The online sites of the jewelry houses, which produce different types of
jewelries, own the data spaces, where the news about the latest
ornaments and events, conducted by the jewelry dwellings, are published.
The information spaces, encompassing Tresor Paris report Coverage
space, carry news about the celebs, wearing the ornaments in the events.
The
present world has experienced a allotment of developments, as far as
the technologies and equipments, utilised in various industries, are
worried. The jewelry commerce all round the world are using the newest
technologies and equipments for the production of the ornaments and
accessories. There are distinct types of hand crafted jewelries
available in the distinct parts of the world too. But, people would not
have renowned about the distinct kinds of jewelries, without the
brochures and online advertisements. In this cyber age, persons involve
themselves in obtaining distinct types of information, through the
diverse kinds of online sites. There are many people, who engage
themselves in online buying of different kinds of goods, including the
lightweightweightweight heaviness accessories. The jewelry manufacturers
of the common age take part in and endorse a alallotmentment of
benevolent society shows. The data about the benevolent society displays
are supplied in the data spaces supplied in the online sites of the
jewelry manufacturers, encompassing Tresor Paris News treatment space.
The
data spaces, furnished in the online sites of the jewelry houses,
convey the inpatternation in the pattern of items. The items are
provided one after the other in the data spaces. The data spaces in the
online sites of the jewelry dwellings convey categorized parts, each
bearing the topic released in each month. The different kinds of
information are assembled by the online reporters. Various kinds of
information are also collected from authentic causes. The data about the
discounts on the charges of the trendy jewelries are provided in the
data spaces too.
The various kinds of events, conducted by the
renowned jewelry dwellings, in different venues, are attended by many
celebrities. The celebs include both the men and women eminent persons.
The celebs wear and flaunt the different types of ornaments and
accessories, made by jewelry dwellings. The male celebs often flaunt the
crystal magnetite Christ traverse necklaces and the watches, made by
the ornament manufacturers.
The timepieces, manufactured by many
jewelry brands, encompassing Tresor Paris UK, are unisex in nature. The
watches come with distinct kinds of colors. The colors encompass white,
black, red, green, yellow and many other ones. The straps of the watches
are made out of Silicone. The dials of the watches are made out of
encrusted crystal. The dials of the watches carries a diamond each.
The
crystal magnetite necklaces for men arrive with alternative combination
of the precious pebbles. The bracelets for the women, produced by the
jewelry businesses, come with the sequence blend of the prized pebble
and the metal globes. Numerous jewelry houses launch freshly designed
jewelries often. The data spaces of the websites of the jewelry
businesses, including Tresor Paris report Coverage space, convey
information about the newest jewelries.
Tresor Paris report treatment boasts Every Minute Information About All the Events and Celebs associated to the Brand
Holiday
I'm on holiday. In case you were wondering.
It's not really a proper holiday. It is what people seem determined to call a "staycation." Except we're British, so technically it should be a holistay. Whatever you call it, we're staying at home, but not going to work for two glorious weeks. Hooray.
I'm planning on sleeping, reading, walking the dog and talking about, but probably never actually going to, things at the many festivals and fringe festivals and fringe fringes that take over Edinburgh every August. I have big plans to build some flat-pack furniture. I might even find time for some blog tinkering. The excitement never ends.
See you on the other side.
Image: Nest Decorating
I have something important to ask you.
An eagle-eyed reader (hi, Dad) had the front to question the spelling in my last post. Apparently, spell-check agrees. WHATEVER.
To my mind, it's all about context. “Bla bla bla” mimics pointless chatter. “Feeling a bit blah” denotes melancholy or boredom. Are there two bla(h)s, maybe?
They sound different in my head. “Bla” has a nice Scottish ring to it – that flat, short “ah” sound, like the “ba-” in “battered Mars bar” – while “blah” seems to lend itself to a long, drawn-out, Home Counties sort of vowel, or perhaps a Texan twang. Try it. Bla. Blah. Bla. Blaaahhh.
This is the kind of thing that rattles around my brain. Thanks, Dad, for asking the question. I'm sticking to my guns, but you are entirely welcome to disagree.
I will now segue effortlessly into an entirely different topic by mentioning that the man in that picture up there has a beard. You know who else has a beard? Fin. You know something else about Fin? Three years ago today, reader, I married him.
To my mind, it's all about context. “Bla bla bla” mimics pointless chatter. “Feeling a bit blah” denotes melancholy or boredom. Are there two bla(h)s, maybe?
They sound different in my head. “Bla” has a nice Scottish ring to it – that flat, short “ah” sound, like the “ba-” in “battered Mars bar” – while “blah” seems to lend itself to a long, drawn-out, Home Counties sort of vowel, or perhaps a Texan twang. Try it. Bla. Blah. Bla. Blaaahhh.
This is the kind of thing that rattles around my brain. Thanks, Dad, for asking the question. I'm sticking to my guns, but you are entirely welcome to disagree.
I will now segue effortlessly into an entirely different topic by mentioning that the man in that picture up there has a beard. You know who else has a beard? Fin. You know something else about Fin? Three years ago today, reader, I married him.
Our first three years of marriage have seen a fair amount of bla-bla-bla and the occasional, unwelcome dollop of blah, but I wouldn't have swapped them for the world. Happy anniversary, Kais. Love you.
