Posted by: Caroline on: February 9, 2010
I’m getting used to my bus pulling into the station at the same time as my train. I learned a couple of weeks back that, this being the case, it wasn’t worth attempting the jog across the footbridge to arrive on the platform as the train pulls out. It is infinitely more graceful to admit defeat and put the station facilities to use – check my bank balance, rummage in the M&S reduced bin and peruse W H Smiths’ ample magazine selection.
Having checked my bank balance today I decided I could afford to treat myself to a magazine. I marched up to the stand and took my time checking the cover images, cover stories and fashion spreads of InStyle, Vogue. Elle, Harpers, Vanity Fair….
NOTHING grabbed me. We seem to be stuck in a rut of same old same old. The covers could be one of a hundred I have stockpiled down the side of the sofa. The models are identikit imitations of each other, all angles and unnatural matte pastel tones on powdered complexions with back-combed powdered wigs to match. And I suddenly twigged why fashion blogging has taken off.
We can’t look like that! I mean it – we can’t, not in day-to-day life, not without make-up artists and hair stylists, photographers, lighting experts and photoshoppers. Sure, fashion as “art” is important and influential, but it’s not accessible. But when I look at what Erin, Andrea, Kasmira, Cecilia, Fia or Fi are wearing I can recognise how they have lifted sometimes the slightest of influences from these glossy pages and made them wearable. I can see how these stylish ladies take inspiration, not slavishly from fashion spreads, but also from the world around them, from TV, film, old photo albums, new fabrics, from simply what appeals to their personal aesthetic and even just what’s in their wardrobe. Blog style, while often trend-led, is infinitely easier to recreate than the catwalk or the glossies.
Not only this, but when we post our style experiments for all the world to see, all the world knows that we actually wore it. To work, to the shops, to the pub – we went out dressed like that and we didn’t get egged/shot/stared at. (And if we did we probably told you about it!) So you know that we can walk in those shoes or dance in that skirt, that we didn’t flash in that top and that your average Jane really can wear that look. As long as you’ve the personal confidence to strut your funky stuff!
Maybe it’s time fashion stopped with the exclusivity and started to accept the alternative. Our glossies have got to look and read so generic that I can’t justify Vogue’s £4 price tag anymore. Maybe, in these difficult financial times, the only way for high fashion to go is into retreat, where it can revel in its exclusivity unmarred by the ground-level style revolution. Either way, for me the glossy has had its day. Until someone comes up with a viable alternative (consider Jamie Oliver’s magazine, successor to the now repetitive Delicious/Olive/Good Food offerings) I’ll be getting my fashion fix from the style mavens of t’interwebs!
(DISCLAIMER: Of course, next month I’ll have to buy at least one glossy for the Golden Globes/Oscars red carpet round-up… But that’s not about fashion, it’s about glamour!)
Posted by: Caroline on: February 9, 2010
Last Thursday night I sorted out my iPhotos, putting all my outfit images into one file. And in doing so I got quite involved in the past six months of style shots… and wondered if you’d like to peek at them. Sorry they’re so small… one day when I can be bothered I’ll create some sort of “click to enlarge” version for y’all… meanwhile, you can view them on the Style Shots set in my flickr stream.
Posted by: Caroline on: February 8, 2010
Mondays are tough for everyone, but lately I’ve found them the toughest days of the week by far. Working on Sundays, much as I love Waterstones, just cuts out that extra day’s lie in that my night-owl body really needs. So, if I look tired and greasy in this picture please forgive me, but my hair would have taken too long to dry by the time I’d dragged myself from my bed. Also, when this picture was taken I’d been awake a whole 15 minutes. I was still on the platform for 6.52 though, with a cold 8 minutes to wait for my train – haven’t quite got my timing perfect yet.
