March 26, 2009

Couchez avec moi? Non Non Monsieur

Ta Da! May I proudly present, my second and final Vogue article (check out my first, for funsies...), my piece de resistance. Please please please tell me what you think, I love hearing back from you! But if you're going to play, play nice ;)

And as always, accompanied with a nice Polyvore

Assez bien
Assez bien - by Ms M on

Keep your eyes glued to the pavement. Keep them glued; don’t look up! Dear God, please don’t say anything, this is so embarrassing, just please don’t look up.

As a young teenager, I was obsessed with glamour and sophistication. No one else in my year at school had even heard of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and I could practically recite the script. So, the summer before Year Ten; crippled with the stress of finishing SATs, end-of-year examinations and the impending doom of GCSEs, my mum decided to book us tickets on the Eurostar to Paris; the proverbial cherry on top of the delicious sundae that is the fashion world.

I was allowed to pick out a brand new holiday outfit and I spent the stretched out, long summer days leading up to our departure dreaming of streets filled with authentic Parisian café, stalls filled with miniature Eiffel Tower figurines and colour faded postcards and the elaborate window displays of the Holy Trinity: Chanel, Dior and Galliano. Hmm, naïve.

What greeted my innocent eyes instead were streets lined with sex shops, seedy strip joints and the occasional shop front plastered with neon “Peep Show – Girls Girls Girls!” signs, blinking offensively at the hunched tourists scuttling past. I was aware that Paris was the city of love, but this was just ridiculous.

And the trip was off to such a good start too; my mum, ever the flatterer, managed to score a last minute upgrade to first class on the Eurostar. A smile crept across my face as I stared out of the train window, daydreaming about being a rich socialite off to crash at her chic flat in the heart of Paris, whilst trying to decide whether I wanted the fish or the chicken for lunch…

The actual arrival was slightly less magical. As an awkward fourteen year old, full of crippling self awareness, sitting in a café with my mum, munching on cheese toasties, face with a giant sex emporium opposite the street was more than a little surreal. It was embarrassing. At that age, sex was something you giggled about with your friends, not something you openly acknowledged in front of your mother.

Going to an all girls grammar school and not really interacting with any boys, I had never really had to acknowledge my sexuality, and now here it was right in front of me; flashing neon and wearing nipple tassels.

The climax of the trip was definitely going to the Moulin Rouge. Wearing my new black Miss Selfridge dress and applying some pearly, shimmery, pale pink-whatever shade Rimmel eye shadow on my eager eyes, this was my first brush with glamour. Here I was in what was quintessentially Fashion Land, in my very own Little Black Dress, off to the Moulin Rouge. The Moulin Rouge.

Unfortunately again, my insecure teenage would once again get the better of me. Foolishly enough I hadn’t twigged that a renowned home of burlesque might contain a smidge of nudity. Once again, there I was; eyes on the floor, completely horrified at the fact that I was sharing the sight of a near naked dancer with my mother.

As a (somewhat) mature adult now, this saddens me. It was a once in a lifetime experience and I spent most of it staring at the pavement. Why was I so embarrassed?

At school, I was taught to death about just exactly how girls “develop” into women; menstruation this, hormones that, but whilst adults are only to keen to describe the physical transaction, no one really says how you start to think, start to behave as a woman.

To be confronted so blatantly was surreal. With a capital S. To see huge photos plastered on the sides of buildings of bouffanted women with only their hands and skimpy lingerie to cover their modesty was confusing to me. Is this what women are supposed to be like? Is this how all men saw us? Is this what I was supposed to aspire to become?

On the surface, Paris was an immensely fun, completely embarrassing trip, but I really think it left a deep impact on me. It was the first time I really thought about what kind of woman I wanted to be; did I want to be the woman men stared open mouthed at, fantasized about? It confronted me with just how I felt about this raunchy, naughty culture and ultimately how I though about sex and what it meant to be a woman, not just a girl.

I may have still been a girl when I left, but I darn well left a little more aware and a little less naïve. Not bad for £59 return.


March 23, 2009

Nuh Uh, I'm Disco Barbie

Sorry for the absent posting; it seems swollen glands have gotten the better of Ms M as she has been lying in her bed, watching (too much) Ricki Lake and eating (not enough) Kellog's rice krispy bars. I always get run down round about major coursework deadlines, so I was expecting this and I came prepared! I've been feasting on those yummy chewable orange vitamins in the hope that it might shorten my new found germ-breeding abilities by about a day or two. Cross your fingers for me.