Bla bla bla by Villaraco on Society6
SEE ALSO:
→ Two.
Lately
Things have been a bit, well, shit. My mum is having more treatment, again, which means she'll soon be bald, again. My body has been behaving traitorously in numerous ways, most recently by puffing my tonsils up like popcorn. Our neighbourhood went on fire. Twice. And some other things. And a few more things. And, and, and. Bla, bla, bla.
While life has been stabbing me and my tonsils with the pricks of a thousand tiny needles, I've been wrapping myself in every soft thing I can find. I pull my words close like a blanket. Writing candidly feels like nakedness, writing fluff feels like a cop-out. So I write nothing. I read nothing. I feel nothing, or so I like to tell myself.
In the end, the simple pleasures are what save me. Bright colours on a sunny day. Friends from afar, bearing Pop-Tarts and penises (don't worry, they were free range). Skipping and shrieking into the North Sea, with only two dogs and handful of bewildered tourists for company. The final countdown to a dear friend's wedding. And did I mention the Pop-Tarts?
I'm still choosing my words carefully, weighing up which ones I can spare. Writing means thinking, and my thoughts have been otherwise occupied lately. Occupied with very important things, of course; like imagining ways to surf Pinterest for a living, and setting up Smidgen's Instagram account because apparently I'm now that level of crazy. (Seriously though, you should follow her. She's very photogenic.)
Other, less ridiculous thoughts are jostling their way to the surface. The words will follow. I'm almost sure of it. Stick around, won't you?
Failed Opportunities print by JenniPenni
SEE ALSO:
→ Back
Cheers!
Well, that's it. The last post is up. My reign as UK guest editor of A Practical Wedding is officially over. Sob.
If you've been missing your regular dose of my wit and charm (and really, WHO WOULDN'T?), I'd recommend popping over to read my posts on APW. Even if you're not a regular reader, or a bride, or a woman, or a person who gives a shit about weddings, there's something you'll enjoy. Probably.
Here's what you've been missing:
- A British Person's Guide to American Weddings. The comments started off well, then rapidly declined into a convoluted discussion about jam. I'm still trying to work out how that happened.
- Jane and Peter's Misty Rooftop Garden Wedding. Short-haired bride, baby in a kilt, amazing shoes. Need I say more.
- Hats for wedding guests. Prices range from £29.50 to £1,285. FOR A HAT. If you can spot the expensive one without peeking, you get it for free!*
- What happens when your friends don't like your partner? I didn't write this one; Anna K did. It makes me feel uncomfortable, and that's a very good thing.
- Lillian and Leonard: A Love Story. Because there's nothing I enjoy more than making wedding photographers feel intensely awkward.
- And right now, RIGHT THIS VERY MOMENT, it's APW Happy Hour. Which means some highlights, some links I've found around the web, and booze. You should totally come.
- BONUS: I've been at the helm of the APW Pinterest account for the last couple of days too. Highlights include a wedding bus, an amazing beard and a dogs wearing a flower crown. What's not to love?
So, that's your Friday afternoon reading sorted.
On a sort-of-not-really related topic: not one but two of my dearest and most beloved readers have managed to get themselves hospitalised in the last week (not together, this isn't an episode of Casualty) and, once they've finished reading every one of these posts, they'll probably be feeling pretty bored and fed up. Can we send them our collective love and best wishes in the comments? I think we can.
Happy weekend, team.
SEE ALSO:
Elsewhere
Life has been a little overwhelming lately. My thoughts, and my words, have been elsewhere. I'm trying to find space to write something for you that's not related to poetry or chocolate, and in the meantime you can find me in one of two places:
LOVE MY DRESS
First, the lovely Annabel has been plastering me and my nonsense all over Love My Dress in the last few weeks.
A couple of months ago (alright, it was April, I've been busy) she was kind enough to invite me to a party celebrating the launch of her new(ish) book, Style Me Vintage: Weddings. I basically spent the entire evening in a corner talking to the three people I already knew and drinking rum, but that's my idea of a good time, so I thought it was fabulous. Annabel shared a film of the event here, in which the eagle-eyed among you might spy me, my amazing skirt and my terrible posture. Really should work on that.
Then a couple of weeks ago, Blonde Bridesmaid's wedding was featured in all its glowy, wintery magnificence. Those of you who followed my obsessive pinning sprees might recognise a few of the details. I'm especially proud of the purple cows. (There are actual purple cows, that is not a description of the bridesmaids, JUST TO BE CLEAR.)
And remember this sneaky peek? Well, you can see the whole shebang on Love My Dress right here, along with an extremely waffly description from me of every tiny detail. I'm nothing if not an overthinker. In case you can't tell from the post, I'm ridiculously glad to have been a part of it. Everyone involved put so much effort into making the shoot something really special. Yay Edinburgh.
A PRACTICAL WEDDING
And now, APW UK is happening, and I'm in charge. Which might be why I'm so tired. And have so few words to spare.
For those who don't know, APW is A Practical Wedding, a huge American indie wedding blog. I may have mentioned it once or twice. While everyone stateside is doing whatever it is they do to celebrate Independence Day - fireworks? Aliens? Who the hell knows - I'll be making sweeping generalisations about British people and quietly panicking. The party starts on Thursday at 7.30am.
