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Postcard-1

Apologies. I have entirely absented myself, in a Jeffrey Bernard is unwell type fashion, from this site for a whole week. I have, in the words of Withnail, gone on holiday by mistake.

I don’t mean I didn’t know I was going on holiday. I wasn’t kidnapped and bundled into a van with only a large tube of Ambre Solaire for company. I packed a bag, got on a plane, used coins that felt like not real money to pay for a car that felt like an Inception style reflection to get to a hotel, I knew I was coming. I know I’m here. What I wasn’t expecting was the drama of, are you ready? NO WIFI. Nothing doing. They said there was wifi, it’s not a retreat for over internetted types or anything like that (good lord, no) it’s just that it doesn’t work. So that’s no Twitter, no FB, no wiki, for goodness sake. Reception told me it was ‘my device’ but judging by the amount of guests disgruntledly wandering the corridors muttering about passwords, there’s a heck of a lot of people trying to use my device. Anyway, doesn’t matter does it? We’re here now.

So, there now follows a series of short posts, postcards, if you like, that I have written (entirely without fact checking) but not posted this week.

Well, it’s tricky trying to find the right stamp, isn’t it?

Winona Forever 2013-03-27 (12.38.34-683 PM)

I’m declaring a Winona Ryder season.

No really, it’ll be very.
It started a couple of weeks ago when I watched Reality Bites. So grimy. So good.
Next up was Mermaids, (excuse me, how cute is Christina Ricci? And that fringe? So Spring ’13).
Ok, so now I’m watching Welcome Home Roxy Carmichael, a charmingly underrated film in my opinion and one that my sister and I always loved. I mean, Winona and pigs, what’s not to like? I’m lining up Beetlejuice, naturally, and Heathers (see above) plus Edward Scissorhands for blonde Winona (which feels a bit wrong but I’ll push on through).
Then Night on Earth, awesome grown up Winona driving a cab. Anything I’m missing?

Monday Morning 2013-02-11 (10.02.37-317 AM)
Monday morning and the snow is back, hibernation is a tempting option.
But no!
I have my favourite seat in my favourite cafe, I have a pot of tea and and have enough visuals swirling round my head from the weekend to warrant a little review, a short post match analysis, before beginning the week proper. A lot of screen time, some actual doing and a whole load of inspiration. So grab a coffee, I’m nice, I’ll share.

Tatayana at the Barbican on Friday, the second half particularly blew my mind, must shoot a bride story oh! those veils and why, please, do I not know any classic Russian stories? Diana Vreeland film, finally, must learn to lower my voice an octave and speak with more authority. I bet she knows Pushkin, her Russian obsession was infectious. Live streaming the New York shows onto my iPad, joy. Immediate thoughts (as in relatable to my actual life) Rag & Bone, eyeliner! Alexander Wang, next Winter will be OK if I can dress like a boxer and be snug as a bug in those coats! A Prophet, better late than never, disturbing but stunning, can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier. Cara, everywhere. The Baftas: British pride is still hanging in there post Olympics and Helen Mirren has pink hair, as if I needed a reason to love her more. And in between the looking? dance dance dance. I am now officially proper addicted to my dance classes, I’m still utterly rubbish, thanks for asking, but no matter, I will press on.

And so, download complete and onward into the week, coffee time over, enjoy your day!

f&f3-1
Ten thousand hours. That’s how long it takes to master a skill, apparently. That’s a lot of practice for sure, but it sounds about right.
Running through some upcoming stories this morning with lovely hairdresser Mark, we were marvelling at how long it takes to become really experienced at your craft. We agreed that we probably had our hours, and then some, on the clock in our respective professions, meaning we were fully entitled to spend an extra half hour working on the skill of having an extra cup of tea before actually doing any proper work.
Ah, procrastination, doncha just love it?


So, the ICA is hosting a new Jeurgen Teller exhibition and last night was the preview.
I figured I’d pop along and have a look as I am a huge JT geek and was interested in seeing his fine art work alongside his massively successful commercial work. I mean, how does he pull that off? Love it, but it’s a rare combination and one that intrigues me.
I’d had a busy day of running around and (in case I haven’t mentioned it enough recently) it’s freezing in London so there I am, scuffed up boots, Canadian tuxedo and my new favourite beanie, like a small boy in the sixth form, nipping in for a quick squiz at the exhibit at the first opportunity.
Inside the vibe has the social manners of a school prom that only lets the uber cool kids in. Everyone is checking everyone else out, but I mean aggressively checking and also, oh yes, everyone is there. I mean honestly, it looks like the pictures have come to life and are strolling round the place holding a drink. Which is all fine, apart from the fact that I’m completely intimidated and also, (key point) not in the right outfit.
(Thank God I was wearing lipstick, which my sister has given me strict instructions about and more of which later)
Kristen McMenamy is strolling around with the air of someone who constantly followed by a camera crew, which, basically, she is, and she pulls of that air very nicely, but frankly it’s all a bit much to deal with so I sneak out after a brief tour. I’m going back today for a proper look.
What I did like though, was the room ‘wallpapered’ with a sort of mini retrospective of his work, personal and public. You can see it in my marvellous iPhone pictures above. It reminded me of my bedroom at art college, actually.
And sort of made me feel like that was where I belonged.

Jeurgen Teller, Woo
at the ICA from today until 17th March


So the sun has finally decided to join us over the last few days and I’ve really enjoyed watching people make the transition into their summer wardrobe. Some people, bam, straight into full on festival happy sunny-sun-sun outfits, others cautiously carrying layers like security blankets, unsure that the weather will hold.
I spotted this girl from my crows nest on the top deck of the bus but didn’t have my camera (damn) so had to make this sketch when I got home. Part Robert Palmer circa Addicted to Love (skin tight black mini dress), part hipster geek (clumpy brogues and Ray Bans) she had the balance just right.
Best of all I liked the sheer black tights, is it me or are they creeping back? My friend Sarah and I have been championing their return for some time. Hooray. Have a lovely day!

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