The drum of drums, the song of songs

I was making a list on the train (as in a list in a notebook while sitting on a train, obviously not a list actually written on a train....shurrup) of all the random stuff I want to do over my life. And one was sing kareoke/open mic. I would love to sing Annie Lennox's 'Love Song for a Vampire', which I've posted before. She's got such a wonderfully pure yet weird voice.
So, despite telling you yesterday that I was going to wear a dress or a skirt, I decided against it. I was a bit bored of dresses. I tried on three and then went back to my current failsafe of DIY cutoff shorts.
Accompanied by weird, interesting vest. I like vests that are basically t-shirts with the arms cut off to leave huge armholes. I should do that to more of my t-shirts. This one came from Urban Outfitters about a year ago and I wear it when I'm slumming around. But I felt like being a weird rebellious type today, getting my gym-toned (yeah! check it!) pale leggies out. Again. I'm enjoying the slightly warmer weather to the max.

See, creepy child!
This is probably my favourite makeup look - pale face, dramatic sweep of fringe and mad yet structured hair, bit of eyeliner and mascara, blusher to define cheekbones and a red lip. I think it brings out my best features. By the end of the day it will generally have run, smeared or smudged, but I start out looking, I think, pretty good. Bah.
It's the weekend and for once I don't have many plans. Might put a heck of a lot on Ebay. Might go across to the woods and go for a run and keep an eye out for wolves (yes I saw Eclipse again). Might try to figure out what the crap I'm going to do with my life. The possibilities are endless.


Go upstairs and sing a ballad

Post title dedicated to my dear friend Gayface (not his real name, obviously) - a South Park reference for those of you not familiar. Very funny. (Episode's called Elementary School Musical).
Well I don't tend to go upstairs and sing ballads, but I do like to go and sing. I went for a run this evening after work and my iPod shuffled round to Bright Eyes by Art Garfunkel. I love that song. So I pulled over and sat on the grass harmonising. I love to sing. I want to do some form of kareoke in my life. I'd probably sing an Annie Lennox song.
Right now I'm listening to Joanna Newsom. I was put onto her at work as she is coming to my hometown and we're featuring her in our Events Calendar. So I duly listened to her stuff. She's like the lovechild of Bjork, Kate Bush and Maddy Prior, with a harp. She's mad. She slags off Lady Gaga. She's musical Marmite. I kind of love her. Should really get back into good folksy music. Then sit under a tree in a long white dress and write poetry.

Today I continued with what appears to have been a week of shorts and dresses (Monday and Tuesday I was out delivering the magazine so a) no nice clothes for pictures and b) got so hot that the clothes went straight in the wash) and wore a dress I've had for ages and not yet worn.
Doesn't it just look like McQueen?
This is the look that came immediately to mind when I first saw my dress. Only mine was about a tenner from good old Primarni. I'm sure my fellow blogger Blair would approve.
So tomorrow I think I'll wear a dress again. Watch this space! Will it be cute? Colourful? Grungy? Oh the possibilities are endless.
Though not that endless. I'm now a bona fide Ebay seller and hope to get rid of a lot of good stuff over the summer. So have a look! There's a link to my profile in the Pages, or search 'redheadfashionistajo'.


