Due to some rather annoying technical difficulties with Blogger, I've now migrated to WordPress.
Find me at http://simplyzeitgeist.wordpress.com
Toodeloo!
5 hours ago
Thursday, 30 December 2010
Friday, 17 December 2010
Who Doesn't Love Being a Queen?
Here is a piece that I recently made for my university course. It's a magazine shopping page designed for Harper's Bazaar.
Despite being coursework, which many would agree is often a chore/pain in the ass (and not the good kind), I actually LOVED writing and researching the Snow Queen trend. I've also found that InDesign is seemingly straightforward to use, and dare I say it... also quite relaxing.
Nerd Alert.
Despite being coursework, which many would agree is often a chore/pain in the ass (and not the good kind), I actually LOVED writing and researching the Snow Queen trend. I've also found that InDesign is seemingly straightforward to use, and dare I say it... also quite relaxing.Nerd Alert.
Enjoy!
Tuesday, 30 November 2010
Net-A-Porter Supporter
While visiting one of my favourite non-fashion websites, a sidebar immediately caught my eye.
A simple black and white image of a young female model proceeded to transform into a full-blown colour advertisement for Net-A-Porter's online Party Boutique collection.
A simple black and white image of a young female model proceeded to transform into a full-blown colour advertisement for Net-A-Porter's online Party Boutique collection.
I'm not usually a fan of Internet advertising (especially when they annoyingly hover over the page you want to read), but the use of dramatic colours was so attractive and enticing that I have decided to write a blog commending it.
Well done, Net-A-Porter! Although it didn't actually make me view the collection online (I am waiting eagerly for Mr-Porter, however), the red silk gown by Halston was a welcomed distraction from my online travels.
Toodeloo!
Sunday, 14 November 2010
Uh Oh.
Waiting for my train today, I spotted this advertisement for vistbath.co.uk:
and then immediately recalled another advertisement for the fragrance, Kelly Calche by Hermes:
What ever happened to originality!?
Naughty, Naughty.
Friday, 5 November 2010
The Bored and the Beautiful
Head to toe in Givenchy clothing and so obviously aware of her compelling beauty, a young model perches upon a wooden chest. I stare at her in awe, but do not receive so much as blink in response. Instead she remains inanimate, bored and detached. The bottles of Moët and candles around her fail miserably at inspiring a different mood.
Her counterparts are equally attractive, with their impossibly pale complexions, skin-piercing cheek bones and bee-stung lips. I immediately envy them, their clothes and their seemingly blasé attitude.
Next door, the atmosphere is different; brighter colours are evident in the fabrics and in everyone’s clothing. One model sits lion-esque on all fours whilst her friends stand proudly around her.
As I walk away (still envying their lifestyle and clothes), I feel the mannequins from Harrods’s window display watch back, envying my freedom and ability to breathe.
(See previous post for photographs).
Thursday, 4 November 2010
Botox Beast
Botox for children is becoming the norm, Daniel Stewart believes it should be frozen in its tracks.
Botox or ‘B’, as whispered in frozen-faced social circles, was once revered as the celebrity anti-aging miracle. It seems now, however, our infatuation with looking youthful has transpired to children as young as eleven, with the advent of ‘Teen-Toxing’.
Although many medical practitioners do not issue Botox to minors, the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery claims that in the US alone, over twelve thousand Botox procedures were carried out on children less than eighteen years of age in 2009. That number is continuously rising. Whilst I accept that there are several medical procedures that would be included within this figure, such as for the prevention of excessive sweating of the underarm and for migraine headaches, it baffles me why anyone under eighteen would even be concerned with wrinkles.
Texan single-mother, Jennifer Barnes, spoke proudly to a magazine last week of her £1000 Internet spree on Botox injections - for her eleven and twelve year old daughters. “I (don’t) want my girls to get wrinkly. I’m judged because I’m not beautiful and I’m overweight. It’s too late for me.” As she appears unfazed, pun intended, it seems no doubt that the ‘toxin’ part of Botulinum Toxin has gone to her brain.
I understand every mother’s temptation to shield her offspring from any negative judgements she may have personally received from her peers as a child, but Ms. (‘Barmy’) Barnes’ personal administration of Botox to her daughters is the equivalent of physically reinforcing that they are visually imperfect. Standard (and most would say ‘normal’) forms of affection, including kisses and cuddles to heal a child’s woes, have been replaced by needles and frozen pea compressors.
But it doesn’t end there. What happens when the little twelve year old grows older and finds more than “wrinkles” to pick at? Maybe a breast augmentation is in the pipeline, a nose job. Heck, she’ll soon have her plastic surgeon on speed dial.
