PUB GOLF. the time honoured student tradition where seemingly normal individuals dress up like caddy toting twats, treking from booze dens to watering holes, with the aim to get as ratted as possible. how did it go, i hear you cry?! well, i decided to UNDRESS on the dancefloor, ate face with mulitple homosexuals and chipped my tooth. not to mention bruising my entire left side of my body. so yeah. the hangover was divine, as was the 2 hour visit to morrisons. but the icing on the gap-toothed cake was that freshers week begins on sunday. poor liver, its just trying to help me live but i keep knocking it down.
went dentist today, and my drunken antics are going to cost £50 to fix. fail. x
Thursday
Sunday
r&r
i LOVE the sense of total removal from everything when u put ur head under bathwater. its nice, like walking through the park at 5am after a heavy night out. refreshing. need a snorkel set and i'll be able to escape for hours beneath the murky depths of my own filth.
in hades related news, a customer actively used all words beginning with 'P' today so she could empty her salivary glands directly onto my face. she seemed alarmed i kept inching away, which only encouraged the attack until i was pinned between her rotund form and some beautiful polyester dreams. yummy. it was easily THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE. other than the time i got done for armed robbery by my dad. embarassssing.
i know this is also supposed to b a fashion blog but not alot has inspired me of late. the identikit army is still out in force, and although i lust (i love that word : LUST. so much heat behind such a tiny fragment. its not used enough, LUST LUST LUST!) after many of the items they all sport, such as the satchel and the aviator, i can't bring myself to spend my hard earned (ha!) schrapnel on replicas of what everyone else is wearing.
however, one lady has caught my eye. although fictional, Lol in This Is England '86 is a total style icon. i fucking adore the pure androgyny of her outfits, the blunt cut and colour of her hair and the general 'piss off' attitude she swaggers about with.
her post punk/ skinhead mod mashup is divine, and she retains her femininity whilst having an edge. hello girl crush <3 i'm off to get a set of dr martins and a fred perry polo. CHAMPION! x
in hades related news, a customer actively used all words beginning with 'P' today so she could empty her salivary glands directly onto my face. she seemed alarmed i kept inching away, which only encouraged the attack until i was pinned between her rotund form and some beautiful polyester dreams. yummy. it was easily THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE. other than the time i got done for armed robbery by my dad. embarassssing.
i know this is also supposed to b a fashion blog but not alot has inspired me of late. the identikit army is still out in force, and although i lust (i love that word : LUST. so much heat behind such a tiny fragment. its not used enough, LUST LUST LUST!) after many of the items they all sport, such as the satchel and the aviator, i can't bring myself to spend my hard earned (ha!) schrapnel on replicas of what everyone else is wearing.
however, one lady has caught my eye. although fictional, Lol in This Is England '86 is a total style icon. i fucking adore the pure androgyny of her outfits, the blunt cut and colour of her hair and the general 'piss off' attitude she swaggers about with.
Friday
Thursday
BOOM-TING!
lessons i learnt today:
1. trainers are an essential item when going to the gym.
2. men are vile and have no shame. ASKING ME OUT ON THE TREADMILL IS NEVER ACCEPTABLE.
3. finding buttons has taken over my life.
4. don't pet cats you don't know.
got my uni schedule, bit naff. i don't pay nearly £4000 to be there everyday!! theres these things called hangovers, and i need 3 personal days per week to deal with them. its a serious health issue you know.
having a gay sleepover with homo no.2 tonight, should be hiwawious. i'm still on the road free of male interest, so bum-bashers are the only testosterone company i keep now (other than R, who trotted like a builder with testicle problems en route to tesco earlier). i've managed to control most of my issues, except when watching smushy stuff on tv (broke another cup in fit of rage yday, oh well.).
my chum K, who looks eerily like a younger version of my mother, which terrifies me when under the influence of UmBongo, got a tatt on her foot. it looks super cute. everyone i know seems to be getting inked, i reallly want to but all the designs i like will result in me resembling a lesbigay. leopard print on the shoulder is an idea i've been toying with since i was born. ok thats an exaggeration, but my love for animal patterns has been bred into me ever since i was first clad in a spotted babygrow on my 20th birthday. no i'm totally kidding...its was my 19th.