Send help.
Images: 1. Golden geometric hearts papercuts card by Owly Shadow Puppets 2. Lauren McGlynn Photography 3. Hart & Sol West, taken on the Brooklyn stop of the APW Book Tour
SEE ALSO:
Sweet tooth
“As a visitor, when you step on to the Tunnock’s production line, the smells alone make you smile – baked biscuits, warm chocolate, toasted coconut – and the sight of row upon row of white mallow Tea Cakes entering the chocolate enrobing machine brings on a sort of vertigo as you resist the urge to rush forward and dive in.’”
Everything about this Tunnock's article, from the extremely cool graphic layout to photo captions like "Mallow heaven: Tea Cakes after their quiffs have been removed and before their chocolate bath," is completely charming. The only problem is that all I can think about now is biscuits.
The big question is: Tea Cake or Caramel Wafer?
Cards by Gillian Kyle. If one designer of confectionary-based products isn't enough for you, Nikki McWilliams does a very nice selection of biscuits too. Nom.
SEE ALSO:
A tiny radiance in a dark place
I think we all know by now that I'm fond of a bit of poetry. I don't really know much about it - the last time I attempted any kind of proper literary analysis was over a decade ago - but I admire and enjoy it, and really, isn't that the point?
So, obviously, I am very into these free downloadable posters from the Scottish Poetry Library. Not only do I love the graphic type and candy colours, I love the very idea of printing poetry off and sticking it on your wall, like it was a Romeo+Juliet-era Leonardo DiCaprio poster.
I'm tempted to download "A tiny radiance" for the space above my desk, but I feel like my boss might take it the wrong way. I also can't get over the description of poetry as "the breast milk of language." Indeed.
If you prefer pictures to words, Pugly Pixel shared a link a while back to a new project from the Rijks Museum, which is offering free high-res downloads of artworks from its vast collection.
In order to help you narrow down which pieces you might like to download, the museum offers a 'Master Matching' service, which is kind of like a Cosmo "Which Sex and the City character are you?" quiz except infinitely classier. Instead of suffering the indignity of categorising yourself as a particular type cocktail or shoe ("Practical flats? You're so Miranda!"), you're invited to select your favourite Dutch city (who doesn't love Maastricht?) and ponder whether you were a hermit or a queen in a past life (hermit, obvs). This, ladies and gents, is my idea of a good time.
Update: I took my own advice.
Poetry posters via the Scottish Poetry Library. Porcelain plate circa 1778-1782 via Rijks Studio.
SEE ALSO:
→ The Poet
Muldoodling
Aren't these illustrations of Edinburgh so sweet? I love them. They're by local illustrator and all-round superhero Eilidh Muldoon, aka Muldoodles. Eilidh is from North Berwick, same as me. I've known her family for a long time, and I can confidently say that the last year for them has been one of the most spectacularly crap-tastic years ever.
But instead of crumbling in the face of the gigantic pile of bollocks the world has thrown at her, Eilidh has only gone and got a bloody distinction in her MFA from Edinburgh College of Art! BOOM! In your FACE, world!
Her lovely work can be seen in person at the ECA Degree Show until Sunday, or you can have a good nosy around on her website and blog. Eilidh is available for all sorts of commissions, including logos and branding if anyone's in the market for a new blog header or shop design. She also draws custom house portraits - best housewarming present ever? I think so.
I don't normally do this kind of post, but I'm just thrilled to bits for Eilidh. PLUS the girl is clearly crazy talented, and it's Friday, and who doesn't like a bit of eye candy on a Friday? Nobody, that's who.
Happy weekend, folks.
All illustrations by Muldoodles.
SEE ALSO:
→ Doodled
The truth about pixie crops
Fin and I recently watched House of Cards in an attempt to fill the West-Wing-shaped void in our lives. I spent a great deal of time admiring Claire Underwood's hair.
We also recently watched The Queen: A Passion for Horses. I don't know why, I don't even like horses, but we'd finished House of Cards and there was nothing else on. I spent a great deal of time admiring Clare Balding's professionalism, warmth and ability to make even the dullest subject seem fascinating (an HOUR-LONG documentary about the special royal-equine bond? Really, BBC?). I spent precisely no time admiring Clare's hair. Sorry, Clare.
What nobody warns you about pixie crops is that you can leave your house thinking you're at the Underwood end of the Claire Hair Spectrum, but one brisk walk to work later and you find yourself dangerously close to Balding territory. It's a fine, fine line my friends.
And that is the last time I will fret about my hair.
This month, anyway.
Images: Underwood / Balding
SEE ALSO:
It's a hard job, but someone's got to do it.
Tomorrow I embark on an aggressive programme of relaxation and beautification the likes of which the world has never known. From massages to manicures, facials to fake tans, even a brief but thrilling foray into acupuncture: my spa attendance in the next three weeks will represent a 10,000% increase on the whole of the previous three years. It's going to be... intense.
Stylist magazine (Emerald Street's big sister) is compiling a list of the top beauty treatments in the UK and I selflessly volunteered to help with the reviews. Hey, what's a fledgeling freelance career for if you can't indulge in a few perks now and then? It's free, I'm Scottish, this was always going to happen.
