BLACK
BLACK
BLACK
http://solongasitisblack.com/
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
V i n c e n t
This is Vinccent the rabbit and he was born without any ears. He lives with his owner in North Yorkshire and was named after Vinent Van Gogh.
R A B B I T
Image by Malvina-Frolova
Headpiecec by MAISON MICHEL
Ring, $38 available Urban Outfitter.com
Headpiecec by MAISON MICHEL
Ring, $38 available Urban Outfitter.com
Monday, August 24, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
T A R G E T
My new thigh high obsession...
£350 by Veronique Leroy. Can one justify peep toe in winter?
£350 by Veronique Leroy. Can one justify peep toe in winter?
B L A C K R E B E L
Alexander Wang SS10 Menswear
Red Eyes and Tears - Black Rebel Motarcycle Club
Fuck Yea!
Red Eyes and Tears - Black Rebel Motarcycle Club
Fuck Yea!
Friday, August 21, 2009
T H I G H . H I G H . A S B O
Ughh. How frustrating.
For those of you who have swatched any of my back dated posts months back you'll remember the thigh high obsession which is still on going. To bring you quickly up to date on the current situation here is a time line of recent activity.
10th August - Bought Elle magazine and spot fashion assistant Donna Wallace in thigh high heaven courtesy of Karren Millen. Listed at £350
11th August - Promptly put my name down on the list for these bad boys at every single store in central London. The wait will give me time to find cash.
14th August - I spotted the Topshop BRITANY black suede over the knee boots have been re listed, only £100, but have sold out of my size. Balls. It's a sign I'm just not meant for high street, dahling!
18th August - Spot that they now have my size in stock! Ha! Save money and buy a dress then!
20th August
(morning) - Does one call in sick, in order to wait in all day for boots?
(afternoon) - Impatiently waiting on them arriving. Online delivery status say they have arrived at 15:48. Oh only 8 hours after they were loaded into the delivery van at 07:48, according to the staTus! That's not what I call 'next day delivery'. That's 'next afternoon and then some, maybe after I've stopped for lunch' delivery. Fuck sake. Contemplating feigning illness in order to be sent home from work and play with my new suede legs!
(evening) - Eh, they are not here! I climb the walls of my house kicking things, punching the wall and making high pitched whining noises... Find a scrunched up green 'we tried to deliver' note. It's been left at my neighbours at number 12. Joyus! I beat down their door at 10:30pm. When trying to gain access to someones house via them opening the door their, there are certain steps to take before resorting to a ladder and a window. (I'm referring to the squatter who broke into my house last week, another hilarious story I shan't let you in on).
1. Door bell
2. Knock
3. Knock louder
4. Bang door with palm of hand
5. Shout through letter box (shouting 'Police' can help depending on what area you are in)
6. If door has a metal security gate slam it a few times.
7. I realise I'm banging on 13, not 12. Christ, are these boots worth an asbo?
Note: If the door does have a metal security gate I wouldn't shout 'police' unless you fancy catching them as they exit the house via the back garden.
(even later) - I have a full blown public melt down on Facebook. I vow to wake up at 6am and beat down their door, again.
(almost midnight) - Knock on the door, my lovely neighbour whose door I almost knocked off it's hinges brings the boots over. I gush with gratitude and look a little bleary eyed like I might cry or kiss him. He makes a quick exit.
12:30am - Try them on with whole wardrobe, nothing works. Parade around in front of the house mates who have all drank two bottles of red wine and would probably have still applauded if I'd walked in wearing wellies.
21st August
8am - Text my fashion sole mate (yes sole as in shoe). She is having a similar dilemma over ACNE's Atacoma wedges. QUEL COLOR? her text read, NOIR ET BRAUN is my response. Her advice is to return them if my heart is not in them, and here was me thinking they were for my feet.
2pm I need one more opinion, the don of all heart wrenching decisions, my own personal Dalai Lama, my mother. Her wisdom is just what I need.
"Why do I worry about you? Here's me worrying about you as a mother and all you worry about is shoes!"
A tad hurt I tell her that's not true. I worry about lots of things, like knitwear, and handbags, and leggings.
Which brings me up to now, and you up to full speed. They are boxed up and ready to go back to their maker. It was nice while is lasted my long legged chums, au revoir!
The search continues...
For those of you who have swatched any of my back dated posts months back you'll remember the thigh high obsession which is still on going. To bring you quickly up to date on the current situation here is a time line of recent activity.
10th August - Bought Elle magazine and spot fashion assistant Donna Wallace in thigh high heaven courtesy of Karren Millen. Listed at £350
11th August - Promptly put my name down on the list for these bad boys at every single store in central London. The wait will give me time to find cash.