I shot the Sheriff....and it was epic

So Day Two of my soulful, consumer-free existence dawns. It's going ok. I am mentally rifling through my wardrobe now for all the stuff to Ebay. Several pairs of shoes will go first. Including these.
Cute little Office brogues, hardly worn (ok, three times), decent sale purchase, versatile and cute, very Alexa Chung and also work-appropriate. Gave me blisters. Need to wear them with socks. My tender ankles can't cope.
Remember this dress? I bought it several months ago as I loved it despite its obvious likeness to Christopher Kane. I don't really like the Kanester (too overexposed) but I did like this dress. So today I had to belt it, even though it's not really designer for one, and add a silver ram skull for that Wild West thing. Yeah.
Speaking of designers, finally got around to watching Britain's Next Top Model. Can't BELIEVE the girls met William Tempest! He's up there with my Top 5 Most Epic Designers (Galliano, McQueen, Pugh, Owens - I'm well predictable). But I'm kind of embarassed for him. This series of BNTM is like supercharged ANTM. With added Bs. Bitches, Bullies and erm, Julien McDonald. He drives me crackers.
And finally on the note of designers, despite my usual love of anything angry I have fallen a little in love with this Moschino ensemble, as seen on Leighton Meester while filming Gossip Girl in Paris.
So cute! So many ruffles! It's so fluffy I'm gonna die! Or maybe this mutton-tastic look from Serena is more your taste...
Loves it too, but she does always insist on wearing these ridiculously ageing outfits. Wear some jeans and a cute top, hun.
And please do something new with your hair. I'm thinking....purple. Or blue. In a bob. Yes, I sort of idolise Ramona from Scott Pilgrim. Know nothing about the books but a good filmy friend is spamming my Twitter feed with trailers. Check it. It's epic.
Yeah. Epic. I'm off for some epic sleep. If I can ever turn off my radio. The on button sticks.


My name is RedHead and I'm a shopaholic

Yes fans. I've admitted it. Again.
I was reading an article in today's Grazia about the rise of the 'haul vlogger', a concept which functions rather like a continuous loop of that moment when you come out of the changing room and do a twirl, accompanied by oohs and ahhs of your appreciative girlfriends. This version, however, plays out in front of a growing horde of internet strangers hungry for a fashion fix, and who use appraising words like 'lush', 'hawt' and 'rocking it' to describe yet another black jumpsuit.
Reading this article, I was struck by the vocabulary, among other things. The designer diva, proud of her latest purchase of a pair of leopard-print £200 jeans, uses Sea-isms like 'snagged' and 'sourced', smug in the knowledge that her hardcore curation has amassed quite a collection. The high street honey also has an admirable selection of reasonably priced designer-a-likes. But it's the final girl who I most admire; the one who, like a masterful predatory shopper, spies her item, then bides her time. Will it work with my wardrobe? Do I need it? Can I afford it? Then, when all doubts are eliminated, she strikes.
I checked the Topshop website again today to see how many more of their aviator jackets had dropped. Two had. They were £295 each. They were all sold out. Who knows how long it took. Minutes? Hours? Days?
I also finally got around to watching Sherlock, a programme no doubt intended to fill the Dr Who-shaped hole in our lives and doing it admirably; a borderline autistic Sherlock is addicted to nicotine patches, talking to a human skull and with the Google maps function mainlined into his brain. Sherlock discerns every detail about a person from the first moment. So if he saw me, typing at my desk in my cosy room, what would he really see? My stuffed wardrobe, covered in pictures of the models and campaigns I find beautiful? A sad, childish collection of books? A few pictures and paintings? A general abundance of stuff, really.
For that is all these things we fritter our money away on are at the end of the day. These haul vloggers are pandering to their own desire, and the public's desire, for stuff, and to have the best stuff, the most stuff, the newest, chicest stuff. We can have it all; a new type of lipstick every week, takeaways, shopping delivered to our door. We want for nothing. But at the same time, having everything is never enough, because there's always more stuff to have.
I used to be of the opinion that all this fashiony stuff was a waste of time. I lived in jeans and t-shirts, climbed trees and had a boy's haircut. I was blissfully happy. I'm pretty sure that me is still hanging around. I've done a pretty good job of shutting her up with lots of clothes. But I'm not happy. I've spent far too much money on stuff I don't need. And I needed that money.
And so, once again, I'm giving up shopping. And I'm also planning on selling a lot of things, once I figure Ebay out. I'll link it when I start putting stuff up, but I'm a UK Size 10-12 and a Size 6-7 shoe. So watch this space...