plus as well, i have that nagging fear of 'i'll be an old lady covered in tatts. i'll already have enough on my plate when i'm 30, running from the law having shot my wealthy yet cruel husband for his schrapnel, the only warmth in my life supplied by millions of dollars and a beautiful brazillian toyboy called Miquel...sweet Miquel. on the fbi file it'll say 'QUINN: distinguishable marks-'juicy' tattoed across her bum, leopard around her bingo wing.
so yeah. maybe i'll postpone the event until i'm sure/high. piercings are fine, i've only got tiny scars on my face from past mistakes, plus you can hang your keys on them. it used to be a godsend.
can one of you skets come and make me some tea please. the sofa has dragged me in. also, i want a hug, a good hug, from a nice platonic guy friend. shame i've slept with all of mine. DAMMIT! x
p.s. on friends, some one-off character was from PLOUGHKEEPSIE. i'm still laughing now. ploughkeepsie. crazy americans.
1. trainers are an essential item when going to the gym.
2. men are vile and have no shame. ASKING ME OUT ON THE TREADMILL IS NEVER ACCEPTABLE.
3. finding buttons has taken over my life.
4. don't pet cats you don't know.
got my uni schedule, bit naff. i don't pay nearly £4000 to be there everyday!! theres these things called hangovers, and i need 3 personal days per week to deal with them. its a serious health issue you know.
having a gay sleepover with homo no.2 tonight, should be hiwawious. i'm still on the road free of male interest, so bum-bashers are the only testosterone company i keep now (other than R, who trotted like a builder with testicle problems en route to tesco earlier). i've managed to control most of my issues, except when watching smushy stuff on tv (broke another cup in fit of rage yday, oh well.).
my chum K, who looks eerily like a younger version of my mother, which terrifies me when under the influence of UmBongo, got a tatt on her foot. it looks super cute. everyone i know seems to be getting inked, i reallly want to but all the designs i like will result in me resembling a lesbigay. leopard print on the shoulder is an idea i've been toying with since i was born. ok thats an exaggeration, but my love for animal patterns has been bred into me ever since i was first clad in a spotted babygrow on my 20th birthday. no i'm totally kidding...its was my 19th.
plus as well, i have that nagging fear of 'i'll be an old lady covered in tatts. i'll already have enough on my plate when i'm 30, running from the law having shot my wealthy yet cruel husband for his schrapnel, the only warmth in my life supplied by millions of dollars and a beautiful brazillian toyboy called Miquel...sweet Miquel. on the fbi file it'll say 'QUINN: distinguishable marks-'juicy' tattoed across her bum, leopard around her bingo wing.
so yeah. maybe i'll postpone the event until i'm sure/high. piercings are fine, i've only got tiny scars on my face from past mistakes, plus you can hang your keys on them. it used to be a godsend.
can one of you skets come and make me some tea please. the sofa has dragged me in. also, i want a hug, a good hug, from a nice platonic guy friend. shame i've slept with all of mine. DAMMIT! x
p.s. on friends, some one-off character was from PLOUGHKEEPSIE. i'm still laughing now. ploughkeepsie. crazy americans.
Wednesday
dip your toe.
poetry is controversial. not many like it, i can see why. over the years, i've met a few individuals in my classes who have been TWATS, as in narcissitic idiots who believe they are the saviour of verse.
i like writing it, but i think it should be done for yourself. i'll never publish it on here because its just too cringeworthy and egotistical, and it is human nature to indulge in such activities in the expectation we'll recieve praise. but during this current period of, erm i guess self exploration, i have been writing alot more and enjoyed it.
its rare for me to get writers block because i only write when its available; forcing the process would remove the medicinal impact it seems to have upon me. those close to QUINN will be aware i've previously had some issues with our old buddy narcotics, and aside from passages of extreme clarity and soberness, the darker depths of those times would inspire me too. its a healthy process, and think we should all have something to clear our heads and purge the secrets. masturbation doesn't count. i checked in the bible. x
i like writing it, but i think it should be done for yourself. i'll never publish it on here because its just too cringeworthy and egotistical, and it is human nature to indulge in such activities in the expectation we'll recieve praise. but during this current period of, erm i guess self exploration, i have been writing alot more and enjoyed it.
