Sex and the City – Fifteen Years!

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For those like myself, that were barely even teenagers when Sex and the City graced our TV’s late on a school night on channel four, Sex and the City was a little more special than it was to those of an older generation. Arguably, maybe we should not have been watching Sex and the City at all – after all, it was aired after the watershed – but we all watched Friends and that was pretty harmless, so what made Sex and the City any more special?

Well – it just was, wasn’t it?

For those of us that were in the early years of our secondary school education, we were still trying discover ourselves and work our way around our friendships – many of them new. We were starting to experiment with make up, trying to decide how we wanted to dress, which fashions we wanted to follow and most importantly, we were just starting to realise the opposite sex and getting used to being realised!

At such a young and impressionable age there is no denying it, those of us at the tender age of thirteen or fourteen that were reading Vogue and thinking ourselves as writers, fashionistas or ‘relationship experts’, Sex and the City had a far bigger impact on our adolescence than any parent might like to admit. Throughout the course of our teenage years, from tweenies to late teens, most girlfriend groups will have assigned each in the circle their very own Sex and the City character. Most girls will have emulated at least one of Carrie Bradshaw’s ensembles or referenced her somehow when dressing and most will have compared our own relationship dilemmas or triumphs to either Charlotte, Miranda, Samantha or Carrie (Samantha and Carrie mostly – let’s be honest!)

It’s been fifteen years since Sex and the City first aired on TV and all I can say is, those of us that went through our teenage adolescence with these amazing empowering women to watch each and every week – how lucky are we?

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Be charmed, stay inspired! x

My Thing About Stilettos…

 

If you’ve picked up a Vogue magazine, scoured the Street Style pins on Pinterest or admired the spring summer 2013 ad campaigns of the major fashion houses in the last six months you will know that the stiletto is back and with a vengeance. These days you rarely spot the likes of Olivia Palermo, Kim Kardashian and the the recent addition to my fashion radar, Miranda Kerr, out and about without donning these ever so simple, ever so classic, yet suddenly ever so chic shoes. In my fashion lifetime, which consists of twelve years, defined by the period of time in which I have been a contributor and a consumer of fashion goods afforded by my own pocket as opposed to my parents – this is not the first time the stiletto has been coined ‘chic’. When I say chic, I am not referring to the days when the stereotyped Essex girl claimed this pointed heeled shoe in white leather. No, the stiletto has reigned once before within my fashion life, with a lot more fashion kudos than the Essex girl was rewarded, and if my memory serves me correctly, this was circa 2001.

I remember it categorically. It was about the time when I was studying Performance Art Management at the Brits School and dating a French man 13 years my senior. The pointed stiletto I owned a plenty, mostly from Faith, a few pairs from Ravels and one pair from Karen Millen, complete with matching handbag. I wore them to feel grown up, elegant and worthy of dating an older man. I wore them in pink with a wooden heel,  black mesh with a leather toe cap, silver with a metallic heel, monochrome with a white toe and black heel (which would have been perfect for the trends of the coming spring) and my very special pair from Dune, in gingham check red and white.  On their debut, I wore these shoes with an asymmetric little black dress from Miss Sixty. It was Monday night and I was at Ten Rooms. Indeed, it was about the time when Ten Rooms was the hot London night club and the ultimate place to be Monday nights. That particular night, the night I wore my gingham check shoes to Ten Rooms, John Legend was just launching in the UK. So fresh out of water was he that he required an introduction from the master of ceremony for his performance, which won over the hearts of me and my friends . That was the era – my era, when stilettos were the only shoes you wore.

However, if you weren’t a fan of John Legend nor a fan of the live music scene in London night clubs in the early noughties, then a better reference point to draw upon for any fashionista will be Sex and the City. In 2001 Sex and the City was into its third year. Carrie Bradshaw, my ultimate icon, idol, maybe even professional guru at the time, was flitting all about the streets of Manhattan in these delicate stilettos. And, like I said, she was my life coach, therefore I flit about the streets of London in stilettos too! During this period I wouldn’t have been seen dead without my stilettos, but like all trends, the day came when the pointed shoe was ‘so last season!’ And after becoming very mindful of getting my heels stuck in drains and in between decking and mastering the art of walking on my tip toes when visiting homes that boasted parquet flooring, the stiletto disappeared. In fact, the stiletto didn’t just disappear or slowly fade out, they were thrown out, considered hideous, unfashionable – those items that you’d look back and think, ‘God, I can’t believe I ever wore those’, and very quickly the world became adverse to the pointed toe, pointed heel and all.