I'm back, baby

Hello again gang. Have returned from my brief sojourn to the Midlands (or the North if you're from Devon and Cornwall) and my alma mater of Birmingham. Pride of the Midlands. How I miss it. And how I miss the good times that went down in that place.
But considering how bitter I was about it this time last year (when I graduated) I think I've come leaps and bounds since then. Weirdly, I'm feeling more upbeat and positive than I have all year. Despite being about to leave two paying jobs and a comfortable, rent-free home to try and make it with no money and only luck in the Big Smoke, I have never been more ready to jump with both feet. You've gotta jump to fly.


Hammer Time

And another super-speedy one for you guys - am off to Birmingham (my university town) to see some old friends. Hurrah for whistle-stop tours! But because nothing comes between my and my Calvins readers, here's my outfit for today.
Hurrah for silly MCHammer trousers! (Though still mercilessly difficult to style.) These have huge excess triangles of fabric which you think would make me look eeeeeeven fatter, but I don't think they do. Wonder what the kids at Lookville would have to say.
But they are fun, have greeny feathers all over them, and were well cheap in the sale. First time a salesgirl has actually recommended me something that's a) cheaper than what I was trying on and b) that I actually liked as much as she said I would! That's not been happening very much recently....

How can thy hate that which is....unhateable?

My colleagues have just proclaimed that they hate Agyness Deyn.
I ask again....how?


Footloose and Nazi-free

Someone big and nasty (and reminiscent of the Cockroach Alien from Men in Black mixed with Hitler) was banned from the event I attended this afternoon. I wasn't.
Can you guess where I was?

The Need for Speed

There's a time and a place for a long, reflective post.
This is not it. I'm tired and I have a very exciting day tomorrow. Will keep you posted.
In the meantime, here's me in a playsuit. I had one of those 'it's too sunny and I'm too lazy to try too hard' days, so I went with the easiest option.


An improbably beautiful person

Model Elettra Wiedemann, at a Paris Fashion Week party. Gah.


Love and Peace or else

I was recently subjected to a random outpouring of internet hatred, the kind of which I've only ever encountered on the most successful blogs. As Samantha Jones insists to Smith when the phrase 'Absolut Asshole' is written on his ad campaign, just before he makes it, it can only be good. Anyone can have fans, but to have haters means you've really made it.
Which would be great, except this hater wasn't attached to my blog, or anything personal. It was in response to a comment on Youtube. And it was completely unrelated.
I've had people respond negatively to my comments before. But those were reasoned, sensible responses objecting logically to my comment. This one, however, was nothing to do with it. Bluntly, the person wrote 'your a loser' and told me to go 'become a man'. I was a tad confused by this. Why choose this particular avenue? I didn't insult the band whose video I commented on, so that rules that out - I said they were good. And if he was a random hater (such as the type that join 'I Hate Cheryl Cole' Facebook groups to say 'woooo your all fugly losers i luv cheryl woooo'), why single me out?
Internet hate can be very entertaining. I have spent many happy hours reading the comments on blogs like Godammit where people club together to abuse other bloggers/celebrities/aspects of popular culture. Except in those cases, and I know because I participate, those people have a reason for hating. In my case, I was just some randomer's easy target.
So for any haters who wish to comment on my blog for constructive reasons (like I'm too fat for shorts, I'm ugly, or they think my writing's shit), bring it. But be prepared to back it up. And do NOT use bad grammar, or you, like Youtube Person, will be called an illiterate fucktard.
Ok, on to more neutral ground. Or so I thought. I have been wanting a loose, lightweight black shirt for ages, so though this one was effing extortionate (bloody American Apparel) it fitted the bill. Because I was having a strangely confident day I decided to wear it with shorts. The shirt was longer than the shorts, and I didn't tuck the shirt in. My mum said it was lewd. You judge.


