Hide and seek #1
Saturday’s outfit was absolutely hideous in its recreated state, like Little Jimmie Crankie (sp?) all grown up. Luckily I spent most of the day dressed in leggings and a T-shirt, piled into a double bed with three friends watching White Men Can’t Jump, but I did get changed into the required outfit for dinner, which meant walking through Dalston on a Saturday night looking like this. I pretty much took it all off once I got to my friend’s house.
Two of the pals I spent much of the weekend with, Nin and Phoebe, are the lasses behind the recycled fashion label Goodone, and they re-convinced me within the space of three seconds that there was no need ever to set foot in Primark again. This is an official resolution. Anything I can possibly buy second hand I will from now on. It’s what I used to do when I worked around the corner from Beyond Retro but I sold my principles to the devil when I switched to an office near Primark. Now I’m not close to either of those places I do my shopping at the weekends anyway, so I’m rediscovering my ethics. Goodone 1, Primark nil.
Hide and seek
Hide
Good work by Phoebe on the action shot though eh?
Conclusions:
- Some people can get away with layering a denim jacket under a mac and pairing them with bare legs, socks and flat brogues. Others can’t.
- Think I’ll leave it at that.
First impressions
- Fashion – jumping good, leather and fur bad – not for ethical reasons but because I hardly have any.
- The Measure: Eucalyptus, fine. I popped straight to Fresh ‘n’ Wild or Whole Foods or whatever it’s now called and got myself some appropriately fragranced shampoo and shower gel. I needed that stuff anyway and now I can be safe in the knowledge Burberry would approve of my washing habits.
The River Cafe Italian cookbook was nowhere to be seen in my local bookshop, which was a double good’un as it meant I didn’t have to spend extra cash or cook a risotto that night.
I did take terrine round to a mate’s house for the X-Factor though, which was made entirely worthwhile by the phenomenon that is Sinitta wearing only leaves. My vote would be with Miss Frank, if anyone cares.
The May Fair hotel sounds expensive, although I’m not savvy/sophisticated enough to know any more about it than that. I’m planning to go for a cocktail there with some mates on Thursday night so we’ll see how that pans out. Turn up, drink a £20 bevvy, walk home and eat plain rice for dinner.
Pretty much everything else in the Measure was stuff I hadn’t heard of ( so uncultured), so I’ll do a Googling session and report back after I’ve educated myself. This blog is turning into a sort of modern geisha training, which appeals enormously.
- Lauren’s stopped doing her make-up masterclass, which permanently absolves me of the obligation to post four close-ups of my face every week, since I can’t afford to buy and try the products she recommends each week. I won’t deeply mourn the loss of this section.
- The Space feature is all very well on the surface of things but I can’t see myself finding the time to get hold of a bit of plasterboard and cover it in fabric, or start a cork collection big enough to make a noticeboard, or even go begging for a rice sack to make into a chic cushion. I’ve written this bit off straight away – getting through my washing up and laundry backlogs is enough of a craft project for me.
- Food: as usual Hugh is pansying about with preserving and pressing and bloody bottling things that ought to just be fried and eaten. I once lived in the iron age for two months and believe me, I appreciate the joy of skinning a rabbit as much as the next man, but we’re busy people Hugh. Yotam’s recipe looks as tempting as ever while Dan Lepard’s made me cry a bit by mentioning a small, deathly thing called an ‘anchovy’ . Would I be letting myself down if I left it out? I think not. He did say it was optional.
Grey Matters
Dear Guardian, I think we get the message about grey clothes. This must be the seventeenth time I’ve had to get dressed in a grey outfit for this project.
It really must be the new black. Despite that, I’m actually wearing black today as I don’t have a charcoal grey jumper. I also forgot to put the geek specs in my bag on the way out, so today’s outfit just looks like your average throw-it-on boringness.
You might be able to catch a glimpse of the Reiss belt looking Dorothy Perkins-like.
Grey matters
Please accept my apologies for the blurry photo.
Grey crappers
The toilets are probably the most interesting thing in this photo. And it’s a Friday too – might have to change into something a little less unremarkable before I go out tonight.