its rare for me to get writers block because i only write when its available; forcing the process would remove the medicinal impact it seems to have upon me. those close to QUINN will be aware i've previously had some issues with our old buddy narcotics, and aside from passages of extreme clarity and soberness, the darker depths of those times would inspire me too. its a healthy process, and think we should all have something to clear our heads and purge the secrets. masturbation doesn't count. i checked in the bible. x
its raining gays.
ok i'm over my alanis morrisette 'whats does it all mean' depresso phase, mostly thanks to the arrival of my slave A and also a fellow ginge W, who have returned form the cold empty wastelands of home back into the arms of campus life.
went out last night to gender blender, possibly the GREATEST gay night in the world. except for G.A.Y. and rainbows in coventry. and liverpool garlands. OOOO and the trans-gender mixer i went to once (everybody kept commenting on how good my surgery was but i still seemed quite manish and could do with making an effort to be female...i didn't want to upset them all and tell them i was born with a vagina, thought it could be seen as gloating, so took it and and spoke like dame edna for the evening, revealing how i was previously 'Rupert' and used to wear a bra to school, stuffed with bread).
managed to stay fairly on the straight and narrow. the text from my mum helped. DON'T DO DRUGS. pretty clear message there. thanks for that pet. drank a bit, but not much, which seemed to disappoint my rapt homo audience, waiting in anticipation for my x-tina moves. but no, my clothes stayed on this time which kept the bouncers and every straight man in the room happy. what has happened to gay men? no joke, last night they all seemed under 5ft, dancing as if on E (or diet pills as M calls them) and making love to themselves in the corner, shot glass an aid to the debuachery. speaking of which, a new accquaintance actually began to rub his fancy's apparatus mid snog ON THE DANCEFLOOR. A was mesmerised.
people can be surprising. in a good way btw, not in a 'oh god u share baths with your mother??!' way. friend of a friend, i'd never spoken to J properly, just held his cardi during a dance-off between himself and 2 asians. nice guy blah blah but all in all a stranger. he was out last night, and i have actually never met anyone who has no ego. fabulous boy, and it was refreshing to be dancing with a straight guy and not be hit on! i'm not saying i'm the best looking who gets every guy, far from it tbh, but most still try it, just to test the water. his moves were a bit like that family guy episode, where peter has no bones in his body. better cleavage than mine tho....have to watch out for that, i'm lime green jelo.
what i can only depict as a SHE-DEVIL rammed her heel into my foot last night before dragging herself off to spew, so i have a golf ball sized bruise on it now. ouch. couldn't get the slap hand out on her though, she fell off the pole. we've all been there.
OH YEAH. A ate face with a guy. he was hot though so we can let her off. should go to gym really...or watch lords of dogtown in bed. god my life is hard. x
went out last night to gender blender, possibly the GREATEST gay night in the world. except for G.A.Y. and rainbows in coventry. and liverpool garlands. OOOO and the trans-gender mixer i went to once (everybody kept commenting on how good my surgery was but i still seemed quite manish and could do with making an effort to be female...i didn't want to upset them all and tell them i was born with a vagina, thought it could be seen as gloating, so took it and and spoke like dame edna for the evening, revealing how i was previously 'Rupert' and used to wear a bra to school, stuffed with bread).
managed to stay fairly on the straight and narrow. the text from my mum helped. DON'T DO DRUGS. pretty clear message there. thanks for that pet. drank a bit, but not much, which seemed to disappoint my rapt homo audience, waiting in anticipation for my x-tina moves. but no, my clothes stayed on this time which kept the bouncers and every straight man in the room happy. what has happened to gay men? no joke, last night they all seemed under 5ft, dancing as if on E (or diet pills as M calls them) and making love to themselves in the corner, shot glass an aid to the debuachery. speaking of which, a new accquaintance actually began to rub his fancy's apparatus mid snog ON THE DANCEFLOOR. A was mesmerised.
people can be surprising. in a good way btw, not in a 'oh god u share baths with your mother??!' way. friend of a friend, i'd never spoken to J properly, just held his cardi during a dance-off between himself and 2 asians. nice guy blah blah but all in all a stranger. he was out last night, and i have actually never met anyone who has no ego. fabulous boy, and it was refreshing to be dancing with a straight guy and not be hit on! i'm not saying i'm the best looking who gets every guy, far from it tbh, but most still try it, just to test the water. his moves were a bit like that family guy episode, where peter has no bones in his body. better cleavage than mine tho....have to watch out for that, i'm lime green jelo.
what i can only depict as a SHE-DEVIL rammed her heel into my foot last night before dragging herself off to spew, so i have a golf ball sized bruise on it now. ouch. couldn't get the slap hand out on her though, she fell off the pole. we've all been there.
