Bland Stand

Yes, it's been a while I know, but I haven't really been able to get myself motivated by the usual utterly gorgeous or insanely hideous. It all seems to have become blurred. Where is the  personality & originality? Even the Oscars were fairly nondescript with everyone playing it safe.

The only glimmer of excitement was of course Chanel. The Chanel supermarket was a piece of genius and so was Adsa's lightening reaction, staging a 'copy cat' George show. And as someone who always gets caught  food shopping looking less than desirable it's a valuable lesson in that even the mundane can be elevated to another plane with a little lippy and of course one of those little padded chain handled bags.

A while back I posted a blog 'Brand Stand' about the pressures placed on young people in particular  to be seen in the right clothes, to wear the right label. It had occurred to me that it was a little like the story of the 'Kings New Clothes' where an astute and dastardly duo duped the King out of his riches purely by appealing to his vanity. And I still think in some ways it is this very thing that drives the whole brand wagon.

It was therefore with interest  that I learnt of the new trend Normcore! Its defined as bland anti-style. Dressing in a nondescript way. It would seem that  what comes naturally to most of us is now, by some strange turn of fate,  the height of fashion. But apparently, only if you do it intentionally and not just because you're late for work or really don't give a f**k.

And this phenomena already seems to be spreading. Just the other day my email pinged with details of a new website www.anonyme.it with the hook line "Fashion should not be about who designs the garment but about who wears it".  Now fancy that!

But isn't that a far healthier outlook. Should I wear something because of the label or because of who endorses it. Or should I just buy what I like, what suits me and what makes me feel good about myself.

So go forth, go to the supermarket and make like it's a Chanel catwalk. Because next time you bump into that 'friend' at the shops whilst wearing  your tatty jeans and a slightly greying white T shirt you can simply say 'It's Normcore darling -  Normcore is this seasons latest thing'!

Style Over Substance

From statement bath to tiling gaff - Houston we have a problem!

Namely water dripping through the ceiling into the downstairs WC from the upstairs shower room.

Now I know it's not a big deal compared to the horror of having your home flooded, but water it seems can get everywhere. It seeps through the house undetected until suddenly before you know it, it breaks free and all hell breaks loose.

In fairness to the water we have had our suspicions for a while, and have half heartedly applied sealant etc but in reality our troubles started over seven years ago with a dodgy builder! Not a great admission given Mr H at Homes profession and the fact that I have the reputation for being both hard nosed and loud mouthed. But essentially this builder was known to us and had done work for clients before. The problem, that only hindsight clarifies, was that the builder was  outside his comfort zone in terms of both specification and location. He had employed a team previously but unbeknown to us had gone down the 'sub contractor route' who it turned out, were not willing to venture too far 'out in the sticks' and instead he relied on untested tradesmen who were not up to the job. Evidence if any were needed that you're only as good as your last job. In the end it was such a battle that professionalism left and two house owners just wanting their home back called it a day! - here endith lesson number 1

As such, our lovely lime stone shower room with sleek wall hung WC and wash basin wasn't so much high end as fag end. And water has always been an issue seeping through ill fitted tiles. So round 2 we're having it condemned and re worked. If only the water could have held off wrecking the ceiling downstairs for another few weeks when the contractors are scheduled to start work.

This minor domestic misdemeanour has meant that we now have to use the family bathroom. Not a problem you would think, a large half panelled room fitted with a statement bath and a walk through shower complete with a barely there glass screen. Style over substance - lesson number 2. The reason the whole family uses the shower room, apart from me moaning about the cleaning, is that as the house is old  it is difficult to heat it to anywhere approaching spa like temperature. Therefore the shower in the bathroom, gorgeous as it is, proves very drafty without a cubicle to at least allow a slight build up of steam. The bath, again a stylish choice, is so big that even though we aired our concerns, it takes so long to fill up from its waterfall style tap that any thought of relaxing has long since eluded you. The tap is fabulous, but the wide spread of water and the long fall from spout to bath only seems to cool it to a temperature into which you'd only place a new born baby (I'm slightly exaggerating this bit but you get the point). Definitely not conducive to a long hot soak, the type with bubbles both in your tub and your glass, where you finally emerge lobster like from the depths.

No, style over substance isn't big and it isn't clever. Ouch!

Anyone got a wetsuit they can lend me so I can wash my hair!

Muffin Top? - Chuffin Stop!

I'm sure that in this first week of January there will be a lot of people jostling for equipment at the gym, tripping over each other whilst out jogging and consuming litres of water and not a fat lot else.  And isn't this the whole crux of the matter?

We all know what food is good for us. We all know exercise is vital to a healthy lifestyle and we all know that in order to loose weight we need to expend more energy than we consume. Simple - the western worlds obesity problem solved!

So why then is it so difficult?

In fairness I do usually loose a few pounds at the beginning of each year. I still retain my same dress size but the weight loss means that I don't turn blue from holding my stomach in for long periods and I know that I can get into everything in my wardrobe rather than avoiding certain favourite dresses because I know they will be tight and I'll end up looking like I've been poured into them by way of an industrial strength sausage making machine. It gives me a whole new wardrobe that I've had languishing in the back of my closet all the time.

The problem is, and I can't stress enough how stupid I am repeating this torturous cycle,  that in the second half of the year something in my mind snaps and  I pile it all back on again. The answer is of course moderation in all things. But moderation begins with the same 'M' as mundane!

However, this new page I'm supposed to be turning, this new regime,  is kept waiting because, and I'm sure I can't be the only one that does this, I haven't consumed all the excesses of Christmas yet. It's still littered around the house. Bread sticks in the kitchen, a box of chocolates in the TV room. A bottle of Bailey's in the drinks cupboard and a Chocolate Orange nestled in the fruit bowl. Why is it in the fruit bowl?  Am I really trying to convince myself it's one of my 5 a day?

Yes the voice of reason says that the less I consume now the easier shifting those excess pounds will be. And yet this is as alien to me as eating sensibly. We all know the 'only eat when you're hungry' school of thought - the  problem is I  didn't go to that school. Perhaps it's a public school reserved for those thin, tall, haughty looking women that always proclaim that they never put on weight no matter how many lettuce leaves or grapes they consume.

Not that I'm bitter - heavens above. It's not their fault that a push up bra seems more successful in rounding up inadequate breasts to make a  realistic cleavage than a pair of Spanx is at squashing all the excesses of Christmas to make slender thighs.

Alas, I know what I must do. I'm sure that before January is out I'll be power walking the dog, eating 'no point soup' (the clue is in the name) and going crazy on a Friday night by rewarding myself with a small glass of fizz and a Curly Wurley. The latter is my treat of choice because it looks quite sizable if you discount all the holes and if you put it in the freezer it becomes so chewy it seems oddly substantial.

Yes, we all know the rules and yet still choose to break them and inevitably have to pay the price. I'll see you all at the Chiropractors later in the month. I'll be the one having pulled my back whilst attempting the 'Camel'. Smelling vaguely of vegetable soup and with a longing look in my eye that says 'bring on the weekend and the Curly Wurley'.

Still no time like the present - Pass me that Orange,  that's it,  the one that Terry left me!