Spring Spring Spring

I love spring! These photos feel a little out of character since I am feeling particularly masculine right now, but even when I am being bad ass I can't help but love flowers.

Leave some comments for me xx

When debutants disagree

There's a line in a film, I think it's "She's the man", that says "when debutants disagree, they say it with their eyes".

This is from one of my favourite films. 

I decided that I need a "I hate boys" t-shirt, so I made it using an old t-shirt which had been cut up for a dress up outfit and some bleach.

When fashion students disagree, they say it on a t-shirt.

When the working day is done....

It’s the world’s oldest excuse. I can’t go out tonight- I have to wash my hair. Surely this can’t be a more enjoyably night than even the most mediocre date? I would disagree. I spend hours on my hair. It’s long, it’s naturally platinum blonde, it’s my best feature. When I have a night out, I have a long hair ritual; deep conditioning, washing, blow drying, straightening, curling, twisting it up, teasing it out, combing it down. When the first hairstyle doesn’t work, I start again; brushing and combing my hair, sometimes washing the product back out. Only when it looks perfect to I select an outfit and start doing my make-up.
This obsessive self grooming before a night out is tolerated by my friends- who often get asked if it looks ok, have I done the back properly, do they think it would look better up. They laugh when it gets ruined by taking a jumper off, or by the rain, or when someone touches it. They can appreciate that it gives me pleasure to look nice when I am on a date, or out dancing, but I can’t help but wonder if the revelation of the extent of this obsession would make them think badly of me? Would my hair-retreat be criticised as overly vain?
The truth about this obsession with my hair is that it is not a routine I save only for social occasions. I have created a ritual so enjoyable nothing relaxes me more than it. I get in from a long day, shoes off, into the bath, music on and off I go. Hours of being blissfully disconnected to the world; no phone, no television, no worrying about emails left unanswered and deadlines left unprepared for.
Plenty of people have similar routines. I have a friend who unplugs her internet, phone and T.V every Tuesday for a few hours, another who lights candles and gets in the bath. One young mother that I know takes a book and physically locks herself into her toilet for a few blissful chapters before the baby starts crying. These escapist coping mechanisms are not something that you admit to your green grocer, but equally are not something you hide from your nearest and dearest; yes, it is selfish to let your husband deal with your baby while you pretend to be on the loo, and uneconomical to re-fill the bath with hot water for hours and hours, but none of these traits are as condemnable as that of vanity.
Well, for the friends reliable and committed enough to read the articles I write, here is my justification.
When we were children, we played with each other’s hair constantly- I remember one particular occasion where at the end of break time my teacher made the boys and girls line up and the girls’ line was perfectly straight because we were each playing with the hair of the girl in front, and having our hair played with in return. Partly this was a learning experience; we used the opportunity to try out things that we couldn’t do on our own heads without straining our arms and balancing mirrors. This was a time when I learned to plait, the most basic of all hair techniques upon which all others are built. My nights in with my hairbrush are partially an advanced version of this, practicing things I see on the latest catwalk or on shoots for ENVY.
We also play with each other’s hair because it promotes intimacy. The gentle touch of hair being agitated releases endorphins which make us happy, and the act of touching hair makes us feel intimate and accepted. Perhaps the realisation of the intimacy of the act is what stops us playing with any hair which sits in front of us in a line, and restricts the list of people afforded that privilege to lovers and hairdressers.
My question is; if we all love having our hair touched so much that we are willing to pay extortionate amounts of money every 6-8 weeks, why not give ourselves a little pampering? Feel intimate, relaxed and happy with our own company? Should I be made to feel guilt for my seemingly vain past time? On a night in with my hairbrush I am guaranteed no pressure intimacy and sweat free endorphins, how many nights out can offer the same?
So I can’t go out tonight, I’m washing my hair.

Machine

Took this on Melissa's phone. It has made me really want an Iphone, because the camera is so epic!

xx

Pretty Ugly

This is a shoot I took the other day with Tanisha and Melissa directing and styling. It is the second in the ENVY magazine. Tanisha took the main photos but these were just a few that I snapped quickly.

I got a bad-ass bruise from taking this one because I was on top of a wardrobe. Getting up was really easy, getting down not so much.

xx

The Letter I

I have already mentioned that I am working on a mini-LOVE magazine for my fashion comms. They often have fancy letters at the beginning of their articles so I have been trying some out for the bits I wrote.



When I pick a favourite I will have to spend hours creating the same thing on adobe illustrator, so that its neater. Which should be fun. Or something.

Scissors

Some photos of a pair of brightly coloured scissors. I think they look like Tony Cragg Sculptures.

Polar-chic

Lets say, for the sake of this argument that I have been out dancing about 100 times in my life. I have no idea how accurate that is, but it makes the maths easier.

In this scenario, 99% of the time I carefully consider how whatever outfit I have selected will look under U.V. light.

The other 1% of the time, I dress up as a polar bear, and GLOW all night.

Polar bears are very chic right now after the whole "frozen planet" shenanigan. I also think I was subconsciously influenced by my teddy bear, who looks JUST LIKE THIS.

Narcissa

These photos were taken for my magazine but didn't make the final cut, so I am free to release them!

Model- Olivia Macfarlane

Photos- Melissa Kuwana

With thanks to Andrine for direction and Tanisha for most of the photos!