Between now and the beginning of June, I'll be leaving no hot stone unturned in the name of journalistic research. Sunshine will burst from my every pore. Soothed muscles will cover my bones like jelly over ice cream. My skin will be so radiant, people will have to wear sunglasses just to look at me.
How lovely, you might think. What could be more relaxing? I'll tell you what could be more relaxing. Not trying to cram seventeen spa therapies into a full-time working week could be more relaxing. Not having to drive to Perthshire and back the day after a hen do could be more relaxing. Not building a spreadsheet of opening hours versus length of treatment versus distance from office versus fickle salon owners' availability could be more relaxing.
What's that noise? Is it the sound of the world's tiniest violin? I know, I know, I shouldn't complain. In truth I can't wait, fickle salon owners aside. The first time I ever had a massage I felt like I was walking on air; every massage since has been an attempt to recapture that euphoric high. So far, as is often the case with these things, it's never been as good as the first time, but maybe my forthcoming massage marathon will be the answer. Or maybe it will release a noxious cloud of toxins into my body and make me horribly ill. I guess we'll find out.
Are any of you lot closet beauty addicts? I have to say, you don't seem the type (said with love, since I myself haven't darkened a beautician's door for months and I like to think I'm not a hairy troll). How about acupuncture? I generally prefer to put my faith in modern medicine, but acupuncture intrigues me. There must be a reason it's survived so long. Plus, porcupine chic is so in right now, darling.
Images by Nirrimi Firebrace
SEE ALSO:
The Blue Dress
I don't recall pain, or joy, only the blue dress
I wore, and the door open to the sea,
and the liquid sun across the floor beside the bed.
Excerpt from The Blue Dress, by Freya Manfred
No reason. I just liked it.
Wishing you a lovely weekend, filled with liquid sun.
Bambi Northwood-Blyth by Tim Barber for Muse Summer 2011, via Fashion Gone Rogue
SEE ALSO:
→ The Poet
If my blog were an outfit
Sounds about right.
NEW GAME. If you (or your blog) were an outfit, what would it be? Bonus points if you make a moodboard (I recommend Polyvore for the Photoshop-impaired).
Necklace: Amanda Deer | Dress: Joy | Shoes: Zara | Bag: Cambridge Satchel Company
PEOPLE PLAYED ALONG!
↣ Lisa of This Girl Is is clearly a total badass.↣ Cutest outfit ever (and not a red boot in sight) from Wendy of Red Boots.
↣ Screw my blog outfit, I want this one instead. Annie of Beard Today Gone Tomorrow has excellent taste.
↣ I also want this t-shirt, thanks to Michelle of My Creative.
↣ Trust Moz to take this game to the next (awesome) level, considering every detail from nail varnish to sunglasses.
↣ Better late than never, Kate! Cutest apron ever?
↣ The lovely Siobhan of Siobhan Claude Van Damme included a BOOK in hers. A book!
Blog Love: Style with substance
In my first year of blogging, I wrote 200 posts. It's taken me over 15 months to churn out another hundred, but here we are: 300 posts and still going. Not going strong, exactly, but definitely going. Hooray.
And what better way to celebrate than to share the love? I've given my Blogs I Love page a spring clean and added some new favourites. There are many smart and hilarious women on there, generously chronicling their lives, and a few stubborn wedding sites that I just can't quit. Plus ça change. What's noteworthy is the recent emergence of a style and design category, something that was barely on my blog radar 100 posts ago. Over time, my own blog has gradually become less about pondering and fretting and more about getting off my arse and doing things, so I've been increasingly drawn to blogs with a visual, creative emphasis.
It's a difficult genre to get right, though. I have a not-so-secret love of admiring beautiful things, but I've also come to realise that empty beauty doesn't hold my attention for long. If I just want to look at mindless images of nice stuff, I can go on a Pinterest binge; the content's better and I don't have to put up with the badly-written copy that seems to be the trademark of the amateur style blog.
If a style, design or fashion site is going to hold my attention, it needs to offer something more. It needs to be funny, or clever, or just plain well-written. In my experience, blogs like that are surprisingly hard to find, so I thought I'd share a few that have captured my interest lately.
Style by Emily Henderson
Emily Henderson won a TV interior design contest in the US, but that's not why I find her blog so compelling. Emily is a stylist. Her job seems to involve making over expensive homes in tasteful ways for wealthy clients and arranging expensive things in tasteful ways for glossy photoshoots. Doesn't sound like the most thrilling premise for a blog, but there's something in the way she writes about it that draws me in. Despite her success, she writes in a refreshingly natural voice that is funny, engaging and a little bit awkward. If you know anything about me at all, you'll know that being funny, engaging and a little bit awkward is pretty much the key to my heart.
Of course, she has impeccable taste as well. Her styling work is gorgeous, full of bright colours and quirky things, and she's generous with her advice. If you have even a remote interest in making your environment more attractive and pleasant to live in, I'd highly recommend perusing her blog. Plus did I mention she's funny and engaging? And awkward? Go, read.
THE BRICK HOUSE
Morgan Satterfield of the Brick House has a completely different aesthetic to Emily Henderson, but she too is funny and a little bit awkward. I'm sensing a pattern here. There seems to be some unwritten rule that design-y blogs must be earnest and sweet and excruciatingly chirpy, so when I find someone who has not only great style but some semblance of a personality, I'm sold.
