This week’s wrap-up
Today’s outfit isn’t way off the mark, and Flavie and I even ventured out of the toilet into the office reception area for the shoot. The result is that the photo looks less like army night footage this time, although given the theme of the fashion it might have been appropriate to keep things grainy.
Look sharp
Be blunt
I did get my ponytail on the wrong side and tilt my head in the opposite direction from the model’s, but I have to honour tradition.
On the subject of this week’s Measure, the less said the better. What with a best mate’s 30th, the end of the January pay period, lunch breaks filled with blog writing and outfit capturing, and evenings spent over the stove, I somehow didn’t find the time to put my name on the Anya Hindmarch for Barbour waiting list (much as I would love to), or spend hundreds of pounds on a designer bag. I’ve been rubbish. I now have a bit of cash in the bank, a shopping trip planned and several hours earmarked for a home restyle over the weekend, so I hope to make restitution for my indolence forthwith. Or, in other words, get up off my rump and try harder.
As regards This Column Will Change Your Life, I couldn’t let the week end without making reference to the fact that it might have been aimed directly at me this issue. Why don’t they teach you how to make simple decisions in primary school? If only they did, Britain wouldn’t keep producing chowderheaded buffoons who can’t decide what to have for dinner without the direction of a Saturday newspaper supplement.
I put Oliver Burkeman’s three models for decision making into practice this week and found them extremely useful in every situation, especially choosing which song to listen to next. These rules will stay with me, and might actually change my life for the better. Get this man writing the national curriculum (caps?).
Conclusion:
- First week over and I’m a scone-filled, noodle-loving, quiff-sporting picture of happiness. Not partaking in the Measure shopping list, or putting any pressure on myself to do so, has been good but a bit cheaty given the nature of the experiment.
- But one serious complaint: my clothes still smell of kippers.
Military chic deficit continues
The elated monkey noises once filling my happy lungs have been replaced with a long, sorrowful sigh.
I am so lumpen today in my wrap dress and trainers (heels still banned due to broken foot fiasco). The dim light of the photograph below represents the death of last weekend’s bright glow. Can it be true that I miss my backcombed quiff, red eyeshadow and contemporary dancer-wannabe get-up? Yes, it can be true. Natural make-up and a centre parting continue to translate into teenage boy when I try them. Unflattering dress and flat plimsolls compound sense of gloominess.
Oh well, at least tomorrow I get to tie up my sweatshirt and reveal my bristling, wan abdomen to everyone on the 9.33 to Kentish Town West, so that’s something to feel excited about.
What really is exciting is that I’m baking ginger scones for dinner tonight. Come on, positivity!
Chic
Sheesh
Conclusions:
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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