Fashion Week

London Fashion Week and I have been devouring each Topshop e-bulletin with a passionate desire not felt since I was last in the bedroom of a handsome man.

I’ve never been hugely into fashion, rather just going for what suits me and what I like. But for some reason, at the moment, I just can’t get enough.

Perhaps because much of “what’s in” for once, actually suits my body shape. And the colours that are gracing the shelves of our stores actually complement my fair complexion.

Whatever the reason, I want playsuits, floppy hats, wooden platform shoes, floral blouses and micro shorts. Or rather, I’m daydreaming of the day my black-woman bottom will fit into a pair of micro shorts.  Hell I even want to go out and get new nail polishes in this seasons colours.

But I can’t. Because I’m saving for my future. And there is literally no room in my overstuffed wardrobe for any new purchases.

I console myself with the thought though, that one day, not very far away, I will be able to go to Topshop and play with clothes until my heart is content.

Parental decisions

Parents are difficult creatures.

Sure, they raised you, most of the time to the best of their ability but sometimes you just wish they'd let you do what you need to do without the lectures.

I've been considering a move back to London, which my father is violently against. I daren't even mention it to my mother as I know exactly what her reaction will be. She will roll her eyes and say something along the lines of "Grow Up" which will then somehow lead into an argument about my outfit or weight and we will not speak for a few days.

What I don't think they understand is that this is part of me growing up. I have reached the cross-roads of my life and I can either do what they think is best, or I can follow my heart.  I could spend the majority of my evenings online at home online with my loved ones, or I could just be there.

But how do you tell the people that raised you and supported you when you came home unemployed, destitute and heartbroken that you want to leave them?  As an only child (well sort of) I also have the consideration that I am all my parents have. It’s not like there are 2 other kids around to keep them amused whilst I am gallivanting on the other side of the world.  

Also, It's not like I would be living the same lifestyle as I was in 2007.  I'm much older now and ever so slightly more sensible.  I don't want to spend all my money at Primark and at the pub and on weekends away like I once did, just a small percentage of it (let’s face it, Primark, Topshop and H&M may just be the loves of my life).  I also wouldn't be spending my money on feeding a useless EX like last time around, or loaning any friends money. 

I would be there to start my life, not "ruin it" as Dad thinks.  This is not a decision I am taking lightly or something I am doing on a whim.  Made ever so difficult by the fact that once I’ve decided for myself, I have to convince my parents. 

Friends

When I was younger, I got frustrated with always being the one to do the inviting, when going out and about, and never being the “invitee”. 

At the time my Dad gave me some advice. Stop contacting these people, they will either do one or two things.  They will either call you up in a few weeks to see what’s going on, or you may never hear from them again.

I’ve found the latter tends to happen more often.  Recently I was frustrated enough to take this drastic action again, and now two months have gone by and not a peep out of them apart from a random facebook message on a can of passion pop.

The thing is, I can’t figure out whether or not this upset me.  After 28 years it certainly doesn’t surprise me.  And instead of staying home waiting for them to respond to my text messages with the inevitable “sorry busy” message, I have been cultivating new friends and doing more things on my own.

It’s rather amazing how relieving it is, and how much happier you can be when you stop relying on other people to make your fun, and just get out there and fucking do things.  

Warnie + Liz = Snore.

I am currently extremely baffled by our leading news story. 


It seems that newsreaders, online news sites and morning radio hosts have only one thing to talk about. 


Of course, I am talking about Liz Hurley and Shane Warne. Forgive me, but I really fail to see how this can possibly be headline news. 


Warnie tweeting young hot blonde things? WOW, it's not like that has never happened before.   A celebrity love-in over before it's time? Hardly ground-breaking. 


We all know that Warnie is a cheating douche (just ask poor old Simone), and Liz Hurley can surely do better.  Now let us all put this story to bed and clear some air-space for the real news. 

Oh Carrie.. Sigh.

Yesterday I picked the sixth and (thank the Lord) final season of Sex and the City up from the library. 

I was hoping throughout the six seasons that maybe Carrie Bradshaw would learn something. But now, my previous opinions of her remain in tact.

You are a horrible example to women. I find myself getting so angry watching her on screen. My latest grip is that you just don’t bitch to your exes friends about how he broke up with you. Sure bitch to your own friends and people who don’t know him, but when with mutual friends or acquaintances you show some fricking class (even if it was via post it note).

I have stuck through so many countless hours of this ridiculous show in the hope that I will see what so many millions of women saw. But I don’t.

In fact the only people in this whole show I actually like are Aiden, Steve and Stamford, who finally told Carrie to get over herself when she kept turning the conversation back to her ridiculous man problems. 

I keep thinking to myself that just maybe Carrie will redeem herself and learn how to cook at least something simple by the end of Disc Five, but I’m not getting my hopes up.

Not like the movies

Another year, another Valentine’s Day, another year of me proclaiming how stupid the holiday is.

To tell the absolute truth though (and if I can’t tell the truth here where can I?) I secretly, deep down want a valentine.  Because the only Valentine I have ever really got what a “sorry for cheating on you” card from The Ex four weeks into that doomed relationship, which hardly counts. 

And for once, I wouldn’t mind receiving a valentine. Whether its via text message, email or a bunch of daisies (not lilies, they make me sneeze). I won’t of course, because life is not like the movies.

If life was like the movies then I would be going about my day when my dream man would walk in pick me up in his arms and walk me out whilst an 80s power ballad played in the background (I’m thinking something by Starship).

If life was like the movies then I would chase him down the street in a snow storm in leopard print knickers and he would love me “just as I am”.

If life was like the movies then after a huge fight in a taxi, I would be looking for my cat in the rain wearing Givenchy (well my dog because I hate cats) and he would be watching me, our eyes would meet and we would embrace in true Hollywood style.

But, life is not like the movies. And so this Valentine’s Day I will drink wine and watch some of the greatest love stories of all time, wishing that it was.

Hair for thought

Yesterday I went to the hairdresser.  As a lady, a trip to the hairdresser isn’t just for a “quick trim”, it is a two – three hour affair involving three staff members fawning over you, dying, washing, cutting, styling.

That much time sitting looking at yourself in the mirror is pretty good time to do some quality thinking, and I usually use this time to analyse where I am in my life.

Usually a trip to the hairdresser leaves me feeling slightly grumpy but yesterday I left feeling slightly content. Because, for once, I didn’t over-think things.

I’m not sure why, perhaps it was because it was a nice day. Or because the man cutting my hair was an unusually attractive straight man (what are the odds?) or that the guy who put the cape on me had a rather amusing moustache. Or it could have been the numerous flirty messages I got from the holiday romance that allowed me to see the best about me in that mirror, rather than the worst.

It was hugely relieving and satisfying to tell the inner voice in my head to shut the fuck up for awhile. I may have to do it it more often.

Today

People say it is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all.  But today I’m not so sure.  

When you’ve loved someone, and you say goodbye for whatever reason, it sucks balls.  Whether they are your best friend and you have no idea when you’ll see them again, or whether it’s a man your crazy about who’s lips will never touch yours again, its a sad sad thing. Sometimes I think it would be easier to not let yourself get close to people to avoid the horrible sting of missing them.

So despite my resolution to move on and not dwell on things past, today I miss a lovely man who is a very long way away. 

And if I could go back in time and avoid this feeling would I do it all again?

Absolutely.