OH YEAH. A ate face with a guy. he was hot though so we can let her off. should go to gym really...or watch lords of dogtown in bed. god my life is hard. x
Friday
website of the day
although i'm not keen on relationships atm, i'm still planning my wedding to rpattz, and the lovely Miss L suggested http://www.oncewed.com/ , a page dedicated to peoples ceremonies. the best part is the 'real weddings' section, which features beatiful photography of couples special days. to be honest, afterwards i ate a box of crackers and rang an ex, but in general it helps to restore the faith whilst feeding my nosy streak. x
reaching the depths.
most of us with no life have been glued to ultimate big bro, desperately willing preston and chantelle to rekindle their romance, and it made me question our views of love.
this couple were and are polar opposites, their broken marriage leaving behind two individuals who looked worse than jordan without slap. why would we, and them, want to get back into that train wreck? are we optimists or just f**king stupid? and can distinguish which one we are?
i believe i'm the latter. i have been totally man free for 3 months, after swearing off them following an ill advised venture, the result of which left me an alcoholic wreck, crying with winehouse on repeat. yet this was not a one-off episode a serial twat lover, i was like a dog who likes going back to be kicked, waiting for the moment where he realises he does love me, possibly accomanpanied with an offer of pedigree chum. BECAUSE I WAS AN OPTIMIST. this self imposed period of male exile has shown me the truth.
i now see i am stupid, this biggest dummy in the class, and am no longer dealing with the inbetweens who you meet in a shady bar, text for a week before going to the cinema to see a gash film when you'd rather watch the latest disney flick...they say love you, and then see them with a fake blonde in mcdonalds. BITCH. anyway, i digress, i've decided i'd rather stay in the tower than fall for the wrong prince. so yeah, beep off you trying to buy me a drink, romeo did not use the 'did you fall from heaven' line on juliet, so it ain't gonna work on me.
in other news, the gym has never see me so often, i'm considering camping out there . x
this couple were and are polar opposites, their broken marriage leaving behind two individuals who looked worse than jordan without slap. why would we, and them, want to get back into that train wreck? are we optimists or just f**king stupid? and can distinguish which one we are?
i believe i'm the latter. i have been totally man free for 3 months, after swearing off them following an ill advised venture, the result of which left me an alcoholic wreck, crying with winehouse on repeat. yet this was not a one-off episode a serial twat lover, i was like a dog who likes going back to be kicked, waiting for the moment where he realises he does love me, possibly accomanpanied with an offer of pedigree chum. BECAUSE I WAS AN OPTIMIST. this self imposed period of male exile has shown me the truth.
i now see i am stupid, this biggest dummy in the class, and am no longer dealing with the inbetweens who you meet in a shady bar, text for a week before going to the cinema to see a gash film when you'd rather watch the latest disney flick...they say love you, and then see them with a fake blonde in mcdonalds. BITCH. anyway, i digress, i've decided i'd rather stay in the tower than fall for the wrong prince. so yeah, beep off you trying to buy me a drink, romeo did not use the 'did you fall from heaven' line on juliet, so it ain't gonna work on me.
in other news, the gym has never see me so often, i'm considering camping out there . x
Wednesday
sweet dreams or beautiful nightmares?
ok ,much to the disgust of everyone i know, my male chums and resident ovaries, the female switch has been turned on.
those who recieve a regular ( and blessed) audience with QUINN will be aware that whilst i enjoy such rituals as giant hair, fabulous lashes and excess glitter, i am not, in attitude, the most girly of people. i like to have food fights, drink pints, hate kids and generally consider marriage akin to lifelong shackles. but today, there was a shift.
unusually warm for september, the pilgrimage to the high street brought new eyes to familar. yes, i'm talking about A BRIDAL SHOP. cascades of white taffeta and silk set my heart racing, imagining a first dance to a faceless groom across a dancefloor, attractive guests mopping botoxed faces of mascara tears with Argyle hankies.....
