Uplifting tale: Bad weekend turned good

I don't think this will go down as one of my best weekends on records...it was neither relaxing nor debauched (the two extremes which for me define a good weekend), but instead languished in that dull, depressing black hole of idle indifference in the middle…until I gave it a kick up the arse. This is what (didn't) happen...

Friday:

Like any good/ bad weekend it all kicked off on Friday...when my laptop died. Just like that. There were no signs that it was ill, in fact I thought it had been rather happy of late, but then halfway through sending a very important email to Lucie at Toni&Guy re my next hair appointment - Ping....then nothing.....NOTHING!!! Now I wouldn't mind, but it's not even a bloody year old! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT! Urgh.
As I was busy, instead of getting on the phone to Dell (yes, it would be a bleeding Dell, so there are no shops and a call centre was my only option) I then logged on to the helplessly slow family computer to try and salvage the rest of the working day.
Despite actually managing to get some work done and a lovely dinner with my friend Kim I was haunted by the untimely demise of my little lappie, and that Friday feeling eluded me. Fail.

Saturday:

It's probably my own fault really. I had a massive lie-in (I was in mourning after all) and then fell victim to trailer-trash allure of shite Saturday morning tv, so it wasn’t until the (late) afternoon that I tried calling Dell’s helpline…which was helpfully closed on the weekend. Eventually I managed to track down a number which was running, and after 10 minutes of pressing buttons and entering codes I was basically told that the staff were on a fire drill (?!) and would be back shortly. They never came back. Till this very morning I’m still wondering if;
a. It was a cruel ‘Siam was the office Fire Warden’ joke
b. The Dell call centre actually burned to the ground taking all the call centre staff with it.
Either way I wasn’t impressed and was forced to console my aching heart with the Ally McBeal boxset and curry. Waste.


Sunday:

Determined not to fail or waste another day I gave myself a bit of a pep talk and started the day with a bowl of melon, what a winner! I then exceeded my own expectations by majorly getting my arse into gear, and saved my weekend!
a. I created a spreadsheet. It needed to be done and despite the painfully slow pc, and my hatred of all things excel-ish I did it. Proud.
b. I continued with the almost insurmountable tidy-up project I’m currently (avoiding) undertaking in order to make my room fit for habitation. I decided that as clothes are basically my main priority I should start with them…no small task. In short – I emptied and sorted through two double wardrobes, 6 drawers, hundreds of shoe boxes and bags upon piles upon heaps of clothes. There were times when I wondered why I’d started, and there were times when I wished I hadn’t, but as with all worthy projects, in the end I knew I’d done the right thing and slept with a happy heart and calm head.
Win!

Good bird, bad bird: Today I saw Naomi....and then a bird pooed on me!

Just another day in the glamorous life of a fashion blogger; today I spotted none other than fash-wan ICON Naomi Campbell (and her beefy body guard) going about her business in Knightsbridge...and then 5 minutes later a pigeon pooed on the table where I was enjoying a spot of lunch with gorgeous Stephanie from Alberta Ferretti! Talk about one extreme to another! What's more it's not even my first or most horrific encounter with a pigeon this week. On Tuesday on my way to Ronnie’s a pigeon actually fell from the sky and splatted (and when I say splatted I don’t want to go into too many details, but lets just say Pets Rescue couldn’t have helped) right next to me in the middle of Tottenham court road! Shocked was not the word. I’d only just come to terms with it (I witnessed an actual death after all) when I was targeted by its buddy today! Now, I’m not one for conspiracy theories, but one more pigeon related incident this week and I’m going to have to get some sort of Naomi style back-up!

Re La Campbell though - how HOT is she looking, and what a slip of a thing! I’d always been under the impression she was some sort of super-size Amazonian monster, but on the contrary - ooh mama, I could hardly take my eyes off her! Fingers crossed for a super-size comeback soon!!

Off with a BANG!