Conclusions:
- I’m strangely excited about buying the paper tomorrow to see what I’ll be wearing and eating for the next week. I’ve caught the bug again.
- Can we have some more interesting clothes and locations again? I want more hanging off benches, sitting on carpets and lounging on sofas please.
- This week I managed to get away with spending £60 on a belt and slightly more than that on ingredients, but nothing more. I saw friends by cooking them food at my house and didn’t have to buy anything else for the Measure or for my lunches, which was a great relief for my finances.
Stone fruit yoghurt cake
Yum, yum, yum. This was another very successful dish – Dan Lepard’s yoghurt and stone fruit cake. He was telling the truth when he said it was easy, and when he said it’d knock your socks off.
My only complaint is that you have to leave it in the oven for a perilously long time while you contemplate the tub of ice cream you bought to accompany it, and by the time the cake’s ready the ice cream has gone somewhere else. To the afterlife. All the ice cream.
I didn’t have a round cake tin so I used my ubiquitous rectangular one instead, which has done no harm to the cake other than make it cook quicker – the recipe said to leave it in for about an hour but mine was done to perfection after 45 minutes or so, with fluffy undercake and a sugary, browned crust on the top.
The lemon zest, yoghurt and semolina combine to make the tastiest thing ever, reminding me of the ‘moist lemon cake’ I requested from my ma when I had glandular fever aged 15 or so, and got. Sometimes things you had when you were very poorly remind you of feeling horrible, sometimes they remind you of love, and the latter is true of lemon cake for me.
Needless to say I got through a fair portion of it for my dinner and my colleagues are enjoying sharing the rest today.
I packed in a punnet of peaches, one of nectarines and two plums. I did big-bit chopping.
I’d thought it looked like quite a healthy recipe and was enjoying my virtuous feelings as I bought fat-free yoghurt. Then I got home and realised there was 175g of butter in it, which luckily I had in the fridge. I also forgot to buy more plain flour but replacing it with the strong white stuff worked perfectly well.
Stone fruit yoghurt cake
A big square omelette
It’s not, but it does look like one doesn’t it. I’m not afraid to admit that.
Conclusions:
- Butter mountain.
- Delicious mountain.
- Why have I started describing things as ‘virtuous’ because they’re fat free? This is terrible! I haven’t even been watching Philadelphia ads. I need to check myself.
House of fun
“Wouldn’t it be hilarious to have 70s wallpaper with faces on it in the hall?”
No doubt.
I don’t have the final say on the walls of my flat, which is why it’s done out in mint-green woodchip, but if I did I’d cover it in 70s wallpaper and be rolling around laughing.
I have attempted to copy this week’s ‘house of fun’ look as best I can.
The results are pretty much as unsuccessful as ever.
A good vintage
A fine mess
The small yellow framed postcard, barely discernable in the half-dark, was actually made for me by a friend – that’s the closest I can get. It’s also the furthest I could get with my camera, as my flat’s so narrow. It’s a bit like a boat, with none of the charm.
Skull art
Antler art
These paintings were a gift from a much-adored friend. Maybe I should ask him to spray ‘Miss’ in big letters across them for me in a declaration of independence. I could even go one further and ask him to spray ‘Ms’.
House of fun
House of one
'Hilarious' wallpaper
'Depressing' woodchip
Conclusions:
- I’ll stick with what I got. It might not be glamorous, but at least it’s not black and yellow.
Thai red lentil soup
This soup was 100% delicious. It didn’t take that long to make, tasted of a million wonderful flavours, didn’t explode all over the kitchen. I managed to find all the ingredients except the deep-fried shallots, and I’d already psychologically prepared myself for that eventuality. It also tasted delicious reheated for breakfast – yes, breakfast – this morning. I’m having it for lunch too, then I’m showering in it later and falling asleep in a tub of it. Tomorrow I’m wearing it instead of clothes.
I thought that might be one of those jokes where it becomes funny if you push it further, but it turns out it was one of the ones that isn’t funny.
Pics:
Thai red lentil soup
MY red lentil soup (it's not Terry's)
I think I gotta get 9/10 for food styling today even though the rear bowl of soup is all splattered in a most distasteful way and my photography’s still at 0/10.