Nothing quite confirms you’ve got a few miles on the clock like witnessing a trend complete a full cycle, however the stiletto is back, and in its second term in my fashionable life.  Although the world hasn’t gone stiletto crazy just yet, by Spring 2013 it’s likely that fashionistas will be getting their heels stuck in drains, sunk into grass and ruining parquet floors left right and centre. But, the stiletto uptake has been slow. Stilettos were on the shelves of high street stores as far back as 2011. That may not sound particularly long ago in real life, but in fashion years, two years ago is a long time. I remember because I bought two pairs of stilettos that year, a pair from Zara inspired by the Christian Louboutin Helmut shoe and a pair from Office with gold spikes on the back of the shoe. But I found I never really wore them and by 2012 I had forgotten about them entirely.

You see, nobody was really wearing stilettos around the time I purchased mine and although I’d delight in spotting a snap of Victoria Beckham or the occasional fashionite in a Tommy Ton photograph wearing their thin heeled shoes, truth be told, the stiletto wasn’t really making much of a presence on the high street and therefore I wasn’t enjoying them as much as I would have if they were totally on trend and all the rage. I’m not a fashion victim, at least I don’t think so, but fashion is a two way street and no matter how proud one might be to be fashion forward or fashion savvy, part of the reason we all follow fashion is so we can be in it. If nobody else is really getting it and nobody else is wearing it – then the trend doesn’t really work. So I hung up my stilettos…. but only momentarily.

Now I am keen to add to my stiletto collection – a leopard print pair, a nude pair, a red pair and a designer pair. I am wearing the stilettos I already own as and when I can, but let’s be honest, with the violent cold we have been experiencing in England and the recent downfall of rain, sleet AND snow, wearing stilettos is a major commitment that I cannot make at the moment. This is my thing with stilettos, you see, as excited as I am that I grabbed hold of this trend and have been donning these shoes before they become populace, I am only able to wear them on very select occasions.  Reason being, I can’t flit around town Carrie Bradshaw style in stilettos the way I once did. I have become way to accustomed to the support and protection a platform or a chunky heel provides.  I am not used to the ball of my foot being so close to the ground, I am not used to being able to make out a pebble beneath the sole of my shoe and I am not used to relying on such a thin heel to hold the weight of my body. In my late twenties I have also realised, I am not comfortable having any of my skin exposed to the harsh outdoors of an English winter, apart from my face of course, and this includes my feet. I wear boots and brogues and that’s as far as it goes.

I recently went to dinner with a friend who wore a pair of red suede stilettos with a metal cigarette heel. When she arrived I was a little sad that I had opted for a pair of black suede wedged boots instead of my stilettos and admired her commitment. Let me tell you about my friend – she’s tiny, about five foot tall and she wears heels relentlessly. Even to walk around Portobello Market she’ll adorn her feet in the highest of heels. However, as we readied ourselves to head home, she slipped off her red stilettos and swapped them for a pair of Converse. I was flabbergasted, a little disappointed even – but I got it. Stilettos are not a commuters friend and they are no walk in the park. If you’re jumping in a cab, driving or doing something that involves very little walking, dancing or time on your feet in general, then by all means opt for your stilettos, but these shoes will not see you through hard times, in fact they might create them!

So, I wear my stilettos as and when I can. I wear them when I am going for mid-week drinks or dinner and am driving or jumping in a cab. I wear them to the cinema – as just like drinking and dining, you do this sitting down. I wear them on house visits and I recently wore them at a work conference, (not to, because I carried them in my bag) which also involved lots of sitting down. They look spectacular with a pair of leather trousers, and with skirts and dresses stilettos really elongate your legs and give your feet that perfect ballet dancers arch (think Victoria Beckham’s feet in a pair of court shoes). If I’m wearing my stilettos in the daytime I generally tend to pair these very elegant shoes, which can be looked upon as particularly sexual, with a more casual look. As someone who isn’t a particularly casual dresser, but has desperately been trying to pull off the casual sporty winter trends, namely the sweatshirt, the stiletto has been my game changer. Since committing to my stilettos I have bought four sweatshirts and am feeling very proud! These shoes will glam up any sweatshirt and skinny jeans ensemble instantly and appear almost effortless.I say ‘appear’, because only you will know the effort you are making to wear these shoes. Whether it’s  paying extortionate cab fares to and from a location, driving on a night out, therefore compromising on the merriment of alcohol consumption and knowing, if the night kicks off and the crowd gets dancing, you’ll be spending most of it dancing with your bottom on your chair. 