A little feminism

I found an amazing female author from 1915 who wrote feminist poetry, and it is brilliant.

Here's one I really loved;


Why We Oppose Pockets for Women

1. Because pockets are not a natural right.

2. Because the great majority of women do not want pockets. If they did they would have them.

3. Because whenever women have had pockets they have not used them.

4. Because women are required to carry enough things as it is, without the additional burden of pockets.

5. Because it would make dissension between husband and wife as to whose pockets were to be filled.

6. Because it would destroy man's chivalry toward woman, if he did not have to carry all her things in his pockets.

7. Because men are men, and women are women. We must not fly in the face of nature.

8. Because pockets have been used by men to carry tobacco, pipes, whiskey flasks, chewing gum and compromising letters. We see no reason to suppose that women would use them more wisely.

And another-

Women (With rather insincere apologies to Mr. Rudyard Kipling.)

I went to ask my government
if they would set me free,
They gave a pardoned crook a vote,
but hadn't one for me;

The men about me laughed and frowned
and said: "Go home, because
We really can't be bothered
when we're busy making laws."

Oh, it's women this, and women that and women have no sense,
But it's pay your taxes promptly when it comes to the expense,
It comes to the expense, my dears, it comes to the expense,
It's pay your taxes promptly when it comes to the expense.

I went into a factory
to earn my daily bread:
Men said: "The home is woman's sphere."
"I have no home," I said.

But when the men all marched to war,
they cried to wife and maid,
"Oh, never mind about the home,
but save the export trade."

For it's women this and women that, and home's the place for you,
But it's patriotic angels when there's outside work to do,
There's outside work to do, my dears, there's outside work to do,
It's patriotic angels when there's outside work to do.

We are not really senseless,
and we are not angels, too,
But very human beings,
human just as much as you.

It's hard upon occasions
to be forceful and sublime
When you're treated as incompetents
three-quarters of the time.

But it's women this and women that, and woman's like a hen,
But it's do the country's work alone, when war takes off the men,

And it's women this and women that and everything you please,
But woman is observant, and be sure that woman sees.

Hope you enjoy a bit of Monday-morning poetry! I know I sure do! Left you wanting more?

Have a happy Monday!

"no one else can make my stomach fall out with one syllable"

This sort of doodle should come with a warning, and the warning should read "if you start to doodle little roses you will not listen to your next hour of lecture because you will be trying to figure out how you made the first one look so good and the others aren't living up to it"

Pin-up

Just a quick drawing of my sister.

I've been working really hard putting together my magazine for fashion comms, and I am completely in love with my group and all the work we have done for it. Last night I stayed up late editing photos with Tanisha who is a photoshop genius and we have chosen all the photos for the 6 page fashion story which is really exciting. Slightly disappointingly I think we need a re-shoot for the other images because the model is very beautiful and we think we need more kink and edge to impress the people who mark it. It's a shame because if it was the sort of magazine that I would read but we need to be more out-there and preferably have lots of nudity.

Hope everyone is having a great weekend.

xx

Lipstick Story

Outlandish, exaggerated and rhetorical statement: Red lipstick is in fact war paint in disguise.

Over the hectic Christmas shopping rush I realised two things; the principles of war (selection and maintenance of the aim) can be effectively applied to shopping, and that women who wear red lipstick are in fact wearing a sort of modern-single-woman war paint.

My father has a lovely tradition with his Christmas shopping; leave it till the last second and then blitz it all in one day with my assistance. This year I demanded a McFlurry as payment (for those of you who live in a cave they cost ninety nine pee) and the stingey bastard still wouldn’t pay up. We were almost finished, down to the last thing on the list. I was wearing appropriate shopping battle gear- flat shoes, comfy bra, hair tied off my face. Before the search for the small and strange last thing I felt the need to apply copious quantities of “pleasure me red”, my favourite red lipstick which I was most certainly not born with (maybelline, get it? HA). A bald, middle aged military man, my father didn’t understand why I felt the need to do so. I tried to explain that it makes you feel prepared, invincible, brave. This was when I realised that it shouldn’t be so hard to explain to a military man after all.

My best friend hates that I am so capable of giving the impression that I am both confident and not lost (which I am most of the time- I really have no sense of direction). Well one weekend I accidentally left my pleasure me red in her flat, and she too felt the draw of the war paint. She, like me, was able to feign a confidence which she didn’t feel once she had tried it out. She now bought her own tube a few months ago.

The Picts used to paint themselves blue before going into battle. This was for two main reasons; to be able to identify who was on their team in the heat of the battle and to scare the enemy. I am not suggesting that red lipstick plays a central role in the single-vs-couple battle that has and always will rage, but putting it on is like a tiny miniature version of the ancient painting ceremonies. It prepares you for a world where every day is an interview and every road a catwalk. And I love it.

Is it cos I is White?

I was asked to do a photo shoot for my friend Asna and her magazine project, which is based on ID magazine. Their theme is opposites so I was modelling against the very beautiful Melissa Kuwana, who is actually a very close friend. The chemistry on camera is quite clear, in fact most of the photos that Asna really likes are when we burst into fits of giggles.

When Asna and her editor Zoey were putting make up on me the conversation went something like this;

Oh my gosh you are so white! you are SO WHITE! Like, actually WHITE, you are so so pale, it's the same as WHITE!

HIGH MILL

HIGH MILL

http://www.hw.ac.uk/