Y S HELL

I can think of better ways to spend Valentine's Day, but when I read YSL were giving out their Manifesto bags for nada outside my house, I ditched the boyfriend and joined the scrum.

Thinking Kensington would be dignified (I mean, people living here literally crap designer handbags, they're so rich), I was pretty shocked to watch 5 timid, desperately unprepared YSL staff members get attacked when the tote bags were pulled out. It was as if they were auditioning for an extra in a Sex and the City horror movie.


Best of all was the mother who actually abandoned her kid. That's right - abandoned her kid for a free tote bag. And I say, smart move!


Always a stickler for order, I asked two bored-looking police offices to organise a queue - because there was no way I could jump on top of a 6 foot rude girl and shove her to the ground. Oh yeah, and I have dignity and all that.


Ta da! Queue formed, order restored, free tote on arm and dignity in tact. Happy Valentine's Day!

Genius collaboration #38483

Due to being the World's Greatest Sister (as well as being a big Hello Kitty and MAC fan, naturally) I found myself bleary eyed sans makeup at a MAC store at an ungodly hour (10am - disgusting) buying mountains of their newest collaboration, this time with Hello Kitty.

Having wet my sister's appetite (world's biggest Hello Kitty fan) with in-depth descriptions from previews drooled over at LFW, I guess it was only right, while hiding my pajamas under a large coat, that I buy it all for her on the day it was released, at the exact time it was open, at the exact same moment I was wishing I was still in bed.

Small print: I live 1 minute from my nearest MAC store. And my sister transferred the money 2 seconds after I bought it. I would like to point out, however, that I was there in my PAJAMAS, wearing NO MAKEUP and LOOKING LIKE SHIT.

Lambrini Next Top Model

Being a "DJ" is hard. There is the easy money, hot boys, free drinks and dancing to put up with. And now we have supermodels hanging off us. Great. Like I said, DJing is really tough.



Us, working.

Bacchus, my other half (DJ half, that is) was working hard at LFW when she grabbed Erin O'Connor for a chat about DJing (what else? Fashion is sooooooooooo last season). Here is what she wrote for our Lambrini blog -



Two major fashionista's in the shape of The Bacchus and Erin O'Connor came tete a tete (in newspaper hats) to discuss what it takes to be both gorgeous and a superstar DJ (or not in Erin's case).

'I have been encouraged to DJ by my friends loads of times but wouldn't dream of doing it, I'd be booed off instantly for only playing Wham!' Said Ms O'Connor

To which The Bacchus replied using her best shimmy/castanet routine, 'Erin babe, don't live in fear. All the best DJ's play Wham. Club Tropicana drinks are freeeeeeeeeee.'

Lest we remind you that the Lambrini mission statement issued at the Churchill Arms (with pint in hand) was to start every set with 'Club Tropicana', WITH 4 minute bird twittering and car revving intro.

Maybe Lambrini has found their third member, the zig to their zag, the yin to their yang?

Erin babes, call me!

---



We're also playing the skinny one from Gavin and Stacey's club @ 333 this Thursday. Come!

No socks fall of fame, feat. Ed Westwick

Boys who wear leather shoes with no socks. When will this crime against fashion be buried alongside Juicy tracksuits and tucked in Uggs? I only ask because I just chocked on my sausage roll after viewing this photo -



It's not big, it's not clever and it must end NOW.

Geeks finally conquer

All those years spent listening to nu-metal, feeling misunderstood, writing and drawing comics while dreaming of finally completing a model set from Game Workshop has finally paid off for geeks.

Channeling all that inner angst, they are unleashing it onto their wardrobes and going to town with it. Experimenting with woolly hats, ill fitted jumpers and jacked up jeans that expose colourful socks has never looked so fucking hot. I admit, I am turned on.

The love of my life is a Class A nerd - and deeply proud of it. Many try to get this nerd look, yet rarely do many nail it. So for you, dear reader, I have looked deep into the eyes of a nerd and pulled out the bag my favourite nerd-ism right now. I give to you -

The Jack Ups.


Jacked up jeans to deliberately expose colourful (preferably Uniqlo) woolen socks. I have so many good socks that are so awesome I sometimes think about stapling them to my face. So thanks Jack Ups! You've saved me from a mangled face!

For further proof being a nerd is hot, take a look at my BFFs -



They are like a 90s advertising campaign for United Colors of Benetton - and this is just their day to day getup. HAWT.

Loulou Loves David David Loves Kanye West Loves LFW

You should've seen me - all puffed up chest and chesire cat grin like a proud parent as Lou showed off her collaboration with designer David David in the NEWGEN tent at London Fashion Week.