My head, my head! I’ve been freelancing for 13 days now. I’ve spent 2 moving out of Dalston house and back to Finchley; 8 in Italy, and 3 skulking round the house in my pj’s (yes, the same pair – the horror)! Last night however I managed to break the stalemate and shower, jump into my trusty black tosho Jumpsuit and brave the Northern line to attend a. the Selfridges Christmas in July press day, and b. Marc Jacobs BANG launch party - fabulous fashion fun…

Sadly I proceeded to get hammered on rum cocktails and champagne (on a basically empty stomach) – accosted Marc, ranted at Henry Holland and starred at the utterly stunning Jonathan Kelsey and his gorgeous boyf Greg, then blanked them, then finally realised who they were through the champagne fug. Professional. Finally came round midday to full face of make-up, natch, and alternating waves of nausea and embarrassment. Classy. Days like these being freelance really pays!

Anyway, before the bubbles took hold this is what I saw…

Selfridges

Love this. A colour-in cuckoo clock. Perfect for me as I'm always late (as Bibi discovered first hand last night - Public apology: I'm SOOOO sorry), and, well, at times...slightly cuckoo! Also, much fun and practical too!



NEED!! Honestly, it's not even about want or like or love with these. I NEED them in my life. Ashish - obvs, natch. They're apparently the most expensive pj's in the world (bottoms £810, top £890) - total investment I say. This is how I see it. I'm now a freelancer, therefore I spend most of my time in my pj's, therefore I should own fabulous pj's, because then the fabulousness will rub off on me, and I'll be fabulous and get lots of work, which will mean I'll get lots of money (DEEP BREATH) - therefore, they are an investment! See!

Marc Jacobs BANG party, Harvey Nic's

Yes, once again I trekked down to SW1 for another top Harvey Nic's party (and they do throw the best)! Unfortunately I broke my usual eat-as-many-canapés-as-humanly-possible rule and stuck to liquids....looking back, that's probably where it all went wrong....anyway....

Grrrr. How hot is Marc. Last night was all about the boys; Marc Jacobs (LOVE - almost fainted when I first saw him. Honestly. No lie.), Jesus Luz (in my bed, ahem, I mean on the decks), Jake Shears, Jonathan (almost too beautiful to actually look at) Kelsey and boyf Greg and Henry Holland, not to mention my new friends from the (smoking/posing) terrace - Tom, Richard and Alistair. What a treat! Sadly the only thing I bagged at the end of the night was a bottle of BANG (not that I'm ungrateful)....just it won't keep my warm at night. Sob.

Sun, sand and San Pelligrino...

Ciao ciao, bella, bello…..erm….I’ve just got back from Italy innit! Apart from a slight sunburnt-eyes incident (no, I didn't know it was possible, but apparently it is...and it hurts!) it was glorious week of sun, sand and San Pelligrino. For me holidays are all about sunning, reading, eating and sleeping, and this one ticked all the boxes;

Sunbathed – 10 – 1; 3 -7 daily, for 7 days
Read – Grass stains by Kirsty Robinson (fabulous, touching, thought-provoking) and Glamorama by Bret Easton Ellis (witty, funny, fucking terrifying – now living in the freezer Joey from Friends stylee)
Ate – Too much. Honey filled (or integrated as the hotel translated it) wholemeal croissants, at least one custard-filled doughnut per day, pasta with meat, pasta with veg, pasta with fish, mammoth plates of salad, incredibly moreish fried herbs in batter and ice creams the size of my head (no word of a lie)
Slept – endlessly…


See - not lying! Dark chocolate and peach sorbet - best combo in the world (and trust me, I've tried a few)!


Mummy and Daddy G - how cool do they look! I only had to get them a little tipsy to agree to pose on this Disney-esque bench outside an arcade. Fave photo of the holiday though!


Style inspiration...

Italians are known for their style, which I think is somewhat debatable, as if you ask me, the average Italian has no better idea of how to dress than the average anyone else. Having said that the over 60's are glamorous, stylish and sophisticated, so I decided to look to them for a style masterclass...

Va-va-voom indeed (or whatever the Italian equivalent is)! What's not to love here? '60's fluro-floral dress, loads of beads and bangles, leopard print trolley and crazy red hair (both of which I already posses), and tiny pooch...stop me if I'm wrong, but this is a good look!


