Glamping

It’s that time of year where it seems every women’s magazine has the same articles in every one: “Pre-Holiday Boot Camp”, “Bikinis to Suit Your Shape!” and “Festival Fashion”.  Whilst I usually skip over the first two with an Almond Magnum and a strategically-tied sarong, the third one makes me laugh a little bit.  When I see strappy gladiator sandals and jumpsuits suggested as a suitable ensemble for a UK festival, it makes me wonder whether the writers have ever actually been to a festival without staying in a luxury lockable caravan with its own wardrobe, toilet, shower, cleaner and electrical socket for the hair straighteners.  We’re not all Alexa Chung in the VIP area.

Are those SUEDE HEELS? Should've gone for those Wedge Wellies that were on Dragons' Den

I confess I’ve not actually been to that many festivals; despite the fact that I adore live music, I DETEST camping and hassle.  When I was a teen, my parents were adamant that I was too young for festivals and there would be bad people and bad drugs.  By the time I was deemed old enough, it was the year of trench foot at Glastonbury, and looking at the weather forecast I opted to go to my 6^th Form ball.  Some of my friends went though and had their tent broken into and their stuff nicked, and had to wear bin bags with elastic bands over their wellies in an attempt to traverse the rivers of mud and sewage.  But regardless of the unpredictable British weather, now it’s all about looking good – and like the look is 'effortless' (oh the irony) insouciance ('What this? Oh just a little vintage thing I threw on...') as opposed to the practical.

That's more like it

Okay, so the weather was good at Hard Rock Calling in Hyde Park last year (10 mins from home with my own shower and bed, yay!) but the queue for the ladies’ portaloos went on for EVER, probably due to the number of dolly birds wearing playsuits.  When you’re in a stinky box hovering gingerly over a mound of other people’s waste, the last thing you want to do is be unbuttoning and climbing out of your ENTIRE OUTFIT, surely?  Hold breath, dash in, wee, jump out, gag and try to forget about the horrors you’ve just witnessed.  And is that beer that's seeping through your flip flop, or something more sinister...? 

This week’s Grazia even had a page of “Festival Fragrances”, which included a bottle of perfume which cost £120.  As if you’d weigh your rucksack down with that rather than a jumbo bottle of vodka and a can of Impulse!  Maybe I should go along and rob some tents whilst everyone’s bopping to The Saturdays; I’d love a Marc Jacobs bag and a pair of Jimmy Choo Hunter boots...

I thought THIS was what festival fashion was really all about (just say 'No' to drugs, kids!):

Wish You Were Here!

Apologies for the delay in this post (the subject now being several days old), I was in shock after hearing Hugh Hefner and his fiancée had split.  But it was true love!  (Maybe she actually read the terms of the Pre-Nup?) And on the subject of perfect couples...

Just as yet another Premier League footballer hits the headlines for his seedy infidelity, John Terry and his wife Toni are on holiday showing us just how in love they are.  Aww, look at them, how sweet that there just happened to be a photographer nearby to catch them unawares as they discreetly show their affection for one another.  Why, just a year ago, he was the one in the headlines and now here they are, more in love than ever.  All Toni had to do was stop wearing her ring for a couple of weeks and John had given up his numerous [alleged] infidelities and whisk her away on a few romantic holidays.  Of course, they’re a private, modest couple so they wanted to play this down, especially at this sensitive time for the family of the philanderer currently in the news.  Therefore Toni’s wearing a conservative one-piece bathing costume so nobody recognises them – also to observe the strict decency laws in the United Arab Emirates.  Well, regular tan lines are just so poor people.  Bless them and their heartwarming marriage.  What an inspiration.

Nigella's Burq-kini this ain't

Oh and look, Peter Crouch and Abbey Clancey are on holiday and just happen to have been caught smooching by a photographer too!  And Wayne and Colleen!  Looks like those hookers have been forgotten about!  Damn those paparazzi, ruining their intimate private time.  I wonder if Mr and Mrs Giggs are planning a romantic holiday anytime soon?  Wouldn’t we all be shocked if we saw how much in love they are when they’re alone together?  That would show the cynics!
[Font:  Sarcastic Sans].

I wish when HB and I were on holiday we had a photographer following us around.  We have mostly wonky drunk ones taken with a bad flash.  They could’ve just given us the cue and we could’ve sucked our stomachs in and smooched photogenically in the sea, rather than set the timer and desperately scrambled into position or tried to take a headshot at arm’s length and ended up with double chins and red eyes...

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

This Stinks

I thought Chanel No.5's Nicole Kidman "I'm a dancer! I love to dance!" advert was the most cringey perfume ad ever, but I've been reading one of my favourite beauty blogs Kiss and Make Up today and have seen not one but two dreadful perfume commercials, and unsurprisingly, they're celebrity ones.

