Rest on your Corals...

I don’t believe in too much of a good thing, it just can’t be.

Being the empirical kind, I regularly put this theory to the test. I have textbook O.C.D when it comes to itunes playing a song till it’s lost all coherency, I’ve eaten the same tuna salad nearly every week day for the past 6 months and lately, much to Mr H's amusement I’ve been a walking pink highlighter.

From pink skirts and nail varnishes to retro kitchenware and even an abandoned gym bag, my world has certainly been rose tinted.

Never one to tone it down (or admit defeat) I’ve taken a sabbatical from the demure blush side of the colour spectrum and ramped it all the way up to embrace coral. Highlighter to Sebastian the Crab....progress, right?

After attempting to explain to Mr H exactly what Coral looks like, (including a prolonged conversation about the sea bed) I decided a practical demonstration would be best. First out of the bag pleated sun dress  £42.00 from Topshop

Not only does it fit into my 'rule of 10's' (Simply put - if it's a size 10 and I managed to get into it, I buy it.) it's surprisingly comfortable. The concealed magic stretchy waist, nips in at just the right point, in my case about 2mm above my cake-pockets-hip-cushions, particularly helpful when it's debut was to a diner party. The neat pleats give it it floaty feminine finish but the sheer material and above the knee hem line keep it from being too prim.

A quick twirl ( because, really - who can resist doing that?) reveals a V shaped back, revealing just enough skin, stopping before that awkward bra line land. Perfect with flats on a sunny day, or killer courts for a night time flirtation...

Alternatively, this coral and floral sun dress from River Island is another great day to night outfit for just £29.99

Again, the elasticsted waist band provides a flatterig shape while the skirt sits just on the knee, great if your Summer legs aren't quite beach ready. Here is a picture of me trying it on (my co-ordiating nails are a simply a fantastic co-incidence courtesty of another Painted Lady manicure)

After being hidden away since September in wellies, Ugg boots and an array of slipper socks it was time to see my feet again. An hour in the bathroom battling with a ped egg some industrial strength paint stripper and a blow torch, and my tootsies were primed and ready to see daylight again. The new summer shade ‘Orange Fizz’ by Chanel gives a brilliant peachy high shine finish without being garish against pre-tanned skin

 If fanciful footwear is your thing then these braided twist Sandals from Dorothy Perkins will warm up exposed toes. and with a bargain price tag of £19 it's a cheap way to cash in on the colour trend now without having to carry it into Autumn/Winter

A metalic toe post and heel strap provide some summer bling while the flat twisted braiding compliments the nautical vibe popping up in various bardot striped t-shirts all over the high street.

For those who the word 'Plimpsols' conjures up images of reconstituted tire rubber shoes, sold exclusively in Woolworth's and being forced wear them during primary school P.E. lessons (paired with a cotton vest and forever friends knickers - no?just me then?)  these fabulous Whistles plimps are sure to banish any bad feelings, currently retailing for £40 but if you're quick there is 20% off with this weeks Grazia Magazine

I'm all for the cheap pieces when it comes to this trend, I know I love it now but come the cold dark nights of late 2011 I'll be reverting back to the comfort of dark cover all woolens and really won't appreciate having invested in a rainbow bright wardrobe. That said, if I were in the Market (i.e. Pay bracket) to go for one blow out item, to use that famous line:  

' I carried a Watermelon?!'



Mulberry Mini Alexa, Watermelon £525.

A girl can dream (in colour).

Playing the fields...

I wouldn’t say I’m afraid of commitment, I have a long term boyfriend, a 12 month lease on the worlds smallest flat and have just emptied my piggy bank to pay for a car. Sometimes I even feel like a grown up.

 However if you ask the boyfriend/ look under the sofa in the flat/ open the boot of the car you will find a pile of abandoned ideas, hobbies and mostly - sporting equipment.

The Davina McCall workout DVD has only been opened once (after jogging on the spot made my windows rattle too much I decided it was too depressing to carry on), the boot camp membership has long since expired following a insipid email about ‘scheduling clashes’ and there is a fairly swish tennis racquet nestled on top of a pair of dumbbells somewhere in a dark corner of my wardrobe.