As well as general eye candy, the Brick House shares DIY ideas that are actually - *gasp* - kind of cool. Obviously none of them live up to my own adventures in doing it myself, but hey, not everyone can be as talented as me. She is still quite talented though, so you should probably read her blog right now.
Next, a good old personal style blog. You know, those blogs where people post awkward pictures of themselves standing on one leg beside a wall wearing weird and/or terrible outfits. There must be tens of thousands of these blogs, mainly written by 22-year-olds with a Topshop addiction and an aversion to uppercase letters. So it's something of a relief to find a style blog written by someone with genuine writing skills.
Jen of A Little Bird Told Me is a blogger by day and a freelance copywriter... also by day. The girl knows her way around a semi-colon. She also does a very nice job of taking awkward pictures of herself standing beside a wall, which takes some serious balls. Her fashion sense is quite different from mine, but it's always good to look outside your comfort zone for inspiration. Plus, she has previously rocked a pixie and is currently rocking a pair of dusty pink wedge hi-tops, so that's enough to get my attention.
A Little Bird Told Me
Next, a good old personal style blog. You know, those blogs where people post awkward pictures of themselves standing on one leg beside a wall wearing weird and/or terrible outfits. There must be tens of thousands of these blogs, mainly written by 22-year-olds with a Topshop addiction and an aversion to uppercase letters. So it's something of a relief to find a style blog written by someone with genuine writing skills.
Jen of A Little Bird Told Me is a blogger by day and a freelance copywriter... also by day. The girl knows her way around a semi-colon. She also does a very nice job of taking awkward pictures of herself standing beside a wall, which takes some serious balls. Her fashion sense is quite different from mine, but it's always good to look outside your comfort zone for inspiration. Plus, she has previously rocked a pixie and is currently rocking a pair of dusty pink wedge hi-tops, so that's enough to get my attention.
Empty Emptor
And lastly, something completely different. Empty Emptor is described by its creator, Jess, as "a whole lot of over-thinking and navel-gazing," and it is, but in a good way. Jess explores issues of consumer behaviour, wardrobe politics and the ethics of style. She makes exceptionally good points. And she's funny. And she's a NEUROSCIENTIST. How many blogs do you read that are written by neuroscientists? Exactly.
Empty Emptor makes you feel cleverer just by reading it. It also makes you examine your motivations before splashing cash on disposable fashion. Her series on the classics (1, 2, 3) should be required reading for anyone with an interest in building a longlasting wardrobe, and is especially relevant given my ongoing search for a classic of my own (thanks for your suggestions, by the way).
So, there you have it. Enjoy. And here's to my next 100 posts. If my current pace is anything to go by, expect them to be finished some time in 2017.
Images: 1. If you think I'm going to credit 100 posts, you are very wrong, my friend. You'll just have to read each individual post for the deets. 2. Laure Joliet and 3. Monica Wang both via Style by Emily Henderson 4&5. Morgan Satterfield 6. A Little Bird Told Me 7. Andrew Biraj via Time via Empty Emptor
SEE ALSO:
→ One year
Shopping Challenge: Trench Warfare
You might think that comparing my hunt for the perfect spring coat to the First World War is a bit over the top (my, the tasteless war puns are flowing thick and fast today), but they have more in common than you'd think. Both involved carefully-planned strategic campaigns. Both dragged on for years. And both, ultimately, achieved precisely nothing.
Okay, maybe they're not exactly the same. I should probably stop with the inappropriate comparison. But before I do, let me just remind you that trench coats were invented during World War I, so all I'm saying is that maybe it wasn't a complete waste of time.
FINE I'M STOPPING NOW.
Back to my quest for a new coat.
Ever since I bought my beloved navy duffel coat, I've had a hankering for more timeless pieces. When it comes to outerwear, which in my book should always last through several seasons, the classics have more enduring appeal to me. So far, I've managed to acquire a classic Western denim jacket and a vegan aviator. ("Vegan" is just a pretentious codename for "pleather," but vegan sounds classier so I'm going with it. After all, I'm practically a vegan myself. Ahem.)
Now that spring is finally rolling into town, I'm itching to begin my annual search for a trench coat to complete the collection. The trench coat, like most "classic" items, is tricky to get right, which explains why the search has become something of a traditional spring pastime for me. Every year I look, and every year I fail to find anything that fits the bill.
I actually own a sort-of-trench-coat, as seen in this post in which I attempt (very, very badly) to impersonate Blair of Atlantic Pacific. But it's really more of a jacket than a coat - it withers at the merest mention of rain and it has all sorts of trendy, "twist-on-a-classic" details. I don't want a twist on a classic. I want a classic classic. No weird zips, no funny pleats, no zany colours. Just a pale beige, showerproof, double-breasted, just-above-the-knee, belted, long-sleeved trench coat. Why is that so hard to find?
I was ready to resign myself to the fact that the perfect trench coat simply doesn't exist. Or, rather, that it only exists if you're prepared to drop a grand on it which, clearly, I am not. But then I saw this:
And THEN, I saw THIS:
I'm damned if I'm going to be out-styled by a child - even if it is Emmanuelle Alt's child - and a DOG.
This is where you come in. It's been a while since we've had a shopping challenge on ye olde blog. Who has some time to kill and wants to help me track down the perfect trench coat for under £100? You do? Excellent! And, GO.
