Hello friends, I believe I am doing well as I have come back for day two of blogging. The main reason I am doing this is because my lovely friends - some new, some old - read my blog yesterday and told me how much they enjoyed it; therefore blog two is here, like Pinky and the Brain, to take over the world.
It was nice to see how many of you read my blog from yesterday and it got me thinking about friends. When you leave school many of your "if we ever part I will just die" friends call you less often. In turn you call them less often and then you have an awkward conversation outside the Pound Shop where you continuously refer to their partner as Mark who was actually the boy that ceremoniously dumped them when they were fifteen - awkward. Well in fairness to you who knew her dating goth guys would be a lifestyle choice and not a phase - you've seen one nose to neck piercing, you've seen them all...
Anyway, as I was saying... I have often been told by my lovely father that I care too much about my friends and too much about my shoes and THAT my lovely blog readers is because there is a distinct parallel between them. See if you agree:
Wellingtons - THE BEST FRIENDS: They are indestructable. You will drag them through all manner of messes and they will still protect you. You will sometimes step out of line and leave them out in the rain, but they will come back to you just as you left them - still waterproof. My best friend is like the Wellington that is covered in a bright pattern - she has the look of my favourite shoes, but is really thick skinned to put up with my crap...
Slippers - PARENTS: They are all you want after a bad day. They are cuddly, warm and protective. But under NO circumstances do you want to be seen with them in town.
Sparkly skyscraper heels - CLUBBING FRIENDS: You love these shoes, you adore them, they are your everything. How pretty are they? Everyone loves them! You spend the week leading up to wearing them thinking about how you cant wait to show them off. Then you get out and like the clubbing friend you realise they give you no support... and they have no substance when they break on your walk home at 3am. An expensive nightmare.
Flip flops - FAIRWEATHER FRIENDS: They are cute, they give you blisters then you refuse to wear them again until next summer. Nuff said.
Uggs - THE CREW: Your general friends are Uggs. You pick them up and put them down constantly, they do the same to you, but you realise that is because you are all grown-ups now. They are by no means your cutest shoe, but they are your familiar - as in these friends are more town in the day, coffee in a cafe than a night out where you mistake Jack Daniels as the name of your new bf. You love your Uggs, they are comfy and supportive and you would welcome them after a night out. Uggs last a lot longer than normal shoes and you know you will wear a variation of them forever.
So friends, try to build bridges with Wellies you have mistreated, bring them in from the winter winds and save those sexy 8" crapettos for NYE. Go out and hug your best friend....but please dont throw water over her to test my point.
Lots of love
Becky xx
Tuesday 31 January 2012
Monday 30 January 2012
I want to be celery....
"The first thing you should know is that I am"...unemployed. For those of you who get the "Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl" reference, I am not a whore. I just really like the book...
Unemployed is perhaps the ugliest word that one can carry in her repertoire. It is worse than 'fat', 'unattractive' or even 'stupid' as it comes with connotations....ie - due to one or all of the aforementioned words, you are unable to land yourself a job. I am not fat, hopefully not unattractive and not stupid yet it seems I am unable to find myself sat in an office eating a cereal bar chatting about the weekend with a co-worker. So what am I doing wrong? It is not to say that I am not searching for a job... I like the word 'searching' it is more realistic to the situation I am in. I want to be in the fashion industry and unless you have a pair of Gucci binoculars you are unlikely to spot the one job hidden at the end of Oxford Street...and even if you do spot it, the girl with the 26 internships including one at Vogue and a year at Burberry is likely to pip you to the post.
