your left ear would have caused some real ‘Yikes!’ but as it is, there aren’t too many hug-your-neighbour moments. Edwards acknowledges this and said it’s a drawback of such a project since cinemas are not equipped with the high-tech audio systems found in an editing suite, so the finished result may not work quite as well.
Refuting its label as a ’glorified audiobook’, sound guy, Carl said it is designed to be an ‘audio movie’. ‘It’s not a film but a cinematic experience. We wanted it in surround sound and always intended it to be experienced by a group of people.’
At times the film feels over-narrated and character dialogue borders on clumsy as the plot is extrapolates; perhaps a necessary evil of this type of project. The treat of seeing such a film in a festival is participating in new ideas and approaches to film. And without a doubt, the Dunwich Horror encourages you to think about the way you ‘watch’ horror.
Still, those involved clearly enjoyed the flagship project. Edwards confessed he is already thinking about another audio project, once again delving into Lovecraft’s anthology of horror lore and adapting the sinister ‘Rats on the Wall’. This time round he is keen to employ more full on horror. “It’s a great story, it’s seriously stark, disturbing and dark and a really brutal kick in the nuts.”
Thursday, 9 September 2010
Why we should talk to the hand
An audience is not, apparently, happy with simply a great show. They want something edgy fresh and new. This year at the Edinburgh Fringe three ventriloquism acts rolled up their sleeves and attempted to reinvent the art to keep you talking to the hand.
Paul Zerdin’s understated charm and charisma, his exceptional skill and of course, the fact he is very, very funny make this one of the best shows I’ve seen. His first character, adolescent potty mouth Sam who looks like an extra from Avenue Q, is an instant hit and the audience are audibly distressed when he is crammed back in the ominous black suitcase at the end of his skit. An incontinent pensioner and a bizarre looking baby follow on the guestlist, both of whom showcase different though equally polished aspects of the puppeteer’s skills.
Traditionally the ventriloquist dummy assumes the role of the naughty tyke but Zerdin shows a bit of his nefarious side as he wanders out into the audience regaling them with anecdotes involving his unusual skill. One such example is that of throwing his voice in busy lifts and informing those inside that not only are the doors closing, but the cable is snapping.
Nina Conti’s ‘Talk to the Hand’ is another joyous hour of comedy, marred only by the guest appearance of the rather dull Abi Titmuss on this particular performance, who was more concerned with quoting Macbeth than engaging with the playful banter being offered to her by a monkey.
As with Zerdin, Conti’s charm envelopes her audience, of course her infectious laugh, relaxed movements and cheerful good looks help. As usual, we meet a number of oddball characters from her luggage, all of whom delight in chattering with the audience with some great comebacks that even Conti herself giggles at.
Playing with her act, Conti informs us she has a new puppet which is, so far, voiceless. Seeking ideas from onlookers she test drives a number of possibilities from Liverpudlian to Rastafarian, subtly showing us the range of her talents.
However, it’s when Conti manages to take a drink whilst still speaking that she gets major kudos from her audience.
A new apparatus on the ventriloquist circuit makes an appearance at both Zerdin and Conti’s show, that of the human dummy mask. As sinister as it sounds, the plastic contraption fits around an unfortunate audience member’s mouth as the ventriloquist in question controls the voice and mouthpiece, playing off the embarrassed victim’s movements. Cruel, perhaps but damn funny.
Strassman’s show ‘Duality’ is a departure from the comedy to that of Zerdin and Conti. Instead, the audience go unnoticed, voyeuristically witnessing a man delve into the psyche of the ventriloquist, exploring his apparent personality disorder.
Despite posing dark questions this puppeteer doesn’t bring the audience down with his existential angst, instead he cleverly interjects his bouts of analysis with light hearted banter and even some whimsy. The narrative dips between rehearsing show material and everyday chatting and squabbling.
While Strassman’s skills themselves are not as polished as Conti or Zerdin’s, he makes up for this with an intelligently mapped act which ends with a twist. On more than one occasion I found myself remarking on the clever orchestration which inhabits your thoughts long after you leave.
Ventriloquism certainly made its mark on the Fringe this year. There’s a strong willingness to believe what these guys are doing, to involve yourself with the character and we leave, feeling like we’ve met an interesting new person, despite being told all along they’re not real.
These shows combine all the elements; that of comedy, whimsy, the absurd and the intelligent. Taking the ingredients but cooking up something unique and highly polished, much to the gratitude of their nightly audience.
