The hair bear bunch

I'm getting that September style feeling. You know just before you go back to uni/school/college and you haven't seen anyone (well you're not a recluse but you get the picture) for 6 weeks or longer and you want to prove you've not fallen into an ugly hole over the summer? In fact you want to do quite the opposite, you completely re-vamp and work extremely hard on your image so that when all of your acquaintances see you they are so stunned by your looks that you have miraculously developed over the summer that they assume that you must have always looked like that and they are only noticing it now. And you play it all down by saying things like 'what this old thing?' and 'I thought my hair looked dreadful today?' And everyone remarks on what a lovely modest young lady you are.


Now the classic short cut to achieving this new season rebirth is a hair cut, a bit off the shoulders, a mop chop, because, lets face it, if you've got bad hair people avoid you. No one wants to run their fingers through a scrubbing brush. It is a tragedy that this required cut has to happen in September, the one month when rain is almost guaranteed and your GHDs become better company than your boyfriend. In fact the more I think about it the whole experience is extremely stressful. I remember my brother requiring a 'my first hair cut' book, to ease him through the experience.

(not totally reassured by the fact the man holding the razor has his eyes shut)

When it comes to hair the whole world is captivated. Even as little kids we are hounded with stories about terrifying hair situations. Rapunzel was locked away in a tower in fear of someone stealing her hair that could heal wounds (referring to Disney's recent film Tangled, if you've not seen it its worth a watch!) And the tale of Melisande whose hair never stopped growing and to stop it strangling her in her sleep had it cut daily, which going by Tulisa's £250  a day price tag is bound to make anyone cry. Even my dad, whose aging pony tail is not the most stylish job, watches in fascination as Davina, Claudia and Penelope swish their locks and whisper 'because we're worth it.'

(Keri Katona's clip in extensions)

One of the most frightening prospects that come with hair cuts is the idea of choosing what to have done. Over the summer I have come across countless dilemmas about hair. It's not like a new outfit, you can't just return it if it goes wrong. My ex flat mate had a constant ongoing battle with her hair. Trying to embrace the change she died her hair, which had been bleach blonde for years, to bright red and, despite every ones oohs and aahs, instantly hated it and it has taken her the best part of 6 months trying to get it back to her original colour and she's still not there, Sainsbury's should write her a check for the amount of hair dyes she helped them sell.


Does this mean that we should, as Sharpay Evans once said, stick to what we know, stick to the status quo rather than brave new ventures? I know a collection of people who have lived by the same hair cut for years and it hasn't done them wrong, I can't imagine one particularly northern friend of mine without a fringe, or my father without a pony tail for that matter. So what does it take to make the first incision?


Sat in the hair dressers you are bombarded with millions of questions, 'should I cut it off?', 'fringe or no fringe?', it's very easy to become a yes man when with a hair dresser as I recently discovered at my latest hair appointment, I found myself saying 'yes I love Dorothy Perkins and yes I hate Lady Gaga', neither of which are true, just to avoid awkward conversation. There was one occasion when I really did go a bit mad.

(My pick of some of the worst kinda up-doos, mind some are pretty clever! wish I could get my hair to look more like a vehicle of flight.)

On holiday in Brighton I asked the hair dresser to suggest a hair style he said asymmetric and lose the fringe, unsure I said we'd proceed with even hair and then decide at the end. But this hair dresser was cunning and after cleverly fueling me with free wine I let him cut my hair into a wonky bob. It actually looked decent but I could never find anyone who could recreate it like Hoolio could, or maybe it was Havier?


So yes hair cuts are traumatic but they also necessary. Your hair is probably one of the first things people will notice about you, my mum recently told me I looked more approachable with my new doo. Charming. The important thing is that it's your body and your hair should be reflective of you not what Loreal wants you to be. I also tend to find that Hair dressers, being hair dressers, tend to be good at cutting hair and they won't make you look like an idiot.


All the same I went for my old fringe again, it means I don't have to pluck my eyebrows as often, whilst simultaneously gulping down Holland and Barret hair vitamins to try and get myself some Rapunzel hair for some gorgeous prince to climb up.