So, for those like me, not braving the cold in stilettos just yet, I say we enjoy the spring in our step for the rest of the winter, come Spring 2013, we might not be able to. 

Victoria Beckham in stilettos

 

 

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Tom Ford Black Pumps with Gold Lock #heels #shoes

Be charmed, stay inspired! x

Inspired by my Marrakech Wardrobe!

Inspired by my Marrakech Wardrobe, the SS2012 trends, Carrie Bradshaw  and the Sex and the City 2 wardrobe…

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Up until three or four blog posts ago I had been slightly reluctant to post photos of myself on Charms of a Dandizette – I suppose because this blog isn’t really about what I look like. Having said that, as well as being concerned about fashion,  Charms of a Dandizette is also about my personal style. So, I thought my next Marrakech inspired post, this one,  should be about my wardrobe approach to my week in the Moroccan city.

I set myself a little fashion task for my trip, which was to implement as many of the season’s trends into my holiday wardrobe as financially, physically and tastefully possible. So neatly packed away in my powder pink Marrakech suitcase was a white Broderie Anglaise top, of course inspired by Marc Jacobs’ sweetly designed spring summer 2012 Louis Vuitton collection. Bravely I purchased three bra-lets, borrowed from the midriff baring trend that filtered across the catwalk’s of Italian fashion houses, from Dolce and Gabbana and Prada, to Versace and Miu Miu. I say ‘bravely’, because I didn’t do not even one sit up or even attempt to decrease my calorie consumption in preparation for midrif baring – but c’est la vie! My bra-lets were cleverly selected to nod towards several trends; a mint green bra-let  lends itself toward the sherbet pastel colours currently being donned all over the high street, most commonly in the form of skinny jeans. And a scarf print bra-let, the pattern taking inspiration from the ancestral Versace patterns, which D and G also took inspiration from for their ss2012 collection, which saw tiny skirts and makeshift bra tops appear very 90s Versace.

I did a significant amount of research into appropriate dress for a Marrakech visit, to find out what was suitable to wear in this particular Muslim country. Of course, a lot of the information I found online was conflicting – some sites advised to cover shoulders, others said cover legs and others said you could wear whatever you liked. I thought best to cover my legs – I suppose because of my belief that legs are a far more overtly sexual than arms.

I took most of my inspiration from Carrie Bradshaw’s wardrobe in Sex and the City 2 and invested in lots of jewellery, even more eyeliner and lots of long flowing skirts and dresses in beautiful materials. The wonderful thing about billowing floor length dresses and skirts is, I felt no pressure whatsoever to wear heels and therefore I never – not once – the entire holiday. I stress this, because this is somewhat of a revelation for me! I packed two pairs of heels and didn’t remove either of them from their shoe bags. The other wonderful thing about length is, when worn in beautiful materials, it’s instantly glamorous! So with the glamour volume turned up, heels probably would have been overkill! Yes, me, the queen of bling can even identify overkill!

So for my discovery of overkill, for my week in flat shoes, for my courage to don a bra-let and for my time in Marrakech  I feel proud!

So, here’s some snaps of the Marrakech wardrobe!

AZAR in Marrakech
At Azar in Marrakech, wearing a black open back strappy top from Zara and patterned skirt from River Island
At the Palais Charhamane Marrakech
At the Palais Charhamane Marrakech wearing black Miss Selfridge skirt and medallion scarf print crop top from Topshop
Le Jardin Majorelle - YSL Love Post Cards Marrakech
At Le Jardin Majorelle in Marrakech wearing my mum’s Broderie Anglais button back top from Next (this top is 30 years old!) Floral shorts from H and M
Atlas Medina Resort and Spa Marrakech
At the Atlas Medina Resort and Spa Marrakech, wearing pleated Primark maxi dress, woven clutch bag from Primark and earrings from Primark too! (Good old Primark!)
Atlas Medina Resort and Spa Marrakech
At the Atlas Medina Resort and Spa Marrakech, wearing royal blue Topshop dress and enamel peacock chain from H and M.
Sahara at Atlas Medina Resort and Spa Marrakech
I am sure my sister won’t want to be on my blog..but she looks so nice I had to put this pic in. She’s wearing peach sheer trousers from Forever 21, bangle from H and M and watch by  Michael Kors Watch
Gueliz Marrakech
Wearing royal blue dress from Topshop in Gueliz. This is a great picture! I love the striking blue and the whimsicality of the dress against the city…