No one likes being ill, me especially; I just sit in bed and think about all the other things I could be doing in my days home from school: I could be getting some revision done (yawn), doing my nails, going out shopping whilst there's no competition from other school-going girlies, altering the hemlines on a stack of dresses (damn my shortness!!), making cupcakes, tidying my room, going out to grab a drink from the cute little milkshake place I love, playing "If I had one million pounds to spend" game in Topshop....The list goes on. But instead, I'm stuck in bed. Grr.

So, not to be a grumpy Gus, I decided to think about nice things to make me happy, and I started thinking about all the magazine coverage about Barbie's 50th birthday. Say what you want about her being a negative role model, a fore figure for chauvinist ideals, a stupid blonde bimbo, but I'm crazy about Barbie. Originally created by Ruth Handler to satisfy her daughter's obsession with fashion models (thank you Nylon), Barbie has been the epitome of femininity and girlish kistch. Such a great way of getting girls involved with fashion and style at such a young age, and although let's face is; some of Barbie's outfits were a little tacky, it certainly gave me the inspiration to dress up and dress a little crazy every now and again.

Life In Plastic
Life In Plastic - by Ms M on

So to hell with it, dig out your blue eyeshadow and your brightest pink lipstick, slip on those stiletto heels and pull on that pink tulle tutu. Life's too short to be boring, so come on Barbie:

Let's go party


March 17, 2009

Dream A Little Dream

With all the crazy busy deadlines and coursework et al that's been flying around at the moment, I am dangerously missing out on my sleep. No amount of Touche Eclat can cover my panda-eyes, and I'm suddenly finding my English teacher's voice extremely soothing in class. I like a mess, and dude, there's a reason why it's called beauty sleep right?

So, no matter how urgent I need to finish an essay/e-mail someone class notes/straighten my hair (it's all about bed hair anyways!), I'm setting myself a strict 10pm bed time. No computer, television, phone, school work of any kind after that time; just me, tucked up in bed with my grey hoodie, my Breakfast at Tiffany's inspired eye mask (seriously - Claire's Accessories is a gold mine for deliciously kitsch things!)and a copy of the magazine du jour. A strict beauty regime is about due too; my negligence is playing havoc with my skin. I'm currently using the Neutrogena Stress Control range - the exfoliant is really gentle and smells really fresh, and I will be forever faithful to the Clinique dramatically different lotion. Mmmm; soft soft soft! Anyone got any sacred pre-slumber beauty routines?

Zzzzz - by Ms M on

So come join the bedtime revolution; fight for your right to healthy looking skin, and dark circle-less eyes!


March 11, 2009

One Of The Most Prestigious Writing Awards

Aaaahw, good times!! Awards make Ms M a very happy bunny, and mega loveage goes to the lovely Twiggy Mod for this award.

Now here are the rules:
1.When you receive this award, show that you're happy to the giver.
2.Nominate at least 5 blogs, that you think rocks.
3.Let them know about award in their post.
4.Now blog like you've never blogged before

And here are my nominations:

1. Twisted elegance

2. Canadian Girl

3. Audrey Allure

4. Bitter Pineapple

5. Drollgirl

So pleaaaaase check these blogs out, they are award nominated after all ;)


March 09, 2009

Fashion [Turn To The Left]

I hate this time of the year; the shining sun deceives you into thinking that it's time to pull out the summer dresses and cut-off shorts, but the chill in the air makes you want to bundle up in blankets and hibernate until summer... but, but it's sunny and I wanna be summery!! And therein lies the paradox...
Lalala - by Ms M on

For me, I love slouchy jumpers at the moment because they manage to give a stylish and yet easy going, sloppy image, which for me is what I look for in summer clothes (and yet there still super snuggley!) I'm trying to hunt down a slouchy grey one; anyone got any suggestions? Thin knit jumpers are also good too, warm but a little lighter than the wool-so-thick-you-feel-like-you're-in-your-own-private-sauna jumpers. I got an amaazing deal at Primark on Saturday; a plum coloured v-neck light knit sweater, 4% cashmere for only £3!! Granted, I had to search for about an hour to find it and it was literally the only jumper on the whole table that was in my size, but jeez what a bargain! I bought some white tights a few weeks ago and I think they will go nice with this new jumper, with a black Dirndl skirt for a cute Alice in Wonderland look, so remind me to stay away from wondering rabbits.