Lost in translation

You are all probably sick of my constant apologies. 'I'm sorry, I won't do it again!' and then there I go almost a week late with my blog yet again. I can hear you all saying "enough with the 'I'm sorrys' how about not doing anything to be sorry for?" Well in reply to that, all my lovely loyal readers, I promise that in two weeks when everything has settled down between us and I am back at uni I will be totally committed to you.

The cause to my delay is that fashion nerd has become uni nerd over the past month or so. I have become almost a university guru to oncoming freshers. I have been offering out much demanded advice on what to bring, how to get freshers tickets, how to meet people blah blah blah. Seriously UCAS should pay me some dollar cause I'm pretty sure these kids couldn't do it without me ;) (cheeky text face wink to indicate I don't really think I'm that brilliant.)

But surprisingly one of the biggest questions I got asked was 'what on earth shall I wear?!' Hmmmm what an intriguing question. Surely you wear what you would wear any old day of the week for 2 reasons;

1- Your moving house practical wear is usually required.

2- By wearing what you would usually wear you are giving an accurate representation of what you will look     like in weeks to come. (These people will no doubt see you looking your worst anyway IE no make up, granny PJs and crying because you're so hungover you can't speak.)

(This is what freshers fashion will mainly consist of, however best not to turn up like this, I don't know these people)

Now unfortunately I can not back up my argument because I remember fretting so much about what to wear and making a real effort to look nice but then again not too nice on moving day. I also completely freaked out my former flat mates when later on in the year I recited the exact outfits they wore on moving day, (I can always remember what people were wearing when I first met them, it's a gift.) So could this mean that actually first impressions do count because I can still remember that one of my flatmates wore pink jeans, a grey cardie, white vest and sandals and another wore a blue superdry hoodie and dark blue jeans? (Really hope they're reading this now and being equally freaked out.)

On my recent jolly up to Manchester I met up with one particularly curly friend  of mine who is off to UEA in September. She was having a dilemma with the particularly tricky subject on whether to re-shave part of her head again. Now I thought it looked pretty cool, edgy and VERY her. But she was worried that it would just be too extreme and give off the wrong impressions.

But it worked for her in Manchester so why not UEA? Can style really not get translated from place to place? I remember when I moved from Manchester to Dorset begging my mum to buy me a whole new wardrobe because my slightly wackier city fashion got totally mis-translated and came out as gobbledygook. But I soon found that it was very easy to fit in because of the lack of variety that was on offer. It wasn't that they didn't understand what I was wearing it just wasn't in their fashion vocabulary. Exeter high street, until very recently, was like an arm pit, it stank. I'm hoping that the soon to be Urban Outfitters there will spice things up a bit.

(Definitely do not turn up on your first day like these eager beavers, you don't want to come across mad keen!)

My mum gave me the Guardians 'Fresher 2011' guide the other day (I'm not a fresher bless her) and the style advice in there literally made me want to start crying, looksy I will show you....

She looks very, VERY play it safe boring. That top is hideous and it doesn't fit her. I love the Guardian but please for your own sakes ignore this advice and just wear something lovely, something you really like that expresses who you are.  Sooner or later everyone will find out that actually you are a bit of a freak and you don't like to dress like simple sally to the left of us.  University is a pool of young exciting people who are probably equally as worried on whether to shave their head or wear their leather shorts or tattoo their forehead. Most university's fashion sense is bilingual and someone is bound to speak your style.

Just be you, they'll all love ya!

Also apologies to anyone who does in fact own this top but I am sure you would wear it with something less dull and buy the correct size. Oh and my curly Mancunian shave your head, it looks great!

Funny girls

For all of the funny girls.


So, once again my blog is late (they should call me Martha ....day.) Apologies, I spent the most part of my week trying to be topical, racking my brains trying to somehow relate my blog back to the riots but I just didn't think that writing about the best balaclava or who's k-swiss I preferred was really very fashion nerd.


Recently I have found myself a little lacking in self confidence, (people who know me will know this is not really one of my usual traits.) Over the summer I have been to stay with a few uni friends and been out on the town, on the 'razz' if you will, and have begun to notice a rather repetitive system. To begin with all, ALL, of the boys will surround my friends and once they have found out they are unavailable they will turn to me, charming. You see I have this habit of tending to make friends with really stunning girls, I think perhaps I need to hang around outside the Jeremy Kyle set and then maybe I could look slightly more stunning.