Make everything in life inspirational! Be charmed, stay inspired! x

Cupcaking Crazy

Cupcaking Crazy

I needn’t head to the Hummingbird cafe to know I would take an instant disliking to it, it is not the Hummingbird cafe so much that irks me, more so I would say it’s women that talk about cupcakes as though they have special powers, an ability to change the world or eradicate famine in East Africa – the women who have bought into this Suzy Homemaker cupcakeing affair and the whole designer cupcake phenomena. Of course, I would proudly hold my hands up and say that my love affair with shoes is somewhat uncontrollable and would no doubt irritate a more sensible woman and any heterosexual man. But, I’ve always loved shoes, whether they be from Gucci or Miu Miu, Aldo or Office and anywhere in between – a sexy shoe is just a sexy shoe, it isn’t necessary that gimmicks be employed to remind me of my love for them. Vivienne Westwood most certainly couldn’t trick me into thinking that full grown women should be wearing Jellies, no matter how much I miss my youth, they are in fact a complete and utter waste of money and quite frankly would look ridiculous on any female foot above the age of sixteen. I know it’s the western world all over, get some hot advertising, some cute packaging, create a unique experience and  get a hot celeb endorsement and the masses will soon follow and we, being the masses, so often do – But cupcakes?  Designer Cupcakes? Fashionable Cupcakes? -Come on. Since seeing Sex and the City’s Carrie Bradshaw and Miranda Hobbs eating cupcakes outside of the Magnolia Bakery in New York, the cupcake crazy has surged. Does it honestly look like Carrie eats cupcakes? Or even SJP herself. Manolo’s and Judith Leiber clutches I can understand, I can even understand look alikes for half the price, but cupcakes – I just can’t seem to get on board.

Whether it’s the sugary sweet frosting, the primary coloured icing, the hundreds and thousands in the shapes of stars, the penny sweets and marzipan figured toppings or the sheer bliss of customising cupcakes…surely it shouldn’t take the sickly sweet, powder pinks and mint green, nursery looking, candy factory decor of the Hummingbird cafe, Candy Cakes and the thousands of other cupcake kitchens to stir up the love of cake amongst fully grown women. I understand that in most cases, the cupcake experience is like the recapture of youth, the nostalgia of being a little girl, playing with her china tea set and offering cupcakes to her collection of Care Bears, knowing they’d never say yes. But having been a witness to cupcaking far more than I would have liked, this sickeningly sweet, femininely frilly, cupcake consumption has truly started to fascinate me.

Greggs have been baking cakes for seventy years and no doubt if you have a local bakery, they too bake cupcakes, yet neither have enthused the woman to cupcake on the scale that she is cupcaking now. This is the designer cupcake era, quality and reputation suddenly isn’t enough to do it for this supposed cupcake connoisseur- like they were buying shoes or handbags, they want the whole experience. It’s bewildering to see young stylish women winding down at the end of the day, holding conversation over garish coloured cupcakes in girlishly sweet cafes, as opposed to a good bottle of full bodied red wine in a trendy London bar. Recently, lunching in South East London’s gastro pub, The Talbot, a friend excuses herself from post meal chit chat to attend a tea and cupcake party – no kids were expected to attend this party, nor was anyone over the age of seventy. Women are collectively baking cupcakes together, cooking their way through the Hummingbird recipe book – apparently this is called a cupcake party and apparently this is supposed to be fun.

With all this cupcaking craziness, these cakes most certainly have to be mouth-wateringly delectable beyond their trinkets and accessories, and their charming marketing and branding antics. Fortunately, I never had to pay for my first sample of designer cake; a friend’s boyfriend recently demonstrated his affection for her with a big chunk of Hummingbird’s Red Velvet and she kindly offered to share the calories with me. At Hummingbird, Red Velvet can be bought sliced or as a cupcake. It is classic American sponge layer cake, lined with butter cream and topped with creamy white icing. The sponge is flavoured with cocoa and vanilla and is dark in colour, with a reddish tinge to it. The sponge gets its colour from red food colouring, which during the food rationing of the Second World War was replaced with beetroot juice. My friend, like a child high on sugar, sang and danced about her Hummingbird, Red Velvet cake, ‘Omigod, this is too good.’ Not so good that she wouldn’t share it with me, not that she had to sacrifice much of her beloved cake. A fork full was more than enough. It wasn’t that the cake tasted horrible, it was more the fact that it tasted of nothing, well nothing but disappointment – overrated and definitely not worth my calories. Considering the whole cupcake kafuffle I was expecting something more Alice and Wonderland like, out of this world and if not devilishly moreish then decadently rich.

