Sunday, 26 December 2010

The Royal Fail.

Not happy Royal Mail, not happy.
I see the junk mail managed to fight it's way through the backlog... My Elle magazine however, is missing in action. Presumed dead. Signed, sealed and lost in the post, in the apt words of the Wombats. It seems trivial to get upset over something so seemingly insignificant but I really do love that magazine and, foolishly, I thought that by getting subscription it would enable me not only to recieve the fabulous special covers, but recieve them on time.

I plan to go out and buy it, so I've effectively payed twice. Maybe this is their plan? Hatchette Filipatcchi you sly dogs. But, sod's law says i'll return home to find it sitting on the doorstep. That's just the way life works.

Above, my beloved magazines. A small collection. For now.

Saturday, 18 December 2010


Hard to be motivated to write when you're not sure anyone's reading...
Still, I struggle on. Have been extremely scrooge-like this year, no festive spirit for me yet. Tends to kick in around 4am Christmas morning, after deciding to get up and casually ponder about the presents, then spend the long hours until the morning struggling to sleep from excitement. A part of me is still 5.

Wednesday, 8 December 2010

Pass the testosterone...

Urban Outfitters = love
Oh how i wish i was a man.
I just know i would look like this (...cough). I can't understand how so many men don't dress as beautifully as this chap! It's easy to get it wrong but oh, oh so easy to find great clothes for guys and, (providing you have some form of quiff) so easy to pull off!

We have it difficult, there are almost too many places to shop and a shocking amount of stores that sell terrible, terrible clothing; the sort that leaves you fuming because someone further up the line has a job in design that you could be doing with your eyes shut. I know knitwear, lace and print are in but all at once?! No. Just no.

Recently my friend remarked- 'Rachel, you're not wearing any men's clothes today!' Sometimes I leave shops wondering why on earth this cardigan, or that jacket was made for a man in the first place. Unluckily for men, they can't have it both ways. With of course, a few exceptions, they're stuck with what they get given. Girls? We can roam up and down the shop without getting strange looks and if we do, there's always the 'I'm buying for my boyfriend' line. Slightly depressing after several uses but it does the job.

Granted there are some men's clothes I can't wear. The trousers, for instance, are a no, and I probably couldn't pull off a deep v-neck with 'LADYKILLER' plastered across the front... But there's something satisfactory about wearing clothes that weren't designed for you. A rebellious act that makes me feel better, because I searched it out from behind the boxers instead of grabbing the first thing in the window. Only time I ever regretted my wild ways, was when I met up with a guy and we were wearing the same shirt... Needless to say he kept his coat on.

Next time you're perusing with no luck, stroll down to the men's section. Just don't tell any male friends or you might have to share.

Tuesday, 7 December 2010

The world and me

Just as Ugly Betty once did, I sit here wondering if anyone will ever read this. It feels strange to type for an audience that aren't guaranteed... It has come to my attention that there are a great deal of things out there that frustrate or amuse me and so this blog (like most others) is a dedication to my, hopefully, interesting ramblings. The ramblings of a teenage girl. Not the most inspiring of ideas, in fact, quite cliche. Every person must go through a stage where they feel like everything that happens is utterly ridiculous and quite frankly, they could do a better job. I am in this stage of my life - the world bothers me and dammit, i'm going to tell everyone.

For a long time I was never aware of how big the world is. I naively assumed that there would be a space for me and what I wanted to do in life. I don't know whether it's moving to sixth form, my new obsession with blogs or just a general opening of my eyes that has made me realise this isn't true. Like (it seems) every other bloody girl on the planet, I want to work in the magazine industry. Whether it's the writing side, design side, postman side, I just want to be there, but I know it won't be easy.

Darn you, Devil Wears Prada, for making me want this: