Kids Couture

I am still alive. I have been away you see, over to Seattle (or some other odd city that sounds business like) to pick up my first blogging award, a prestigious one awarded to those who, no matter what, relentlessly don't post, therefore I received World's Worst Blogger.

I know I'm awful and you'd rather not look at me right now but if you can find it in your dear hearts to forgive me then I'd appreciate it, I do, as always, have an excuse. I have been captive of my final essay topically featuring The Great Gatsby for the past two months which was shortly followed by my one week stint at Your Hair/Hair Ideas/Blonde Hair and so I have only JUST surfaced for air this week.

My days now consist of sitting on my lap top and scouring the Internet for any job that I may be able to contribute something to. This has so far included assistant jobs at both Trains Monthly and Automotive magazine, as I am a none driver I am just not sure how much I can contribute. 

(and I really mean it)

All this future thought has left me having a little Peter Pan moment as I come to the realisation that it is well and truly time for me to grow up. Which has left me longing for my childhood back, which leads me onto the rather tenuous link of this months topic which is children. With this being a fashion blog I really ought to throw some style in there so the revised topic is Kids Couture. Rather than put you on a downer about growing up let us instead admire the carefree fashionistas of the younger generation with my run down of the most stylish kids out there.

1. Romeo Beckham
You know that a kid is doing well style wise when they encourage that creepy saying (that could land you with a court order) 'if he was a few years older...' I have heard that muttered from many potential cougars lips following Romeo's campaign for Burberry SS13. But even when he's not had Christopher Bailey's input this kid has enough class to sport Raybans and a quiff at the age of 10. 

(He's laughing at you because he's achieved world domination at an age when you were playing conkers)

2. Suri Cruise
I was going to hold out till the end but I am so unhealthily obsessed with Suri's style that I just couldn't wait. Although some may find it irresponsible to put a 7-year-old in day heels, I feel as though Suri may have had some input (plus she probably is in need of a little boost following hereditary height problems.) With entire fashion blogs dedicated to her and Duchess of Cambridge coveting her style there's just no competing with Suri, Anna Wintour look out! 

(Usually it's the little girl who tries to steel the 

Princesses style)

3. James Wilkie Broderick 
Being the offspring of Carrie Bradshaw (I know she's fictitious) has to have its advantages however it is not Tabatha or Marion who receive style gold here (especially since appearing in Suri's burn book) but James. His combination of Parker coats, shaggy hair, lose knits and uggs are not dissimilar from his Mother's signature New York 'I'm avoiding the cameras' look. Undone excellence.

(Like Mother Like Son)

4. Kingston Rossdale
There is no need to explain Why Kingston is so stylish you just have to Google him to believe it. His collection of different looks and hair reminds me of a street style blog from London Fashion Week! I am slightly tempted by his blue Mohawk.

(Style super hero)

5. Willow Smith
An obvious choice but she had to go in there. Anyone who can rock a pink shaven head at the age of 12 deserves a round of applause and a medal for bravery. 

(She has even perfected the nonchalant Starbucks drinking)

I am leaving this post feeling like the worst dressed person in the world and its quite depressing to think that I envy the style of a 7-year-old. Perhaps I will get Tom Cruise to adopt me as he's at a bit of a loose end and we can create a new invincible style family? Or perhaps it's just time to take a trip to Oxford Street. 

Fashion Whore

So a few weeks back (I defy the definition of journalism in the fact I make anti-news ie things that happened weeks ago that you probably know much more than me about) I got back from the big ssssmoke (as we all call it) from my mother ship that is London Fashion Week.

With the very last of Paris Fashion Week dribbling to a close today I am on a serious fashion week come down. I feel like the Bieber Feavers when they realised Selena Gomez was in the picture, ie not good.

So in my sad fashion week post I am not going to do any of the following, give write ups and reviews of my time at fashion week (I have already done that, you can read that here) or display any street style pictures, though I probably will show you a video of Burberry AW13 because I am literally obsessing to the point where I'm trying to find Christopher Bailey's email address so I can thank him for such a breath taking show.

(My letter to Christopher Bailey)

No, you can instead expect my usual hilarity and quirks when describing the industry, lucky you is all I have to say about that.

When I was younger my mum never wanted me to be any of the following things, a policewoman, a tory or a whore and unfortunately recently I have realised I am the latter. I came to realise this at the Michael Van Der Ham show at LFW.

Being me, myself and Irene I don't get great big fancy LFW invitations pouring through my letter box, much to my dismay as I check the post at least 3-4 times a day in the run up to fashion week. I therefore have to be what I like to call a Fashion Week Whore.