14th August - I spotted the Topshop BRITANY black suede over the knee boots have been re listed, only £100, but have sold out of my size. Balls. It's a sign I'm just not meant for high street, dahling!
18th August - Spot that they now have my size in stock! Ha! Save money and buy a dress then!
20th August
(morning) - Does one call in sick, in order to wait in all day for boots?
(afternoon) - Impatiently waiting on them arriving. Online delivery status say they have arrived at 15:48. Oh only 8 hours after they were loaded into the delivery van at 07:48, according to the staTus! That's not what I call 'next day delivery'. That's 'next afternoon and then some, maybe after I've stopped for lunch' delivery. Fuck sake. Contemplating feigning illness in order to be sent home from work and play with my new suede legs!
(evening) - Eh, they are not here! I climb the walls of my house kicking things, punching the wall and making high pitched whining noises... Find a scrunched up green 'we tried to deliver' note. It's been left at my neighbours at number 12. Joyus! I beat down their door at 10:30pm. When trying to gain access to someones house via them opening the door their, there are certain steps to take before resorting to a ladder and a window. (I'm referring to the squatter who broke into my house last week, another hilarious story I shan't let you in on).
1. Door bell
2. Knock
3. Knock louder
4. Bang door with palm of hand
5. Shout through letter box (shouting 'Police' can help depending on what area you are in)
6. If door has a metal security gate slam it a few times.
7. I realise I'm banging on 13, not 12. Christ, are these boots worth an asbo?
Note: If the door does have a metal security gate I wouldn't shout 'police' unless you fancy catching them as they exit the house via the back garden.
(even later) - I have a full blown public melt down on Facebook. I vow to wake up at 6am and beat down their door, again.
(almost midnight) - Knock on the door, my lovely neighbour whose door I almost knocked off it's hinges brings the boots over. I gush with gratitude and look a little bleary eyed like I might cry or kiss him. He makes a quick exit.
12:30am - Try them on with whole wardrobe, nothing works. Parade around in front of the house mates who have all drank two bottles of red wine and would probably have still applauded if I'd walked in wearing wellies.
21st August
8am - Text my fashion sole mate (yes sole as in shoe). She is having a similar dilemma over ACNE's Atacoma wedges. QUEL COLOR? her text read, NOIR ET BRAUN is my response. Her advice is to return them if my heart is not in them, and here was me thinking they were for my feet.
2pm I need one more opinion, the don of all heart wrenching decisions, my own personal Dalai Lama, my mother. Her wisdom is just what I need.
"Why do I worry about you? Here's me worrying about you as a mother and all you worry about is shoes!"
A tad hurt I tell her that's not true. I worry about lots of things, like knitwear, and handbags, and leggings.
Which brings me up to now, and you up to full speed. They are boxed up and ready to go back to their maker. It was nice while is lasted my long legged chums, au revoir!
The search continues...
Thursday, August 6, 2009
i K I L L E D s u m m e r
I can't stop thinking about winter. I am sick of this non existent summer, the odd hot humid day followed by a huge amount of rain, probably the equivalent amount of sweat London is giving off. Blergh. I got a very funny text from a friend the other day telling me how she had taken her Mongolian sheepskin jacket out for a stroll (stroll? ha! the thing is dead!) and a bit of airing, giving two fingers to the British summer. Yea fuck you summer, you promised sun kissed skin and barbecues till the early hours and you didn't deliver.
I favour winter over you, you joke of a season especially as I am sick to death of your floral prints and jersey blazers. And what was that ridiculous Miami trend you threw at us? A total after thought I feel tagged on the end of the season by the high street to use up all that neon shit you had left over from two years ago no doubt.
Well keep it. Bring on the washed leather, the structured tailored jackets and the thigh high boots. Wrap me up in some chunky knitwear and a pair of elbow length leather gloves and we'll call it quits. Eh... but can I keep the strawberries and cream till they got out of season please?
I plan to kick start winter in these from the dreaded Topshop...
I favour winter over you, you joke of a season especially as I am sick to death of your floral prints and jersey blazers. And what was that ridiculous Miami trend you threw at us? A total after thought I feel tagged on the end of the season by the high street to use up all that neon shit you had left over from two years ago no doubt.
Well keep it. Bring on the washed leather, the structured tailored jackets and the thigh high boots. Wrap me up in some chunky knitwear and a pair of elbow length leather gloves and we'll call it quits. Eh... but can I keep the strawberries and cream till they got out of season please?
I plan to kick start winter in these from the dreaded Topshop...
