My Paris

Last year, I finally got to go back to Paris. It'd been 8 years since my last visit and this time I was no slave to Disney.

We stayed in Cadet, a small and cutesy Jewish area to which prompted me on every time of leaving the hotel to whine "I want a baygul" So very mature.

It was really cute and a little arty but also a bit run down. But it occurred to me that when you're abroad, what is usually a little neglected and uncared for, in your eyes, becomes all picturesque and interesting. Although at one point I did think we'd made a terrible location choice which led me to believe it was equivalent to being in London and staying in Tooting.

This was brought upon when, without fail, every day, the local tramp would be opposite the Metro, drinking, dancing or sleeping. By the end of our trip, I'd actually grown quite fond of him. Not fond enough to give him any food or money though.

I wanted to take a picture of him (of, not with) for the blog but I thought it somewhat rude and obnoxious of me to be posting all pretty things and then an ironic picture of me in France with a tramp.

We were super central to all things tourist in Paris and we successfully manoeuvred ourselves around The Louvre, Notre Dame, The Eiffel Tower, The Champ Elyse and, much to our disappointment, The Moulin Rouge.

A couple of people before our stay had told us to visit Le Marais for good shopping. For the general consensus that the French are a bit poncy and snooty, this stereotype definitely doesn't translate into their set up of vintage shopping.

Mounds upon mounds of clothing, piles and heaps of handbags, scarves, shoes, cluttered shelves of belts and jewellery and stuffed rails full of vintage clothes.

It all was a bit of a shock to be honest, you were presented with more of a battle than a challenge.
Clothing and such were priced no higher than 15euros really, but needless to say, I left empty handed - rather than leaving with no hands.

On our first day, as we couldn't check into the hotel until 2pm (god bless 5.30am Eurostar) we wandered down to a little art gallery, just North of Le Louvre which had an exhibition on the great Hussein Chalayan. This, rightly so, deserves its own blog post, shortly to follow.

In the meantime, here are some pictures of other wonderful things we did on our trip.

Eating like kings at the yummy Le Gymnase.

The hay on the floor did baffle a little, although England take note: nobody provides a cosy and warming outdoor atmosphere to provide guilt free smoking like the French. Salute!

                              Much needed coffee break before tackling the stairs of Notre Dame.

Some of the beautiful buildings we stumbled across idly wandering across the city. 

I dardent take out the camera to document the vicious vintage seekers as they rummaged through the mountain of clothing. So here is one I took from the corner, when I was seeking refuge.

 One day, we took a trip out of the city centre, to visit a huge vintage market area. Wonderfully laid out, a bit like being in a maze, full of French odds and ends complimented by bonkers yet charming French sellers. This is where I bought my vintage purple Celine jacket.

Order is resumed in a larger vintage store. 

Fin. 

Things I learnt today

You need a passport to travel to Paris. Even if you are going via train. 

Don't ask. Instead, here is Paris, or, what I'm expecting once I go in 8 days. (with my passport)

Au Revoir. 

Oh Gosh, ASOS

 ASOS Colour Block Bucket Bag 

= 

                                                           Bbbbbbbbe mine. Oh wait, now you are.

(smug feeling)

i WANT never GETS

That's a classic saying isn't it? I remember when I was younger and my Uncle used to say two things to me. When I'd say "what" he'd say "pardon", much to his annoyance, this polite English way of words never stuck.

Whenever we used to go shopping, as a child, and now, as a fully fledged adult (?) I have a tendency and an innate built in response to things I love; i.e immediate ownership. I still don't know whether or not it's harder now, to deny myself the things I so rightly deserve (ahem) or it was easier as a little 'un.

Back in the day, it was always easier for me to inflict the annoyance of lack of ownership onto my Mother or the most responsible person who's care I was in that day (this varied from Father or Aunt to close neighbours - much to my Mother's disdain) meaning I could kind of convince myself that if I wanted something in my head, it would sound something like this...

"Well once I'm older, I'll never deny myself of anything - it's just their fault they had me at this age and I'm too young to have any weight behind crucial decisions" [crucial decision adj. 1. being denied a Tammy Girl Spring/Summer embellished "glitter girl" top] Then complete the act of utter brat-like behaviour and stomp out of said shop, kicking everything in sight waiting for those precious fake-tears to fall.

And the now...the excruciating moment when you see something you adore that's over £150 and have to immediately turn and make a swift escape to the nearest exit for fear something similar to the above happening, only not being able to get away with it, what, being a 23 year old "woman" and not having the nonchalant carefree attitude of a 10 year old Princess.

