Stella.

Cardigans by Stella McCartney

Since I began noticing clothes- back from the very first day I discovered the thrill of dressing in my 90’s signature of “inside out, wrong-way-round” dressing-up-bin-couture (it was a revolutionary move)- I have never been so stunned, nor besotted, by one item as much as I am with this Stella McCartney cardigan. It is an absolutely remarkable piece of woollen architecture. It’s just so bloody interesting and the texture is so rough and yet so beautiful. It’s one of those pieces that you wouldn’t (believe me I have scrutinized the net for a cheaper version, but with no avail) find anywhere else. It’s versatile in how you could wear it, but it’s a statement. (It’s a cardigan that I can’t even call a cardigan- it’s a ‘piece’).

Every fashion week, I flick through pages and pages of bollocks sloppily written by fashion journalists underneath pictures of catwalks teeming with absolutely nonsensically priced, inexcusably un-wearable (and I don’t mean just Paris) “ready to wear” garments, that are only lusted after by everyone from Anna Wintour to your neighbour because of the flappy label with someone’s name on. I appreciate the difference in quality, design and time between H&M and Chanel, but it still doesn’t explain the ludicrous difference in price. Unless Lagerfeld has personally stitched each seam with his own silver hair, I just don’t understand how someone can pay so much for something that in as little as 6 months time, will no longer be valid as appealing in the Vogue editorials.
I admit, I too would love a Mulberry Alexa; I would shiver with pleasure if a Burberry trench was on my shoulders, and would feel like the most powerful, chic, woman in this side of the bloggersphere in a Chanel Tweed suit, but come on, is this something that you’re going to want to keep for your daughter one day? It gives me the same sort of emotions as reading the Daily Mail; a dangerous mix of loathing, jaw-grinding anger and a wave of absolute hysteria at the farcical claims they make. This is just that. It’s pathetic. And anyone who can afford, and are willing to pay, that much for such an, frankly, embarrassingly hideous, piece of clothing, deserve to be stripped of their assets; wealth and wardrobe and left with nothing but their lovely pvc investment to survive in.
I have fell victim of label lust; you pay the extra for the trust in the brand, and the feeling of eminence you get from owning it. You’re essentially paying for heritage. You wouldn’t savour a River Island smock as an heirloom, but you would a McQueen. And my point is (yes, I did have a point), just as my Grandmother has saved a wardrobe full of her favourite pieces from her life time for my sister and me; this is something that would be in mine.

FACT: It would take me 60 days to earn enough to pay for this cardigan
I would have to starve for 70.
No cardigan is worth that, lets be honest.

PURSE, PODGE & PORES DETOX

I have been meaning to write and post this for a while now, but me being me, every time I went to do it I have been heavily diverted by irrelevant paths of links upon links. I wanted it to be well researched and refined, but, again, me being me, I have, since occupying myself with the idea for this post, have came to the senseless and counter-productive “justification” that until I post this blog, I can spend, eat and do the general opposite the title. And now I am just getting increasingly penniless, plump and imperfect- which is bad.
I am going on holiday (to sunny Devon) on the 5th of August and I have decided that, at the elderly age of Seventeen, it is about time I pop my bikini cherry. With holidays comes wet hair, no make-up and terrifyingly tiny and tight pieces of lycra. So that means that having hair that only comes out of a top knot once a year (I push the boat out each birthday), skin that is seriously deprived of anything good (my lips only see Pepsi Max, Coffee and cigarettes and the occasional OJ- water is something that is seriously lacking in my life) and a belly constantly pumped full of Morrisons crisp and sweet deals (Oh Hai £1 pringles), is generally not going to work in my favour.
I have gained a gruesome 14lbs + in the past Six months- I think moving in with your boyfriend is possibly the worst thing anyone who has a tendency to think “all or nothing” regarding food(/everything)- and it makes me uncomfortable. I can’t sit here and claim I don’t know how it’s happened- my diet has gone seriously downhill since I started earning my own money (thus being able to afford, and convince myself that I ‘deserve’ copious amounts of chocolate and crips). NOTE: I don’t want to focus too much on the weight side of things on this blog as I have had eating problems throughout my adolescence and this is (admittedly) my first non weight-loss focused blog.
I will no longer be in employment from this Sunday (24th- will talk about this in another post), and so I need to stop being so reckless regarding spending. I rarely ever buy anything I actually want (clothes etc.) and I am very careful with shopping, I just tend to leech my account dry by spending little bits here on there on sh*t I don’t need (Pepsi Max, Quavers, I hate you).
The beauty of this all is that they all flow beautifully into each other: If I stop spending money on food, I save money and loose weight and my skin will improve and vice versa.

(Will do a more ‘atheistic’ and in depth version tomorrow) Basically I am just going to drink a lot of water and stop eating such rubbish food.

I will keep everyone updated on how this is going. I hope that the fact that I have to post it in here will force me to keep on top of it. I have literally 17 days (Oh Jesus) to shatter my appalling lack of body confidence and squeeze myself into a bikini. This could be interesting...