this is hugely alien to the normal me, and i can't even blame it on hormones. i don't mind being single, i'm not desp to be part of a 'we' (i've seen those who are and they just turn into ugly caricatures of their former selves). BUT I WANT A WEDDING. NOW.
so i did what any sane, normal girl with these fanatasies does. i began to scour the internet for dresses, venues and, most importantly. DIAMONDS.
the gown was easy, love at first obsessive click. lets be honest, i'm not about to buy a monsoon frock. we're talking VERA WANG. even saying that to a potential bride is like whispering 'krispy kreme' to a fat kid stuck at weight loss camp (i've been there). the designs, the fabrics, it all makes me weak at the knees
.
isn't it the most beautiful dress you've ever seen. my eyes are crossing from staring at it with lust. beautiful .
now, the venue, still not found that, but the wedding planner can sort that. it'll have to be large enough to accomodate all of Hollywood tho obvs, overlooking the sea, with Dolly Parton singing a medley of love themes as i shimmy down the aisle (with that fishtail, strutting would be impossible), my loving dog Mimi LaRochelle a ring bearer, tiny sateen pillow secured to her torso.
and now... THE RING. i actually just clapped my hands in delight after i wrote that. i need it so big, the jewellers supply a free wheelbarrow to tote it around in when my delicate arm needs a rest. i'm not talking overly showy, just big enough so people go SHE IS RICH. jlo style. something like this should do the trick.
any smaller, and the giver will have to reschedule an appointment with my PA Chad (who is doing fine btw, i'm helping him with his fake tan 2moro, he's got some giant party on sat) to discuss his shortcomings.
so i think thats all the details...oh yeah, a groom. DAMN IT!!! x
p.s. if anyone knows a good therapist around the Chester area, some form of mental support is required. THANKS!
those who recieve a regular ( and blessed) audience with QUINN will be aware that whilst i enjoy such rituals as giant hair, fabulous lashes and excess glitter, i am not, in attitude, the most girly of people. i like to have food fights, drink pints, hate kids and generally consider marriage akin to lifelong shackles. but today, there was a shift.
unusually warm for september, the pilgrimage to the high street brought new eyes to familar. yes, i'm talking about A BRIDAL SHOP. cascades of white taffeta and silk set my heart racing, imagining a first dance to a faceless groom across a dancefloor, attractive guests mopping botoxed faces of mascara tears with Argyle hankies.....
this is hugely alien to the normal me, and i can't even blame it on hormones. i don't mind being single, i'm not desp to be part of a 'we' (i've seen those who are and they just turn into ugly caricatures of their former selves). BUT I WANT A WEDDING. NOW.
so i did what any sane, normal girl with these fanatasies does. i began to scour the internet for dresses, venues and, most importantly. DIAMONDS.
the gown was easy, love at first obsessive click. lets be honest, i'm not about to buy a monsoon frock. we're talking VERA WANG. even saying that to a potential bride is like whispering 'krispy kreme' to a fat kid stuck at weight loss camp (i've been there). the designs, the fabrics, it all makes me weak at the knees
.
isn't it the most beautiful dress you've ever seen. my eyes are crossing from staring at it with lust. beautiful .
now, the venue, still not found that, but the wedding planner can sort that. it'll have to be large enough to accomodate all of Hollywood tho obvs, overlooking the sea, with Dolly Parton singing a medley of love themes as i shimmy down the aisle (with that fishtail, strutting would be impossible), my loving dog Mimi LaRochelle a ring bearer, tiny sateen pillow secured to her torso.
so i think thats all the details...oh yeah, a groom. DAMN IT!!! x
p.s. if anyone knows a good therapist around the Chester area, some form of mental support is required. THANKS!
Tuesday
dear all
i'm sorry. i've been somewhat lacklustre in the blogging dept of late, and i regret having to let you down. i hope i won't disappoint you in the future. truth is, i've lost the will to do alot of the things i used to love recently, maybe its the change in weather. just watching 'this is england 86', so far so good. going bed now, but fear not, i'll post again 2moro, and lets pray this time a more adequate version of writing. x
Friday
modern icon
theres a new idol on the scene, so bump off rihanna! nicki minaj, mc, fashion maverick and all around fruitcake is taking the title of the most controversial female in hip hop, pink extensions and all.
labelling herself as the 'black barbie' she spits lyrics like 'excuse me can I see your dang a lang brother' whilst trussed up in outfits that would make GaGa jelo.