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
I N T H E C O U N T R Y
My weekend in Suffok with the boy's folks, dogs and farm yard animals. Girls Aloud put it so well.
N E E D
TAKE OUT A LOAN
RE-MORGAGTE YOU HOME
SELL YOUR FIRST BORN
DO WHATEVER YOU MUST DO
JUST MAKE SURE YOU DO IT!
I could actually explode I'm so fucking excited about this. I'm drooling, I'M ATUALLY SALAVATING!
RE-MORGAGTE YOU HOME
SELL YOUR FIRST BORN
DO WHATEVER YOU MUST DO
JUST MAKE SURE YOU DO IT!
I could actually explode I'm so fucking excited about this. I'm drooling, I'M ATUALLY SALAVATING!
D O W N . W I T H . F A L L
Me pulling my old over the knee boots out means winter is upon us. What happened to the beautiful British summer we were promised by the met office? I think summer commited suicide this year, economic repression is my guess. Poor old mother nature, try sprinkling some ritalin in yer tea love.
D I R T Y S E C R E T
Had a rare late afternoon off from work and crept of to my wench, my dirty secret, my on-off love affair, yes, Topshop.
I go back for yet another fix of well designed catwalk rip-offs made of cheap fabrics with fraying seams, will I ever learn? No. I try things on endlessly, the thrill of the black dress with sulptural shoulders ware off as soon as it's been twirled in. I rarely ever go to the the flagship store for fear of being caught.
Instead I creep down to the concession in Selfridges so I can escape easily, wandering off into the make up counters and my lack of orientation being my excuse. I would consider taking you home, little layered pink top, to meet the rest of my clothing family but you are polyester and I hoped you would have been silk. So I try you on, and put you back. I'm a Topshop user and abuser behind those fitting room curtains.
But wait it gets worse. Not content with Topshop I sneak into River Island. Literally looking both ways before entering as you would on entering and adult entertainment shop in Soho.
My weakness for bling leads me straight to this chunk of gold. Reminds me off some things I've seen on Kabiri.
The racks of sale sirens on hangers call me in seductively. Grey jersey zip up jacket with padded shoulder and a pelmet waist. No only is it wrong, it's in the sale, £15. This is the fabric equivalent of Pretty Woman, the one who made it. The jacket will be mine and integrated with the rest of my finery.
The end result.
River Island jacket, Olanic fringed leotard, H&M acid wash leggings, Topshop heels.
I go back for yet another fix of well designed catwalk rip-offs made of cheap fabrics with fraying seams, will I ever learn? No. I try things on endlessly, the thrill of the black dress with sulptural shoulders ware off as soon as it's been twirled in. I rarely ever go to the the flagship store for fear of being caught.
Instead I creep down to the concession in Selfridges so I can escape easily, wandering off into the make up counters and my lack of orientation being my excuse. I would consider taking you home, little layered pink top, to meet the rest of my clothing family but you are polyester and I hoped you would have been silk. So I try you on, and put you back. I'm a Topshop user and abuser behind those fitting room curtains.
But wait it gets worse. Not content with Topshop I sneak into River Island. Literally looking both ways before entering as you would on entering and adult entertainment shop in Soho.
My weakness for bling leads me straight to this chunk of gold. Reminds me off some things I've seen on Kabiri.
The racks of sale sirens on hangers call me in seductively. Grey jersey zip up jacket with padded shoulder and a pelmet waist. No only is it wrong, it's in the sale, £15. This is the fabric equivalent of Pretty Woman, the one who made it. The jacket will be mine and integrated with the rest of my finery.
The end result.
River Island jacket, Olanic fringed leotard, H&M acid wash leggings, Topshop heels.
P O R N O G R A P H Y
To me the Olsen twins are like fashion pronography. Their repertoire of 'it' bags gets me exited, their endless stamina in 6 inch heels makes my heart beat quiken and mix matched pile up of expensive jewellery forces me bite down and leave teeth marks. It's now I realise there it's time to visit Olsens Anonymous
F R E E C L O T H E S
One of very few good thing about working in retail is free clothes or 'uniform'. This blog seriousl suffers from no digital camera. Me modeling last nights makes up. The only conclusion to be drawn from this post is to tidy my room.
Marc by Marc Jacobs Aw09 Runway dress. Burgandy silk with fuhsia and green trim. Deep funnel neck type thing with massive Christmas wrapping on the back.
Marc by Marc AW09 Wool High Wasited trousers
Marc by Marc Jacobs Aw09 Runway dress. Burgandy silk with fuhsia and green trim. Deep funnel neck type thing with massive Christmas wrapping on the back.
Marc by Marc AW09 Wool High Wasited trousers
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