On a daily basis I wake up excited about applying for more opportunities that cause me to imagine myself in just a few years time sat next Karl Lagerfeld at a fashion show in Paris, laughing and stuffing my face with Nutella crepes. By 10am however I am no longer sending CVs to the creme de la creme of the fashion world...because they are too busy sending me rejection e-mails to read that I happen to have an enjoyment of Les Miserable and that my answer to their entrepreneurship question is "there was that one time I made tea cosies with my Nan". Ah the rejection email. It is more painful than your first break-up, more painful than that time your best friend told you no, it wasnt the skinny jeans that made you look fat, it was because your legs had gotten chunky and MUCH more painful than the time you turned up to school in uniform on the day that happened to be "Dress Like You're in Fame" day. It causes you to: call your mother and blame her for giving birth to you; eat an entire box of Dairy Milk (both levels) and stand watching yourself wailing in front of a mirror because you need to know if you are an ugly crier on top of everything else.
Alas! There is hope at the end of the tunnel however, for you look around you and all of your friends are unemployed! You remember that we are in fact in middle of a 17 year unemployment high and you feel a little better. I am not a pessimistic person and I know I will get a job eventually; experience is the key.
So if you want to hear ramblings of how this Glossota (Gloucester - Minnesota) girl is getting on then please read my blog. I will have good days and bad days, but I will eventually be BFFFFFFF with DVF - she just doesnt know it yet. I will be top of the fashion food chain - which I believe means I want to be celery, given the industry I want to go into. Remember a moment on the lips is another 4 months in HR begging the Press office to let you be a runner on the next season fashion shoot...
See you all tomorrow - I will be the one trying to tell my mother my jumper has not gotten too tight for me, I am merely going for the Marilyn Monroe look.
Becky xx
PS - Word of the day thanks to Frank Skinner: Blinge - an alternative to vajazzle.
Unemployed is perhaps the ugliest word that one can carry in her repertoire. It is worse than 'fat', 'unattractive' or even 'stupid' as it comes with connotations....ie - due to one or all of the aforementioned words, you are unable to land yourself a job. I am not fat, hopefully not unattractive and not stupid yet it seems I am unable to find myself sat in an office eating a cereal bar chatting about the weekend with a co-worker. So what am I doing wrong? It is not to say that I am not searching for a job... I like the word 'searching' it is more realistic to the situation I am in. I want to be in the fashion industry and unless you have a pair of Gucci binoculars you are unlikely to spot the one job hidden at the end of Oxford Street...and even if you do spot it, the girl with the 26 internships including one at Vogue and a year at Burberry is likely to pip you to the post.
On a daily basis I wake up excited about applying for more opportunities that cause me to imagine myself in just a few years time sat next Karl Lagerfeld at a fashion show in Paris, laughing and stuffing my face with Nutella crepes. By 10am however I am no longer sending CVs to the creme de la creme of the fashion world...because they are too busy sending me rejection e-mails to read that I happen to have an enjoyment of Les Miserable and that my answer to their entrepreneurship question is "there was that one time I made tea cosies with my Nan". Ah the rejection email. It is more painful than your first break-up, more painful than that time your best friend told you no, it wasnt the skinny jeans that made you look fat, it was because your legs had gotten chunky and MUCH more painful than the time you turned up to school in uniform on the day that happened to be "Dress Like You're in Fame" day. It causes you to: call your mother and blame her for giving birth to you; eat an entire box of Dairy Milk (both levels) and stand watching yourself wailing in front of a mirror because you need to know if you are an ugly crier on top of everything else.
Alas! There is hope at the end of the tunnel however, for you look around you and all of your friends are unemployed! You remember that we are in fact in middle of a 17 year unemployment high and you feel a little better. I am not a pessimistic person and I know I will get a job eventually; experience is the key.
So if you want to hear ramblings of how this Glossota (Gloucester - Minnesota) girl is getting on then please read my blog. I will have good days and bad days, but I will eventually be BFFFFFFF with DVF - she just doesnt know it yet. I will be top of the fashion food chain - which I believe means I want to be celery, given the industry I want to go into. Remember a moment on the lips is another 4 months in HR begging the Press office to let you be a runner on the next season fashion shoot...
See you all tomorrow - I will be the one trying to tell my mother my jumper has not gotten too tight for me, I am merely going for the Marilyn Monroe look.
Becky xx
PS - Word of the day thanks to Frank Skinner: Blinge - an alternative to vajazzle.
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