Paul Zerdin’s understated charm and charisma, his exceptional skill and of course, the fact he is very, very funny make this one of the best shows I’ve seen. His first character, adolescent potty mouth Sam who looks like an extra from Avenue Q, is an instant hit and the audience are audibly distressed when he is crammed back in the ominous black suitcase at the end of his skit. An incontinent pensioner and a bizarre looking baby follow on the guestlist, both of whom showcase different though equally polished aspects of the puppeteer’s skills.
Traditionally the ventriloquist dummy assumes the role of the naughty tyke but Zerdin shows a bit of his nefarious side as he wanders out into the audience regaling them with anecdotes involving his unusual skill. One such example is that of throwing his voice in busy lifts and informing those inside that not only are the doors closing, but the cable is snapping.
Nina Conti’s ‘Talk to the Hand’ is another joyous hour of comedy, marred only by the guest appearance of the rather dull Abi Titmuss on this particular performance, who was more concerned with quoting Macbeth than engaging with the playful banter being offered to her by a monkey.
As with Zerdin, Conti’s charm envelopes her audience, of course her infectious laugh, relaxed movements and cheerful good looks help. As usual, we meet a number of oddball characters from her luggage, all of whom delight in chattering with the audience with some great comebacks that even Conti herself giggles at.
Playing with her act, Conti informs us she has a new puppet which is, so far, voiceless. Seeking ideas from onlookers she test drives a number of possibilities from Liverpudlian to Rastafarian, subtly showing us the range of her talents.
However, it’s when Conti manages to take a drink whilst still speaking that she gets major kudos from her audience.
A new apparatus on the ventriloquist circuit makes an appearance at both Zerdin and Conti’s show, that of the human dummy mask. As sinister as it sounds, the plastic contraption fits around an unfortunate audience member’s mouth as the ventriloquist in question controls the voice and mouthpiece, playing off the embarrassed victim’s movements. Cruel, perhaps but damn funny.
Strassman’s show ‘Duality’ is a departure from the comedy to that of Zerdin and Conti. Instead, the audience go unnoticed, voyeuristically witnessing a man delve into the psyche of the ventriloquist, exploring his apparent personality disorder.
Despite posing dark questions this puppeteer doesn’t bring the audience down with his existential angst, instead he cleverly interjects his bouts of analysis with light hearted banter and even some whimsy. The narrative dips between rehearsing show material and everyday chatting and squabbling.
While Strassman’s skills themselves are not as polished as Conti or Zerdin’s, he makes up for this with an intelligently mapped act which ends with a twist. On more than one occasion I found myself remarking on the clever orchestration which inhabits your thoughts long after you leave.
Ventriloquism certainly made its mark on the Fringe this year. There’s a strong willingness to believe what these guys are doing, to involve yourself with the character and we leave, feeling like we’ve met an interesting new person, despite being told all along they’re not real.
These shows combine all the elements; that of comedy, whimsy, the absurd and the intelligent. Taking the ingredients but cooking up something unique and highly polished, much to the gratitude of their nightly audience.
Wednesday, 12 May 2010
Pish Posh
I found myself irritated today.
Apparently, Carol Vorderman was snapped wearing a dress that is not only last season (gasp) but appeared on none other than Victoria Beckham. People were outraged at her audacity, not only in wearing such an outdated relic, but copying Posh.
My reason for my irritation is twofold.
Firstly, – and I don’t know about you – your average woman does not, generally ship an outfit off to Save the Children because it’s ‘so last season’. How absurd. I’m not embarrassed to admit that I have a number of dresses, tops and jumpers that last me at least a year. In fact, if they don't I want to know why. Not so much the 50p pants but I’ll live with that.
We’ve all got that piece in our wardrobe. It could be a raggedy old knee length cardigan that you simply can’t part with. Or it could be the sexiest dress you’ll ever own. More often than not, these things are years old and could be from some dreadfully uncool shop or clothing line, like George in Asda. We love it just the same.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t claim to be the most thrifty of females when it comes to my clothes. I’ve stored numerous boxes in the loft with the same hopeful labels as the rest of you: ‘summer’, ‘skirts’… ‘might fit later’. But there has to be a limit to these things. And chucking it out because you’ve worn it before is, I think, careering past it.
Yes, I know, I know, fashion is a trend thing, a refreshingly everchanging and evolving force. I can almost understand a designer not wanting to appear outdated but Carol Vorderman, although famous, is still one of us. She's just better at maths. Who knows, she might even buy her knickers from Debenhams or Marks.
Ms Vorderman wrote in the Daily Mail that she found the kafuffle over her wearing the dress ‘hysterical’. I’m glad she’s keeping her head - as well as the dress - and not entering into such a banal argument.