Everything is going well, people are browsing, lunch is being eaten when suddenly, gasp, in waltzes Fashion's Man of The Moment, Kanye West, achingly hip pose in tow.



Short (my friend Jade says "the bigger the celebrity, the shorter their height" - so true), and apparently very nice, Kanye scored mega points for taking time out to talk with every new designer in the NEWGEN area. Me = impressed.

More impressive = The Loulou Loves David David Collaboration!

Kanye Krew

I love that wherever Kanye West now goes, a gaggle of hip looking kids follow him. It's as if he interviews his posse and marks them on levels of colour coordination with their socks and shirts.

I mean, I'm kinda over this look on boys, but this guy carried it with a such nonchalant coolness, literally dripping with "SO WOT" vibes, that I had to photograph him. Oh, and he's wearing sunglasses indoors. So 1996. I love it.

Bacchus Pow Pow Pow

Twice yearly, whichever city Fashion Week lurks in, blogs grow more and more dull. This is a fact. I find myself literally falling asleep at my keyboard as I skip endless photos dragged from style.com. It helps if the blog is written well, a little sarcastic maybe. But cmon people, lighten up! No more boring reports about how many crystals were sewn into a pair of trousers, or when was the first time so-and-so designer made a dress for Beyonce. I want to see behind the scenes, I want mayhem, I want models eating (wishful thinking)... ANYTHING but pages and pages of catwalk photos.

Georgina Bacchus, writer/stylist/my mate/whatever she is this week, provided a welcome change to boring blogs by blogging for Teen Vogue about interesting stuff at London FW. Backstage trauma, hot boys, models reading Twilight... I sighed a huge breath of relief.

The below photographs are some of my favourite she snapped, a refreshing sight from soulless digital shots. Bravo!


ALL PHOTOS (C) GEORGINA BACCHUS

OMG FREE STUFF

Forget what you read about the clothes being the best thing at Fashion week because we all know that the BEST THINGS IN LIFE ARE FREE (STUFF).

So much MAC (I complained I didn't get enough - and got more), free drinks - so many cans of Red Bull stuffed into my bag it almost split, free bars, free magazines, free haircuts, free bags, FREE LUNCH (IT DOES EXIST!)!)!)!)!)!

So thank you, Fashion Week, you have been great. And I can't wait til September to ponce off you once more.

London Fashion Week A/S '09

So much has already been written about all the fashion weeks in general that I won't even attempt to top or better them. Have some photos instead -


And all the models wore... Office shoes! -



Bacchus and Craig -




(BTW, I hung out with Bacchus a lot)

Fringe with benefits

AHHHHHHHH I LOVE THIS BAGGGGGG. £45 well spent in Topshop.

Mother, kindly, suggested I buy a suede brush to keep it clean. Two seconds after using said brush the bag began to crumble... BUT I STILL LOVE IT (and my mum, just about).

My apologies to all males

Okay okay, they're great designers, their clothes are amazing yada yada blah blah blah. This has been much discussed, written and blogged. But what most people tend to neglect writing about is HOW FUCKING HOT these designers are. I mean, how could you ignore...


Alexander Wang. It's pretty obviously to anyone with half a brain that I have an acute case of Yellow Fever, but cmon, mega OMGS.


Todd Lynn. True story - I was at a TL casting and while everyone was fawning over underfed models, my jaw hung open and I stared at his mutton chops and then sent a flurry of txt msgs out to people who all responded with a, "er, who? and why?"

But my favourite -


Christopher Kane. Yknow, I think I am actually in love with him. Once, while walking by myself down a quiet road in NY, I saw him walking towards me and, I'm still cringing, I accidentally said "hello, Christopher Kane" as if my brain and mouth were not connected. Needless to say we are not currently dating.

The trouble with harem

Sometimes in fashion land something so ridiculous and unflattering will arrive that I can't help but want a piece. Take harem pants - you know that you will either be reduced to looking like a clown's nappy, or... a clown wearing a nappy. You know all of this before even slipping a pair on. And yet we still do it.

Then there were the conflicting reports on harem pants - one magazine was telling me to avoid certain materials while another told me to embrace them. Then the different cuts and the saggy crotches, and should it be above the ankle, below the knee? All? None? OMG? WTF? BRB?

And all the rules. SO MANY RULES. Tight tops, nothing baggy. Legs pulled up. No flats, it's all about HEELS HEELS HEELS.

So by the time I finally found a pair I liked I truly could not be bothered anymore. In fact, I had started to hate them. Gone was the previous enthusiasm. Just having to think about what to wear with them started to blow my mind.


HEELS?


FLATS?

Now this harem hatred has become so deep rooted that I can't even think of a good way to end this blog entry. And for that, I hate them even more.