So before I'd have a chance to stomp my feet all the way out of the nearest Etam shop, I'd hear those dreaded four words "Now, Victoria, I want...." The older I got, the less of a chance anybody had to finish this sentence as I would wait no longer than around 5 seconds (to gain maximum impact) to complete stage one of brat-like behaviour.

I think what I'm trying to get at is, the wanting of things that you desire never fails to make a huge impact on my day-to-day life. I enjoy the feeling of loving something - a new bag, new shoes, or if really desperate, new home wear appliances (I did a little 'yelp' at a bath matt a few weeks ago) and then going out and actually owning it. [Don't, in any situation, steal it - cue Barbie-gate circa 1994]

Here are a few AW Pieces that I will be lusting over, moaning about, dropping hints about and generally wasting other people's time until they are under office ownership of, well, me.

 

Evil Twin A.W11 Collection

APC AW.11 Collection

Oliver Goldsmith AW.11 'Fuz' Shades

Gareth Pugh AW.11 Gloves

Sass & Bide Resort 12 Collection

Zoe & Morgan jewellery

Nicholas Kirkwood AW.11 Collection

Givenchy AW.11 Collection

Now, excuse me, there's an empty floor that I need to go make some noise on. 

LFW is ...

Hard work. Beautiful. Stressful. Painful. Colourful. Busy. Fun. Tiring. Exciting.

Most importantly you feel part of something that is a innovative celebration of British fashion. Here are some of my favourite images from style.com's favourite street style photographer, Tommy Ton and LFW through his eyes.

Auld-Lang-SIGH (circa Jan/Feb 2011)

Have taken it upon myself to use the next few days post-LFW wisely and instead of moaning about tiredness, feet ache (although cue pat on back for five days in five inch heels) and a general dullness of integrating back with the normal un-fashiony folk, I've decided to update this so-called 'blog' as I was mortified to note last blog update in, eek, March?!?!?! Although I have to say, in my defence, time flies once you've landed yourself into a job where you actually want to work and spend numerous 'out of office hours' in the office.

So, pride aside, I shall dig up and blow off the dust of previously left un-edited posts and try to spruce them up in the hope of making them remotely relevant for today. Wish me luck.

..................................GO.


As we wave goodbye to the festive period, roughly around 5 pounds heavier, a new year dawns on us. And not just in the calendar sense (although if you must, JackVettriano from Waterstones) but for us fashion lovers, we've got 4 new seasons to look forward to loving and hating what the highstreet will inevitably shove right in our faces.

I struggle to understand why the striking of 12 o'clock (be it on Big Ben or otherwise) makes everybody take a look at their lives and call for unnecessary change. And I'm not talking about a glance, I mean a real looooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggg, hard look. I'm not a fan of 'New Years Resolutions' because I can do them mid-year and it would be exactly the same. Poor January always gets mistreated because everyone is too busy faffing around moaning about the getting down the gym, quitting smoking and giving up alcohol (all three completely ludacris ideas..)
Well not me, instead I'm going to sit at home and play with my presents.

So here they are, a rundown of my absolutely favourite presents I got spoiled with this Christmas (although by the time this post has gone live, we are closer to Christmas 2011..)

And I'm going to do it (NB: did it) with an open box of Maple Fudge on one side and a large glass of vino blanco on the other. Because if everybody's giving up alcohol, who's going to drink it all?
[Insert chortle; very valid point/excuse for vino drinking]

1. My Jack Vettriano goodies.
I'm a big fan of Mr. Vettriano. I think his paintings are glamourous. Beautiful and glamourous. Like the old saying 'a picture says 1,000 words', well Vettriano's speak, sing and dance right in front of you. (Well, not, literally..) One of my favourite paintings of his is called Young Hearts.(this is it)


2. My Michael Kors watch. Yes, yes, yyyyyyeeeees I know everybody has a Michael Kors watch. So why the hell can't I? It's gold, it's rather bling and yes Mr. T called. He's not getting it back.

 ooh he looks angry 

3. Redken hair repair. Being blonde is a constant slap to the face...or hair. So a good conditioning routine ensures that my hair doesn't resemble Milky Joe from the Boosh and everyones a winner. [NB: This has happened before and the nickname stuck]

4. Bobbi Brown make up. A shed load of it. Gel eye liner, shimmer brick, mascara, lipgloss. Beam me up Bobbi, I'm yours. The only make up worth it's weight.

5. Yves Saint Laurent, Parisienne. Every year I go through about 4 bottles of it. I love it. It smells like summer. A good summer. In the sun.

Now, for more important/relevant blog posts, stay tuned kids.