Hopeless hopes for 2011..

I'm not a big resolution fan but like everyone else I have hopes for the coming year. 2010 was a mixed bag of a year for me, good professionally but a bit ropey towards the end due to ill health. I decided to publish a list of things that I would like to see in the coming year. I'm not including the big philosophical things as I presume that those who know me would be aware that I want less war, poverty and suffering. Nor am I going to dwell on the personal although somewhere of my own to live and decorate would be nice oh God of lottery wins... Here's my list. Do you agree/disagree and what would you add?


1.  Waistlines drop...to the waist. Enough of bundling seams under our boobs so we all look either pregnant or like a reject from the 70's.

2.  Please please please don't let the seventies become the fashion wheeze of the year. The Horror, the flares, the tabards, the bad hair.

3.  Could people stop using Hackney and Dalston for events. Somewhere less skanky with better transport, please?

4  Cheryl Cole, Holly Willoughby, Fearne Brittain, Kerry Katona to disappear. Katie Price can stay.

Basher Cole.

5   Some strange genetic quirk to make my fringe grow double quick.

6   Rap, grime and whatever to be dropped in favour of old school hip hop.

7  The government stop penalizing me for working, paying taxes, not claiming benefits and not breeding.

8  That people stop showing me babies and turn up with puppies instead.

9  Suddenly sleeves and skirts below the knees become fashionable.

10  It is realized that years of study, chartership and membership of a professional body makes Librarians closer to Doctors, Lawyers and Architects rather than being a fixer of peoples crap computers or a customer service operative.

11  Queueing becomes fashionable and even London's more exotic residents see the sense of it.

12  Marc Almond has a hit single.

13  A major building project is announced that requires carving, mosaics and gilding rather than concrete, glass and crap sculptures.

14  People stop sniffing bloody cocaine and start drinking cocktails.

15   A big exhibition of Edward Burra paintings is announced.

16   Kate gets married in scarlet silk.

17   We get a new bank holiday for Trafalgar day.

18   That we all keep well, avoid financial disaster and have a bit of a giggle!

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all! 

HIX Albemarle in Browns Hotel.

Gave this place a spin last night after some last minute last minute Christmas shopping. Expensive, yes but very tasty. It is in Brown's Hotel. I'm fond of Donovan's bar in the same hotel, especially for their discretion in picking up women who slide off their leather pouffy things, by that I mean seating not some louche chap. Browns is also basically London's oldest extant Hotel and thus has, technically, the Capital's oldest restaurant. Due to the festive season the bar was packed with strange braying post-office types and the staff had the demeanor of  soldiers manning Rourke's drift. We opted to have our drinks in the lounge area where I was rewarded by the pianist smiling at me as he launched into a twinkly version of 'nature boy'... is there something I am not getting?

Brown's Hotel Albemarle Street.

Hix has taken over the dining room, you can tell because it is full of slightly silly art, which is of course supposed to be cutting edge. Browns is full of Paul Smith designed Christmas decorations including a lot of pine rabbits and at least one Christmas monkey, good silly. Otherwise what you have is a classic hotel dining room with classic attentive service.

Donovan's Bar minus Yahoos.

 The food is English and fairly typical of Hix, I had the Morecambe Potted Shrimp, nice but not really potted (should stand in stiffened butter with a bit of mace and look a bit brown) more a slightly solidified tasteful prawn cocktail. The bearded one was very happy with his cured British meat and soused Alexander starter. Soused Alexanders turned out to be burdocky veg in vinegary stuff and very tasty. For main courses we went for venison and for me, mallard. Both dishes were excellent, really tender, properly cooked and...what a pleasant surprise, actually came with veg and potatoes. This was lovely savoury gamey Winter fare. I felt what the food delivered here was plenty of taste, great big mouthfuls of it. The wine we had (Arg chardonnay, NZ Pinot Noir) both very good.

Interior of Hix Albemarle.

 Wasn't cheap but the food was filling and well served. Mayfair doesn't have as many good eateries as it should so Hix is welcome. Being in such a well run hotel you leave to a parade of uniformed staff saying good night, putting your coat on and opening doors for you. The feeling of civilised well being lasts all the way to the...Victoria Line.

Faketasheophobia!

I am starting this with a warning *rant alert* that I may be about to be unkind to a minority. I am about to be elitist, non-inclusive and down right prejudiced but I am afraid I just cannot help myself. It is just that I hate fake moustaches.