I always suspected that I wasn’t alone in my initial motivational enthusiasm which soon peters out into a hazy memory, but never really had it confirmed until now. The genius people behind Find My Workout have accomlished two things:

 1. Reassured me that not everyone has a posh gym membership coupled with a range of sporting hobbies

 2. Identified a huge gap in the market for putting ‘toe in the water’ kind of people in touch with a flexible approach to exercise.

The free web site allows users to search from the comfort of their worn in sofa for over 1000 different fitness classes. For the adventurous/ indecisive there is the option to put in a post code and bring up all the options, the more organised lot can search on day/time criteria as well as class type.

Even though I was initially impressed with the option to partake in a Safari Kickboxing class in Fulham  or a camped up ‘Jazzercise’ session in Chigwell  it still sounded a bit too much like exercise to me. As the motivation started to wane earlier then usual the special offer tab drew my (limited) attention and lead me to actually commit to a class! Job done.

Okay so it’s only one class and the £1 special offer price combined with the proximity to the Northern Line home swung me, but the beauty of Find My Workout is that I can book it up, give it a whirl, convince myself that I loved that class and it will become a new part of my ‘regime’ then after the 24 hour buzz I can forget about my new passion all together, free of the guilt that comes with seeing that Gym Bunny direct debit on my bank statement each month.

Anyway I can't comit to a monthly membership when I have all my horse riding lessons to pay for ? *steps over a pile of shuttlecocks to get to the jodhpurs*

Old Blue

Maybe it's living in London. Maybe it's an age thing. Maybe it's that ever eroding chip on my shoulder. Whatever it is, lately life has become one big competition.

Endless rounds of who is is planning the most luxurious holiday, wearing the most expensive 'it' bag,  sporting the biggest knuckle weighting diamond or climbing that elusive career ladder the fastest. With the only apparent prize being the knowledge that you've got one over on your friends?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not exactly low maintenance, I'm all about the finer things in life. However, if I'm really honest my most treasured possessions have absolutely no monetary value at all but to me, they're priceless.

I know I'm not alone, I can't be the only one who remembers a time when a homemade mix tape from the boy next door or being gifted a bar of my favourite chocolate was enough to make my heart skip a beat?

I was reminded of this recently when I found this old email from me to Mr H:



"It's 05.25am.  I have just spent 45 minutes on a night bus adventure and there was not a seat to be seen. Seriously, you have to ask where all these people are off to at this time of day? I'm thinking crack cocaine is a bigger issue then any of us realise.....


Finally I'm here. Sleep deprived with aching legs, standing on a freezing platform in Victoria station. To my left  there are two spritely young gents who look suspiciously like they have been 'raving' (with the help of various narcotics) for some time now. I have twice declined their less than subtle invitations to join the party.

To top it all off I've just paid £6.00 for 'breakfast' which after my first bite I concluded that, looks are not in-fact deceptive and I was right. It's inedible. True to calamity form I persevered and it wasn't until that fateful 3rd bite that I admitted defeat and donated the goods to a pigeon.... even the bird declined such a tasty morsel. Obviously Croque Monsieur wasn't its first choice from the a la carte offerings of the concrete floor, as it went for a discarded tissue instead - can't say I blame it. I am even quite envious.

Some would say I can't expect the 'Deli France' stand to deliver perfectly authentic French cuisine? This little known truth, I'm sure, shocks you as much as it did me. By now I'm sure you will be wondering of the reasons behind me subjecting you to this banal rambling of thoughts and observations of clandestine London? I have also, at times while writing this - lost sight of my original message.

But then, as I'm boarding my carriage I remember. It's all so clear. It is that, as I stand here on the verge of a comatosed depression, I realise that I'm warm, comfortable and okay, perhaps a little smug. All because I am wearing my new favourite thing; A shrunken, worn, bobbled blue jumper stolen from a boy that I love.

What a perfect morning this is."


x