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Sweat 2013-03-22 (11.00.44-840 AM)
So I’ve been dancing a bit. I told you I would, remember? And honestly, when do I ever lie to you? So yes, the dancing. Now look, I’m not saying I’m ever going to be any good at this thing, but it’s just so…addictive. No, seriously, it’s completely buzz inducingly addictive.
That’s not a word.
I don’t care.
I’m dancing anyway. Here’s why..

1. I’m never going to be any good. Now look, I say this as a positive. I am very focussed on getting better at things in general and it’s really nice to do something that really is just for the journey, not for the result. I know! That’s proper hippy talk. I don’t care, I’m dancing anyway.

2. Because being in a dance class makes me think of this (And I mean actually think of it because I’m old enough to remember it the first time.) How brilliant is Debbie Allen? I want to be her. I want a big stick and I want to ask for payment in sweat with no sense of irony. I know really, that I’m much more like Lori Singer at the end there… “What does that mean?” but hey, I’m dancing anyway.

3. Because it makes me cry OK, this is a little embarrassing. I do get quite frustrated at my own crapness sometimes and I have to go away and (privately, come on) have a little cry. Now yes, you’re right, that may not seem such a positive but I reckon it means that I care and that is a good thing, yes?

4. Because it makes you really really strong Aha! Good evening vanity, I was wondering when you were going to join us. Yes, it gives you abs of steel (is there quite a soft sort of steel? because that might be the variety I have.) Well, OK, nearly abs of steel. Well it allows you to eat pain au chocolate without worry and sort of stretches you out so you look better and stronger.

5. Because my teachers are amazing and every time I watch them move I think yes, try again, even though I’ll never be able to do it like that (see above) it’s just beautiful and inspiring to watch people do what they do best.

So I’m off to sweat today, I have a story that won’t come straight in my mind and it may fall into place while I concentrate (really hard) on something else. I just have to remember not to look in the mirror too much because then I see Intense Concentration Face which truly, ain’t pretty. Black Swan this is not.
But you know what? I’m dancing anyway.

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Much as I love digital, love online, love the interaction, the immediacy, there’s still a thrill to be found from a good ol’ fashioned magazine in print.
Mmm paper.
It’s enough to make you start a whole new category on your blog, oh look!
This was a new one on me, East London produced Jocks and Nerds.
Articles on Film Noir and Weegee (my dark side is very happy right now) plus a sprinkling of fashion, plus, can we discuss how cute that title is?

I got my copy here but you can see where to find one here. So there.

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!

Eyeko 2013-02-05 (12.33.17-029 PM)
When it comes to make up I generally aim for less than perfection.
I mean, I really appreciate a pristine face but personally, I like things to be a little bit messed up. Like you’re having a bit too much of a good time to worry about everything being neat as a pin. My sister, (who I think we’ve gathered, it my guru when it comes to beauty) (apart from my hair, my hair belongs to my mother) (Yes indeed Doctor, the same time next week is fine) told me once at an impressionable age that I should always arrive at a party looking like I’ve just come from one.
But recently I’ve been increasingly seduced by the idea of a perfect cat eye. Well maybe not a whole cat. Not a big in your face flick like a Nike swoosh, more like a little baby kitten. A subtle nod to my sixties obsession (no really, just check out my Tumblr if you don’t believe me) and also a concession to looking just a little tiny bit more, you know, together.
I quite like the idea of a pen to draw with. I mean, generally, I like drawing with a pen. So Eyeko eyeliners made me all excited plus they are a London thing, boom, that’s a good enough reason right there.
I like the simplicity, they do a full size pen and also a Skinny Mini version for a more precise line. Similar really to the grading of my Rotary pens, so that makes me feel all comfortable and at home. It stays on, doesn’t smudge and all that good stuff. But you know the best bit?
Putting it on.
It’s quite possible that the application itself, which still takes me a good few minutes, (although I reckon I could improve on my personal best time quite soon with a little practice) (competitive? Nooo) is actually more fun that the result. It’s a bit more of a ritual than just smudging on some kohl, makes me feel all Taste of Honey and could totally be addictive.
It makes me laugh, too.
Those weird faces you have to pull to check your lines are even on both sides, oh, and why, please, is it impossible to apply eyeliner with your mouth closed?
Anyone?
Bueller?

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?


Farewell then London Olympics, you have been utterly addictive.
Every time I think I can watch you for five minutes I catch myself two hours later sitting in the same spot.

You’ve gifted the capital with an unnerving politeness, the UK with a national pride it didn’t know it had and the world with a reminder that the NHS is an awesome thing, thank you.
It’s been emotional.

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