This is the process whereby I have to literally lose all traces of dignity to live fashion week to it's fullest.  I have to sell my soul in order to get myself into shows. Here is how I became (and how you can become) a style slut at fashion week.

(I've got these girls all wrong, all that time I thought they were sleeping with Hugh for the celebrity and really all they were after was a ticket to the Burberry AW13 show)

1. The older the better
Most girls use older men to access their gold mine or get a free bunny costume. I use mine to get into Michael Van Der Ham shows. Follow an important looking older gentlemen around and all of a sudden you're his young floozy (not literally but that's what people think.) Floozy or no floozy I saw myself some good shows thanks to Grandad Fashion.

(Sharpen those elbows)

2. Join the non ticket queue 
Yep there is such a thing. A long trail of anxious looking bloggers who haven't quite got their look right and stick out as a non-ticketer. The bouncers try and squeeze you in if there is any space once everyone has taken their seats. You're best to get there early cause then you'll be at the front of the queue and have access to the bouncers so you can attempt to flirt your way into entry (I told you, you have to sell your soul!) Never ever stand in the ticket queue without a ticket, getting turned away from this is fashion suicide.

(Just know either of the girls sitting next to her and you're in)

3. Make a buddy
Make friends with someone who is likely to be accepted into shows. This can be any of the following calibre:
-Someone overtly dressed, I'm talking sci-fi style, the press will bow at their presence and therefore people will want them at their shows and of course they will then say 'oh but I can't be without my Martha Thursday' and in you go to Ashish.
-Someone with connections, one of my favourite London friends literally knows everyone, it's like an episode of Cheers, she could walk through fashion week and have half the people wave at her. This means she usually knows someone on the list which is good enough for the bouncers apparently.

(Think Anna Dello Russo every time)

4. Or dress overtly yourself
I'm not brave enough yet but you wanna conquer Somerset House? You gotta get down to the haberdashery and pompom your way to success.

5. Act like you're meant to be there
In my experience being obnoxious enough to actually say 'don't you know who I am?' actually works. You act like you are meant to be on that list with the excuse 'my invite is lost in the post' and they tend to be apologetic and promise to seat you as soon as they can. Though not at Fashion Scout, Portia on the door is a no shit bitch and she will rip your heart out.

(Hero, sunglasses in the rain)

Aside these things there are other ways to make yourself look more fashiony than you are, which frankly I need as my uni life consists of a H&M jumper a day keeps the overdraft away.

-Wearing sunglasses on a daily bases, even in February when even Doris Day can't make the sunshine.
-Not eating in public, I have to moonlight as a human being at fashion week as during the day I am an alien who survives on air.
-Being on the phone, if you're taking calls at fashion week then clearly you must have the busiest career  girl at Elle magazine.

Reading back over this I realise I am a sad sad person, but I don't really care because I went to fashion week even if it did cost me my dignity. Lowest point? Attempting to use a last season press pass, I might as well have handed them a dead kitten.

Stylish?

So I'm in a really good mood. 'How unusual' you must be thinking as it is not often that this sceptic blogger starts off a post on a positive note. But I have just received my first piece of fan mail. Well it's not fan mail really, but just a lovely comment on one of my posts that has given me every incentive to write this post (even if it is 3 days late) so thank you, you know who you are.

Now back to the usual so don't get too comfy kids.

Thursday of next is Valentines day and I am off to meet up with the love of my life, London, for an exotic and intoxicating affair with Fashion Week. I see you there rolling your eyes 'here she goes', yes here I go, I am so unbelievably excited for LFW (yep we're using initials now) and I am afraid that I am going to be going on about it for months to come.

However, going to London Fashion Week comes with the obvious mind numbing problem of what an earth is one to wear? Last season was my first season and I thought that it would be enough simply to own a KENZO sweater but somehow I still didn't end up in any street style photos because well, I just wasn't stylish enough. Little did I know that during LFW the definition of 'style' changes into something along the lines of....

(Wow, I feel inadequate)

I managed to fulfil the role of 'intern's first Fashion Week' perfectly (I still cringe at the fact that I wore Converse for two days!) It is right about now that I am lay in a great big pile of my hideous crumpled clothes comatosed by the fact that I am just not stylish enough for Fashion Week. But what is style? How does one determine what's stylish.

I always thought that style=designer+layering², in other words I thought that having a designer bag and wearing layers of beautiful clothes that went well together would be enough. ER-ERRR, you're wrong as you can plainly see by the examples of Street Style I have given above. 

