Love?

Giorgie and i popped into Dover Street Market yesterday to snoop round its subterranean Love In, which is set up in honour of the launch of stylist Katie Grand's new mag Love. less of a love in, more of a bed with expensive shit on it if you ask me. a consumers orgy. Loewe leather cushions sit plumped up on shiny D&G sheets that adorn the mattress of an iron bedstead wrapped in grimy black tape. all merch totting up to enough money to bail the country out of its economic crisis. still, quite fun, i guess, in a ludicrously lavish sort of way. Love magazines are stacked up all around said bed, and the effect is one of flagrant decadence and fuck-you luxury, which is quite like the mag itself in a way. A first flick shows it to be hyper, hyper glossy with a luxurious, weighty feel. i absolutley love the cover. such voluptuous milky white flesh exuding such confidence. this image of Beth Ditto and the ones in the feature inside remind me of the Opium adverts Sophie Dahl did all those years ago - soft, voluminous, sexual curves. it's less shocking to see second time round though, although just as sensual on the eye. makes you wonder why it's not done more regularly. inside the mag, after a tsunami of adverts, Katie's frank, unpretentious ed's letter is followed by an A-Z of things the Love creative team love (musicians, models and designers mostly). their choices seem by turns obvious, curious, hilarious and misguided. W is for walnuts, X for X-factor winner Alexandra Burke, Y for Yasmin le Bon, and Z for shoe designer Zanotti. Letter people are asked questions like who, what, and what love song do you love most, but its more about the images than the words i think and some answers seem a bit lacklustre - this is a launch issue after all, show some chutzpah people, goddammit! after the A-Z there are both written through and solely image profiles of 'names' including Courtney Love, Angelica Houston, Iggy Pop, Lilly Allen, Duffy, Pam Hogg, Kelly Brook and Kate Moss. each is the love object, in a creative or cultural way i guess you could say, of whoever has worked on their piece. there's something brilliantly unpretentious about this. the content isn't desperately trying to be new, edgy, esoteric or pointedly awkward like that of some magazines. It feels, at least at first glance, quite genuine, although i'm not sure how original that makes any of it, plus there's a danger of it trying to appeal to everyone, which may of course mean it pleases no one. but i think that their wide casting of the net is a canny move. i like the idea of hooking readers in with someone familiar to them and then introducing them to people they might not otherwise have heard of. for those who like the exclusivity of niche fashion mags though, hmmm. not many surprises, so 'nothing particularly new' would be my guess as to their reaction. for my part i'm enjoying it, visually at least... i have yet to really get into the meatier features (or the ones that seem that they might be) so for now, i'm reserving judgement. my Love letter is in saved drafts.

The Powder Room

I've never been one to shell out for mani-pedis and all that jazz. although i find my unpainted nails something of an eyesore, i'm happy to varnish them myself, coating new layers over the days old chipped and bitten ones (who looks that closely anyway?). 17's Risky Red is a particular favourite, and Dragon's Blood by No.7. cheap and cheerful, i say (although Chanel do a fabulous London Bus red - £££ tho). what other colours could have such great names, eh? i think my nails look like little bright red buttons sitting on my fingers. still, happy as i am for a quick self administered brush up, i'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so on thursday night, despite the snow, i tottered along (in my lovely new forest green high heels by the much underrated ASH) to Columbia Road for the opening of The Powder Room, the first shop of the roaming Powderpuff girls. Up till now, this troupe of makeup artists and hairstylists clad in sexy pink 1950s dresses (a la Agent Provocateur girls) and jauntily placed black pill box hats have graced parties and lavish events, setting up shop to groom and preen revelers. in this new location, Columbia Road's weekend flower shoppers and knick-knack hunters can nip in for a quick spruce. super idea, i think. The shop is all 50s boudoir chic, with brightly lit vintage mirrors and dressing tables for hair styling; an apothecary's counter filled with beauty paraphernalia, on top of which sits one of those gorgeous ornately engraved old fashioned metal cash registers with the clicky buttons and a rounded ring to the clink of a sale going through; a loo with walls papered with adverts from the 1950s; and a central island stacked high with nail varnishes in every colour. i settled myself beside this, and drank elderflower gin cocktails from a pink tea cup while having my nails painted. really, how else is there to have a proper manicure?

Pencil Thievery, part I

Whenever i get invited to advance film screenings, or fashion press days at one of the Firmdale Hotels (it's usually The Charlotte Street, Covent Garden, Soho or Haymarket) my heart does a little dance. They are gloriously swish and it feels very decadent to watch films sitting sunk low in cowhide or luxurious velvet chairs, usually with one hand clamped round a glass of wine, in the company of only a dozen or so others, OR to hang around a ba da bing bling indoor pool (at the Haymarket) or lavish suites taking notes on the new season's trends. But, if i'm honest, what really gets me excited are the SERIOUSLY COOL pencils that sit atop the reception counters in each of the hotel foyers and by which i am obsessed, and therefore make a point of taking handfuls of every time i happen to go in. they're the stripey ones in the middle of this picture, and each hotel does theirs in a different colour. I pretty much write in pencil the whole time (I occasionally make an exception for 0.7 uniballs) and am very fussy about which ones i use. i like a rubber at the end and the kind of wood that makes shavings that are neatly curled (rather than flaking off in tiny bits) without feeling too rubbery or plasticy (these look quite pink in case you're interested). Happily and handily my friend Sophie collects pencil shavings, so we are very well matched, and i especially look out for brightly coloured pencils so her collection is more exciting. the pencils above are the ones on my desk today. i have more in my desk drawers, all my handbags, plus my in bedroom, kitchen and living room. none in the bathroom though, i don't think.