Casio shoutout

Apart from being rich beyond my wildest dreams, my other goal in life when I was a kid was to be a hot nerdy holder. I envisioned myself surrounded by worthless junk (maybe some stickers, stamps, comics), not washing my hair and having all my hot boy friends harbouring unrequited crushes on me.

As it turned out, all I could manage was the not washing my hair part. And all I seemed able to collect was old newspaper supplements and empty cans of coke. Hmm.

And then, overwhelmingly enthralled I have to point out, I realised I owned way more Casio watches than one person should.



Is it possible to get aroused over items of clothing? I only ask because I apparently have a boner over Casio's designed for men.



I wear watches lose and treat them like bracelets, though I'm always conscious of wearing too much gold or too much jewellery in general (I mean, hello! I'm from Essex!). It's almost like having a neon sign pointing to my head flashing, WHITE STILETTOS.

But saying that, I prefer my Casio's gold, or as gaudy looking as possible. The magpie in me wants my arms to resemble that of Pat Butcher's ears -



Apart from the Carnaby Street Casio store itself, the best place to buy Casio is from Argos, believe it or not. For the past ten years, I have worn the same watch (though it has been replaced roughly 4 times - see below). It's cheap, unpretentious and was my best friend in the dark room while I printed photos (an alarm, waterproof and lights up).



My mate George, someone you will no doubt see a lot of on this blog, is an unexpected watch hero of mine having once worn 2 watches at one time during her "experimental phase" (her words, not mine) -

I caught my reflection in a spoon while I was eating my cereal, and I remember thinking "wow, you're ridiculously good looking"

Apparently I am not the only one who thinks lately Ferry has more style than a blind person dressing alone in a dark bedroom - I just shot him for an upcoming issue of NYLON GUYS outside our house and in a freezing cold Kensington Gardens -




PS - An update on the snow:



All that is left in the park near our house are these eerily placed balls on icy snow...

Naked fashion

Here is just one reason why Chantal is my best friend -



She has a killer body.

Snow icons

Excuse the dodgy composition, but I was standing in 8 inches of snow and my hands had icicles hanging from them

While the rest of England had a mental breakdown over a few inches of snow, there were some people out there that wasn't about let a bit of snow spoil a look they were working. So when London was engulfed in snow on Monday AKA The Worst Snow England Has Seen For 18 Years, Ferry laughed into the face of hypothermia.

As a blizzard hailed down onto us and people trod past with ski picks, Ferry hopped by wearing only but a blazer, skinny jeans, brogues and a blazer, and for that I SALUTE YOU, FERRY!



On the flip side of nearly freezing to death in the quest of looking good, another friend (Bacchus) proved that it was possible to look hot in minus zero weather. It's amazing how my friends managed to keep their cool (ugh last snow pun, sorry).

Online bankruptcy

Having money in my Paypal account is, to me, just little black figures on a computer screen and therefore not real. And now that Topshop accepts Paypal... ah. I constantly find myself having dilemas. Free money means I can spend it on anything, right?

Well, welcome to my latest dilema. Using some of the free money, do I blow £28 on a (seemingly) plain grey t shirt -



???

And how about on this this mix and match collection of online pieces I like to call "Japanese boy meets girl meets identity crisis and only able to shop online without adding anything to the basket" -

Boner for boots: an introduction

The above boots have a lot to answer for. This whole blog, which I was toying with calling "OMG Identity Crisis" for roughly 5 seconds, is down to them. £9 in price and bought in the world's greatest city (Hong Kong, if you have to ask), I could tell before they were even dropped into a small plastic bag that they were going to cause me trouble.

With those 'lil boots of joy on my feet I suddenly looked down at my clothes through new eyes and wanted to rip them off in shame and roll around in Tokyo while screaming at hip kids to adopt me.

Even now while I reply to emails and watch Oprah (don't judge me), I keep sneaking glimpses of minimised photos of ankle boots like I am battling an unhealthy porn addiction. I want them hard, soft, black, white, Asian, studded, belted, off white, dipped, patent, I WANT THEM ALL!!!!!!1 Below are on my current wishlist (if I didn't have bills to pay, those Opening Ceremony boots would definitely be mine) -



Apparently it interested in fashion and not own a pair of Dr. Marten boots. I understand the power Alice Dellal has, but what if I told you there were nicer boots out there? I want you to look back into your past, go back into the early 90s. What do you see, apart from smiley faces, rave kids and Smash Hits? That's right, Kickers! -



Unpretenious and looking like they might be heaven to wear. I die! I want!

And, best of all, you can tuck trousers into ankle boots without looking like a horse rider! Oh right!