Plus my fail safe plan of wearing a KENZO sweater forever more has gone to pot as H&M have done a fakey version. I am slightly heart broken as now I'm just the jerk who paid full price. 

So after hours of analysis of street style blogs I have compiled some tips on how to be stylish during Fashion Week. I hope they work because I am banking on them to get me into ELLE Collections.

1. More is More
Coco Chanel once said 'Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and take one thing off', follow this to a T until Fashion Week when it becomes bull to the s**t (sorry Coco.) Less is more does not really work at Fashion Week. It's the one time you are permitted to wear every single item of jewellery you own and for it to be called ground-breaking rather than mirror-breaking.

(Anna Dello Russo championing more is more- if she's not a style icon then who is?)

2. Layers
Layers do come into play but not the way you would usually wear them i.e, wearing a thermal vest? Not layering. A classic stylish layering method is to pile on as many coats as possible as it makes you look richer, classier you name it. Though don't take the tube as you'll most likely pass out due to heat exhaustion. You could also opt for layers of bags, carry two clutches or swing several cross-body bags on. It gives the idea that you're so well known, designers send you enough bags for you to wear two at once when the reality is you spent the last of your overdraft on ebay. 

(See, it just looks expensive)

3. Statement pieces
Street style photographers will always make a bee line for a really dramatic brooch or a statement necklace, they like to use it in their editorials called 'details'. If you've got a fabulous look-at-me necklace on then it will carry the rest of your outfit. This means that it doesn't matter as much if you dropped that secret sausage roll down your front whilst you were eating it round the back of Somerset House, whilst everyone else ate sushi. It works in the same way as a dependable boyfriend when you're smashed: it doesn't matter how awful you look the statement piece will always hold you up, you can depend on it.

(You'd never notice a spaghetti stain on that beast)

4. Death shoes 
I learnt very early on in Fashion Week that flats are just not acceptable. There are a few exceptions, such as if you have the latest designs from Charlotte Olympia or Jimmy Choo but otherwise you will be shunned (especially if you wear dirty Converse, Lord above!) Problem is that the British Fashion Council obviously have a very sick sense of humour because Somerset House is entirely cobbled. What's worse than wearing flats? Lying flat on your face that's what.

(I've got these in five different colours)

5. Tailoring
This is like the trick of the trade, a way of wearing high street without anyone really realising. Tailoring always looks expensive and you know why? Because the high street don't really do it. You see any good tailoring out there? You grab it, asos does it best and cheapest. (This section isn't funny, I couldn't think of any tailoring jokes, tailoring isn't funny, it's very serious like the girl below)

(Too cool for school)

6. Clown face
During Fashion Week you need to have yourself a full face of make up. I'm not talking Essex face, they won't like that, no I'm on about glitter, sequins and bright blue eye shadow. This may be a shock to my Bristolian system but it's what goes down in the city. Think Boy George rather than Kim Kardashian. It's just scary enough to grab everyones attention.

(Stella Katterman is a trooper when it comes to Fashion Week beauty)

And there you are, I've stuck to my usual six pieces of advice, I know it's odd but there are always six! Reading back over it I have pretty much told you to take style tips from your favourite drag queen and in a way I think it's a glorious thing! I remember when I was stopped by a street style photographer (any excuse to get that one in) and he said 'it's great isn't it, Fashion Week? It's when everyone looks their most crazy.'

I was, at first, a little offended, but he is right and how liberating to look absolutely mental and for once in the year and for that to be the look that everyone is aspiring to. It's like all the uncool kids at school are getting their own back (I am ranting because I was clearly one of those kids.)

Before I go back to lie in my pile of clothes, a few don'ts for fashion week:
- Don't wear a really obvious high street piece that's all over the pages of Look magazine, it may be lovely but you'll see it on everyone.
-Don't wear fake designer that's like the fashion worlds circle of shame that they do in Heat.
-And don't mistake Christine Bleakley for Elle Macpherson, believe me you'll never live it down.

If all else fails cut your hair into a bob and wear dark sunglasses at all times, hopefully you'll be mistaken for Anna Wintour who's gained a few hundred pounds.

Over and out!

Refilling the glass

Let's begin with an almighty congratulations to myself for posting on time, and not only on time but having written this in advance yesterday (which for me right now is actually today which all makes it a little confusing. Imagine if tomorrow never comes then what? Shut up Martha). 