P.S. A reminder that you can create fancy clickable links in the comments box by copying and pasting this easy snippet of code:
<a href="PASTE THE LINK HERE">WHAT DO YOU WANT TO CALL THE LINK?</a>
For example:
<a href="http://asafemooring.blogspot.com/">A Safe Mooring</a> = A Safe Mooring
Ta-da! You are an HTML ninja.
Images: 1. Vanessa Jackman 2. From Parisian Chic by Ines de la Fressange via Vogue 3. The Sartorialist 4. Atlantic Pacific 5. Stockholm Street Style 6. The Westerley Trench from Uncovet
SEE ALSO:
Reasons to be cheerful, Part 3
1. I got a new (to me) phone, and with it a boatload of apps, including Piction. I'm currently using it to create hipster motivational wallpapers for myself. As you do. I've had "Chapel of Love" stuck in my head for two days because of this one. Thanks a lot, self.
2. I'm officially awesome. You can be too thanks to Jessica Hische, who is also officially awesome.
3. It's Friday. Here's what to do this weekend, if lying around in leggings drinking wine isn't good enough for you. What are you, some kind of super achiever?
4. Did I mention it's Friday?
Happy weekend, folks.
SEE ALSO:
The Art of Writing
Whenever I draw (which is rarely, for reasons that will immediately become apparent) I do so meticulously. I reshape every line, redraw every curve, fuss and fiddle over and over and over because I just. can't. get. it. quite. right, until the page is obliterated by pencil marks and any hope of subtlety or movement has been lost in the pursuit of perfect imitation.
These illustrations by Francesca Waddell are about as far removed from my scratchings as you can get. A few strokes of ink, a splash of watercolour, and the page comes alive. The curve of a neck. The swish of a skirt. A piercing gaze. How does she DO that?
I write in much the same way as I draw. You'd be amazed how long I spend crafting even the shortest post. Finding the perfect pairing of image and word, coming up with a title, getting the alignment just so; a perfect blog post is part engineering, part alchemy. Very rarely does it flow from my fingers with ease, the way I imagine Waddell's subjects spring to life at the flick of her brush.
The difference with writing, though, is that the longer I work on something, the simpler it becomes. Sentences are excavated from the rubble of adverbs and adjectives. Words are chipped away, until only the bare meaning remains.
With writing - unlike my half-arsed attempts at art - the more I reshape the lines, the better they get.
Two years ago, in a characteristic flurry of motivation, I wrote a life list. I then abandoned it so comprehensively that I took it off the blog entirely as part of the redesign process. I've crossed off a couple of things since writing it, but nothing that felt like a huge personal achievement: being a bridesmaid (amazing but outside my control); going whale watching (I booked some tickets then turned up and went on a boat! Go me!); reaching a (fairly low, let's be honest) comment milestone on this blog. So far, so meh.
Last week, I crossed off a big one. A whopper.
I got paid for something I wrote. Paid in actual money. For something I wrote with my own hands.
I'm not a big magazine girl, but I have a lot of time for Emerald Street and its big sister, Stylist. It's hard not to love a respected publication that tweets things like "LEAVE OUR MUFFS ALONE" and sparks a run on name necklaces spelling out "Feminist." Even Vagenda approves. Plus, it's free. BONUS.
And the icing on the cake? Emerald Street's signature illustrations are produced by none other than the lovely Francesca Waddell. So it's smart AND pretty. The magic combination.
I'm still finding my feet, so those of you who subscribe to Emerald Street (if you don't, and would like to, you can do so here), I would love your feedback as the weeks go on. If you think my recommendations aren't diverse enough, or I have too much of an Edinburgh bias, or I just sound weird and/or crazy then please, please let me know.
As for those readers who have the misfortune to live outside the glorious central belt of Scotland, fear not. I won't be spamming you with Emerald Street stuff, although I may occasionally tweet recommendations that don't make the final cut. The upside for you is that more writing, for me, usually means better writing all round.
Things are about to get interesting.
All images by Francesca Waddell
SEE ALSO:
The Sneakiest of Peeks
I went to a wedding industry event in London last week, as one does. It was glamorous, gorgeous and very full-on. It's tempting, when you live in Edinburgh, to think that only the dregs are left behind here; that all the truly creative, talented, exciting people skip off to London at the first opportunity. (In fairness, that's because lots of them do.)
But yesterday, that theory was disproved. In fact, it was so thoroughly crushed beneath the weight of Edinburghian awesomeness that there is nothing but a sad heap of tiny theoretical crumbs left.
This is just a wee sneak peek into a shoot that I styled this weekend, in collaboration with a whole troupe of talented local folk. It was ace. Forgive me if I jump up and down and squeal for a while. Lots more coming soon, if you can bear it.
How was your weekend?
(On a tenuously related note, every time I see the words "sneak peek" I think of the bot tirelessly roving Twitter and correcting every person who spells it "sneak peak". It's called Stealth Mountain, because it's a sneaky peak.)
Photography: Lauren McGlynn Photography | Floral magic: I Heart Flowers | Dresses: Rowanjoy | Jewellery: Black Box |Venue: Timberyard | Hair: Milk | Makeup: Amy Irving | Design layout inspired by Breanna Rose
Democracy in action
I cut my hair off. Who am I to argue with the popular vote? But part of me wishes I'd waited until it was actually, as opposed to nominally, spring. Specifically, my ears and the back of my neck are less than thrilled. Brr.