In a sober situation I'm fine, on a roll! I can charm everyone with my jokes (I don't like to blow my own trumpet but when it comes to funny I like to think I'm a bit of alright, correct me if I'm wrong.) But when your out and talking isn't really an option because Calvin Harris is insisting on having his say on the dance floor, a personality is neither here nor there, my comedy routine is at a complete waste in oceana. You have to wear your personality on your face and body, in other words be fit. But what happens when you're the funny one? Velma always solved the mysteries but Daphne always got Fred and Velma was always having to traipse round by herself not even allowed to tag along with Shaggy and Scooby. And as Chandler always said no-one really wants to be the funny one.

(Chandler, me and you are on the same page mate)

Now don't get me wrong I know I'm not hideous, I would class myself as perfectly decent looking (its very hard to not sound like I'm putting myself down or being completely arrogant in this blog), but I just don't consider myself 'fit'. I'm the kind of girl guys like once they get to know me and then even then chances are its more in a sisterly way or a back up (the amount of guys I've promised to marry if we're still both alone by 40!) So this summer when I found myself looking to change my body image, all of the end results that I pictured were the classical 'fitness' that men tend to scurry after.


So what is fit? What are the rules? How do you become one of these girls? Here is my comprehensive list on what is required to become fit on a night out....


1. The body-con skirt/dress.
If you're fit you're wearing this, wearing this means you're fit. No self respecting girl would be wearing this unless they had the body to pull it off, or so this is what we lead men to believe so that it is so drummed into their heads that eventually you don't actually need the body, the dress indicates you already have it.


2. Camouflage
Make up, as discussed in my previous entry make up is the master of disguise. It enhances any fitness you already have and covers up any imperfections.


3. The Pose
Posing for the camera is not one of my strong points, I often deliberately make a stupid face so that if the photo turns out really awful at least I have an excuse. But to be considered 'fit' you need that photo. You know the one I mean, ladies's profile pictures with one knee bent, hands on hips, head tilted to one side. It is this sort of photo that will encourage lots of adds from bizarre pigeon fancying polish people on facebook.

(The boys just love the Mila.)

4. Dancing
Now the mistake I always make when I'm out is actually trying to dance, this can go very wrong, if you can actually dance then by all means dance away. However if you're like me and sign out the lyrics to the song then don't bother. It seems that a non-offensive sway and wiggling your bum should do the trick.


5. Hair
Men, on the whole, can't deal with crazy hair, they can't even get to grips with my full fringe! Miley Cyrus hair seems to be a favourite (and to be honest who wouldn't want her hair!)

(She obvs read my blog, she's even got the body con dress!)

6. Drink
With the right amount of Blackthorn in them any one can appear fit


Now I am by no means suggesting or encouraging that this is what is necessary for us ladies to do, it just seems to be the way to guarantee yourself male attraction, which is sad really. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and in the long run being the funny one tends to pay off, lets face it the body con dress isn't really marriage material and I'm pretty sure Velma played for the other team anyway.

Make 'em laugh

the beautiful lie

A story about make up


I have to first apologise for my lateness with this blog, I have been lounging around on the beaches of the Algarve neglecting fashion nerd. But this is exactly what inspired my beauty based blog. What is it about being on holiday that always brings out my beauty side? I'm never usually too bothered about it, as my long suffering house mate is well aware as I usually get her to make me up,  I'm fashion nerd not cosmetics geek!


Well when I'm stuck on the beach with my ever irritating relatives I find myself delving into the dephs of ELLE and VOGUE that I never usually read, you know the back bit where they encourage you to buy extortionate cosmetics. However in my desperation to find some entertainment I found myself fixated. I was always aware that make up could transform a look but I was not aware to such an extent or how fashion forward it can be.

Holidays also bring around the need for new cosmetics. Firstly everything you already own needs to be down sized to Sylvanian Families proportions, which calls for a trip to Superdrug, those miniatures are so cute! Everything needs to have some kind of  waterproof or SPF property, you don't want to look like the only ding bat on the beach actually wearing sun cream on ya face! Then  tan becomes a bit of an issshhh, you can't go off on holiday bragging about how dark you're gonna be then come back like Casper the friendly ghost so fake tan comes into play.... Though my tan's real, I can show you the bikini lines, promise!