I live with some of my favourite people in the world, two welshies and one Yeovillian (and occasionally a Cornwallian from next door) and as odd of a combination that that is it works very well. However being in such close proximity with the people that I love and a clashing of accents can sometimes cause arguments and, you guessed it, I shall tell you about one now.

Last night we were playing the terrifying game of 'what will we do when we finish uni?' Now I have always been pretty sure about my future it goes something like- uni-internship-minor journalist job-freelancer-work at Elle-take Lorraine Candy's job-BOOM. Nice and easy. However two of my flatmates were trying to coerce me into their business plan to start a Cafe. Starting a cafe doesn't not fit into my own little business plan of becoming editor and chief of Elle magazine so I politely declined.

(If my job involved standing next to Tom Ford my life would be complete, Sam Cam however, you would have to pay me)

This polite decline was met by impolite words of indignanty because I would not offer up my skills as a writer to help start a cafe (make note- an amateur journalist is what is required these days in order to start a catering business). My welsh flatmate described to me that, as passionate as I may be about my future career, I need to be a realist. That's when I pulled out my fail safe speech, courtesy of J.M. Barrie, of how I believed in myself and in life everything is made up of 'faith, trust and pixie dust' to which she replied 'well a career in journalism is only to be met with dirty dishes, a scabby flat and no job'.

(I do love a disney gif)

This was followed by a ferocious row and a comparison of what would be more economically viable, a column or  a cupcake? Which then lead onto reminiscing about great cupcakes of our past and before we knew it we were mates again. 

In light of all this I couldn't help but think about optimism vs pessimism. In having such a blind faith in my future am I being an optimist or simply a fool who will surely have all there dreams dashed. In life is it better to be a moronic optimist who will wind up disappointed or a pessimist who forever assumes the worst but may sometime be surprised?

(for optimistic geeks)

I feel as though this blog is long overdue following my recent posts of my resent of the fashion and blogging industry. I was beginning to feel as though I ought to just start applying for box manufacturing jobs as we speak. I have never been sure where I stand on the glass-half-full/ half-empty scenario as I myself am the love child of Pollyanna and Grumpy the Dwarf (I am often teased about my pigtail and beard combo) and have inevitably ended up a funny mix of both and most likely have some kind of personality disorder. (I like to think my gift for blogging strives from this light hearted humour with a cynical touch). 

(You can totes see where I get my good looks)

 No one would ever admit they are a pessimist, because lets face it a pessimist is Latin for kill joy. Pessimists themselves tend to use the code word 'realist' which makes any optimistic look like they haven't thought things through and allows pessimists to get away with the saying 'try not to get too excited about it'.

My Pollyanna mother bought me up to the tune of don't stop thinking about tomorrow (quite literally, Fleetwood Mac was on loop) and that the secret of a happy life was having things to look forward to. Only to be followed by Grumpy Dad's speech of don't set your heart on it because it probably won't happen. 

(Though sometimes I feel as though old Fleetwood Mac weren't all that chirpy)

Having this attitude has often rendered me immobile before an exciting prospect because I'm stung with the fear that perhaps it won't turn out as wonderful as I hoped. 

It is times like these that we can only look to Pocahontas to reassure us about being optimistic. She was just a small town girl (living in a lonely world) just like you or I. She had greater ambitions than that of those around her, she didn't want to chose the smoothest course and she didn't want to marry Kocoum (shocker I had to google the spelling of that bad boy) she wanted to go around the river bend and good on her. She suffered some hard times along her chosen path like the time her boyf faced being bludgeoned to death by her own father (and lets face it we've all been there) but she remained optimistic and everything turned out OK in the end (as proven in the sequel Pocahontas 2: Journey to a new world, such a good watch).

(Personally I think these two should have got together, would have saved a lot of hassle)

And this thinking can probably be applied to any of your favourite films whether that is Blades of Glory 'if you can dream it you can do it' or Django (I've not seen it yet but I'm sure it has a positive ending being Quentin Tarantino).

(Is there anything in life I can't relate back to Disney?)

So write that article, bake those cupcakes, open that star wars themed burlesque joint (a real place please google) because if you fail you can optimistically learn from your mistakes and optimistically remain optimistic that something better will come along. It will all turn out all right in the end. 

Furthermore if you can't ever see the good in the world then what on earth is there worth living for (please let this blog not promote the idea that there isn't anything worth living for).

(The Empire Strips Back- can't take credit for that joke, be a bit concerned if I could)

In conclusion it is worth being an optimist and having a little belief in yourself and your ability. I'm sure that at one point the Storm Trooper stripper couldn't sleep at night worrying about whether she was portraying the role authentically enough and now look at her! 