no doubt stealing style tips from eastern street bibles such as 'Fruits' , she effortlessly combines neon brights with candy floss hair without a hint of irony, showcasing obvious echoes of harajuku imbedded amongst her caribbean roots.
first coming to mainstream attention on the Lil' Wayne Young Money collective 'Bedrock', Minaj, 25, stood out for her distinctive rapping style; full of character, imagination and littered with innuendo. hailing originally from Trinidad, the mc, real name Onika Maraj, moved to queens, NY, when she was 5, before attending the reknowned performing arts school La Guardia, where she discovered her passion for Hip Hop.
her sense of style has developed out of a desire to seperate herself from the countless black females already on the scene, and fashion insiders are taking note.
Britney Spears was shot by Todd Cole for this month's POP magazine, masquerading as a japanese child bride, with graphics design by the magnificent artist Takashi Murakami. seems things are turning japanese once more....x
labelling herself as the 'black barbie' she spits lyrics like 'excuse me can I see your dang a lang brother' whilst trussed up in outfits that would make GaGa jelo.
first coming to mainstream attention on the Lil' Wayne Young Money collective 'Bedrock', Minaj, 25, stood out for her distinctive rapping style; full of character, imagination and littered with innuendo. hailing originally from Trinidad, the mc, real name Onika Maraj, moved to queens, NY, when she was 5, before attending the reknowned performing arts school La Guardia, where she discovered her passion for Hip Hop.
her sense of style has developed out of a desire to seperate herself from the countless black females already on the scene, and fashion insiders are taking note.
Britney Spears was shot by Todd Cole for this month's POP magazine, masquerading as a japanese child bride, with graphics design by the magnificent artist Takashi Murakami. seems things are turning japanese once more....x
Thursday
i'll be there for you...
just watching Friends on TV for the millionth time. its a comforting experience, you know the jokes, the characters, nothing varies and its never challenging; the viewing equilvalent of cheesy mash. although a hurdle is always exciting, sometimes the familiar is required. fashion can be the same. GaGa pushes boundaries, but we're all quite keen on Jennifer Aniston, reliable for her glossy wardrobe of black, gold and nude.
1. LEGGINGS.
amen to whoever invented these. thank you flashdance for bringing these into my life, but not such for convincing me i could do the splits. that poor boy...he called a priest in.
anyways, they go with everything, slim your bottom half down and can be dressed up or down. black for all occasions, patterned for the rum rave.
the best leggings i've found are at american apparel. at £22, the're more expensive than other high street alternatives, but they last a lifetime and don't do that annoying saggy knee/crotch combo we all love so much.
my closet is literally like the united nations. every colour is in there, and alot of it is quite ugly. but tucked away at the back are the items reserved for the days when i've got 20 minutes to get to from mattress to work or i've drank so much the night before i can barely see. they all look ok together and are only mildly offensive as opposed to my usual get-up of down right RUDE. we've all got these pieces, and fall back on them to get us through when common sense is on holiday.
amen to whoever invented these. thank you flashdance for bringing these into my life, but not such for convincing me i could do the splits. that poor boy...he called a priest in.
anyways, they go with everything, slim your bottom half down and can be dressed up or down. black for all occasions, patterned for the rum rave.
the best leggings i've found are at american apparel. at £22, the're more expensive than other high street alternatives, but they last a lifetime and don't do that annoying saggy knee/crotch combo we all love so much.
2. CHECKED SHIRT WITH JUMPER.
this is an instant style hit, turning a bedhead and frog eyes into ralph lauren's inspiration. it works for any situation, looks polished and is a treat with a blazer. to stop it looking overly RAH RAH! layer chunky chains over the knit, or add a motif jumper for a retro spin.
yum with leggings, adorable with jeans, this look is ageless.
l-r jumper, £35 Truffle Shuffle. shirt, £14.99 Uniqlo. v-neck knit, £29.50, Gap.
3. LBD.
do i really even need to explain? its friday night. you're in pyjamas, watching 'an audience with some talentless gorilla', and the phone rings. 'HI QUINN! BLAH BLAH COME OUT BLAH'.......why not?and waiting to rave with you is the LBD. its easy, effortless and you know you look damn fine in it. theres just one question...do you wash the britney hairdo or not?
figure fixing black dresses l-r 1, 2, 3,4.