Posted by: Caroline on: February 8, 2010
In a few weeks’ time I have been invited to attend my friend Cath’s 34th birthday party. The party has a theme, as all good parties should, and that theme is based on what our nine year old selves wanted to be when we grew up. Which is proving trickier (and less fun) than you might expect to realise…
From the age of seven I wanted to be a writer. I would write and illustrate little stories and hand bind them with a combination of masking tape and the cardboard rectangles that came out of my Mum’s tights. Pod the Pea, my first publication, sparked a whole series of fruit and vegetable themed picture books, whose aim was to share my accumulated knowledge of where food came from. When, in first year juniors (now year 3), we were asked to write about fears, I wrote a piece about why I wasn’t afraid of the dentist, which was lovingly printed out, laminated and presented to my dentist, Mr Burbridge, on my next visit. When he sent me £7 worth of W H Smiths vouchers as a thank you I considered it my first paid writing job.
I’ve a feeling that, age 9, my idea of a “writer” translated roughly to C S Lewis, Arthur Ransome, Roald Dahl and Enid Blyton. Having inherited a lot of books from both my Mum and my cousin, I had devoured every Blyton volume I could lay hands on. So, I suppose dressing up as Enid Blyton would pretty much fit the bill exactly, as well as providing a great opportunity to go all-out vintage/retro:
It is, however rather dull.
Thanks to my love of all things Blyton, and especially the Mallory Towers/St Clare’s book, I think I also rather liked the idea of being a boarder at an all girls’ school. They seemed to get up to such fun, and tales of midnight feasts, sunny tennis tournaments and summer gymkhanas (I think I also thought all boarding schools had their own, warm and sunshine-filled micro-climate) had filled my head with mistaken ideas about what boarding school might entail. I was struggling with friendships at this age, being bullied quite horribly, and I think I had ideas about escaping into a world where everyone loved to read and spoke “posh”, enjoyed drawing and painting and nibbling meat paste sandwiches, and most importantly, where wanting to learn and working hard in class were something to be proud of and praised for. I was such an idealistic little girl…
Images from The Enid Blyton Society
So, I guess the school girl look could work for me. Except as an adult with somewhat womanly curves it’s hard to work this look without looking a bit sluttish. And I don’t have a lacrosse stick.
At age 9-10 I had one brand new obsession, in the form of the Redwall books. I though Brian Jacques was a genius, and read about Martin, Mattiemeo and Mossflower until I dreamed about woodland creatures and abbeys. But it wasn’t until Mariel of Redwall that I found a true (if rather mousey) role model. Plus, she got to switch between running about the countryside in medieval frocks and leading her woodland friends to victory in more fight-scene appropriate garb, and you know I love a good wardrobe change. Ok, technically the book wasn’t actually released until I was 10, but it’s not that far off… and a giant mouse in a mediaval frock is definitely the best costume I’ve come up with so far…
What about you then dear readers? What did you want to be when you were nine?
Posted by: Caroline on: February 7, 2010
FRIDAY: There’s something so pleasant about working in an open plan office on a Friday afternoon. After lunch people seem to actively relax – almost as if the whole building lets out a collective sigh of relief. The usual studious atmosphere is disturbed by pockets of quiet chatter as people share their plans for those precious two days off. And from 15.59 almost exactly, the chatter is punctuated by the Microsoft Windows chime as computers are shut down. The weekend itself flies by, more often than not culminating in a Sunday night of despondency and disappointment and missed opportunity, but the build-up to Friday night, the anticipation of hitting the snooze button, the prospect of two days away from your desk… these treasures can’t be beaten
OUTFIT 1: mooching with Nat
OUTFIT 2: drinks with the girls
SATURDAY: Nat and I had a lovely Friday night in with wine, fajitas, much gossip and plenty of Glee! Followed by a Saturday of laziness and browsing the shops of Le Spa. While mooching around H&Ms grunge-revival inspired section, one particular dress caught my eye… Largely because I bought it in H&M last time there was a grunge revival! So, I dug it out to wear for drinks with Roisin, Lauren, Carys, and fellow booksellers Martha and Claire. I do wish I also still had my crochet cardigan to throw over it… but you can’t win ‘em all!