Conclusions:
- This soup is worth making.
- Go to the ‘foreignerz’ aisle of the supermarket and get your coconut milk there – it costs a third of the price of the tins in the ‘white people cooking thai for friends this evening’ aisle.
- While the lentils are boiling, watch the Dallas ‘Red File’ two-parter. Oh my Christ, this was the best telly I’ve ever seen! I’m still indebted to the Guardian for teaching me about Dallas box-sets. I watch an episode most evenings. I now refuse to embark on any romantic relations unless they promise to be just like Bobby n Pamela’s. I love Pamela. I shout at the screen and shake my fists at JR, and sometimes after an especially great episode I say to my cat: “Cripes, George, what a corker, eh?” , Wallace and Gromit style. I love Miss Ellie and Jock, that old tyke! I think about them all when I’m not watching. I even kinda like Lucy these days, and Cliff’s all right too. It makes me wonder what other TV programmes might secretly be good. And how I’m going to survive when I get to the end of the first boxset.
Sheer delight
My organza jodhpurs are at the dry cleaners today so I had to make do with Primark skinny jeans. Seeing photos of myself in skinny jeans makes me think back to a time many moons ago (when I was actually a lot thinner but that’s almost irrelevant).
I was at a barbecue and I bumped into a guy I’d previously met at a party, at which I’d been wearing a miniskirt. He said: ‘Oh hi, you’re the one with the Robert Crumb legs’. I later gave him hell for this comment and he told me he’d meant it as a compliment. Instead of clipping him about the ear, I decided to believe him, since he is very much below-and-to-the-left of the mainstream in his tastes and since you may as well see the bright side of things. It’s always a good idea to find positive role models for yourself, making the most of what might otherwise be considered flaws (sod having Darcey Bussell as a hero). This way, when an old Jamaican chap shouts ‘Hey big legs!’ at you in the street, you are able to take it as a compliment. As I go about my daily business I constantly screen a playreel of stormin Russ Meyer girls, Robert Crumb drawings, Nigella serving nibbles and Marilyn wiggling around in satin in Some Like It Hot in my mind’s eye. I recommend this to any not-small lass who is vulnerable to the odd guilt pang about taking up too much space. Go girls! Anyway here’s the outfit:
Sheer delight
Sheer fright
Conclusions:
- I spent ages looking for skinny jeans that fit and Primark was the only place to come up trumps, which is a pretty dire state of affairs.
- I did try more with my pose today, can you tell? A little bit? I still look a bit haemorrhoidal don’t I.
Autumn glow
What is an autumn glow? A slightly paler version of a summer glow?
Maybe I’m a bad judge of such things but this make-up look appeared inadvisable to me. It’s not really going to fool anyone you’ve just come back from holiday, is it?
Nonetheless I’ve been faithfully recreating it on my own face every day this week. During The Break I was wearing a lot of heavy black eye make-up so it’s been quite nice in a way to see my face again. I do like the way that when you’re used to wearing quite a lot of slap and then you look in the mirror bare-faced, there’s a sort of honest look about your reflection.
I’ve been doing my make-up in the bathroom this week rather than the bedroom as I usually do. I can’t explain this phenomenon, it just came about. Fascinating isn’t it? The reason I mention this is that my bronzer remained in my bedroom for the first few days, and I couldn’t be bothered to walk across my enormous flat and get it, so I actually brushed brown eyeshadow all over my cheeks instead. Now I’m writing this I feel embarrassed about it but at the time it felt absolutely logical, like when I used to put all my chewed-up Trident gum back into the blister pack it comes in and keep it on my desk, so when someone asked for a piece I’d slide back the cover and they’d see half a pack of fresh bits next to half a pack of gnarled up spitty lumps in varying shades depending on what else I’d most recently eaten, and it was only when several people had reeled back in horror and disgust that I sort of looked at my behaviour from the outside. I suppose that was more revolting than the eyeshadow thing but it my head it seems similar.
I have remembered to use eyeshadow base about 50% of the time, which feels like quite an achievement, but even better is the fact that I’ve been using make-up brushes! Yes I have, because the friend and designer who puts my photos into squares for this blog, Michelle, who I’m sure you’ll remember from earlier posts, gave me the most brilliant present – a tiny box filled with make up brushes and an angled mirror.