1. hourglass shapes should go for a structured dress with a cinched-in waist to show off your inner Marilyn.
Topshop £40
2. pear shapes can combine a fitted top with a bell skirt to skim over the junk in your trunk.
River Island £39.99
3. apple shapes (i feel your pain fellow fruitbowlers), if you have beautiful legs, make them the feature with a loose silhouette concealing your problem area. team with big earrings to keep the focus on your best bits.
Warehouse £45
4. athletic. you lucky sods, i'm lime green jelo of your long lean limbs! you can wear whatever you want, but to inject some curves onto your boyish frame choose dresses with features, such as draping, on the hips and shoulders, adding volume.
Miss Selfridge, £39
4. FEATURE CARDIGAN.
this will be your best friend for the winter. stick it on with a vest and jeans, casual dress, top and leggings or tee and shorts if the weather holds out. if you choose wisely, a bold and distinctive print can take you through a few seasons wear, or you can archive it for the future, responding to compliments with the begrudged answer 'its actually vintage'...god i hate those girls.
classic statement knits to last a lifetime (or until you get bored)
top l-r
heart pocket cardi, £39, Very. horse print cardi, £34.99, River Island.
bottom l-r
lace shoulder cardi, £35, Oasis. rose print cardi, £44, Debenhams.
5. CONVERSE.
so comfy, wear to uni for easy chic, work for laidback cool and to the pub for an indie vibe. i like patterned, but faithful red, white and black are forever buys.
top to bottom
red converse, £42 Littlewoods, white converse, £34.99, Schuh. leoprd converse, £36.99, Office.
enjoy! x
Wednesday
EXCITING TIMES!! I NEED MY INHALER!!!!!
EEEKKKK!!! what do designers jimmy choo, matthew williamson and viktor & rolf amongst others have in-common? H&M!! and if the internet rumours are true, the next collaboration is.... LANVIN!
apparently set to hit stores on Nov 10, the potential collab between the Swedish fast fashion chain and creative genius Alber Elbaz will be the most anticipated event on the high street since the arrival of the carrier bag.
the label, the oldest fashion house still in business, was rebooted by the appointment of Elbaz as artistic director in 2001, and became the go-to label for classic elegance.
Elbaz's designs already rule the high street, with his jewel-toned one shouldered dresses spawning mulitple copies, all of which have been doing the rounds at every christmas party for the last 2 years.
H&M put out a series of viral black and white shorts on youtube earlier this week, entitled 'Designer Collaborations', discussing personal style and design. the finale of each, a date and enigma rolled into one. september 9..... THE WAIT IS KILLING ME! x
apparently set to hit stores on Nov 10, the potential collab between the Swedish fast fashion chain and creative genius Alber Elbaz will be the most anticipated event on the high street since the arrival of the carrier bag.
the label, the oldest fashion house still in business, was rebooted by the appointment of Elbaz as artistic director in 2001, and became the go-to label for classic elegance.
Elbaz's designs already rule the high street, with his jewel-toned one shouldered dresses spawning mulitple copies, all of which have been doing the rounds at every christmas party for the last 2 years.
lanvin 08, sjp, lanvin 08.
H&M put out a series of viral black and white shorts on youtube earlier this week, entitled 'Designer Collaborations', discussing personal style and design. the finale of each, a date and enigma rolled into one. september 9..... THE WAIT IS KILLING ME! x
FIERCE
if you know me, you know i'm a loyal fag hag to many beautiful men. so this video hit a note, they should have some form of regal status! AMAZE x
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3bRPHPQsOs&feature=player_embedded#
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3bRPHPQsOs&feature=player_embedded#
confessions of an ex-tanoholic
i'm the middle of a transition atm, but aren't we all? i have something to tell you, my adoring fans, and you may think less of me, but i, QUINN, used to be addicted to fake tan. no judgement please.
now i'm not talking a light spray tan once a week, this was serious addiction. it began when i relocated to the north west for uni, and influence of Liverpool began to creep in.
where i'm from, the height of sophistication are those fleeces with the pictures of wolves on you get at the market, (my nana has 2) and although i'd always been into like fashion etc, espec having been an emo teen, as soon as i came up here, something went PING in my head.