Like a regular Tourist

In my identity-hunting phase where I liked what I was told to fit in (most people call it 'school') I think I may have bought an Athlete album. Error. But when I put on my summery 70s jumpsuit and walked down the road to work in the sunshine, that's the only song I could think of. Apart from We Built This City, which I pretty much listen to on a loop, along with the music from Inception and Mark Ronson's new song.
As well as my jumpsuit and several packets of hair dye, I bought Being Human Series 2 on DVD yesterday, after pratting around looking at Amazon and Play.com for a while and then just deciding fuck it, I need me some Aidan Turner and Amy Manson. I love the second series because of the introduction of the Scottish actress Amy Manson, playing the flirtatious and dangerous Daisy. She runs around in a cute little flowery smock and comes out with lines like: 'I'm hungry, can we pick someone up on the way home?' (Btw, she is a vampire. I'm aware I didn't explain that the first time.) I was hoping to add a photo but Google is retarded.
So instead there will be photos of me in my new jumpsuit.
Hurrah for jumpsuits! And for extra-moisturising red lipstick in a gorgeous compact by Guerlain.
And for this. Time for a shameless plug people. If you know and love my blog like I know and love my blog, you'll submit me for the Cosmo New Blogger Award. Oh, and a big hello to all my new followers and influx of hits over the past few weeks. Welcome. Stay, enjoy the scenery. Big love.


Ride the Kick

Man.....whoah......Just seen Inception. Drop EVERYTHING and see it. It's amazing. Christopher Nolan clearly has way too much time to think, but despite what the critics says it's really not that confusing. And if you do get confused, just sit back and enjoy the ride. Like if you were asleep. In a bus.
And enjoy the *ahem* fine acting talent.
The adorable Ellen Page, the weirdly, gets-more-appealing-as-time-goes-by Leo. And the decidedly dishy Joseph Gordon-Levitt. He's come a long way since helping Heath get Julia. Mmmm.
Yeah. See it. It's just amazing.
Good day to go and sit inside as well. Yesterday had an absolutely beautiful day - gorgeous sunshine, daytrip to lovely rustic setting....twas fun. So today was obviously going to be another letdown (like Tuesday after Monday; there's a theme here) and it was a bit rainy and dreary. But tomorrow is apparently going to be really nice and I have a new jumpsuit to wear.
Today, for some mad reason, I wore a woolen scarf.
I bought this blue zebra-print (obviously in the sam bizarre zoo as blue leopards and Violet Beauregard) in the Selfridges sale, and decided as the rest of me was decidedly boring I would wear it. I got a bit warm.


Buy, Snap, Toss

Just a quick musing from me this morning. I was researching the film and book Eat, Pray, Love yesterday to review it for work, and came across a fabulous article on it at Bitch Magazine entitled Eat, Pray, Spend. The article highlights the rise in this new form of self-help literature that requires massive finances. They name it 'priv-lit'. In EPL the author, suffering a mild case of the mild-life-crises, packs in her life in affluent New York and heads off around the world. She goes to Italy, land of the stick-thin Prada lovers, to India, traditional retreat of loaded gap yah students off to do some philanthropy, and finally to Bali, where if the Bitch article is to be believed she actually tries to buy a woman a house out of the goodness of her heart. It's like the scene in SATC2 where Carrie leaves her butler money to see his wife.
The trip was financed by the author's publishers, upon the promise of a mega-selling new book about the adventure. The book was a worldwide phenomenon. It literally paid off.
The Bitch article focuses on how books like this, and preachy self-help gurus like Oprah and didactic high end brands (like L'Oreal) are filling us with the idea that we are totally justified in spending, sorry living to the max in order to truly realise our potential and get the most out of life. Women like Liz of EPL are completely justified in trotting off across the globe on the most enlighted luxury holiday possible because its for her spiritual wellbeing. A woman is totally justified in spending thousands of dollars on a new wardrobe to make her feel better about a bad breakup (am reading I Heart New York - the book that defines car-crash literature, so terrible yet I can't look away from its extravagant fantasy land). Because we're worth it.
And herein lies the problem promoted by these wonderful life-affirming books. We are, but we shouldn't be. On the hunt for enlightenment it would be far more practical to buy a self-help book and sit in your nearest park. Sure, it doesn't have the same significance as uprooting and disappearing, but it would make for a far more convincing self-help book for the masses, not just those who can follow in your well-heeled footsteps.
Yet the competition is fierce. What sets EPL apart is this feeling of escapism. And if you look closely, the trend for priv-lit is evident even in this sphere. Tavi in (borrowed) Miu Miu. Sea never wearing the same outfit twice. Rumi and her many many tiny designer t-shirts. Yet look at their following.
Do we have to spend big to win big?