I had pre-empted that the gimmicks and the delightful charm would far outweigh the cupcakes themselves. Firstly, as far as I’m concerned, good food is good food and needs no gimmicks – (Gordon Ramsay will verify that), secondly, strangely, I am dubious of the fully grown woman that has fallen for the complete cupcake experience. The cupcake is the quintessence of the woman who wears sunflower yellow dresses and polka dot twin sets, small pearls and flat Mary Jane’s, she’s always cheery and just like a cupcake, she’s sweet, innocent and naive to the harshness of the big bad world.

I am not the type to wear flat Mary Jane’s, nor am I likely to ever be the kind of woman who cupcakes. Possessing a somewhat rich pallet, there is nothing sweet and light about my cake consumption – I like my cakes rich, moist, devilishly chocolaty and like the heels on my shoes, my cake needs to be absolutely huge to satisfy me. I am going to be cliché and relate this cupcake crazy to the gloom and doom of the recession – the sprinkles and cupcake frosting is like the rose tinted light at the end of the murky tunnel, unfortunately for me, life has been more than successful at letting cynicism colonise the little girl that I once was. The woman that can find delight in cupcaking, from the baubles and sweeties, to the marzipan paraphernalia, the baby pink walls of the cafes and the beautiful smells of baking in the home is not only a truly refreshing woman, but an incredibly lucky one. Cupcakes, designer or not, just won’t cut it for me – if I can’t afford shoes, I will always revert to drinks in town for my mood lifter.

 And, if I have to eat cake, it won’t wear more accessories or brighter ornamentation than I do.

Fabulations and the Joie de Vivre

 

 

Today is the first day of the rest of what is going to be my fabulous summer…

Today is the first day of the rest of what is going to be my fabulous summer. The weather is beautiful and although some days grey has pretty much decided to stay warm. Barbecues and drinks in gardens are in abundance, weddings are being planned and holidays and honeymoons are being taken or heavily awaited upon!
Yes – today, although I’m finding it particularly hard to be completely exultant considering my Sicilian is a minute away from boarding his plane back to Sicily without a return ticket – is a very exciting day!
Summer is the time for FABULOUSNESS and although I have been pulled up on my excessive use of this word by the Sicilian, I don’t care. Firstly he’s not here anymore and secondly very seldom does he read my work anyway.
He asks me what I’ll do while he’s gone, I pull my sunglasses down my nose and look over the rim for effect and simply say, of course with a hint of a joke, ‘Be fabulous.’ He can’t help but laugh, he doesn’t know that part of me and every other woman’s life is seriously concerned with being fabulous. And when better to be fabulous, than in the fabulous summer?
Of course if we could be we’d be fabulous all the time in all aspects of life, our dream jobs would pay our dream salaries, we’d drive dream cars, we’d reside in dream houses in dream locations, we’d have our dream bodies and ridiculously dreamy boyfriend’s.

Nobody can be completely fabulous…

Unfortunately most of us are old enough and sane enough to know that nobody can be completely fabulous. I would like to believe that I am a fabulous writer – But I do not make a fabulous wage. I would like to believe I am a fabulous shopper – But can not shop in fabulous shops – (at least not all the time).
Amy Winehouse is a fabulous singer – But her addiction to intoxication, not so fabulous. See my revelation – or should I say FABULATION?!
And as we get older I think we concern ourselves far more with the importance of being fabulous, I suppose being fabulous coincides with success. I’m guessing if you feel successful then no doubt you should feel pretty fabulous.

Her career requires her to look young, healthy and glamorous…

I have a collection of friends who all are pretty much buying that one way ticket to fabulous; Friends that only date rich men, footballers or models, others that only wear designer clothes and shop in shops just because they’re expensive, others that refuse to wear one outfit twice and friends that only go to exclusive clubs and bars. All of these idiosyncrasies make us feel extraordinary, special – fabulous.
I won’t name any names, I’ll call them Angel Rae and Kimmie Parker – these two are concerned less with how to accumulate fabulous things and focus more on a fabulous lifestyle.
Angel Rae is an air hostess, her career is consumed by looking young, healthy and glamorous, staying in hotels and ordering room service, travelling the world, shopping globally – her tailor is located in Dehli and her favourite shop in America, she’s chin wagged with a seriously intoxicated singers weed dealer and plans gatherings in Barbados. She has very little time for boyfriends and when in London spends her time getting manicures, waxing and clubbing in Crystal. She’s rarely depressed or saddened, she loves her job which completely defines her life – therefore she loves this too. Sounds fabulous? – I think so.