I think neon and muted colours are definitely the way to go this spring; the combination of the two looks really fresh and very fashion forwards in my opinion. I'll be scouring the rails for some cute highlighter-coloured tshirts to revive my lagging wardrobe. I'm still on the mission to find an adorable LBD for upcoming summer parties: short, possibly strapless, flowy skirt and structured bodice with something quirky about it - PLEASE, does anyone know any good shops for this?!

If you help, I'll be your friend for life


Yeah, That Looked Like Work



No more textiles!
No more textiles! - by Ms M on

I am sooooooo glad that's over. Those were like the longest two weeks of my life!! I'm so glad that my life is my own again, it's no longer ruled my coursework! Luckily, I'm really good with deadlines but that also means that I'm the kinda person who will pull out all the stops to get something finished. Running up to the deadline of my textiles coursework, lets just say there were frequent late nights in front of the sewing machine, glugging diet coke to stay awake and watching old reruns of SATC for moral support. It's so tough to be a student...

The relief when I handed it in though was immense; I just sat there for about five minutes just going over in my head the fact that I will never have to do textiles coursework again: no more late nights in front of the sewing machine, no more mad rushes to Hobbycraft to buy more bias binding because I pissed my last reel all away, no more laborious risk assessments!! So, I just sat there with a smile on my face, nibbling away at my Weight Watchers toffee cookie (my sort of treat).

So now I'm just relaxing with my newest issue of Elle and looking forwards to making cookies with le boyfriend tomorrow. Breaths a sigh of relief


March 05, 2009

I'm not an artard

Grrr, this week is a bad week for Ms M; too many deadlines and not enough hours in the day do not make for a happy chappy. Unfortunetely I haven't had a lot of spare time, but I miss blogging so!! I'm doing a little Shiz I Digz post to tide me over, but expect a looooooot more new posts next week!

- I'm really really into heart shaped glasses at the moment. I saw a pair of red Lolita style ones in Topshop for a snippy £15...and then saw a gorgeous pair of white ones in Primark for £1. I guess I need more bargain hunting help than I thought...
- To help me chill the heck out, le boyfriend and I have been having a cheeky little zombie-thons; from classic zombie films, to shitty remakes to my personal favourite Shaun of the Dead. Simon Pegg, you rock my socks
- Cheap chinese food for lunch
- Reading back issues of Nylon
- Cheap Hello Kitty candy
- Looking forwards to a good ole thrif this weekend and going to the new milkshake shop (makes me want to dress up in a poodle skirt, ankle socks and a twin set just for the occassion...)

Shiz I Digz 1
Shiz I Digz 1 - by Ms M on

So what's been rocking your socks lately?


March 03, 2009

Come Here Often?

Jinkies, I'm so scary for the slack blogging; I have a ton of coursework in for this Friday and my final piece for textiles is due soon. I have been going slightly crazy, just ask my boyfriend, poor lamb.

But as a sorry present, I have finished my Vogue article, and I would be honoured for your critique (constructive critiscm please, no nasties)

And a big thank you for all your support so far; your comments all make me smile! I have set a goal to try to double my followers, so help out; tell a friend! Ms M lurrrves you all


Smells Like A Nineties Revival

Exams. Complicated relationships. The competitiveness of the job world. The realization that one must have to substitute Agent Provocateur for Asda’s own-brand undies in order to survive on a student budget. It seems to me that being an adult is starting to consist more of being to (somewhat) walk in heels. Sometimes playing grown up is not fun

I guess things were just easier when you were a child. Going out to a restaurant meant picking the biggest, greasiest, cheesiest burger, eating the left over food off of everyone else’s’ plate and generally consuming more additives and artificial colourings than the Health Department’s “Ban List”. And now? It means asking the waitress “May I substitute the chips for a salad?” through clenched teeth and having a boyfriend trying to endlessly convince you that one of ice cream isn’t going to cause you to expand, balloon-like, out of your dress. Relationships were easier too; I’m sure my eight year old self never agonized over finding hidden meanings in texts. No, she was probably busy playing kiss chase in the school playground and slow dancing to Celene Dion at discos.

Heavyweight beauty brand MAC has also come over all nostalgic. They plan to unveil their new range of cosmetics in March, but they haven’t picked just anyone to collaborate with, oh no. Embossed in the powdered blushers and dancing around the lipstick tubes is none other than a certain mischievous, yet well accessorised cat, going by the name of Hello Kitty. I admit I have the release date circled in my diary; just the sight of Ms Kitty emblazoned onto a pot of pink nail polish brought me back to my unashamedly twee childhood days and brought a breath of fresh air into my somewhat stale adult life. It got me thinking too; how else could I find escapism in the 1990’s of my youth?

