The day that follows February 14th in the British calandar is a far more exciting event then that of red hearts, over priced gifts and soppy poems...(never been a big fan of the hype that is Valentines day). A celebration of all that is good, bad and quite frankly obscure in the U.K music scene - formally known as The Brits!
James Cordon took place as this years host (although I for one was not overly impressed) and found it uncomfortable to watch him awkwardly amble his way through one of the music industries yearly highlights. This was however, greatly overshadowed by amazing peformances from Adele, Mumford & Sons, Plan B and other great talents from our musically productive shores. These acts alone made some pretty worthwhile viewing, along with Mumford & Sons, Laura Marling and Arcade Fire finally getting some well earned recognition.
However, despite the fact that the Brits has been running since the mid 80's (well technically the 70's), there is one tradition missing...the notability factor! It has become far too polished and preened for my liking, even with fat boy Cordon presenting. Even the award itself has been 'fashionista'd' thanks to the eccentric talent of Vivienne Westwood. What I mean is (for those of you that can remember) is the excitement of live television, post watershed, when the likes of Jarvis Cocker standing up in front of Michael Jackson in protest of his 'Jesus' like figure, or when Chumbawumba decided to dump a bucket of water over cabinet minister John Prescott, or the never ending feuds between the Gallagher brothers in the oh so poignant days of 'Brit rock'! Even the Spice Girls vamped it up with Geri's 'Union Jack' dress, which later sold for over £40k.
No wonder we are accused of being overly stuffy and too 'P.C'.
Don't get me wrong, I love the glamour, the hype, the music (well some of) and even the Facebook antics that follow, but we have become a bit too refined in the areas that are just, well, not meant to be. British music and the scene that goes hand in hand is all about rawness, ego and the like. But now I am risking the start of a far bigger debate, for which is another matter all together...
Wednesday 16 February 2011
Wednesday 2 February 2011
'In THESE shoes?'
Could there be a girlier subject to blog about? I almost feel hedonistic just beginning to write about it and when I come to think about it I almost don't...but I will!
There are some women out there who collect handbags, dresses, purses (the men reading this are now pondering the mere difference between handbags and purses), jewellery, make up, the list is endless. We are creatures of not comfort but beauty. A 'thing of beauty is a joy forever' and that is exactly where my love affair of shoes begins.
As young girls the majority of us loved to parade around in our mothers and grandmothers pearls and shoes. I know I certainly did. My grandmother always had an array of high heels that she stored in boxes by her ever growing wardrobe. Me and my sister would find ourselves shrieking with excitement when on school holidays we could run up to her room, raid her shoes and prance about all afternoon delighting at how glamorous we looked (looking back at photos now, between the bright red lipstick, oversized shoes and satin cami's we looked like rejects from the Rocky Horror Show). Eventually I outgrew my grandmothers petite size 3's and grew into my very own size 7's, big feet seem to run in the family.
As I began working post uni, I soon found a way to squander my hard earned cash. Unlike many of my friends who seemed to wisely invest it in cars, houses and the like, I began a collection. It soon picked up like a drug and I became no longer happy with the classic court or the ballet pump, but the more colourful, higher, and more obscure the better. Now I'm not necessarily talking the most expensive but you do pay a premium for highly obscure shoes. See the thing with shoes is, that no matter what mood you're in, whether you gain weight, loose weight, have a bad day at work, shoes will always fit AND look fabulous.
I no longer buy shoes to match an outfit, I sometimes don't even care if they co ordinate with my outfit. In fact, as I get older I seem to get immense satistfaction out of wearing an outrageous pair of shoes with bright tights and an equally mismatched dress (Vivien Westwood I am not).
So now I have a dilemma, well many in fact but let's begin with the shoes. Storage for one. I am slowly running out of space. Slowly limited to the places, events and even weather that will allow me to present a new pair of heels. I am even beginning to wonder whether there is something in this 'saving' business and it is time for me to invest elsewhere.
So perhaps it is time for me to surrender my love affair with shoes...for fear that one day I may become the woman who, quite literally, lived in her shoes...
There are some women out there who collect handbags, dresses, purses (the men reading this are now pondering the mere difference between handbags and purses), jewellery, make up, the list is endless. We are creatures of not comfort but beauty. A 'thing of beauty is a joy forever' and that is exactly where my love affair of shoes begins.
As young girls the majority of us loved to parade around in our mothers and grandmothers pearls and shoes. I know I certainly did. My grandmother always had an array of high heels that she stored in boxes by her ever growing wardrobe. Me and my sister would find ourselves shrieking with excitement when on school holidays we could run up to her room, raid her shoes and prance about all afternoon delighting at how glamorous we looked (looking back at photos now, between the bright red lipstick, oversized shoes and satin cami's we looked like rejects from the Rocky Horror Show). Eventually I outgrew my grandmothers petite size 3's and grew into my very own size 7's, big feet seem to run in the family.
As I began working post uni, I soon found a way to squander my hard earned cash. Unlike many of my friends who seemed to wisely invest it in cars, houses and the like, I began a collection. It soon picked up like a drug and I became no longer happy with the classic court or the ballet pump, but the more colourful, higher, and more obscure the better. Now I'm not necessarily talking the most expensive but you do pay a premium for highly obscure shoes. See the thing with shoes is, that no matter what mood you're in, whether you gain weight, loose weight, have a bad day at work, shoes will always fit AND look fabulous.
I no longer buy shoes to match an outfit, I sometimes don't even care if they co ordinate with my outfit. In fact, as I get older I seem to get immense satistfaction out of wearing an outrageous pair of shoes with bright tights and an equally mismatched dress (Vivien Westwood I am not).
So now I have a dilemma, well many in fact but let's begin with the shoes. Storage for one. I am slowly running out of space. Slowly limited to the places, events and even weather that will allow me to present a new pair of heels. I am even beginning to wonder whether there is something in this 'saving' business and it is time for me to invest elsewhere.
So perhaps it is time for me to surrender my love affair with shoes...for fear that one day I may become the woman who, quite literally, lived in her shoes...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)