The problem it seems isn’t a wrinkle here and there, as our wannabe-Botoxed-babies would have us believe. The problem is an underlying lack of self-esteem and a lack of common sense from us, as parents, to counteract it. Many blame the media and its constant bombardment of highly airbrushed models and I wholly agree, however, as parents, teachers and guardians, we also have the duty to ensure that children understand that this level of perfection portrayed by magazines is fantasy.
My tips to ensure that Botox does not end up on my children’s Christmas list is simple:
• Ban ‘Botox parties’. The thought of letting my child go to one of these, and returning home with a face like Quasimodo, sends shivers down my spine.
• Provide that all-important emotional support network at home. Listen to their concerns. Find the root.
• And if all else fails, show them photographs of Jackie Stallone before they go for surgery.
Finally, don’t be shocked if you find many Botox Beasts (parents advocating their child’s insecurities through Botox) unfazed by this article after reading. Many of them will want to be angry, but simply cannot muster that frown.
- A piece I wrote for my coursework at university :)
(Images derived from http://www.piercemattiepublicrelations.com/ and http://www.drfoot.co.uk/)
Botox or ‘B’, as whispered in frozen-faced social circles, was once revered as the celebrity anti-aging miracle. It seems now, however, our infatuation with looking youthful has transpired to children as young as eleven, with the advent of ‘Teen-Toxing’.
Although many medical practitioners do not issue Botox to minors, the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery claims that in the US alone, over twelve thousand Botox procedures were carried out on children less than eighteen years of age in 2009. That number is continuously rising. Whilst I accept that there are several medical procedures that would be included within this figure, such as for the prevention of excessive sweating of the underarm and for migraine headaches, it baffles me why anyone under eighteen would even be concerned with wrinkles.
Texan single-mother, Jennifer Barnes, spoke proudly to a magazine last week of her £1000 Internet spree on Botox injections - for her eleven and twelve year old daughters. “I (don’t) want my girls to get wrinkly. I’m judged because I’m not beautiful and I’m overweight. It’s too late for me.” As she appears unfazed, pun intended, it seems no doubt that the ‘toxin’ part of Botulinum Toxin has gone to her brain.
I understand every mother’s temptation to shield her offspring from any negative judgements she may have personally received from her peers as a child, but Ms. (‘Barmy’) Barnes’ personal administration of Botox to her daughters is the equivalent of physically reinforcing that they are visually imperfect. Standard (and most would say ‘normal’) forms of affection, including kisses and cuddles to heal a child’s woes, have been replaced by needles and frozen pea compressors.
But it doesn’t end there. What happens when the little twelve year old grows older and finds more than “wrinkles” to pick at? Maybe a breast augmentation is in the pipeline, a nose job. Heck, she’ll soon have her plastic surgeon on speed dial.
The problem it seems isn’t a wrinkle here and there, as our wannabe-Botoxed-babies would have us believe. The problem is an underlying lack of self-esteem and a lack of common sense from us, as parents, to counteract it. Many blame the media and its constant bombardment of highly airbrushed models and I wholly agree, however, as parents, teachers and guardians, we also have the duty to ensure that children understand that this level of perfection portrayed by magazines is fantasy.
My tips to ensure that Botox does not end up on my children’s Christmas list is simple:
• Ban ‘Botox parties’. The thought of letting my child go to one of these, and returning home with a face like Quasimodo, sends shivers down my spine.
• Provide that all-important emotional support network at home. Listen to their concerns. Find the root.
• And if all else fails, show them photographs of Jackie Stallone before they go for surgery.
Finally, don’t be shocked if you find many Botox Beasts (parents advocating their child’s insecurities through Botox) unfazed by this article after reading. Many of them will want to be angry, but simply cannot muster that frown.
- A piece I wrote for my coursework at university :)
(Images derived from http://www.piercemattiepublicrelations.com/ and http://www.drfoot.co.uk/)
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
Belated Vivienne Westwood
The Vivienne Westwood Shoes exhibition in Selfridges, London is exquisite. Correction, was exquisite. It's been a while since it was actually held there, but it's taken me a while to get my favourite photographs online.
Call me busy. Call them fabulous.
Enjoy!
p.s. I wanted to take a photo of the infamous penis shoe, but when I had finally reached it in all its splendour, I witnessed a young girl (presumably another blogger) being berated by security, and suddenly realised that you were not allowed to take photographs in the exhibition. Boo. Hiss.
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| Apollo Wing Shoe - Spring/Summer 1988 |
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| Swarovski Court - Spring/Summer 2008 |
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| Glitter Boot - Autumn/Winter 2006 |
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| Frilly Petit-Pied Sandal - Spring/Summer 2004 |
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| Brocade Hammerhead Ankle Boot - Spring/Summer 1982 |
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| Exploration Sling Back - Spring/Summer 2001 |
Toodaloo!