The nineties saw the rise of a brand new fashion clique; the sixties had mods, the eighties had punks and the nineties? We had grunge. To the untrained eye it simply meant resisting the urge to brush your hair, wash your clothes or wear clothes that fitted, but boy, was it more complicated than that. The irony lied in the fact that it took a lot of effort in order to get an outfit to say: “Yeah, I don’t care about what I wear, I just want to piss my parents off. Everything sucks.”

Granted, greasy hair and torn shorts are somewhat of a faux pas, but with some careful planning, the grunge look is still accessible. For me, the plaid checked shirt especially will always have an air of nonchalant sexuality. Underneath that somewhat masculine exterior, who knows one may find? A faded band t-shirt? A hint of black lingerie? If ever a garment could hold so much mystery, the checked shirt is it.
Grunge may not be the most colourful of all looks, so add interest with textured, ribbed tights, and thigh high socks give any outfit a little attitude. Show a brazen, new carefree attitude to feminism with a pinafore dress; simple, not too fussy and the type of thing you could wear out dancing to Backstreet Boys and vintage Britney Spears till midnight or staying in, Youtube-ing old episodes of Are You Afraid Of The Dark. Fill your I-pod with vintage Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins and some Courtney Love (and please feel free to add a little smeared red lipstick now that you’re all grown up)

Most importantly for me, one of my most inspiration, most daring and delightful fashion icons was a spawn of the nineties; an adolescent Melissa Joan Hart in the Nickelodeon’s Clarissa Explains It All. Clarissa wore her clothes inside out. Clarissa wore scrunchies, Clarissa would layer her clothes like no tomorrow. Clarissa wore crop tops with high waisted jeans. Clarissa. Was. Awesome. At nine years old, sitting in front of the TV, Clarissa showed me just how being fearless with fashion can immensely pay off with one kick ass original outfit. It seems taking fashion risks were easier when you were younger, before crippling self-insecurities kicked in, but if we could all revert back to our pre-pubescent mindset then the world of street style would be a much brighter, more interesting place. Why not wear a nightdress with combat boots? Who says that neon eyeliner can’t be worn during the day? If the nineties taught me anything, it was that there are no rules in fashion. And yes, the 90’s were a tad tacky and garish, but it laid the foundation of my fashion identity. I could learn a lot from my eight year old self; and her pink leopard print leggings.

So yeah, let’s never grow up. Ever.

Born In the 90's
Born In the 90's - by Ms M on

February 19, 2009

Thrifting Survival Kit

There's nothing I love more in this life than a good day's thrifting; searching through dusty rails of even dustier clothes and unearthing that single, special, one-of-a-kind piece and realising that you can have it for mere peanuts. The knowledge that none of your friends are likely to have it in their own wardrobe's is all the more delicious - no one wants to be a carbon copy.

But thrifting is a skill; something that must be practised and prepared for, so to help any thrifting virgins on their way or to share a few tips amongst thrifting old-timers; here is Ms M's thrifting survival kit:

- It's practically a workout, so make sure that you have some water and a cheeky bar of chocolate handy because you can't source out gorgeously flamboyant costume jewelry if you're about to pass out from hunger
- Don't fall for the divides of the shop - you can find some great oversized pattern T-shirts, worn belts and tough jewelry from the guys section and colourfully tacky necklaces, rings and kitschy sunglasses from the kids section
- Don't also be bound by size; over sized old lady jumpers look a vintage charm with a worn denim miniskirt, thick tights and boots (a glitzy vintage necklace wouldn't go a miss)
- Never ever give up hope that someday you will find that beautifuly beat up Chanel bag under a pile of stained polo shirts and mismatched socks

Thrifting Survival Kit!
Thrifting Survival Kit! - by Ms M on

Happy hunting!


En Vogue

So for those who don't know, every year Vogue has this big young writer's contest and this year Ms M has decided she is just about crazy enough to try to enter. The winning prize? One thousand pounds...and a months paid work experience for Vogue.

I know.

Pretty damn amazing.

Damn vogue competition...
Damn vogue competition... - by Ms M on

But I'm going to need your help; I'm using an existing post and transforming it into a longer bit, so please could you tell me what you think - is it a good topic, what else I could include, maybe your memories of the 90's (just for funsies!!) and I'll post the finished article once I've written it and re-written it about half a million times.

And wish me luck!!