Speaking of the popular vote, we're agonisingly close to finishing the final season of the West Wing and I know we're supposed to care who wins the election but OMG WHO CARES ABOUT THAT WITH ALL OF THE ROMANTIC TENSION OMG OMG. How the hell did people cope, watching this unfold over weeks? I am beside myself with excitement. If you haven't seen it, what are you waiting for? And if you have seen it YOU KNOW WHO I'M TALKING ABOUT. (Sorry, the West Wing has a tendency to bring out my all caps.) There's a faint whiff of Grey's Anatomy lingering in the White House corridors these days, with all of the snogging. There doesn't seem to be much governing going on here, people.
I doubt that sort of thing goes on over at the Scottish Parliament. At least, I hope it doesn't. Let's just say there aren't many Holyrood couplings I'd be quite so happy to watch on screen. The mind boggles.
For those of you who might not be fully up to speed with your Scottish politics, we have a referundum coming up next year to determine whether Scotland should remain part of the United Kingdom or become a fully independent country. Facts and figures are being hurled at us from all sides already, but neither camp has yet addressed my primary concern: what about Eurovision? I don't know if I'm ready to face a future where Scotland's finest musical talent has to slug it out in the semi-finals against the demented warblings of some former plumber from Azerbaijan. It's time for the campaigns to stop fretting about taxes and national identity and start getting into the serious issues.
Just as long as they don't start snogging.
P.S. On a completely unrelated note, I added some new pictures to the portfolio. Thanks, Lauren!
Image: Frank Egel Photography. Just to be clear, that's not me. In case there was any confusion. Ahem.
Scene from a French class
The Italian nanny was attempting to answer the teacher's latest question when the Morrocan student interrupted, shouting, "Excuse me, what's an Easter?"
The teacher called upon the rest of us to explain.
The Poles led the charge to the best of their ability. "It is," said one, "a party for the little boy of God who call his self Jesus and . . . oh shit." She faltered and her fellow country-man came to her aid.
"He call his self Jesus and then he be die one day on two . . . morsels of . . . lumber."
The rest of the class jumped in, offering bits of information that would have given the pope an aneurysm.
"He die one day and then he go above of my head to live with your father."
"He weared of himself the long hair and after he die, the first day he come back here for to say hello to the peoples."
"He nice, the Jesus."
From Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris
Hope you have the nice party, peoples.
Bunny brooch: SketchInc
How to elope to Edinburgh
You know what's more fun than wedding planning? Wedding planning for OTHER PEOPLE. I may have mentioned this before. It's especially fun because I'm not personally invested in any of the things that make wedding planning awkward: family history, bridal party drama, underwear...
If you'd like to read my recommendations for a low-key, hipster elopement to Edinburgh (and let's face it, who wouldn't), I'd encourage you to go and read my post right now. And if you know of any other top secret, badass venues hidden away down Edinburgh's back lanes, I'd love to hear about them. The current ratio of country houses to murder-ridden caves in the Scottish wedding media is just not good enough.
P.S. If you're visiting here from ESB for the first time, I should probably plug the wedding stuff. But truthfully, I think you might prefer the posts filed under 'Don't be a dick'.
Image: shot by David Wickham and styled by Bijou Bride for Vogue Italia, via Love My Dress. I like to imagine this is how our Alabama bride will emerge from her plane upon arrival at Turnhouse. Totally feasible.
I think I've found my calling.
Did you know there was such a thing as STYLED DOG PORTRAITS?!
I mean, come on. There's got to be a market for this in Edinburgh, surely? And it's for charity! Any photographers want to get in on this? Anybody? No...?
For more styled dog portraits than you can shake a giant glittery bow at, there's a whole freaking category on A House in the Hills. I practically wept with joy.
Images from Fancy Paws created by Smitten Studio, Birds of a Feather and A House in the Hills, a.k.a. MY HEROES.
Gone again
And we're off again. This time up to the frozen north for a few days, where I will almost certainly be striking poses in designer skiwear and prancing around in the snow on ponies. Because that's just what people do in Aviemore.
My family has a timeshare up there, a little two-roomed flat with bunkbeds and a pull-out couch. It's far from glamorous, but it's close to my heart. We've been going there since I was little. I remember one year, my dad built us an igloo beside the car park. It suspect it was more for him than for us.
For a few years I stopped going, bored of the long drive up the A9 and the unpredictable Scottish weather. But Fin and I started going up there together when he was learning to ski, and it's become something of a spring tradition.
One of my favourite things about having a timeshare is the year-on-year comparison. Every year, for these same two weeks in March, the little flat is ours. Some years the hills are white, their edges smudged against a flat grey sky. Some years are spent huddled on the couch watching the rain drum against the windows. Last year, we had glorious sunshine. We ate sandwiches on benches and lay on a beach, shivering slightly, in the way only the British can. The year before that, there was too much snow to ski.
Right now, it's -5°C and snowing. That has to mean we're due glorious sunshine next year, right? Maybe?
Happy weekend, folks.