Posted by: Caroline on: February 5, 2010
Last night there was a programme on BBC3 in which Nicola Roberts of girl band Girls Aloud highlighted the dangers of our tan-crazy culture. She explained how, as a bright young slip of a thing starting out in the band, she felt enormous pressure to fit in with her more bronzed counterparts, how after a long day’s work and an evening’s gigging her bandmates would flop into bed exhausted while she would go home to face the nightly ritual of bathing, exfoliating and fake-tanning before she could hit the sheets. She noted that she used fake tan, not for health reasons, but because as a porcelain skinned redhead going on a sun bed wouldn’t work, would simply burn her. Meanwhile, she interviewed sun bed addicts as young as 13, twenty- and thirty-somethings dealing with skin cancer and a BEAUTIFUL fair-skinned young dancer who had simply repeatedly used the sun bed until her skin had stopped peeling and been forced to deal with the abuse.
She challenged the dancer and another fair-skinned bronzer from Wales (whose problems went far beyond his tanning addiction – this guy was using sun beds twice a day, had cupboards full of faking products and injected himself to increase his body’s production of melatonin) to give up tanning all together. They did, and while the Welsh lad was made miserable by the result (see below) the dancer looked absolutely amazing, and I hope has realized that she doesn’t need the fakery…
I’m fair skinned. I have known since that fateful snorkeling trip at the age of 10 that I don’t tan, but blister, and can be pretty obsessive about sun block as a result. (There have been slip-ups, of course – one particular nine-hour ferry ride back from Corfu springs to mind, when, our interail tickets not allowing us access below deck and our luggage being in the hold, I fell asleep in the Mediterranean sun and woke up a delightful shade of lobster. Except for where my hand had been resting on my shoulder, leaving me a perfect white handprint… Comical, yes; funny, not really; dangerous, definitely.) In winter, I stop looking quite so “porcelain” and veer closer to “cadaver” as my legs turn a translucent shade of baby blue. I remedy this with brightly coloured 70+ denier tights, and in spring, apply a very light glow with gradual tanning lotions – though I’m careful to choose the lightest coverage possible, as my colouring simply can’t pull off anything approaching tangerine dream…
Nicola (centre) in the days when she attempted to
keep up with her bronzed bandmates
But I don’t think I’ve ever felt the pressure to be tanned. It’s not something I’ve thought about and made a decision on for health reasons, it’s just something I’ve never experienced. When friends have gone for a quick sun bed session, or told me how they lay for 6 hours straight catching scorching rays on their cruise, I’ve always just tutted and told them they’ll regret it – but I don’t remember feeling pressurized to join them. Neither do I remember having the dangers of sunburn hammered into me by my parents, teachers, or the media. I mean, I know it’s there, but it hasn’t consciously affected my decision to protect myself. It just seemed to me that if my choice was between soft, coconut-scented limbs and the soreness of peeling itching strips of white skin off to expose raw flesh, there was really no choice at all…
Nicola now – au naturel!
Maybe I’m just very lucky that this has passed me by. Maybe I’m just that little bit too old for the craze, or maybe I saw enough fair-skinned role models as a child to never feel particularly different. Or maybe, just maybe, my hang-ups are elsewhere – certainly my less-common colouring is one of the things about myself in which I find solace when I’m feeling particularly low about my weight, chins or teeny-weeny facial features. Maybe if I hadn’t expended so much energy worrying about my too-wide hips or my too-small mouth I’d have had some reserves left with which to stress about my skintone.
Either way, I think Nicola’s message is an important one, which is why I wanted to write this post. At one point in the show a radio presenter asked her on air if she agreed with her critics who claimed she was taking her fight to the extreme, militantly promoting the porcelain and demonising tanning to an unhealthy extent. The poor girl looked as if she was unsure whether to lash out in indignation or cry with frustration. As it was she (slightly irately) highlighted that this was her natural colour, that the whole point was that she now did absolutely nothing to alter her skin tone. Her message is about celebrating our own individual colour, whatever it may be, and most importantly of all, protecting it.