The other issue which perplexed me is that Carol was slagged off for wearing the admittedly hugging dress and it was even suggested she carry a sign reading ‘Wide Load’.
The woman is a size ten.
Even more ridiculous was that she was pictured alongside Victoria Beckham in the offending gown and I actually thought she looked better. Her curves filled the dress while it looked like it limply hung off Victoria.
If you want to be a size four; fine, if you want to be a 16; fine. But a size ten sure as hell does not need to come with a warning sign.
It would be better if we could all just play nice. A celebrity wearing an out of season garment is not high on my list of things to worry about. Think what we could achieve if we chanelled some of this obsession with fashion and celebrities into things that actually matter.
Apparently, Carol Vorderman was snapped wearing a dress that is not only last season (gasp) but appeared on none other than Victoria Beckham. People were outraged at her audacity, not only in wearing such an outdated relic, but copying Posh.
My reason for my irritation is twofold.
Firstly, – and I don’t know about you – your average woman does not, generally ship an outfit off to Save the Children because it’s ‘so last season’. How absurd. I’m not embarrassed to admit that I have a number of dresses, tops and jumpers that last me at least a year. In fact, if they don't I want to know why. Not so much the 50p pants but I’ll live with that.
We’ve all got that piece in our wardrobe. It could be a raggedy old knee length cardigan that you simply can’t part with. Or it could be the sexiest dress you’ll ever own. More often than not, these things are years old and could be from some dreadfully uncool shop or clothing line, like George in Asda. We love it just the same.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t claim to be the most thrifty of females when it comes to my clothes. I’ve stored numerous boxes in the loft with the same hopeful labels as the rest of you: ‘summer’, ‘skirts’… ‘might fit later’. But there has to be a limit to these things. And chucking it out because you’ve worn it before is, I think, careering past it.
Yes, I know, I know, fashion is a trend thing, a refreshingly everchanging and evolving force. I can almost understand a designer not wanting to appear outdated but Carol Vorderman, although famous, is still one of us. She's just better at maths. Who knows, she might even buy her knickers from Debenhams or Marks.
Ms Vorderman wrote in the Daily Mail that she found the kafuffle over her wearing the dress ‘hysterical’. I’m glad she’s keeping her head - as well as the dress - and not entering into such a banal argument.
The other issue which perplexed me is that Carol was slagged off for wearing the admittedly hugging dress and it was even suggested she carry a sign reading ‘Wide Load’.
The woman is a size ten.
Even more ridiculous was that she was pictured alongside Victoria Beckham in the offending gown and I actually thought she looked better. Her curves filled the dress while it looked like it limply hung off Victoria.
If you want to be a size four; fine, if you want to be a 16; fine. But a size ten sure as hell does not need to come with a warning sign.
It would be better if we could all just play nice. A celebrity wearing an out of season garment is not high on my list of things to worry about. Think what we could achieve if we chanelled some of this obsession with fashion and celebrities into things that actually matter.
Friday, 23 April 2010
Waistcoat Not, Want Not
I have a passion for waistcoats. They’re a forgotten accessory, an indulgent addition to our wardrobe. Do they accomplish much? Not really but they look fabulous which is reason enough.
I know, traditionally the finishing touch to the gentleman’s 3-piece-suit, but the possibilities definitely cross over to the other gender where we’ve nipped it, tucked it and made it all a bit more feminine and sexy.
Since we are talking about a conventionally masculine look here, it’s essential, I think, to add a feminine twist. Fitted (always fitted) snugly round the bust and waist nails the look. Single colours and simple patterns are often the most striking; blacks, chocolate browns, dark green tweeds. Team them with a brighter shirt and dress trousers or pin skirt and you’re in business.
There are now countless designs, shapes, colours and cuts of waistcoat that could flatter most figures. I own four, most of which are from Benetton and most of which are worn with a fitted white shirt and black waist high dress trousers. It's been suggested to me it's borderline magician but nonetheless, a good look. If I’m feeling brave I step into my brown tweed miniskirt, don my brown boat-neck waistcoat with oversize buttons and ‘hey presto!’. Perhaps my favourite is my All Saints mahogany brown one with the black lapel. The collar folds to show the black underneath but also forward for a more punky look.
So what’s the attraction? For me, the waistcoat is a classic example of style - it has been around since the 1600s. I still think the best outfits are the ageless ones ; the little black dress, the peep toe high heel, the A-line skirt. I enjoy the ups and downs of fashion as much as any girl, but I have always drifted back to the classics, when choosing a bikini, a skirt, a shirt, a dress, a coat, high heels… These simple styles just look… better, more confident, ‘classier’ (forgive the obvious) and women look… womanly. The deluge of shapeless dresses and tops currently inhabiting every high street clothes shop is just a no-no for me. I don’t want my clothes to suggest I’m bigger than I am. I can name few women who would.