So maybe my mum and I stalked this lady on the beach for 4 days....does that make us bad people?! It's no excuse, but she looked so good we just couldn't help it. There I was, beach wreck - looking like I may have been washed up in the last storm, and there she was, (in what I really really hope was) an original 1960's quilted yellow velour cut-out detail kaftan with white piping, looking like she'd stepped of the set off Mad Men! Inspirational - must work on that whole groomed thing...


Possibly my favourite Granny however was this lady - partly because she reminded me of my Nana Golda - always my ultimate style icon. Floral midi-length (v on-trend) dress, turquoise turban, blue drop earrings and massive blue cocktail ring - forget Liz (makes me want to) Hurl-ey - this lady has beach glamour locked down.


The nearest you'll get to a Playboy style beach shot of me (unless some serious air-brushing's involved). Despite the fact I packed half-a-ton of glitzy kaftans, it was just too hot for me to contemplate anything that had to go over my head, so I ended up resuscitating this old wrap. Fave new Marc Jacobs bag or arm, and new I-couldn't-afford-the-Karen-Walker-pair-so-had-to-settle-for-Hennes sunnies on, I hit the beach and hoped I didn't bump into anyone I knew/ the most gorgeous man in the world. I didn't.


Poor old LA - always getting shtick for being the most ridiculous place on earth, when here on a little strip of Italian beach on the Adriatic coast a couple pulled out a bamboo mat and bowl filled with premium mineral water for their devil little dog....god help us all!

Yum yum yum - I sacrificed one beach morning to go to the market. How good do these pumpkin tomatoes look? I had to laugh because the first time I ever saw one was in Wholefoods a few years back, and I got all excited and brought one, and a clove of smoked garlic (which later rotted in the back of a cupboard) and paid over a fiver for the two of them! Here in Italy they're almost giving them away. Typical!


Right at the end of the market (which was filled with plastic shoes, non-sensical lycra tops, rip-off bags and kitchen ware) we found this stall selling vintage clothes for basically nothing! Needless to say Mum and I nose-dived in, and dad spent the next hour telling us how nice we looked in stale smelling 2nd hand bargains!


Speaking of which here I am airing out on of my finds. Hand-made, 1970's mini-dress - cute, no? And mummy, also in a market buy - not too shabby, eh?

What to wear on Worthy Farm

Fear not fashion friends – I know I’ve been away for a few days (hopefully some of you followed my adventures on twitter - MissSisiG) – but I’ve made it back from Glastonbury 2010 in one-ish piece. It’s taken 3 days, but finally I’m feeling fully conscious again – phew! I’ve also spent the past 3 days sulking like a petulant teenager because I couldn’t stay on Sunday to watch Stevie Wonder. Just to opening bars of ‘I just called to say I love you’, send me into a fuming foul-mouthed rage…

Anyway, that aside it was a fine, sunny Glasto. I spent most my time loitering in the hospitality area, not recognising people, and moaning about how badly dressed everyone was! Yes, I said it. This was the worst year for festival fashion I’ve ever known. There was no fantastic cohesive look this year, which is fine, but I’m afraid most people’s efforts seemed minimal, and the result was a field of average to appallingly dressed sunburnt drunks. Nice. Luckily for you dear reader I traipsed round cider in one hand, camera in other, and hunted down Worthy Farm’s finest – so feast ya eyes on this lot!

This is Tabitha. You may recognise her (I didn’t. Well, In fact I did – I just thought it was because I knew her or something). She’s actually one half of indie/ disco DJ duo the Queens of Noize. I’m however the Queen of the Numpty’s after bounding up to her and asking her name about 50 times, despite the fact I should have probably have recognised her…but worse than that, because she was wearing it on her necklace round her neck. Massive DUH!
Anyway, I think she looks beyond HOT. I’d kill to be this blonde/ thin/ sexy, and just love her sense of style. It’s so laid-back yet totally together. Simple, yet intricate. Remember this face - she’s a cool chick!