Which is exactly the message I wanted to relay on her behalf.
Well done, Nicola, for highlighting such an important issue, for taking this issue to the Commons (Nicola is campaigning for an 18 age limit to be put in place at tanning parlours), for creating an important role model for little ginger girls to look up to – and, particularly, for over-coming what must have been a crippling sense of insecurity when you stood alongside the likes of the lovely Miss Cole, bronzed babe, nation’s sweetheart, and frankly not nearly so inspiring a role model.
View The Truth About Tanning on BBC iplayer.
Posted by: Caroline on: February 4, 2010
See, I have not had my lower legs permanently replaced with knee high boots
- I still have ankles hiding under there!
I don’t know why, but today just felt like a shoe kinda day. Maybe I’m yearning for spring, or maybe I’m just fed up of hiding my many-hued tights, but I really wanted to wear shoes. Which is ironic as I usually spend so much of the year wishing I could wear my knee boots again….
The little girl who sat beside me on my bus this morning smelled of porridge, cinnamon and crisp green apples. She sat there in her pretty pink jacket with her corn rows in pigtails, school bag in hand, and tortured me – it made me so hungry! And today, being the day I had to get to the station 20 minutes before the train to queue for my monthly season ticket, was the first day I hadn’t got up early enough to eat breakfast before I left the house (that’s my kinda non-new-years resolution, to eat breakfast). By 9am I was so desperate I had to dig into lunch (PB&J sandwiches – yum!) and by lunch, well, let’s just say two plums and a yoghurt didn’t really satisfy!
So, I ended up going to the local shopping centre for a bag of apples. Which is a bugger as I’m trying really hard just now to avoid spending any money. You’ll be pleased to hear, though, that I didn’t buy anything that wasn’t on my weekly food shopping list. This was accomplished by a) being really good (obviously) b) refusing to allow myself to enter the charity shops c) refusing myself access to Matalan and d) focusing all my energy on the fact that, having splashed out £300 on my monthly train and bus ticket this morning, there is nothing in my bank account! I’m going to have to rustle me up some freelance, maybe ebay a few of my lesser-worn clothes/shoes, if I wish to keep myself in the manner to which I have become accustomed (i.e. with a roof over my head…)
Still, even if I can’t afford to eat this month, at least I’ll be able to get to work every day!
Posted by: Caroline on: February 4, 2010
You know I’m a gal who loves my cakes. I love to bake them and I love to eat them… and one of the little things that can make a day out PERFECT for me is a trip into a tea shop for a cup of tea and slice of homemade sponge…
My friend Laura is looking into setting up her own business in the selling of cakes, and she needs your help! Please fill in this quick survey for her – it won’t take more than a few moments of your day (literally – it’s only one page/half a dozen ticks!) – and as a thank you I’ll finally post the chocolate buttercream recipe I use to top my blueberry cocoa cakes!
Survey link: http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/DBNSP6D
Thanks lovelies – we owe you!
Posted by: Caroline on: February 3, 2010
Posted by: Caroline on: February 3, 2010
Here it is, as promised, a guide to the oft-overlooked world of slips and petticoats.
Definitions
Full Slip: “A woman’s sleeveless undergarment the same length as a dress, usually suspended from shoulder straps.”
Half Slip: “A woman’s topless slip that hangs from the waist, Also called a waist-slip.”
Petticoat: “An underskirt often full and trimmed at the hemline as with lace or ruffles, worn by women and girls.”
Crinoline: “A full stiff petticoat made of crinoline fabric; a skirt stiffened with hoops.”
Buying new
Unsurprisingly, my first port of call for new slips is granny’s favourite, Marks and Spencer. For simple, anti-static slips in modern shapes and neutral shades, St Michael can’t be beaten. They’re great for work-a-day staples with neither too much fabric nor too many embellishments. The value range plain full slip comes in at £8.00 and is available in black or white.