I still think the women in the forties had it right. Fitted suits, sexy loosely curled hair and hats! How I enjoy a hat. But that's another blog for another day.
I know, traditionally the finishing touch to the gentleman’s 3-piece-suit, but the possibilities definitely cross over to the other gender where we’ve nipped it, tucked it and made it all a bit more feminine and sexy.
Since we are talking about a conventionally masculine look here, it’s essential, I think, to add a feminine twist. Fitted (always fitted) snugly round the bust and waist nails the look. Single colours and simple patterns are often the most striking; blacks, chocolate browns, dark green tweeds. Team them with a brighter shirt and dress trousers or pin skirt and you’re in business.
There are now countless designs, shapes, colours and cuts of waistcoat that could flatter most figures. I own four, most of which are from Benetton and most of which are worn with a fitted white shirt and black waist high dress trousers. It's been suggested to me it's borderline magician but nonetheless, a good look. If I’m feeling brave I step into my brown tweed miniskirt, don my brown boat-neck waistcoat with oversize buttons and ‘hey presto!’. Perhaps my favourite is my All Saints mahogany brown one with the black lapel. The collar folds to show the black underneath but also forward for a more punky look.
So what’s the attraction? For me, the waistcoat is a classic example of style - it has been around since the 1600s. I still think the best outfits are the ageless ones ; the little black dress, the peep toe high heel, the A-line skirt. I enjoy the ups and downs of fashion as much as any girl, but I have always drifted back to the classics, when choosing a bikini, a skirt, a shirt, a dress, a coat, high heels… These simple styles just look… better, more confident, ‘classier’ (forgive the obvious) and women look… womanly. The deluge of shapeless dresses and tops currently inhabiting every high street clothes shop is just a no-no for me. I don’t want my clothes to suggest I’m bigger than I am. I can name few women who would.
I still think the women in the forties had it right. Fitted suits, sexy loosely curled hair and hats! How I enjoy a hat. But that's another blog for another day.
Monday, 1 March 2010
Brussels Sprouts
‘Andy’, she said quietly, peeping her head round his door.
‘Yeah, what’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, nothing. I just brought you a slice of strawberry cheesecake, I know you like it and I’ve not bought it for a while’, she said smiling, holding out the wedge of red ooze.
He could feel his face get warm and he turned his back to her to climb off the bed, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
‘Thanks’, he smiled. It was Andy’s favourite.
She passed him the cake and watched as the boy settled back on his bed, spearing the fork into the mush and watching as the cream explored its way around the bowl.
He looked up at her and spoke through mouthfuls of sticky dessert, ‘Wos wrong?’
‘Nothing dear, why do you keep asking’, she said puzzled but still amused at the obvious enjoyment of his treat.
‘I’ll leave you to it’ she said softly and the door clicked closed behind her.
Andy liked the texture of cheesecake the best, the runny top with whole strawberries, the creamy middle that stuck to the roof of his mouth and the crunchy biscuit that tasted like broken up digestives.
‘Andrew!’
He froze on his bed.
‘Andrew come here!’ she snapped from downstairs.
He leapt from his bed, taking the stairs two at a time while holding onto the thick wooden banister to steady himself. He sped through the hall and hurtled into the kitchen.
‘Andrew, what’s this?’
She held a scrunched up piece of soggy kitchen roll containing four squashed brussels sprouts.
He looked up at her and she jabbed the offending objects towards him, ‘Well?’
‘I dunno mum’ was the reply.
‘Andrew…’ she began but she didn’t seem to want to finish the sentence.
The boy curled his fingers round the sides of his t-shirt.
‘I dunno mum’ he said again, quietly, unsure of where his denial would get him.
‘I found them next to the plant pots behind the shed.’
‘Mum I really don’t know.’
She sighed and dumped them unceremoniously on the kitchen worktop.
‘Your gran made them especially’, she said and the boy thought his mum looked a bit sad.
‘I know and I don’t know why. Can’t she bring cake or sweets or if she’s gonna bring dinner stuff can’t it be sausages or mash or something nice. Mum, who brings brussel sprouts round for dinner?’ Immediately he felt a slightly ashamed for saying it but it didn’t change the fact it was true.
She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again.
‘I just want you to try them. Fruit and veg are really very important for little boys and I think if you gave them a chance you’d start to quite like them.’
‘But they look like brains mum. I don’t want to eat brains.’