They frequented Soho and Shoreditch house…

Kimmie Parker on the other hand is a student, like myself she wishes to build a career that is as infinite and as fabulous as you make it. She has always had it in mind to work in a field which brings her loads of fabulous perks. Her ex boyfriend was an actor, they frequented Soho and Shoreditch house, hobnobbed with the aspiring creatives and attended film screenings and premiers.
Kimmie, while she’s not studying works for a household Italian designer and spots Naomi Campbell and Sienna Miller from her shop window. She is completely connected in the world of fabulous retail and never pays full price for those fabulous forever purchases. Kimmie Parker recently told me after splitting with her actor boyfriend, ‘Oh I met a man at the Hogan party.’ I told her I thought it was too soon for her to be searching for men already, she replied, ‘Oh he’s gay.’ So then my next comment was, ‘So – what’s he going to do for you?’ Kimmie replied, ‘He knows lots of fabulous people that can get us in to lots of fabulous places where we can meet lots more fabulous people.’ Kimmie Parker is a networker and understands the importance of assimilation and association. She’s a theatre goer, a party goer, a shopper, a fashionista and determined to cater for her fabulous pallet. On nights out drinking in London Angel Rae tells me how much she loves Kimmie and how great she is, ‘She just seems to have no issues.’

Her sole ambition in life was to be rich…

Lila Carr, a friend of a cousin was at a barbecue on Sunday that I attended, she told me her sole ambition in life was to be rich and apart from sleeping her way to the top she was quite happy to do pretty much anything she needed to get there. She told me her life is accustomed to getting her hair and nails done twice a week, to driving a top of the range German car, eating out or getting take away every day and living in Canary Wharf.
‘I don’t have time for passions, for creativity or art.’ She told me she just needed a pay cheque and the best way she could get the kind of pay cheque she needed was to work in sales. I never asked her what her pay cheque was, but she assured me, ‘Trust me – I sell.’ I never doubted her for a second. She pulled out a book from her Louis Vuitton speedy bag, it was entitled,‘I Will be a Millionaire.’
I guess that that was Lila Carr’s idea of fabulous – money.

‘So, what does it mean to you, then – this fabulous life?’

‘So, what does it mean to you, then – this fabulous life?’ My Sicilian asks me.
I am glad that he has become intrigued by my pondering and hope he can endure the endless deliberating I am about to undergo.
The Hills and The City, Runs House, Desperate Housewives, Jackie Collins’ books and Vogue – these all feature characters with fabulous lives. Let’s not forget the queen of fabulous life, Sex and the City.
None of these fictitious or reality characters are happy all the time, their lives aren’t perfect, Carrie Bradshaw didn’t own her house and struggled to find love, but her passion was sex, relationships and writing, so she made that her career – that was fabulous, Mr Big was fabulous, her shoe collection was fabulous and she lived in Manhattan and that was fabulous too.

Anything we can aspire to is usually fabulous, I aspire to have a career like Candace Bushnell (Carrie Bradshaw), Lauren Conrad or Whitney Port. I aspire to have a life like some of the journalists in Vogue who in their articles just seem to have it all – PLUS free clothes.
Of course money can buy you all the things you need for a fabulous life – Holidays, Fine Wining and Dining, Bulgari Jewellery, Cartier Time Pieces, Bentley’s with Chauffeurs and children in Private Schools. But now so consumed with becoming a writer I know that recognition for my talent is far more fabulous at this point in my life than a pay cheque for work I am less consumed with. I suppose unlike Lila Carr, my grand plan for fabulousness isn’t to make money, but to become a writer, which in turn should make me money. The difference is you can be a fabulous writer without having the fabulous trinkets, of course if you said you were giving me a chauffeur driven Bentley and a book deal that would be doubly fabulous!

Once you have that, what isn’t fabulous?

So – after my deliberating I have decided that being fabulous is having that Joie de Vivre. Once you have that, what isn’t fabulous? Getting dressed is a fashion show, the pavement is a Catwalk, a glass of wine is an evening in a bar with conversation, laughter and amazing company, eating is a dinner party, a restaurant that serves your favourite food or a beautiful home cooked meal with family, you look and feel a million fabulous pounds and being gifted with multi tasking you do all of this while being dressed incredibly fabulously (of course).

So, here’s to a fabulous summer, fabulous outfits and most importantly to the Joy of Life X x