Up first is Justin Bieber's Someday:

*Sniiiiiffff*...However I suspect it's not aimed at women like me who are actually old enought to be his mother (weep!) and the 11 year olds are already "ZMOG I wish that was me HE IZ SO FIT LOL!!!!!!!".  Urgh.  And how much of a rip off of Marc Jacobs' Lola is that bottle?

But if that wasn't enough to put you off your lunch, check out Unbreakable, a unisex fragrance By Khloe Kardashian and her husband Lamar. Hurl!  It's so cheesy, I now imagine the perfume smells like a mature roquefort.  Nice touch with the twinkly wedding rings.  I give them 6 months.

And lastly, I found a couple of gems in print form: the terrible cheap photoshop of Mariah Carey's Lollipop Bling collection:

 

And I Love Myself and You Are All Gullible Scum (oh, my mistake, it's Siren) by the ever-modest Paris Hilton.  If anything makes me want to dash my brains out against the rocks like a sailor driven mad by the mythological siren, it's her facial expression and the fact that she now has 10 (TEN!) fragrances on the market. 

And I thought Outrageous by Kerry Katona was bad.  At least she couldn't afford to advertise it! 

Rabbiting On

Now I sang the praises of the 1950s style Gil Elfgren pin-ups the other day, and I'm all for retro but I just cannot make my mind up about how I feel about the opening of the Playboy Club in London.  Is it cheeky kitsch charm?  After all, it's far more innocent than boobs(and worse)-in-your-face lap dancing clubs.  Or is it a bit more sinister than that?  Is it saying that things haven't changed for women since the 60s and we're all going backwards?  And what about Hef? Until recently, the Viagra-addled miniature octogenarian had 3 twenty-something identikit girlfriends who were happy to share him; now he's marrying a 25 year old.  Is he an old fashioned gentleman?  Is it true love? Or are basically, men driven by young girls with big tits and women driven by money and lifestyle?  That seems to be what the Playboy brand is saying.

I read an interview today with Hugh Hefner and he said:

We live in a post-feminist society where a lot of women have grown  up watching things like the popular reality show that was set in the Playboy mansion. The majority of viewers of that show were young women. I’m on Twitter and get fan messages, a lot from young women, who love Playboy and love the bunny.
Why do they say they like it?
It means different things to different people but for me it means personal, economic and political freedom. Maybe young women love the lifestyle represented in the TV show.
Other than the money, why do some women want to become Playboy models?
It’s a form of sexual emancipation. The very thing some feminists consider exploitation represents, for a great many other women, a form of sexual celebration.

Read more: http://www.metro.co.uk/lifestyle/865460-hugh-hefner-i-get-female-fans-on-twitter-saying-they-love-playboy#ixzz1OaYcaU42

I don't claim to be a very good feminist but when Hefner, and his Playboy girls claim it's 'sexual emancipation' and  'empowering', I have to laugh.  The women are dressed to serve, and please the men.  They're not there for their waitressing or croupier skills.  They're making money from their face and bodies.  And yes, perhaps for a great many women, being looked at and told you're sexy or gorgeous is the ultimate achievement.  And the money helps.  But if my [hypothetical] daughter said it was her life's ambition to be a Bunny Girl, I'd wonder where I went wrong - where women's rights have gone wrong over the last few decades.

I've been in the consumer's position; I went to a hen party where we had a Butler in the Buff.  He looked good, and he was there to serve us.  We checked out his buns.  We giggled and leered.  His mojito making skills left a lot to be desired; however, if a chubby plain guy had turned up, we'd have kicked up a fuss, right?  But he wasn't doing the job to be 'empowered' by bending over in front of a gang of leering cougars, he was paying his way through university.  So when the Bunnies or their creator dress it up as post-feminist, I just don't get it.  We all like to look at good-looking things.  We'll pay for that pleasure.  Some people like money more than being respected.  Is that it?  Or have I misunderstood everything?

Mmm, now I fancy a mojito...

Stay Classy

Went out on Saturday, looking and feeling very sophisticated.  I rejected the flesh-flashing minidress for a midi length prom dress from Peacocks with nude suede sandals.
Here's a model looking better in it than my photographic skills would allow:

Peacocks by Design prom dress, £38

Husband [HB] (wearing the Hugo Boss shoes I got for him at the sample sale and looking very suave) and I glided to the Mandarin Oriental Bar for champagne to meet our friends, another couple.  The onto the tres chic Zuma.  There were cocktails. More champagne. Warm sake.  When Zuma kicked out we were still having a great time so we went to the Wellington Club (very 'Made in Chelsea').  I remember rum, shots of Jagermeister and grinding up on HB to Rihanna's S&M (cringe).  It's all gettting a bit blurry now. I know there was also swigging from a bottle of rum in the back of the taxi home.  I fell asleep facedown in full makeup.  Woke up about 4pm.  Demure, schmemure!

Wonky Glamour Icons

 A Near Miss (Right on Target) 1964

I love Gil Elvgren's Pin-Up paintings.  We've got a page-a-day calendar at home and every day there is a beautiful retro lady all immaculately dressed up...and then oops! her skirt's got all hitched up and she's flashing her stocking tops!  Oh no!  It's so cheesy and innocent, and they are all so gorgeous and old fashioned and feminine (those 50s pointy boobs!).  To be loved with a hint of irony of course, and a groan at the terrible puns in the painting's name.

The Wrong Nail

"Ouch! I was only trying to hang a picture in my underwear and heels (as you do) and I banged my thumb! And oopsy, my robe fell open.  If only there was a big strong man around to help me! Oh hello Darling, thank goodness you're home..."  

Pervert lobster assaults waitress. (AKA Fresh Lobster)

My favourite - That Low-Down Feeling (Who Me?) What a stunner.

More here: http://coca-cola-art.com/2008/10/08/gil-elvgren/ 

Lose some, Win some

I was going to swing into Summer with a lovely pale yellow 50s style prom dress from Tara Starlet which I haven't worn yet.  I was waiting until I had a bit of a tan to show it off.  Well, my recent holiday gave me that tan, but unfortunately it also gave me a layer of rum and burger fat!  I went to try it on last night and couldn't get it zipped up as easily as when I first got it.  Gave it another tug but the zip wasn't ready for this jelly and busted half way up, leaving me stuck in the dress.  After several minutes of swearing and struggling I had to interrupt Husband from playing LA Noire [which is very retro stylish by the way] and get him to help. This took quite a long embarrassing time until he finally managed to yank the now back to front broken dress off via my head.  Rest in Peace my pretty, I never really knew you.  Maybe my Mum can replace the zip, but for now it's a duff and I have to go back to the soup diet.

So today I needed to boost my wilted ego with something fabulous.  I dug out a dress from before my pre-holiday weightloss in bright red and my 'Lady Dragon' shoes, which are curvy, rubber, smell of bubblegum and have a massive plastic heart on the front!  Instantly feel better. 

Vivienne Westwood for Melissa 'Lady Dragon' heels

Plus I keep looking at my nails and smiling - this week they are painted in a shimmering bright olivey colour called - I kid you not -'It's Not Rocket Science'!  This is from the Orly Cosmic FX collection (which I don't think is available anymore but I got mine from eBay). The photo just doesn't do the polish justice, it's so sparkly in real life!
 

Orly 'It's Not Rocket Science'

Apologies if the photos/layout/links/content/everything of this blog are basic and a bit rubbishy, I'm still trying stuff out. It's not rocket science (see what I did there? GROAN) but I'll learn eventually...

Oh and one dress may be over for now, but this lunchtime I discovered a Hugo Boss Sample Sale just up the road from my work and picked myself up something lovely...and tomorrow there's a French Connection sample sale!  (Should anyone else be in the Camden area, the sales are at 19 Mandela Street NW1 until Sunday, and open from 10am to 8pm I think.) Silver lining!

Fashionably late

So I started a blog! Only several years after everyone else then.  But when 14 year olds are sitting next to Anna Wintour on the front row and I'm 32 and on the sofa watching Midsomer Murders, it's time to get down with the kids and get out there.  Well, okay, I'm still sitting at my desk, and I'm the only one reading this at the moment, but hey!  It might help my creative slump and impending mid-life crisis.  Suddenly I'm an Author!

So what's it all about?  I guess this will mainly be a style blog.  I don't profess to being particularly edgy, but I love fashion magazines and nice things like retro dresses, slutty shoes and ravey nail varnish, and looking around the 'Blogosphere' (ooh, get me) it appears other people do too, so maybe, just maybe one day someone might come across this and see something they like.  Also I may get drunk and try to post when I'm all ranty and/or emotional about other stuff and life in general, which could be unintentionally hilarious.  Let's give it a try.

What's 'Wonky Glamour'?  It's how I would my look and me in general.  I love to plan an outfit and dress up.  I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror, or worse yet, in photos afterwards and it all looks a bit wonky. I've got an asymmetrical face and big feet.  And I've spilled Diet Coke down my top. But I kind of like it that way.  I'll never be perfect, but it's always fun trying.  Immaculate is boring, right?

This is me!  Glamorous background? Check! Lovely Laura Ashley Dress? Check! Red, slightly rum-addled eyes? Check!