In our kitchen we have a tape player. In our house we only have one tape – the soundtrack to The Little Mermaid. On a not entirely unrelated note, fandubs of Disney songs are a resource of amazingness I wasn’t previously aware of. That’s all changed now, though, and I have spent the past while enjoying various translations of ‘Kiss the Girl’ in one browser window, while doing some research on the Austrian hotness that is Christoph Waltz in the other. Disney and Nazis. Nice.
It’s hard to pick a favourite but how can you fail to be charmed by a Icelandic man singing as a crab singing in a reggae style?
I thought I would never watch Inglourious Basterds because of the extra ‘u’ and Brad Pitt’s bizarre overacting in the trailer (like I am determined never to watch Sweeney Todd. Sometimes I feel like the only girl in the world who neither finds Johnny Depp attractive nor a particularly amazing actor), but then I realised that he’s not in it much and instead there are lots of attractive German men in it (Michael Fassbender is half German, also counts). So now I’m watching it with a hangover and will rate it solely on the mens. Currently considering watching it on mute.
Courtesy of Jean-Pierre Leaud, his cigarettes and his shifty-eyed beaky-nosed visage.
Never indulge any curiosity you might have about what he looks like now. Believe me, it’s better this way. Much, much better.
I finally washed my Luella Kurt cardigan for the first time since I bought it, which has to be over a year ago. I know, I know, I am disgusting. And I know this because it took three (hand) washes to get clean. It also took three (hand) washes for me to realise why it says ‘dry clean only’ on the tag. BECAUSE IT WAS FADING FROM BLACK TO GREY. Now I don’t even know if it was dirty or if the greyish water seeping from Kurt the first, second and third time I soaked and rinsed it was actually its colour abandoning me.
So yes. Luella cardigans are the exception to the rule. Normally most overpriced knitwear can be handwashed even though it says ‘dry clean only’. Kurt, I wish I’d listened. I’m sorry.
I also managed to burn off half my face with an old facepack which I realise now, in retrospect, was 99% acid. I’ve got a red ring around my face, like someone placed a huge mug full of steaming hot coffee on it. For some reason my inner face survived the acid attack. Huh.
EPIC FAIL.
Although there is a lesson to be learnt here: do not clean or clear (which is how I found that stupid sulphuric facepack in the first place). EVER.
Love
this
editorial.
Perfect
autumn/winter
transition/feeling.
Ages ago when I was young and hopeful, I worked in music event organising and journalism – interviewing bands on and off camera (mostly for the free drinks and boys). During which, through my sort-of-boss/drinking partner, I met Brett Jefferson Scott who organised interactive photo treasure hunts through the streets of London. (I met him when I helped organise a club night at Cargo to celebrate the end of one of his treasure hunt events – just for clarity of understanding). I haven’t seem or heard of him in years but I’ve recently learnt that he’s still doing his thing!
His brainchild had grown from ‘Shoot Shoreditch’ (obviously this is where something like this would be born) to ‘Shoot London’ (natural progression) and is now ‘Shoot experience‘ (I do like the new double meaning).
The event basically encourages people to run around a certain area (or city) finding objects, getting drunk, having fun and unleashing their inner Mario Testino to create beautiful and interesting photographs with the stuff they find. Also, if your photos are really good or something you can win stuff! SPRING BREAK!!!
I see your cheeky bow tie, Paul.
I’ve been absolutely loving nude-on-white for sometime now. But Lanvin does it so perfectly, I feel humbled. Also I want the every, single last one of the necklaces from this collection. Alber truly understands me like no other.
Plastic cups and Strongbow. Terrifying.
So fucked up. Just so very, very, very fucked up. Oh god.
“Channel 4’s latest attempt to seduce us with a mixture of swearing and sex comes in the form of True Blood, the latest in the long line of sexually explicit, violent and vulgar programmes that have, sadly, become the norm on British television. True Blood is a shocking tale of depravity, explicit sexuality (bordering on pornography) and vile language.”
“More offensive than all this is the sheer distasteful nature of the content. There’s oral sex, overt discussion of genitalia, graphic sex scenes and foul language.”