If you need any extra inspiration then just log into your pinterest account and search 'optimism' and you will surely be bombarded with sickenling optimistic quotes (see, there is my sarcasm). If you don't have a Pinterest account then your life probably isn't worth living anyway.

Things I hate about blogging

To start off, you can probably expect very little fashion in this post, furthermore it will most likely be a rant on, blogging, bloggers and the whole blogosphere. This has been spurred on by having to write two entire essays focusing on the subject of blogging that has rather taken over my life (as you can probably tell by my casual use of the word furthermore). In this judgement (haha essay joke) let us proceed.

So I started blogging about 3 years ago now, partly because I wanted to get into London College of Fashion, partly because I was hoping that I might actually get discovered and be cool enough for people to want to have awkward pictures with me on nights out. Neither of which have happened (I like to think there's still time for my fans to find me) so if you are thinking of starting a blog I'm not a great advert.

I've plodded along mainly because people get angry if I don't, I occasionally make myself laugh when writing posts and I just feel like Carrie Bradshaw whenever I get complements on it.

(We even have the same laptop, I got mine on ebay so could possibly be the same one?)

Anyway away we go...

1. Timekeeping
Naming myself Martha Thursday was the biggest mistake of my life. Never EVER name yourself after the day you are meant to post. Completely moronic, setting myself up to fail. Every time Thursday comes rolling round and I can't come up with something amusing I feel like I've failed life. Especially as my (joke steeling) blogger friend is so efficient! Before you know it people are calling you Martha Monday because you post so irregularly (which is annoyingly more catchy).

(I know right?)

2. Competitive nature
So I went to fashion week, as we all know because I won't shut up about it (you just wait its happening all over again next month). I met a lotta bloggers. Everyone always asks how many followers you have, the people I was associating with had like 300-400. 'How many do you have Martha?' '11' awkward. Made more awkward when you are asked to move out of a picture so they can take one of the blogger they actually recognise. Though my more popular blogger friend Oshley put a link on his blog to mine so do look at his too (click on his name I'm all technical like that).

3. The lookey-downey pose
Those of you who are blog connoisseurs will be familiar with this pose. One hand in hair, look down, and smile. I hate it. It is meant to look natural but when in life does one ever do that pose? what is it? 'A bird shat in my hair and I'm happy about it?' But all bloggers do it, unfortunately no one told me this rule so I tend to just go in, full beam, big grin.

(It's just friggin' criminal. I feel awkward on your behalf)

4. Self-indulgence
This is the one aspect of blogging that makes me cringe. Right now I am sat at my computer typing out this nonsense that really has no importance in the world, coming up with jokes that I assume are gonna make you laugh. Basically I think I'm really clever and funny enough to have a blog. You don't care.

5. One man band
Blogging is hard work. There's this myth that somehow it opperates as a hobby. Nah-ahh. Being entertaining is exhausting enough as it is without then having to write it all up with good spelling and grammar which admittedly is one of my short comings. It's like meeting your (non-existant) boyfriends parents, providing small talk and then writing a review on how it all went. I'd give anything to have a little intern banging out half decent blogs on my behalf, who cares if they're not any good at least I'm not writing them.

(I feel like this is the intern for me)

6. Readership
Sometimes I feel pretty hopeless. I look at my blog statistics and it tells me that precisely 8 people read my last post. In brackets it aught to say 'all of whom were either you or your mother'. Sometimes I get a few more than that, only to discover that my reader is someone from Botswana on Google images. I feel a little as though my talent is wasted.

7. Tavi Gevinson
To top it off the Queen of blogs Miss Gevinson. This isn't a personal issue or anything Tavi, before you take offence. It's just the fact that she struck so bloody lucky. Right now there are about 6000 other bloggers who do what she does much much better (including myself blates). And yet somehow she has just been handed blogger of the century award on a plate. I like to think I could write her under the table. (i.e. I'm green with envy as are the words I'm writing).

(Oh! Tavi! Mind moving your 16-year-old hiney over and making room for the rest of us?)

It's times like this, when I've written a post about what I hate about the fashion industry and another about what I hate about blogging, that I start to doubt that I'm in the right line of work. But it's when my asos order is the most exciting part of my week that I realise I am.

Happy exam period and just have a lovely day

Also I wrote this post yesterday but have delayed putting it up due to all of the above reasons. Let's just call me Martha Friday and be done with it.