(me after a few hours sunbathing, should have removed the sunglasses though..)

I always think that no holiday can go completed without Duty Free. Aaaaah duty free, your shiny counters and low prices allure me into buying so many items I do not need. This time I came back with Clinique lipstick in a candy floss pink all ready for puckering and some Lancome mascara. The mascara bought on a flashback to when my mum's friend from Windsor was helping me do my make up like Kelly Osbourne for a celeb look-a-like party I was attending (how deeply unflattering, this was 6 years ago and Kell was not in her heyday.) Anyway she said, with a london twang, "ALWAYYYS use Lannnncommmme mascara." So I do (when I have the funds.)

(I never usually take make up tips from a rabbit, but this one does wear Chanel. See! Who says animal testing doesn't have it's benefits? Just don't tell the RSPCA.)

With all this in mind, and on our faces, it's a wonder anyone can recognise us! You've watched those make over shows, you've seen what Trinny, Suzannah and Gok have done to these quite frankly hideous women, they look beautiful! This reminded me of something that one of my guy friends said to me a few months back;

"You know it's so unfair on us boys, you girls are tricksters thats what you are, you can dye your hair and wear push up bras and cake your face in makeup until you look stunning! And then when it comes down to it all and all your disguises are off you could be rough and it's really disapointing! I think us guys should have our scores bumped up, like if they were a 5/10 you'd bump it up to a 7/10 because we can't really do anything to improve ourselves!"

He's got a point, we have got it lucky, if you're an ugly guy then your ugly, we don't have to be born with it we've got Maybelline. I think when Paloma sang, "Do you want the truth or something beautiful?", I'm pretty sure that she was not in fact talking about her elledged romance but rather asking her boyf whether he wants to see her all bare faced after using a Simple cleansing wipe or whether you want to see her all dolled up in her finest Maybelline New York? 

So to finish we are all liars and cheating our way through life, dates and nights out with the help of concealers and falsies, and we all do it and all know about it and that's how it's gonna stay. It seems like make up is no longer purely an enhancer but a whole new identity. Everyone can tranform themselves, though aparently this rule does not apply to the elderly according to this fabulous quote from Nicola Formichetti;
"I think old people should just be old and go away"

Go on then... Bugger off

A room of my own

So most of us have flown the nest already and if you haven't then a vast majority of you will be this September (in fact most of us have flown the nest and have now returned back to it for the summer bothering mummy bird for worms, at this point I hope you are realising this is a metaphor.)


So those of you who are moving will probably be undertaking the joys and delights of uni accommodation (you can take those adjectives as literal or sarcastic because I loved my halls but I know plenty who didn't...) Now those in the know will tell you that your future room is most likely not in Laurence Llewelyn Bowen's top ten. It is more likely to feel like a prison cell or that room in the villa on holiday that everyone shotgun's not to have.

(even with these shiny happy people trying to sell this room to me its looking pretty bleak)

But this is to be your home for the next year, (well not year, on and off about 9 months) and who knows what these walls will see (well we second years have a mild idea from what we can remember and it ain't always pretty.) It is at this point that I should point out that people in student housing this year will probably also be suffering from the same bare walls so this blog is equally aimed at you.


And so my point is how on earth can we get around the uni rules that force us to have bare walls and eat off ikea white plates? Well being the lovely generous person I am, I am willing to pass on my secrets to all those with a room of there own this year with Martha Thursday's infinite guide to uni room clobber.


So the problem is you cant start nailing picture frames into walls or getting the Sanderson wallpaper out but a few band posters is all a little bit circa year 8. The solution? Get creative. My uni room last year saw the extent of my collaging skills, I would show you but there appears to be no decent photo evidence as any photos would have been taken at 4am when everyone was a little worse for wear. So here are some examples from slightly more responsible, slightly less intoxicated students.

(The look I attempted to channel in my room, mine wasn't quite as chirpy or clean..)