For shapewear M&S are also good, but as someone who needs support in all the right places I prefer to invest in something just that little bit more specialist. Here I defer to Gemma Cartwright of Big Girls Browse, who raves about the Spanx Hide and Sleek Full Slip, £66 from Fig Leaves. This little number is ideal for giving you that Joan Holloway shape beneath your shift, or smoothing out your muffin-tops under a wrap dress – and gives you the “modesty insurance” up top that wrap dresses so often require…
(Check out Gemma’s Ultimate Shapewear Review.)
Buying vintage
For vintage-inspired pieces you could do a lot worse than look to Ebay for inspiration. My full petticoats are both modern recreations of vintage designs – something of a godsend for the fuller-figured amongst us as clothes just weren’t made to accommodate a sizeable derriere back then. A bit of browsing can throw up some fabulous retro pieces, some originals, some reproduction, as well as modern-day takes on original shapes. For example, I have a wonderful half-slip with just three layers of deep chiffon around the hem, which adds fullness to my circle skirts without making me look like an extra from the local amateur production of Grease!
Etsy is also an amazing source for vintage slips – just narrow the search to vintage, pop “slip” in the keyword box and bring back (last night) 3500 odd results. Some of these are for slip-on shoes, but the majority are relevant. You can search by colour, but Etsy does require a bit of effort in finding the right sizing…
For reworked vintage I am in love with etsian Doublespeaks’s embroidered slips, which feature cute hand-embroidered slogans and images. (Note: some of her slogans are less “cute” and may not be office appropriate.) My personal favourite slip is my bright orange “Yours til Niagara Falls” number, which I like to wear under my button-through denim dress to add a very literal “flash” of colour.
If you want true vintage and are willing to splash out, the best online dealer of vintage slips I’ve found is Dorothea’s Closet. If I were wealthy I’d be investing in the Lipstick Red Vanity Fair slip ($70) and the Koro crinoline ($95), and wishing the rest (particularly the “Love Lace” navy half slip) were in my size!
It won’t surprise you to discover some of my most oft-worn bargain slips are charity shop finds, and have cost under £3. In fairness, £3 is my cut-off for slips, and I’m very particular about what I buy. Always check armpits for staining and both fabric and trimming for holes and tears. I always check lace very carefully for bobbling too, as I’m picky about my undergarments being “as new”. Check labels and fabric if you’re interested in true vintage – labels will have “that vintage design” to them and fabrics will be less synthetic and less silky to touch (unless they’re real silk…) – stiffer nylons and heavier cottons. Some true vintage slips may even have zips. Personally, I find Vanity Fair (who have been manufacturing undergarments since 1899, and whose slips I’ve found in charity shops ranging from post-war era to present day) and Charnos slips fit my shape especially well.
Things to look for
I’m always on the look out for unusual colours – anything that breaks away from the usual black, white, navy and flesh tones, but particularly mint green, baby blue, lemon, cobalt… It’s also worth keeping an eye open for traditional fabrics – starched nylon being great for creating structured lines under tailored pieces. And anything that catches your eye and will make you feel special in that particular item, be it luxurious lace, ribbon trim or embroidery – my blue slip has a pleated hem which flicks out from a pencil shape and is something I love to wear, particularly when it’s windy and I think my skirt might catch a breeze…
Shape guide
It’s best to match your slips to the dresses you’ll wear them with for best fit.
1) Vintage Slinky Purple 70s Nightgown
- this would be perfect under a clingy maxi dress
2a) Vintage yellow pin-up full slip
2b) Charnos Superfit bra slip: £24
3) Vintage 1950s Van Ralte slip
4) Calvin Klein Solution v-neck chemise, £34
5) M&S lace-trimmed full slip, £19.50
6) Gossard Artemis black lace slip
7) Late 40s strainless rayon bias cut slip
8a) 1950s Bullet Bra full slip from Posh Girl Vintage
8b) Vintage 50s vanity fair full slip
9) Fig Leaves satin chemise £20
Any questions?
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