Images: 1&4 Free People November 2012 via Fashion Gone Rogue, 2&3 Koray Birand for Vogue Spain Joyas via Design Scene
How do you say "vegetarian" in French?
HA! TRICK QUESTION! You don't ever need to say vegetarian in French, because if you are a vegetarian in France you will waste away in a matter of days. Even the salads have meat in them. Which is why they're so delicious.
But alas, I am no longer in France. It's time to say au revoir to delicious meaty salads, and bonjour to being a végétarienne. Sort of.
Fin and I have decided to try and eat meat-free from Monday to Friday. We'll still eat fish, and we'll still eat meat at the weekend if we feel like it, or if we're eating out (which doesn't happen as often as we'd like, thanks to a certain small, hairy member of our household who really cramps our style when it comes to dining in restaurants). So, not really vegetarian at all. More part-time-pescatarian. But at least we're trying.
There are lots of reasons for doing this: health for one, budget for another. And I must admit, ever since we've had Smidgen in our lives, we've felt increasingly uneasy about chowing down on her mammalian cousins. Which is weird, because she eats more meat than the two of us put together and never seems to wrestle with the ethical implications of it. She also doesn't have a problem with crapping in the middle of the road though, so we try not to model ourselves too closely on her.
HOWEVER. There is a major barrier standing in the way of this hippy-dippy, plant-eating, penny-saving utopia: Fin isn't really that into vegetables.
Fresh, crisp vegtables, maybe. Salads, yes, great, lovely. But piles of cooked vegetables? Not so much. Leeks are his personal idea of hell. If we are to avoid living off nothing but salad, prawns and different varieties of cheese, we're going to need some help.
Are any of you vegetarians? Or do you happen to have a great non-meaty recipe? Any sites I should check out? I'd love some ideas beyond plain veg - I'm thinking nuts, pulses, beans, salads, soups and, yes, cheeses (halloumi is the food of the gods). Please, give me all your food secrets! And in return, I'll love you forever. And I'll tell you about that hilarious thing that happened while we were on holiday.
(Not really. Nothing happened. I mainly skied, slept and ate delicious meaty salads. But still, tell me about FOOD.)
Images styled by Chelsea Zimmer. Don't click that link if you're hungry. Lady could make sawdust look mouthwatering.
A different kind of update.
I have to apologise. I realised last week, when I wrote about my mum having chemo many years ago, that I haven’t been keeping you in the loop. In fact, I haven’t really given you any update at all since we had bad news last April. So in return for all of your kindness about the new blog design, here is, erm, a nice depressing post about cancer. My thank you notes really leave something to be desired, don't they? Sorry. At least the pictures are pretty.
Last year came and went. There was treatment, there were scans. My mum lost her hair for the third time in her life. I sought some meaning and purpose in all this mess by swapping work for volunteering for a while. Slowly, very slowly, the hair grew back. The scans proved hopeful. We breathed out.
Then on Christmas Eve, of all days, I got a call to tell me she was in hospital with the same symptoms that had us worried last time. Thankfully she wasn't kept overnight into Christmas Day, and it turns out the side effects of steroids (eating constantly, putting on weight) are exactly the same as the side effects of Christmas, so no problems there.
The new year came, and with it a new treatment plan. More chemo. Hurrah. In an exciting new twist, this stuff doesn't make you bald, but it does leave your mouth bubbling with blisters and your feet in perpetual cramping agony, which is quite enough to be getting on with thank you very much.
And here we are still. Chemo, blisters, waiting, caring, hoping.
It’s funny how it gets both easier and harder to deal with bad news. Easier, because you've been through it before and know roughly what to expect. Harder, for the same reasons.
This time around, I've decided to cope by burying myself in creative projects. As well as the blog makeover, I designed and styled a display for my friend Lauren at the Glasgow Wedding Collective fair a couple of weeks ago, and in return she took these beautiful pictures of me with my mum and aunt. I can't thank her enough.
(Pictures of her stand in all its woody, scrabbly, flowery glory coming soon, because I know you're waiting with baited breath.)
And even more exciting than blog makeovers and pretty flowers, Fin and I are going on holiday tomorrow. TOMORROW. I can't wait. It's been a hard start to 2013 in many ways, not just because of the crap that my mum's going through. I'm still building up to telling you about all of it. But in the meantime, I plan on doing nothing in the next week but skiing, sleeping, drinking wine, reading actual printed books, and eating my body weight in unpasteurised cheese. (In case you can't tell from that description, we're going to France, a country where they store their cheese in the basement instead of the fridge. Bring it on.)
So that's where we are. I don't know why I've taken so long to get round to writing about this. You've always been so kind and supportive whenever I've talked about what we're going through, and hitting publish on posts like this always feels like a sigh of relief. Thank you for that.
While we're on this topic, forgive me if I take a moment to plug Breast Cancer Care's Big Pink Bucket Shake. They're holding collections all over the UK around Mother's Day (the UK version, which falls on 10th March this year) and need volunteers who are willing to shake buckets and exude cheer for an hour or two. If you live in the UK, I'd encourage you to check out the collections in your area and sign up if you can, or even organise your own. Pink wigs optional, smiles welcome.
See you on the other side.
Images: Lauren McGlynn Photography, taken in the Palm Court at the Balmoral Hotel, because we're posh.
SEE ALSO:
→ News