Friday, 24 September 2010
Gotta Have Faith!
Sexy, stylish and extroverted are words uncommonly associated with Muslim women. Twenty-two year old sales assistant, Rumesa, is an exception.
Praying everyday in her Hijab and by not wearing clothes that visibly parade her womanly assets, (à la Snog, Marry, Avoid) are just two examples of how her faith influences her style. Regardless, she has the uncanny ability to style an outfit that is subtlety sexy, effortlessly stylish and extroverted through its diverse colour palette.
"My religion makes me think more creatively," she declares, "it might be strict in places but I work around it." And she does. A sheer cerulean blue shirt is hidden beneath a floral cotton jumper and embellished with a single silver amulet. The look is finished with metallic gold harem trousers, tied with a hot pink belt, and poised faux leather alligator heels. (As pictured above).
Her style is eye candy. And it appears Vogue would agree, having style-spotted Rumesa whilst at Waterloo Station recently, as well.
Her advice for fellow fashionistas is simple: “Find the trend you have a ‘feel’ for, be careful not to fully immerse yourself in it, but pick out one or two related items that match your personality.”
Side Note: Rumesa is a rare breed in the fashion world, having not yet found the right platform to showcase her style to the world. But even as a self-confessed technophobe, she assures me that a new blog is in the works. So stay tuned, ladies and gentlemen, because this young lady is the most-stylistically-in-tune-person-I-have-ever-met.
Toodaloo!
Praying everyday in her Hijab and by not wearing clothes that visibly parade her womanly assets, (à la Snog, Marry, Avoid) are just two examples of how her faith influences her style. Regardless, she has the uncanny ability to style an outfit that is subtlety sexy, effortlessly stylish and extroverted through its diverse colour palette.
"My religion makes me think more creatively," she declares, "it might be strict in places but I work around it." And she does. A sheer cerulean blue shirt is hidden beneath a floral cotton jumper and embellished with a single silver amulet. The look is finished with metallic gold harem trousers, tied with a hot pink belt, and poised faux leather alligator heels. (As pictured above).
Her style is eye candy. And it appears Vogue would agree, having style-spotted Rumesa whilst at Waterloo Station recently, as well.
Her advice for fellow fashionistas is simple: “Find the trend you have a ‘feel’ for, be careful not to fully immerse yourself in it, but pick out one or two related items that match your personality.”
Side Note: Rumesa is a rare breed in the fashion world, having not yet found the right platform to showcase her style to the world. But even as a self-confessed technophobe, she assures me that a new blog is in the works. So stay tuned, ladies and gentlemen, because this young lady is the most-stylistically-in-tune-person-I-have-ever-met.
Toodaloo!
Thursday, 23 September 2010
Boyah.
In a city as fabulous and historically rife as London, it's a regular occurance for a complete stranger to walk up to you, hand over a camera and shout "CHEESE!" as you click away at them.
Having a complete stranger walk up to you, asking that you shout "CHEESE!" (whilst they click away) is not such a regular occurance; at least not to a mere mortal like myself.
But there I was, with my best friend in tow, being snapped by bloggers outside the House of Holland show.
Fun stuff.
Here's a photograph that a fellow blogger took of me :)
Check her blog out here: http://siausiaulovesuzuki.blogspot.com/
Toodaloo!
P.s. The dungarees were a hit! You heard it here first ;)
Having a complete stranger walk up to you, asking that you shout "CHEESE!" (whilst they click away) is not such a regular occurance; at least not to a mere mortal like myself.
But there I was, with my best friend in tow, being snapped by bloggers outside the House of Holland show.
Fun stuff.
Here's a photograph that a fellow blogger took of me :)
Toodaloo!
P.s. The dungarees were a hit! You heard it here first ;)
Saturday, 4 September 2010
Jacobs Explodes onto the Fragrance Scene
'BANG' came onto the scene d'fragance less than a month ago. And whilst in fast-paced fashion terms this new men's fragrance, by Marc Jacobs, could now be seen as old news, I have finally found a sample and the time to write a review.
After a quick whiff, courtesy of Selfridges, 'BANG' is literally the first thought that enters my mind. Strong stuff, indeed. But whilst it should not be worn by the faint-hearted, the sheer masculinity evoked by the scent will have others faint of heart in the best possible way.
The top notes of black, pink and white peppercorn gives BANG its edge, whilst the heart notes of masculine woods and base notes of patchouli, white moss and vetyver, "add a comfortable warmth (and) a powerful sensuality."
And let us not forget the bottle. The Creative Director of Louis Vuitton and Head Designer of his self-named brand, has said: "The idea of bang... as an adjective, as a sound, as a sensation, y'know, it was like an impact. So to take something quite classic and then dent it, or bang it, that is what felt quite literal and quite right."