Hayley borrowed this rather sexy playsuit from…wait for this…her Mother-in-law! Can you imagine! Just the thought of having a Mother-in-law that cool sends me into a frenzy! This could have looked totally OTT slut-bag, but the fact she paired it with these plain pumps and cute peachy tailored jacket really takes it down a notch. We like the way you work it lady…If I were you I’d be getting this baby ‘dry-cleaned’ for the next year of so, wink wink!


I basically had to bully Alice into having her picture taken. For a split second I knew what it was to be a pap hot on Britters tail desperate for that million-dolar shot – I tasted blood, and wanted my prize! Anyway, I hope you can see why I was so desperate; soft-soft pink chiffon maxi dress, string of pearls, blonde hair, and then out of nowhere geeky thick-black-rimmed glasses, and all topped of with bare feet! Lovely Alice totally has the whole ethereal midnight naughty pixie princess thing down to a tee.


Such a great look for now. For me Steph hit the 2010 fashion nail on the head with this. Any other year wearing a pair of harem pants would have immediately singled you out as one of the 'Stone circle' brigade. This year however it means you're fashion savy and probably have a great stomach! Steph ticks both boxes, and the fact she's teamed her h&m harems with a teeny tiny top and MASSIVE gold hoops, means I have serious style envy!

My favourite Vice

Am back from the ViceStyle launch party, and unexpectedly sober enough to blog! What can I say - it was hot, sexy, and debauched....everything you'd expect from Vice really. For those who don't know I have a bit of a Vice obsession/ addiction....maybe it's just because I'm a total scaredy cat and have to live my hedonistic life through their pages, or maybe it's just because they make me laugh - always the best way to seduce me.

The party was sponsored by Reebok, and kicked off at their snazzy store on Great Eastern st. Amy W turned up to bag her free pair, and seemed on good form. Unfortunately I got a bit of a mouthful from her later....THE SHAME! Kinda feel like it was a right of passage though....does that mean I'm a proper journo now???? How tiny is she though - crazy!! Reckon if she'd have really kicked of I could have taken her!!


My far too beautiful best friend Clara who was my plus 1...no wonder I'm single when I hang out with her!


Vice Style's Editor Daryoush who was very proud of his T-shirt! Kinda stalked him a bit tonight...can't decide what's more embarrassing - stalking someone at a party or being abused by Winehouse in front of the loo queue....hhmmmm, food for thought indeed!


Swings. Yes, there were swings hanging from the ceiling. Mental. This WAS NOT like the swing at The Sanctuary day spa. This was kamikaze swinging. Only Vice would ignore all health and safety implications and think that swings in a busy, confined, poorly lit space with people under influences in precarious heels would be a good idea...and that, in short, is why I LOVE THEM!

Viva La Vice (in all it's forms) 4eva!

Something to be proud of....?

Little confused? Well then you clearly don't read my blog enough!! Brownie points for those who've spotted it....good old Mossy is wearing my snakeskin Loubs! Time was when I'd have been all of a flutter about it....now I'm just not sure how I feel...quite possibly a little ashamed and dirty though!

Being smug in Dalston and getting a pervy massage in return...

I've been trying not to go and out party so much this last week, and it's not been easy. How is it that gin, vodka, beer, cider and red wine have become such integral players in my life?!

Anyway, despite all the vodka on Friday night I managed to meet my friend Kat at London Fields/ Broadway market at 11.30am yesterday for Saturday smugness. It kills me to admit how much I love a LF/BM Saturday stroll....all those happy smiley gorgeous people, all that organic free-range food - no matter how much I try and hate it, it just ends up making me feel all warm, fuzzy and content - damn it!


While I scoffed my 5th croissant of the week (yes, diet still going brilliantly, thanks) Kat tucked into an extra-smug portion of organic vegan burger and quinoa salad for breakfast - twat.


Yes, that’s right, only on Broadway Market would you not be laughed at/ stoned/ publicly ridiculed for selling/ buying ONE SINGLE SLICE of watermelon for £1.50! Shocking!....Oh, but wait a minute, it’s ICED watermelon. Oh, well if it’s iced it’s definitely worth a whole £1 and 50 pence….NOT!
p.s. we were much amused to later see it reduced to 50p – massive lol!