At these words her lip curled and she breathed out a measured, slow breath.
‘Well, no, I suppose few of us do.’
Andy smiled tentatively.
‘I ate one mum, I did. But it was horrible and mushy and it made me think of brains, not just how it looks but the taste as well, when I bited into it it sloshed around my mouth and it was cold and I swallowed it anyway. And I ate the carrots mum, I ate them and I don’t like carrots that much but they’re better than brains and I ate my sweetcorn because I like sweetcorn can’t I just have sweetcorn instead of the brains mum is that okay?’
There was a pause.
‘I see you’ve thought about this’, she said as she leaned back against the worktop.
Andy looked hopeful now, ‘Well it’s just if I have to eat this stuff, can’t I just eat other nicer ones instead?’
‘I’d still like you to give them another try’ she said smiling at him.
Andy looked down at the floor and shifted his feet when his mother bent down to tie one of his grubby shoelaces.
As Andy loped slowly back to the stairs he passed the bathroom and glanced in. He gazed at the toilet for a moment and slowly began to smile to himself, suddenly he wasn’t dreading his next dinner with gran so much. With that he bounded back to his room to finish off his cheesecake.
‘Yeah, what’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, nothing. I just brought you a slice of strawberry cheesecake, I know you like it and I’ve not bought it for a while’, she said smiling, holding out the wedge of red ooze.
He could feel his face get warm and he turned his back to her to climb off the bed, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
‘Thanks’, he smiled. It was Andy’s favourite.
She passed him the cake and watched as the boy settled back on his bed, spearing the fork into the mush and watching as the cream explored its way around the bowl.
He looked up at her and spoke through mouthfuls of sticky dessert, ‘Wos wrong?’
‘Nothing dear, why do you keep asking’, she said puzzled but still amused at the obvious enjoyment of his treat.
‘I’ll leave you to it’ she said softly and the door clicked closed behind her.
Andy liked the texture of cheesecake the best, the runny top with whole strawberries, the creamy middle that stuck to the roof of his mouth and the crunchy biscuit that tasted like broken up digestives.
‘Andrew!’
He froze on his bed.
‘Andrew come here!’ she snapped from downstairs.
He leapt from his bed, taking the stairs two at a time while holding onto the thick wooden banister to steady himself. He sped through the hall and hurtled into the kitchen.
‘Andrew, what’s this?’
She held a scrunched up piece of soggy kitchen roll containing four squashed brussels sprouts.
He looked up at her and she jabbed the offending objects towards him, ‘Well?’
‘I dunno mum’ was the reply.
‘Andrew…’ she began but she didn’t seem to want to finish the sentence.
The boy curled his fingers round the sides of his t-shirt.
‘I dunno mum’ he said again, quietly, unsure of where his denial would get him.
‘I found them next to the plant pots behind the shed.’
‘Mum I really don’t know.’
She sighed and dumped them unceremoniously on the kitchen worktop.
‘Your gran made them especially’, she said and the boy thought his mum looked a bit sad.
‘I know and I don’t know why. Can’t she bring cake or sweets or if she’s gonna bring dinner stuff can’t it be sausages or mash or something nice. Mum, who brings brussel sprouts round for dinner?’ Immediately he felt a slightly ashamed for saying it but it didn’t change the fact it was true.
She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again.
‘I just want you to try them. Fruit and veg are really very important for little boys and I think if you gave them a chance you’d start to quite like them.’
‘But they look like brains mum. I don’t want to eat brains.’
At these words her lip curled and she breathed out a measured, slow breath.
‘Well, no, I suppose few of us do.’
Andy smiled tentatively.
‘I ate one mum, I did. But it was horrible and mushy and it made me think of brains, not just how it looks but the taste as well, when I bited into it it sloshed around my mouth and it was cold and I swallowed it anyway. And I ate the carrots mum, I ate them and I don’t like carrots that much but they’re better than brains and I ate my sweetcorn because I like sweetcorn can’t I just have sweetcorn instead of the brains mum is that okay?’
There was a pause.
‘I see you’ve thought about this’, she said as she leaned back against the worktop.
Andy looked hopeful now, ‘Well it’s just if I have to eat this stuff, can’t I just eat other nicer ones instead?’
‘I’d still like you to give them another try’ she said smiling at him.
Andy looked down at the floor and shifted his feet when his mother bent down to tie one of his grubby shoelaces.
As Andy loped slowly back to the stairs he passed the bathroom and glanced in. He gazed at the toilet for a moment and slowly began to smile to himself, suddenly he wasn’t dreading his next dinner with gran so much. With that he bounded back to his room to finish off his cheesecake.
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