first crept in the changes in hair colour. everyone dyes their hair, but scouse girls go for INTENSE colours, theres no creamy blondes or subtle undertones here. those with mousy hair and attitude need not apply. i hit the bleach hard, then red, then brown to fix the red, then highlites to fix the brown, then auburn to fix the highlites...you get the idea. each new dye required new extensions, so i was walking around with half of ching-long's hair clipped onto my skull. and this was for my everyday look.
and then i went into tk maxx...and they had a bottle of fake bake reduced. its like when a junkie needles the first vein, just to try it, they're not going to get hooked or anything, they have the control.
fast forward 2 months and i'm getting up at 5am to reapply tan reagrdless of the layer i'd put on before bed, and then slapping on instant stuff to leave the house. money flies out my hand, a tanning mitt here, exfoliator there, i have to buy 5 different foundations depending on my level of tan and lie to my mum about the amount of empty bottles lying guiltily in the bin. IT WAS NOT A GOOD TIME FOR ME.
my sheets looked like burt reynolds had been given the godfather treatment as he slept, and if i ever stayed with any ,ahem, friends i had to pre-warn them that all that would be left in the AM was a tangerine residue and the lingering aroma of digestives.
the moment of clarity came when one charming (read irritating) friend, J, compared me to the colour of a conker. this lovely comment combined with breaking out in what i can only describe as hives from the tan formula and buying the stuff with my rent funds signalled something may be wrong. so i've been drying out over the last month, and am now albino once more. clinique doesn't make a foundation light enough for my skin, so i've had to go with fellow pale convert Nicola Roberts range Dainty Doll.
when i went to Liverpool yesterday, stripped of my full armour, i felt like a bald chicken amoungst the sea of heels, extensions and orange flesh . you have to admire the scouse girls for their dedication, especially for believing tutu's and bras are suitable day attire...but i'm done with the fakery. its time for everyone just to see the real you and me. until next summer that is. x
p.s. i brought a leopard shower curtain! my house looks more like peter stringfellow's soho mansion everyday
now i'm not talking a light spray tan once a week, this was serious addiction. it began when i relocated to the north west for uni, and influence of Liverpool began to creep in.
where i'm from, the height of sophistication are those fleeces with the pictures of wolves on you get at the market, (my nana has 2) and although i'd always been into like fashion etc, espec having been an emo teen, as soon as i came up here, something went PING in my head.
coming to a catwalk near....hell
first crept in the changes in hair colour. everyone dyes their hair, but scouse girls go for INTENSE colours, theres no creamy blondes or subtle undertones here. those with mousy hair and attitude need not apply. i hit the bleach hard, then red, then brown to fix the red, then highlites to fix the brown, then auburn to fix the highlites...you get the idea. each new dye required new extensions, so i was walking around with half of ching-long's hair clipped onto my skull. and this was for my everyday look.
and then i went into tk maxx...and they had a bottle of fake bake reduced. its like when a junkie needles the first vein, just to try it, they're not going to get hooked or anything, they have the control.
fast forward 2 months and i'm getting up at 5am to reapply tan reagrdless of the layer i'd put on before bed, and then slapping on instant stuff to leave the house. money flies out my hand, a tanning mitt here, exfoliator there, i have to buy 5 different foundations depending on my level of tan and lie to my mum about the amount of empty bottles lying guiltily in the bin. IT WAS NOT A GOOD TIME FOR ME.
my sheets looked like burt reynolds had been given the godfather treatment as he slept, and if i ever stayed with any ,ahem, friends i had to pre-warn them that all that would be left in the AM was a tangerine residue and the lingering aroma of digestives.
the moment of clarity came when one charming (read irritating) friend, J, compared me to the colour of a conker. this lovely comment combined with breaking out in what i can only describe as hives from the tan formula and buying the stuff with my rent funds signalled something may be wrong. so i've been drying out over the last month, and am now albino once more. clinique doesn't make a foundation light enough for my skin, so i've had to go with fellow pale convert Nicola Roberts range Dainty Doll.
when i went to Liverpool yesterday, stripped of my full armour, i felt like a bald chicken amoungst the sea of heels, extensions and orange flesh . you have to admire the scouse girls for their dedication, especially for believing tutu's and bras are suitable day attire...but i'm done with the fakery. its time for everyone just to see the real you and me. until next summer that is. x
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)