(yup all tiny fragments of magazines, what a freak)

OK so the last photo might require you to have the patience of a saint to go through with it but all the others are very achievable looks to have in your uni room, they simply require a few hours set aside, a few stacks of magazines and about £10 worth of blu-tack, and because its totally terry temporary your uni can't complain! And don't stop at magazines or photographs, I had a flat mate that dedicated his entire walls to his gap year memories dispersing ticket stubs and postcards amongst his photos. Or why not try a new way of keeping track of your friends, forget facebook how about a wall of friends as seen below (God I sound like I'm presenting art attack or something, Neil Buchanan eat your heart out!)

Wall stickers are my uni room vice, they are the perfect antidote to concrete, plasterboard and breeze blocks. They add a splash of personal flair to a room and then they just peel off when your done (though if you find they're a bit stuck on don't just pull run a hair dryer over the top!) I usually go for birds because I find they're non offensive but there's a load to chose from!

(voilà)

(I know no normal student would go for this but how brilliant?!)

And that's pretty much all I'd suggest really (sounding like a smart arse, my advice is by no means gospel.) But I wouldn't buy ikea plates everyone will have them and you'll get confused, NEXT do equally priced ones with variations other than white. Also don't forget to bring things from home, it will make your room feel more like your own, oh and nice bedding always makes a difference!

In this excitement I went on some mad rampage on the urban outfitters and in my blind excitement ordered about £80 worth of stuff for my new house. This morning it arrived and as I was tearing open my ridiculous items that I didn't need I realised fashion nerd was becoming home interior nerd, I think I need to be taken away to rehab for a while where they'll keep me away from exotic lamps and the ikea catalogue, I mean who really needs bird salt and pepper shakers?

(home tweet home)

For Emma

As the Harry Potter nights close in and I begin to trawl the Internet for Daniel Radcliffe's phone number (I'm figuring now that he's no longer got that Potter gig he wont have a way to keep himself distracted figuring out what to do with all those mounds of cash he's sat on, so I'm thinking that I can provide him with a solution in the way that he can distract me with all his mounds of cash.) I can't help but feel really sad, for me, having grown up with Harry Potts, the excitement of a new Harry Potter film coming out totally top trumps Christmas, or getting laid or buying new shoes (which makes me even more sad) so I cant help but feel I owe it all at least a small tribute, and my tribute goes to Emma.

Now back in the day this girl wasn't in my best books. I remember watching newsround when they announced that auditions would be held for the part of Hermione and I literally couldn't hold my urine (well not literally) I was there pen and paper ready to launch into my destiny as Hermione Granger. But low and behold I was too young and this left a bitter taste in my, ehem, 9-year-old mouth. But after much heart break it came to my attention that if I couldn't do it then she should... and then she was born, my first real idol.

Emma, for me represented a dream world, she was the living breathing epitome of everything I loved in my child hood, harry potter, a (very long lost) acting dream and quintessential British style. I had never in my life been so infatuated or mesmerised by a girl, and as a result a slight obsession began to build. I would buy any magazine with her face on the front and kick myself if I missed one. I loved reading about her life and I loved her so much. It wasn't until I was in tesco the other day and I picked up this months Harper's Bazaar  not being my usual choice and at £4.20 a pop purely to read her interview, that I realised that the same school girl delight I had over Emma still existed.

(some of her appearances I have coveted)

Being the actress of our generation Emma didn't just take a whirl wind affect on my life. I remember when she really came into her own after the 4th instalment (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire) in that dress that so famously launched our Emma into womanhood. I remember one particularly charming lad sat behind me in the cinema saying at that moment; 'I'd so bone Hermione now.'

(Emma wearing the dress that made her a lady, I seem to remember trying to save up for replica earrings)

And Emma didn't stop there. She seemed to sophisticate as we did (I say this because I always seemed to have had a wild appreciation for what she wore, but then again love is blind.) She did something that my future husband did not manage (Daniel Radcliffe, see Martha Radcliffe just roles off the tongue), she stepped away from Hermione and became a style icon, she became Emma. In February this year she declared her true love, on valentines day, for fashion when she won the Elle Style Award for a style icon (well you would with all that money... see, still bitter.)

#

(Elle Style awards, 14/02/2011)

(Watson's Burberry campaign)

And Emma didn't stop there, with her Burberry campaign and pixie hair safely under her hat she can look forward to the not so magical future that she's always wanted. I think for some one who has pretty much had their social life stolen by JK Rowling (when asked at an E4 interview she didn't know what ROFL meant, tragic), she's a pretty cool person. And Emma (who is too busy being picked on at Brown's to read this) although you never replied to my fan mail and I would have made a supreme under age Hermione, I believe I owe a lot of my childhood happiness to you, thank you, everyone at Fashion Nerd (all 1 of us) wishes you the best for the future.