Proof once and for all that Bruno was not a work of pure fiction….


BeReCreative festival

The Hackney recycling team’s BeReCreative event sought to bring smugness to Hackney’s youngest residence….and we think they succeded. Phew!

After a busy morning eating and bathing in the sun Kat and I decided to treat ourselves to a massage. I, as usual, got more than I bargained for, when my male masseuse took a bit of a shine to me. Not only did I get 45 minutes of action despite only paying for 30 (two people came to tell him he’d run over, but still he kept on), but particularly creepy occurances were as follows:
- Repeatedly being asked if I was enjoying it/ how I was feeling
- Mr masseuse struggling to undo my bra (just typing this has made me sick in my mouth a little)
- After spending 30 mins on my back, and then saying he’d do my legs anyway, telling me, “I enjoy doing the legs the most”
- "You have nice skin"

Yes, it was a massage to remember……a shower quickly followed.


Meanwhile…..Mr and Mrs recycling kept the kids amused…


….and there was yet another chance to buy socially aware friendly knitted food. Brilliant!


I on the other hand opted for (an admittedly extremely posh) cheese burger – de-lish. What can I say – I’m a giant hypocrite!


Oh yes. And I saw this. There are no words. I brought a pair of these in Primark a few months ago to wind my friend Seb up – AS A JOKE. This guy was wearing them because it was sunny and he’s a cock. Fact.

Not quite Gaga

Why are short weeks always such a total cassé mes couilles (apparently that’s French for ball ache – thought it sounded a bit more lady like)?! Urgh – they really do take all the joy out of a 3-day weekend! This one’s been particularly eventful, so I was most pleased when my friend Cazza said she take me to CGH to drown my sorrows after work.

So, we’re sitting there and these two big SUV’s turn up and she convinces me they’re for Gaga. So I start hyperventilating and trying to figure out whether to play it cool or jump her, when this complete bunch of randoms get in. What a let down! Well, that did nothing to better my mood. Then, all of a sudden Caroline said, ‘that’s Anne Hathaway’. I looked and all I could see was a totally av girl in a beyond av outfit wearing massive fuck-off headphones, and after the whole Gaga thing I’d totally lost faith in Cazza’s celeb judgement. So off I tottered to hunt her down, and sure enough, there in bloody Oddbins in Covent Garden was Anne frigging Hathaway – whooda thought it! V proud of my shot – Cazza didn’t think I’d get one, paps watch ya backs! Love it – Anne Hathaway goes to Oddbins and buys a couple of bottles to take back to the Covent Garden hotel….you’d have thought on her salary she’d have been able to afford room service, no?!

Very very Vice

I’m totally addicted to Vice magazine. I can’t wait for my issue to arrive each month (except when it’s the boring literature issue - bleurgh), and then rush home from work, jump into bed and devour the whole thing in one sordid evening. Their fashion shoots usually feature more nipples than actual clothes though, but I found this one on their website and couldn’t stop looking, and then thinking about it. I have a real thing for men in Polo Ralph Lauren (it’s got this whole preppy, cheeky, naughty vibe going on – yum), so an original lo-life shoot is proper fashion porn for me. It’s so rare to have a fashion shoot with an interview and story accompanying it, but in this case the history and culture is so interesting and crucial. All in all a fascinating fashion story….and not a nipple in sight!

They give me fever…

So, the sales have started. I usually avoid the sales like a 10 year school reunion, but in the name of friendship I made the mistake of hitting Oxford Street yesterday, and believe me – you don’t want anything that much. Now, sales I can’t stand – sample sales on the other hand I can’t resist. Designer clothes at high-street-ish prices – count me and my check book in! Sadly they don’t love me back, so I’ve developed 5 rules by which to buy by…I hope they help you as much as one day I hope they’ll help me too….


1. Never invite someone the same size as you. It’ll only end in tears. This is the perfect opportunity to wheel out your fat friend – not only will you not fight over the same pieces, but you can use her as a buffer against all those sharpened elbows – perfect!

