Forgive me Lagerfeld for I have sinned

So this week has been an expensive week. I'm the kind of girl who will literally spend money at any excuse. My mum gave me like a couple of hundred quid last week because I'm so delightful and I was acting like I had won £45 million jackpot. It's nearly gone. I was paying for other people's taxis, other peoples jager bombs, which is a true shocker for me because I hold on to my own jager bombs like they're my new born child coated in gold dust.  And you know like when you go to the kebabby and you're counting out your coppers to afford a small chips. No not me, I went to yo yo burger (for those none Bristolians this is the equivalent to burger king) and actually bought so much that I qualified for free chips.


So anyway this all came about because my trendy friend had her group of other trendy friends down to stay and that of course meant spending £80 on two nights out and acting like it was Christmas or my birthday (which is in 6 days.) One of these lovely friends wore a gorgeous borderie anglaise white dress and I thought she looked truly Divine. But apparently a little too Divine, previous comments she had received were 'virgin' and 'frigid.'

(Spring/ Summer 2012 collection of lady like dresses, apologies for the huge gap, computers are silly. Clockwise from top left, Alexander Mcqueen, Chanel, Derek Lam, Jil Sander, Louis Vuitton and Ralph Lauren.)

These were of course boy comments (see blog post The man the myth and the shirt dress for more detail.) But on my hysterical shopping spree, I had come across some rather innocent looking outfits. Topshop was teaming with white and even the grungy Urban Outfitters was brimming with lace and knee length skirts. But whats funnier is that I really wanted them.


At the age of 17 I would have rather have worn a bin bag than a knee length skirt, fair enough, at times I looked like Josie Jump on acid when but still. So why would we want to wear outfits that encourage every man and woman alive to presume we are as about as sexually active as a habit wearing teddy bear?

(See what I mean?)

When I was 17, I wore skirts that Jodie Marsh would have framed because I wanted to make people think I was cooler and edgier and sluttier and more vile than I actually was. Truth is I used to (and still do) rush home to watch My Parents are Aliens and spent about 50% of my pocket money on cross stitch supplies. And if any real boy had approached me I think I would have actually cried.

(Typical weekend outfit)

This led me to thinking that maybe I have spent my whole life dressing as something I'm not. When I was 17 I dressed like Joan Collins. And now that I am near enough Joan's age, and actually am a smutty (don't wanna describe myself as slutty) shabby, tramp I'm trying to cover it up by dressing like Princess Ann or Snow White everyday.


When celebrities have spent all their money buying their friends giant robot rabbits or have blown up their livers after doing too many superior jager bombs they go to rehab. Does the same work in the fashion world? Because I spent too many months of my life wearing tights with brick walls printed on them does that now mean I will be spending the next few years trying to recompense that by wearing completely neutral and typically pretty, blank canvas clothing? Am I trying to make up for past fashion sins?


It's like I've had a substance abuse problem. In my case being hideous patterned tights paired with denim skirts. And now I'm having to send myself away to the fashion nunnery in order to pay for my sins. Maybe the fashion houses are aware of our previous fashion hangovers, maybe its just a coincidence or perhaps it is just trendy and wonderfully flattering to wear a lot of white in a beautifully innocent way? All I know is that I'm embracing this second chance trend as if I was Madonna herself (the saint not the sinner, I mean singer.)

(Madonna definitely not embracing the trend)

I am definitely being something I'm not though. I don't think I would go down too well with members of the Clergy. Also I don't know what to tell you about Crucifix jewellery. I wear it in a kind of rebellious ironic way, like the way urban outfitters intended, but maybe that's just what they want me to think.


Anyway that about wraps it up really. Can't promise you that I'm gonna be terribly prompt with my next entry, seeing as I am in Leeds all this week and then IT'S MY BIRTHDAY ON SATURDAY!


Also don't know why on the last post its telling you to go to a Kylie Minogue site, I don't want you to do that.


Over and out kids.

What I would do with £45 million

So yes it is a Thursday, a whole Thursday too late, I know how totally rubbish I am, just skipping a week of blog. I am useless, I don't need telling. But sometimes even us divinely beautiful, talented, fashion bloggers need a holiday especially when birthday cake is calling!

(Last time I wrote my blog)

So this week I know I said I was going to do fashion hangovers but that was way back in the land before time when I was still writing my blog so that idea is a little bit past it now. I am still following requests and house mate requests this week was what would you do if you won the £45 million euromillions jack pot. So here we go.


We've all had this conversation, 'well i would give most of the money to charity' or 'I'd put it in the bank and live off the interest' or 'I'd pay off all my debts and just be happy and live inconspicuously in my normal routine.' I'm sorry, let me just hit snooze on my alarm because you just bored me to sleep. Yeah ok you can do that stuff if you won like a couple of mill but we're talking about £45 million. I would definitely be showing off my ridiculous amount of wealth as best I can to display just how friggin special God must think I am to have selected me to win.


So here's how I'd start off. I would get a solid gold, fully working, hippogryth shaped jumbo jet to take me to Paris where it would drop me in L'avenue de Montaigne where I would make a trip to Dior and buy the most outrageously ridiculous dress in there (I think I may have mentioned this in a previous blog but here's a reminder, I'm getting deja-ecrit.) I would put this dress on and where it out of the shop (like you did with shoes when you were kids) after kindly asking the shop assistant to dispose of my rags, and I would parade down the street wearing that dress.

(Oh hi I just won the lottery, how do you do?)

Next thing on my list would be to see the Queen naked. I don't care how it happens it's just gotta be done because I'm pretty sure not any old bum can see the Queen naked. I would do this whilst eating the worlds biggest burger with Kermit the frog, because I can. I would then order the world's most expensive cocktail (Movida's 'flawless' coming in at £35,000) and throw it in Robbie Williams' face.

(Flawless-a large measure of Louis XII cognac, half a bottle of Cristal Rose champagne, some brown sugar, angostura bitters and a few flakes of 24-carat edible gold leaf. And at the bottom of the crystal glass is an 11-carat white diamond ring and it's going all over his smug face.)

Moving swiftly on I would request Jeeves, as in Ask Jeeves, to order me the most expensive gigolo, maybe even Hugh Hefner just purely to tell them they were bad in bed (even if they weren't), and then tell the Guardian, because no one believes the Sun. Or maybe I'd hire Robbie Williams to have sex with me, then shave his eyebrows off while he was sleeping, then tell him he was bad in bed and then ask for my money back and then get Heston Blumenthal to make me breakfast.

(Shocking performance Hugh)

I would employ lots of infants to spring random love children on previous lovers, celebrities and generally people I don't like. 


You may be thinking that I am being totally selfish in my spending of my millions but no I haven't forgotten about everyone else. One friend once asked me if I'd still remember him if I won the lottery. I do still remember him and to prove this would buy him the most expensive and more importantly, most inconvenient present, such as a giant Japanese robot rabbit I once saw that was about £1000,0000 and could fill a house. He couldn't possibly return it. That would just be rude.

(Happy 'I won the lottery'!)

I suppose if I wasn't being a total psychotic bitch I might do some nice things as well. Like hire Robert Patterson to just go and sit next to my house mate in her lecture or get George Michael to sing for my mum (if he can.) If I'm feeling particularly generous I could pay off a few debts here and there.


So there you go, that's what I'd do with £45 million. What would you do? You don't have to tell me, just thought it was polite to ask.


If it all goes tits up then I could just buy this flat in Chelsea and pretend I'm Blair Waldorf without the eating disorder. 

(£32,500,000 for a flat, impulse purchase)

Maybe I should buy a ticket.