First impressions
On Saturday morning I settled down with a bag of pastries, a lightly furrowed brow and the latest copy of Weekend to discover what was in store for the next week of my new life. I’m already becoming quite interested in what happens when you transpose the magic and sense of possibility of a lifestyle magazine on to the reality of everyday life, with its size 14 bodies, disorganised flats, working hours and supermarkets with limited stock. The bubble very quickly bursts. But it seems unwise to draw any conclusions now, so I’ll stick to my first impressions as I leafed through the magazine, happily perusing the pretty pictures and stopping occasionally to brush croissant crumbs from my chin in dismay as I realised what I was set up for this time around.
Fashion:
- Stevie Nicks is great but when I open the fashion story inspired by her style, my eye is drawn to a small top hat and a pair of lace leggings. This doesn’t bode well for me. It bodes badly for me. I then notice this is supposed to be festival fashion. Because I’m not best pals with Sadie Frost, I don’t wear heels at festivals. And I slightly object to the suggestion that anybody should
- Menswear! Hmmm. But I’ll probably do a better job of emulating the outfits, poses and ankles of these guys than I do the women
- Alice in Wonderland, brilliant, but isn’t it getting a little tiresome watching Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham-Carter being wheeled out in white face powder, backcombed hair and crazily eccentric facial expressions every time Tim Burton makes a new film?
- Balenciaga sandals. I can but pray they’re not on sale yet or I’ll be on the phone to my bank about my overdraft quicker than you can say ‘death to Natwest’
Make-up
- Lauren Luke’s doing Dita von Teese this week and it’s music to my ears. This is my preferred face paint. Out the window with all that beige rubbish
Recipes
- Oh no, more sweet pies! Call them flans, tarts, whatever – they’re pies, and I can’t keep eating them every night for long before the last remaining jeans go Oxfamwards
- I spy the word ‘chill’. This is on my list of hated recipe words alongside ‘preheat’, ‘marinate’, ‘leave to rise’ and ‘allow’. It’s all very well if you’re relaxing at home on a saturday afternoon with a gin and tonic and a group of friends, wistfully watching your golden-haired children play happily together on the lawn as you hand out more olives, but what if you just walked six miles home from work carrying an awkward bag after editing marketing dross for nine hours, sustained mostly by coffee and cup-a-soups from the vending machine, and JUST WANT SOME DINNER? Chilling indeed
- That’s more like it
- A new column, great. About love, fantastic. Wait, do I need a partner for this one? What was there before this column started anyway?
- Harr, yeh, right
- Oh yeh, that was there before
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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