2. Get there early. True aficionado’s get there days before (well, hours and hours at least). Fashionista’s have been known to arrive at Claridges for the much prized Chanel sample sale (invitation only FYI) grasping their skinny caps at dawn.

3. Never make friends in the queue/ at the rails. You’re about to enter into battle with these women – stay focused, everyone’s a potential enemy.

4. Never take a straight man along – they can’t handle it. Fact.

5. Don’t buy anything you wouldn’t pay full price for, or which you’re seeing for the first time. Not convinced? Think you know better? Well, for your sake here’s a list of pointless, unfit for purpose and quite frankly ridiculous things I’ve brought at sample sales this year….5 pairs of Louboutin shoes (was very nearly double that, so thank you Stephi for your wise words, “babes, if they’re too big/small/high, then you probably won’t wear them will you…”); one pen-marked Liberty of London bag (I did get an extra £20 off, but it’s not the point really is it); a Maison Martin Margiela cardigan. It’s black mesh and has no back. It’s pointless, impossible to wear, and still cost triple digits; a grey patent Chloé Heloise bag. It’s the heaviest bag in the world. I can hardly lift it when it’s empty, so by the time I’ve laden it with my daily essentials I need a crane to move it; a pair of brown Jonathan Kelsey shoes. They’re brown…when do I ever wear brown? I’ll tell you – never!

Now, maths isn’t my strong point, but for the purpose of this cautionary tale I’ve made a few calculations, and estimate that this little lot cost me about….well actually I can’t even bare to type it (not least because my parents are probably reading this). Let’s just say thinking about it in the cold light of day I may have preferred two weeks in the Maldives after all….

How I found the perfect gloves to give people the finger in…

My boots obsession has been replaced with a new found glove fetish. It all began when I lost my mittens (God – never thought I’d be saying that post-primary school). To be honest, they weren’t really working out anyway. I was finding the whole uni-hand thing quite restrictive, and was getting frustrated as I couldn’t partake in my two favourite past-times – smoking and giving people the finger. So, although their loss was a bit of a pain I wasn’t heartbroken.

The mission then began to find some new hand wear more suited to my needs. With mittens out I narrowed my options down to the following;
a. Normal gloves
b. Fingerless gloves

When I say narrowed what I actually mean is defined, because I brought a pair of each. In typical Sisi G style they couldn’t be more different (and not just because of the finger thing either).

Pair a. (the normal ones), aren’t really that normal at all. I found them sulking on a corner rail in H&M, and I instantly knew (as you can do when something’s only £7.99) that they were going home with me. I’m absolutely feeling velvet right now. It’s just perfect for winter/ Christmas, and I love the fact that it’s so ‘90’s, and Shakespeare’s Sister/ Four Weddings (aka The Best British Comic Film Ever Made). The embellishment is obviously a joy - I think it’s lovely to have a little bit of bling on your gloves. Plain leather gloves feel so corporate and dull all of a sudden, so I was overjoyed to find a high-street glove that offered that little bit more.

Glove a. and I were getting on swimmingly until I saw pair b. I was on my way back from a particularly fulfilling morning of Finance training (yes – this is exactly what I got into magazines for), when I saw them hanging from a stall by Camden tube; they looked so brash and naughty I just had to take a closer look. Forget ‘Fierce’ these bad boys are Weapons of Mass Destruction. They’re SO sex – they’re like if ‘80’s Madonna, (my darling) MJ, a cheese grater and a gay S&M freak had an orgy, these would be the result. They're like power gloves - you can't help but feel in control when you're wearing them - I mean, who's gonna mess with spike hands, eh?!
I approached with caution (both the gloves and the stall holder), and did my best nonchalant bartering….
Me: “Um. How much are the gloves?”
Stall holder: “£15”
Me: “Is that your best price?”
Stall holder: “Yes”
Me: (Unconvincing contemplation whilst salivating and making love to them with my eyes) “Hhmmmm, I’m not sure….”
Stall holder: “Ok – I give you for £14”
Me: “Perfect!”
The deed was done, and I became the proud owner of two new pairs of gloves in two weeks – Fash-tastic!