The City That Never Sleeps

And so a week of deadlines, long days, rainy walks to work and from work yet dry days in between and four nights out out of five draws to a close. Just been to a friend's leaving party and on the way home, aside from getting a bit soaked, some random girl said 'man' very loudly just as I walked past her. At least, I think she did. I probably made it up in my head. But I probably didn't. And the irony is, I thought she was a man from a distance.
Ah well. There are more LOLs than FMLs this week. As you may have noticed from my last post, I did get to spend a large portion of the day watching trailers. Despicable Me. Megamind. The Runaways. It was fun. The autumn's gonna be good for films.
It'll also be fun for fashion. With A-line shapes, denim and long lengths.
Today I went back to the A-line dress, denim shirt and clogs combo that worked so well last week, but with a few differences.
Hurrah for floaty A-line things. And clog-boots. I do like these boots. They're currently drying out downstairs after getting soaked on the walk home. The wooden soles do have the rain beat though. No wet feet, no cold feet, take the pressure off each step...plus they're funny. Things like this amuse me. Like how there's a cigarette bin mounted on the wall outside work but if you look closely at my feet in the last picture, you'll see the ground is littered with cigarettes.
Now, the weather today was a nightmare. Rainy then sunny with no predictability. But occasionally it was good.
Wheeeey. There we go.

It's so FLUFFY!

Not gonna lie to you, peoples. I can't WAIT to see this.

I think the old guy at about 1.30 is my favourite.


The Wind in the Willows. But without the Willows.

Well, whether St Swithin is, he's got a lot to answer for. It was pretty effing disgraceful weather-wise today. Typically, as I was leaving for work it bucketed down. Perfect for drenching my zebra-print-trousered legs and new tan clog-boots.
Word. Isn't this a blogger-tastic photo? Not looking at the camera, 'natural' surroundings, pensively looking downwards...I'm getting there, blog fans, I'm getting there...
For the third time this week (yes, my social life has skyrocketed this week) I went out in the evening to celebrate a friend's graduation. So I dressed up a little bit. And given that today is the windiest day we've had in a while, I decided I'd wear something sensible, that would in no way blow up and expose my modesty....
Yeah, no I didn't.
Yeah. This is the variant of the split-sided dress 'ways to wear' I will be working when the sun's out. Tonight I used a couple of safety pins to protect myself, and went for cool clashing brown accesories. I'm a master at that knotted belt trick. And I love my new wooden-soled clog-boots. Impractical down hills, super-comfy on the flat. And on sale, obvs. Phew.
Too many abbreviations. Now I'd better go and tie down everything like Carl did in Up just in case my house blows away overnight. And I'll leave you with a little humour. This had me snorting into my....erm, water, earlier. Nighty night.