I’ve had a bit of a turnaround on the lipgloss front too – it looks less Posh Spice with long fringey black hair, and is edging very slightly closer to Meg White (if I look at myself with my eyes so squinty as to be pretty much closed).
Here are the make-up photos then. Considering how horrified I was when I saw the original, the result is a relief.
Autumn glow
(I spilt water on the mag and photographed it at dusk, sorry Lozza)
Awful blow
Sadly I look like a monk here. Certainly not bronzed. I think this is because my bronzer was originally one of those double ones that has highlighter and bronzer in the same compact, and I went out having fun, dropped my handbag and smashed the powder blocks so they mashed up together. So what I’m now putting on my face is a mixed-up sheen about the same shade as my natural skin tone. It just makes me look a bit more pearly than usual – rubbish, especially on bad skin. I ought to buy myself some cheap bronzer I guess.
Conclusions:
- I look forward to discovering what a winter glow looks like before long.
- Putting a bit of lipstick on your cheeks to make them look flushed is one thing, but perhaps streaks of brown eyeshadow’s taking it a little far.
- Make-up brushes really make things easier.
- Nothing wrong with looking like a monk.
A pepper or two
Last night Adam and Thomas came over for dinner and I cooked ALL of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s aubergine/pepper/chilli suggestions in a sort of nightshade-family feast. Most of them were a bit disappointing.
The baked aubergine/yoghurt/coriander dip with pitta was probably the best bit, and it’s translated into lunch the next day better than the pepper/tomato/scrambled egg dish, which was nice, but is a bit squeam-making to eat cold. The deepfried chillies were downright dangerous as one of them exploded in the pan, flying through the air and splattering my entire kitchen (if you could call it a kitchen, and if you could call it ‘entire’) with burning olive oil. Good job there were no newborns around. The battered aubergine and pepper slices were pretty much disastrous – soggy and mostly tasteless – but then I’ve never been much good at this type of battery. The stuffed pepper with beef and dill was bland in itself but very nice combined with the ultra-tasty pine nut, spinach and goats cheese one.
All in all aubergines and peppers aren’t my favourite veggies anyway and I remain unconvinced. I’m looking forward to trying the red lentil and coconut soup tomorrow for a bit of flavour.
Oufitwise I feel pretty OK in what I’m wearing today but the photo tells a different story (Captain Pugwash and the Gender Reassignment Therapy).
The return of my lovely silk FARHI by Nicole Farhi still fails to show it in a positive light. One day you’ll see its greatness.
This isn’t a good angle for me really. I’m crossing my fingers that the Guardian does a CCTV-inspired, shot-from-above fashion story soon. I’m getting sick of the sight of my underchin.
In style
On stile
My new day’s resolution for tomorrow is to really get some dynamism into the pose. Watch this space.
In other news, I’ve been umming and ahhing a lot over one of the Measure entries this week – the Shaun Leane jewellery. I checked out astleyclarke.com and I really love the collection – except the one piece I could vaguely afford, which is the cherry blossom pendant. The rest of it is all vintage-looking and beautiful and reminds me of a Flower Fairies drawing, which I’ve always had a residual young-girl love for, but that single cheaper pendant looks more Keepers. I’ve decided not to part with my cash. Keepers always seemed to cause bad blood anyway. (If you picked up on them, please excuse the feminine hygiene implications of that sentence – it wasn’t what I meant.)
Thanks
PS: I’d just like to say a quick thank you to Google for directing people searching for “harem pants on fat person” to my blog.
I've always found it funny when people write letters to the Guardian's Weekend magazine complaining that the recipe ingredients are too middle class and the fashion only looks good on thin people. After all, it's just a magazine. Or is it? I decided to follow its recipes, fashion and lifestyle advice as closely as possible, to see if the aspirations promoted therein can really be achieved by the average reader who is not especially wealthy, not necessarily model thin and is obliged to work regular office hours. This blog has no affiliation whatsoever with the Guardian but I link to the Weekend magazine website for the purposes of illustration. 
Guardian Girl 
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