Friday, 29 August 2008

NES Is Going To Paris...

At the beginning of December, the Hairy Drummer and I will be away for le weekend romantique a deux in Paris. Now this means two things. One, a dilemma already on what to pack and two, shopping.

More specifically, shoe shopping. Following from my sojourn to London Town and the heady heights of the Shoe Department in Selfridges, I've been formulating a plan. If I save a bit each month then by the time I get to Paris, I should be able to afford a pair of those gorgeous, coveted, lusted after Louboutins.

Can it be done? More than likely. Can I decide which pair I want? Not a hope in hell. Which is why I want you, dear reader to aid and assist, this woman with her child in a candy shop experience. Each week I'll be presenting a possible candidate to you and the one with the most votes will win*!

* Obviously dependent on how many pennies I've saved and my own particular whim on the day!

Friday, 22 August 2008

When A Trip To London Town Resulted In The Physical Manifestation Of A Love Affair

Oh behave! It's not as sordid as you think!

As I edged ever closer to having a zero in my age again, I decided as a birthday treat to venture to London Town for the day to have my hair cut, do some shopping and whatever else took my fancy.

First things first. Loathe as I am to share this with you, many people have asked me why the hell I travel to London to get my haircut when I can get it cut in any number of perfectly nice salons in the Shire. I always reply that it's because it's cheaper and am met with derisive laughter. But wait! It is cheaper. Regardez:

Train to London - £25 if bought enough in advance.
Haircut - £13

Haircut in the Shire - Upwards of £35, averaging at £40-50, though the most I paid was £65.

But seriously, £13 for a haircut? Here's the secret. In Neal's Yard in Covent Garden is a small unassuming place called Hair by Fairy. You don't make an appointment and it's the luck of the draw who cuts your hair (and whether they speak English) but all the stylists are recent graduates of places like the Toni and Guy Academy. Trust me, if you just want a quick cut, go here.

Anyway, part of the pleasure of the day was strolling through Selfridges. Selfridges is possibly one of my favourite shops - don't be fooled by all the wealth wafting around, the staff are as courteous and lovely to me and thee as they are to black Amex holders. And thus I found myself in the best bit.

Shoes. Sweet Heaven on Earth.

I work the Shoes in a clockwise direction. Which means starting with Lanvin and Louboutin - two of the most beautiful words ever to begin with 'L'. I inadvertantly found myself stroking these fine beauties when I was approached by a Professional Blonde who politely asked if I needed any help. I resisted the urge to enlist her help to smuggle all of the preciouses out of the shop and into my bag so I could leg it to St Pancras and catch the train home, cackling maniacally at my daring-do. No, I was restrained and said no and she wafted off, leaving me to loiter by the Louboutins.

Now this may surprise you but I've never actually tried a pair on. I've always felt my feet to be far unworthy of such creations and didn't want to experience the crushing horror that maybe they're just not for me.

Until now. I was approached again by a very lovely chap who saw me fondling a pair and again I was asked if I needed any help.

"Um, no, thank you. I'm just looking," I replied, guiltily putting the shoe back on the shelf and desperately checking I hadn't left any fingermarks. He smiled kindly.

"They are lovely aren't they? Would you like to try them on?" What? He wasn't kind! He was an apprentice of the Devil!

I tried to resist but before I knew it a perfect pink box was thrust into my hands and divine creations adorned my feet. So how was it?

Perfect. No more, no less. I am now completely in lustful love and am scheming a way to get me a pair.....

Britain's Next Top Model: Where The Word 'Meh' Achieves Its Full Potential

So apparently Britain's Next Top Model finished. I didn't notice. I'd been so thoroughly bored by the rubbishness of the "potential top models" that I stopped watching.

Alex won and duly featured on the current issue of Company. According to the snippets of interview accompanying her - you guessed it - incredibly meh shoot, she was upset with the way she was portrayed on the show. She thought they deliberately edited her to make her look whiney and bitchy. And she didn't like it when they cut her hair short despite the fact that was the only thing that made her look different to any other pretty girl schlepping round Topshop. Boohoo for you, you poor dear.

So what was good about Britain's Next Top Model? Umm.... well I liked Gerry Deveaux's straight talking and obvious despair at the detritus he was supposed to work with. I liked Huggy's firm but nice approach and the fact she could properly analyze a picture. And for some reason, I've warmed to Lisa Snowdon. Maybe because I covet her hair.

Whatever, they have to step up a gear for next season - HHPOF!Miz Tyra's got a transexual on her new season, how are you going to beat that?