Get yourself a weapon

Another nasty rainy day, but after yesterday's pessimism I knew I had to suck it all up. That's the beauty of wallowing - you have a crapper than crap day, and then it can only get better.
Speaking of which...there's been a lot of stuff flying round the internet about anorexia again. The (tries in vain to get huge thesarus off high shelf and fails) obtuse and (there's no other word for it) catty 'journalist' Tanya Gold was doing what she does best - talking utter crap - about high fashion once again. This time, her attack was based on haute couture, something that a Topshop t-shirt claims 'est mort'. I bet Tanya simultaneously hopes it is and isn't, as a large part of her archive of 'stuff to bitch senselessly about' would be emptied. The woman hates fashion. She's got no qualms about verbalising this hatred. I think she's just a fat chick filled with resentment, and I imagine I will be a bit like her in twenty years. She'll probably still be around, spouting her Andy-Sachs-pre-makeover nonsense from a nursing home, but with luck someone who may not appreciate, but at least has the decency to understand and respect (her calling Lagerfelt and his bow with models 'daddy with whores'? Please love, how old are you? And do you write for the Mail or the Telegraph?) to treat it seriously, as so much of the world does.
But deep within another pointless and samey rant about 'oh it's all so expensive' was the age-old message about anorexic haute couture models. Which coincided nicely with a post by a certain blogger about another certain blogger who needs food more than oxygen. The blogger who linked her asked us not to insult her, and also begged someone to say something to her.
And here rears the ugly head argument about how 'evil' high fashion is. And here rears the usual counter-arguments. Not every fashion blogger is anorexic. Not everyone who is anorexic likes fashion. And body image has been important ever since we crawled out of the primordial ooze. There. Bored of that argument. But I think it's one we're going to be having for the rest of time. Ah the wonderful human condition of diminished responsibility.
But on the first blog, numerous people were sharing their experiences of anorexia, bulimia and other forms of self-abuse. Man, and woman, kind is waging war with its own form. Every one of the women who adorn my wardrobe, my mood boards and my scrapbooks are thin, slender, slim, or sometimes even too thin (Freja, though I love her, is too thin). But none are fat. None are even the heavier side of normal. It just doesn't sell, sadly. It's not inspirational (unless you're a fat person wanting to become less fat), not any more. Artists aren't dictating what women should look like any more, the fashion houses are. So I guess they are to be blamed.
I will follow this chicken-and-egg argument back to source one day, and stop rambling for now. For now, let's get back to the outfit posting! Yay! Nice neutral territory! Nobody wants to read these sorts of things from 'fashion blogs'. All the posts on the above too-thin blogger's site are 'cute bag!', 'love your shoes!' No-one will tell her that she needs to eat (if that's what her problem is - no-one likes to assume anything any more either) because it's none of our business, is it? But she has put herself out there as a fashion body, a clothes horse. And we are clearly all looking at the horse too.
Okaaaay, I'm done. Today was a nasty rainy and windy day, so bad for cutesy summer things, but ideal for stuff that worked well blowin' in the wind.
I went to lunch with a friend who remarked that I looked like some sort of templar knight, with the tunic dress and the huge cross. All I need's a broadsword and Liam Neeson.
I could have done better with the shoes (it was pouring when I left the house and the suede wedges I was planning to wear would have been ruined), and also could have ditched the jeans and just worn a long t-shirt. I have a waist-fitting coral dress that might do. But with luck the warmer weather (when it arrives) will be ripe for experimentation.
I was really excited about finding the last one of this dress in Topshop's Oxford Street store, and now the bloody thing is back on the website. I could have got one that was the right length, and fitted a bit better. Ah well. The novelty was still there. And I got two free hairties out of this one.

Don't Drool on the Keyboard - Topshop AW10

So yeah, I'm late to the party on this one but finally been able to have a look at the complete AW'10 lookbook for Topshop.
Loves it. It's got the dark gothic elements of last year's vamp-tastic selection, but in a more sophisticated way. Fabrics are more luxe, there's not a slogan knit in sight. It's beautiful clothing, wearable but with attitude.
(Sorry about the tiny images, Blogger Image Upload is being retarded.)
I just love it. Not quite sure about the shoot location but it does bring across the idea of grungy yet simple outfits and clothes. It will require a lot of layering to achieve a messy aesthetic. It looks like you're going to have to commit fully to get the right effect. Which will mean buying a lot of things. Sigh. Currently I want that split-sided pale blue skirt, some form of shearling jacket and that amazing hat (just don't sneeze with the flap down).
But for those amongst us who are into studs, I think we're good for the next season. They even have gloves with spikes on them.
And also for those of us who want shearling...
And for those of us who want to look like watercolour vampire people.
Aaaaaah I die. I would live in this.