Premieres through the ages.....

Gentlemen's relish

So for the entire last week I was completely infatuated with the idea of doing a London blog, a) because I spent my entire weekend there so it would be super easy to find inspiration, b) because I totes love London and c) I have come over with a ridiculous case of Made in Chelsea obsession. See, this is what happens when you go to uni, your expectations go way way up and any life but Chelsea life seems pointless.


 But when I came to actually type/write (circle correct verb) my brilliant London blog I found myself with very little material, I had no photos to work with,  no ground breaking ideas, no clever little quirks to make you all laugh. And also who wants to really here blab on and on about how much I hate my life and how much I love Caggie's and Millie's and Hugo's blah blah blah blurghhhh.....


However my whirlwind trip up to London did bring something to my attention. Standing at the tube station/ sitting on the tube you can't help but indulge in a little guy spy (play on words, I'm so clever) and me oh my did I spy! Now I'm a girl who likes a good dresser (my biggest crush being Mark Ronson hello!!!!) and can those London boys dress?! Now I'm not talking about bed hair, 10 year old trackies looks like your either really hungover or just rolled out of the gym look. No no I'm talking about cool, taste-ful, clean shaven, on trend, looks like you just stepped off the cat walk look. 

(oh Mr. Mark why can't all men dress like you? I could have literally put a whole gallery of images here!)

Now usually these boys are few and far between (like trying to find David Gandy in Primark) but in London they were popping up everywhere (maybe I just attract beautiful men?) And this got me thinking, why can't all boys dress like this, why can't they dress how women WANT them to dress?


But what do women want men to dress like? Doing a bit of research I came to one very particular common ground that women tend to enjoy about a man. The suit, the smart dresser, the slick kid.

(David Gandy, D&G's hottest model looking lip lickingly good in a suit.)

As we saw in the latest series of the apprentice, Leon received great applause for his dapper dressing and school boy charm. So what is it about this magical two piece that gets our knickers in such a tight twist? Well the answer is simple, no one in a suit is gonna mess you about, no one in a suit is going to use you purely for that junk in your trunk, no one in a suit is going to shout 'getcha tits out for the lads' or so they'd have us believe.

(Leon Doyle, rocking the classic pea coat, adorable.)

The suit connotes wealth and class and sophistication. You're gonna have fun with that guy in a suit, he's going to take care of you and hold your hand, and really truly isn't that what we want? To be rescued? The suit says dinner at the Ritz, champagne, dancing and silk sheets. Trousers that sit lower than your cheeks say trip to ASDA, frozen pizza and a scratchy sleeping bag. Nahhhh aaaaahhhh, nooooo thank you!

(Come on boys do you honestly want to look like what's his face from one direction?)

But surely we aren't expecting black tie attire everyday, and surely that's not what I was spotting on the tube? So what was it about all these boys in London that was so very aesthetically pleasing to me? Well they all had something that just drives me wild. Style. Now if you think about women I'm sure you describe every one of your friends style as different to one another, now think about your guy friends, are you conjuring up the same mental image as I am? Jeans, t-shirt, Superdry/ Jack Wills jumper and /or gilet and toms/ trainers? Yeppp I thought so.

(Literally this could be any boy I know from behind, wouldn't be able to pick them out from a line up, I was tempted to use photos of people I actually know, but then I'm not protecting their un-stylish privacy.)

Some might argue that there's just not enough choice of men's clothing or that to look stylish costs you your entire student loan. I beg to differ. Pretty sure that these boys travelling by tube aren't living the Hugo Taylor life style. I'm not asking you boys to wear jeans so tight that you will be arrested for indecent exposure or wear suits in bed. I'm just saying DROP THE SUPER DRY, approach a new shop maybe go mad go vintage! And there is nothing wrong with a little pink.

NOTE TO MALE READERS OVER THE AGE OF 50- this blog need not apply, your pretty much past the stylish stage try and stick to classic instead, no skinnys or piercings for you!