Jacobs also says this is a fragrance that he regularly wears himself.
Now who wouldn't want to smell like a demi-god?
Toodeloo!
For more information, see http://www.marcjacobsbang.com/
Friday, 20 August 2010
Rant
How many times have you included the word "old" or "fat" when describing someone in disdain?
Something along the lines of that "I hate that fat, old b*tch!" are not uncommon; we hear them everyday.
It seems those simple adjectives in particular (fat and old) are consciously and subconsciously embedded in our minds as insecurities. Most people have fears and insecurities of ageing, just as most people have in relation to weight-gain and body mass in general.
I have therefore come to the conclusion (cue dramatic music) that:
"The flaws we pick out in others, are the flaws we see in ourselves."
I'm not going to rant and say "Never insult another human again!" because there are occasions when it's justifiable. (Pause) I can't think of any right now, but I'm sure there are!
But this I will rant:
If a partner or significant other picks out flaws/ a flaw in you that results in you feeling insecure, (For example: "Are you sure there isn't anything about you you wouldn't change? I could name a few." - This was actually said to me!) then laugh. Laugh a good heart-felt laugh. And then walk away. No, don't walk... STRUT. Strut like you are Naomi Campbell pre-blood diamond/ post-community service.
In a word (or two): be untouchable.
At the end of the day, people pick out flaws in others all the time, but for it to stem from a partner, e.g. the guy who should be past accepting you and now onto the worshiping stage. Hell no, girlfriend!
Take it from Bruno Mars:
Something along the lines of that "I hate that fat, old b*tch!" are not uncommon; we hear them everyday.
It seems those simple adjectives in particular (fat and old) are consciously and subconsciously embedded in our minds as insecurities. Most people have fears and insecurities of ageing, just as most people have in relation to weight-gain and body mass in general.
I have therefore come to the conclusion (cue dramatic music) that:
"The flaws we pick out in others, are the flaws we see in ourselves."
I'm not going to rant and say "Never insult another human again!" because there are occasions when it's justifiable. (Pause) I can't think of any right now, but I'm sure there are!
But this I will rant:
If a partner or significant other picks out flaws/ a flaw in you that results in you feeling insecure, (For example: "Are you sure there isn't anything about you you wouldn't change? I could name a few." - This was actually said to me!) then laugh. Laugh a good heart-felt laugh. And then walk away. No, don't walk... STRUT. Strut like you are Naomi Campbell pre-blood diamond/ post-community service.
In a word (or two): be untouchable.
At the end of the day, people pick out flaws in others all the time, but for it to stem from a partner, e.g. the guy who should be past accepting you and now onto the worshiping stage. Hell no, girlfriend!
Take it from Bruno Mars:
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
Cry Me a Fiver. Part 2 of 2.
Some might call me judgemental for this, but I was brought up with the notion that many homeless people are prone to recreational activity, such as taking drugs, and so I would much rather show compassion through buying them something to eat, than to pay for an addiction.
A packet of hobnobs, one apple, one orange and two packets of crisps later, I returned with them swinging in a bag. "What's that?" He asked.
"I bought you something to eat," I replied and started reading out each item like a shopping list.
"But I wanted change to buy a Big Mac."
I SCREAMED INSIDE. Who wouldn't? I handed him the bag and turned away.
The remaining money from that £10.00 didn't last. And ended with me welling up with emotion and leaking them all over the shop floor (via salty tears) so unprofessionally to my manager.
When asked why I was so upset, I explained how I wasn't able to afford travel to work the next day.
"Why is that?" She questioned.
"Because I gave my money to a homeless man."
I laughed. She laughed louder. I healed. Graciously, I was then lent money for food and travel to and from work.
I have learnt from this event and my overall financial position that:
charity definitely starts at home.
and
those who live beyond their means should act their wage.
So no more lunches at Selfridges for me then. (Boo!)
With a special thanks to Kelly :)
Toodaloo!
A packet of hobnobs, one apple, one orange and two packets of crisps later, I returned with them swinging in a bag. "What's that?" He asked.
"I bought you something to eat," I replied and started reading out each item like a shopping list.
"But I wanted change to buy a Big Mac."
The remaining money from that £10.00 didn't last. And ended with me welling up with emotion and leaking them all over the shop floor (via salty tears) so unprofessionally to my manager.
When asked why I was so upset, I explained how I wasn't able to afford travel to work the next day.
"Why is that?" She questioned.
"Because I gave my money to a homeless man."
I laughed. She laughed louder. I healed. Graciously, I was then lent money for food and travel to and from work.
I have learnt from this event and my overall financial position that:
charity definitely starts at home.
and
those who live beyond their means should act their wage.
So no more lunches at Selfridges for me then. (Boo!)
With a special thanks to Kelly :)
Toodaloo!
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