Most ladies cannot grow moustaches so fakery is unavoidable.

There is generally a smattering of them at Chap magazine events. Fortunately a minority. The splendid in many ways Night of a Thousand Waistcoats Chap Anarcho Ball last weekend again saw an outbreak of this irritant. It is not that I have a problem with artifice. For example uniforms. An army brat myself I don't object to people wearing reproduction army uniforms, it is a form of homage, looks rather smart and most young chaps after all have not had the opportunity to fight in the Napoleonic wars or fly Spitfires.  And one cannot assume that the chap in uniform would not volunteer should the need arise. Medals I would object to but even then if they belonged to grandad, it is good they get an airing and their stories get told.    The small number of nylon faux flapper costumes that always appear are kind of cute.  However the line has to be drawn somewhere and I am drawing it above the upper lip, in an unnatural shade of brown.

The offending articles.

I loathe that habit of wearing fake moustaches. I mean, FFS, it is not as if they are difficult to grow. All men can produce one of their own, they don't cost any money and there is, in this writer's opinion few things finer on a gent than some some well tended facial topiary. But no. A small minority think that if they sling on an ill fitting tweed jacket, wear a hat, glue a gruesome bit of scratchy nylon on their phyzzogs and hurl themselves around yelling 'I say', 'What ho!' and 'Old Chap' they are the bees knees. It is very undergraduate, really annoying, deeply unattractive and irritates the bejesus out of me.  If they are interested enough to fork out for a ticket they can surely avoid a shave for a fortnight. They irritate me more than rahs, although I suspect a bit of crossover there.

Puppies look perfectly charming with moustaches.

To qualify this, I don't mind completely insane fakery such as the mad huge black fake beard a chap wore last year. It was inconvenient, original and made him look quite insane: all commendable. Or the Olympiad Champion, a Victorian strong man whom I know in his day job is not shy of facial hair.  But the popular variety seems to be the cheap joke shop type, not even the thespian variety which at least display a little effort.  But what is behind this reluctance to grow a moustache? Is it the fear of being individual, thought eccentric or facing ridicule? The ability to face all of these things is admirable, but if an individual is worried, nervous or sadly does not have the features to suit a tache he needn't have one.  And he needn't have a fake bloody moustache... there are other options such as side burns after all. Additionally as 'Movember' has just finished the grower of a temporary face embellishment can blame it on philanthropic motivations, in fact the cad could go just go around demanding 'donations' and never have to pay for a drink all night.

The other, not entirely generous element to my disdain for the counterfeit moustache is that it reeks of fancy dress, stag night high jinks and rag collections.  At a party full of devoted dandys, chaps, wastrels and stylish flotsam why would you do that? Because you are a tosser thats why.  The only fake moustache that looked good was one that was removed and placed by someone on the delicious Jenni's back. The original owner obviously thought better of his faux pas and had started to allow his inner bounder to escape!  What about you? Do you share my urge to pull fake moustaches off or am I being harsh! Because at Chap events I really hate 'em! I'm thinking of putting on a cape and a mask and becoming the Tache Avenger!

Christmayhem.

I spent several years without Christmas, quite literally. In Japan Christmas Eve had been moulded by retailers and caterers into an alternative Valentine’s Day where young men are expected to feed their beloved overpriced meals. Kentucky Fried Chicken have craftily persuaded the rest of the population that a festive bargain bucket is very close to what we eat in the West. There is ‘Christmas Cake’; white sponge, synthetic cream and imported strawberries which at least has a festive colour scheme. Mind you to most Japanese ‘Christmas Cake’ refers to the cruel sexist maxim that like Christmas Cake, an unmarried Japanese girl becomes stale after the age of 24.  The day after this travesty all the tack tinsel and Santas are immediately pulled down in anticipation of the real event there: New Year. It is even a working day and that felt just downright wrong (my kind employers usually sent me home because I looked so glum).

Now these chaps look happy.

As a result of this perhaps, I love Christmas.  I hear the complaints about costs, commercialism and hassle. But really, it is only stressful if you allow it to be. And for most of us it is at least a much needed break after a tiring few months. I’m sympathetic of grinchiness if displayed by retail staff at Harrods or those who find themselves alone or lonely. Otherwise I just ignore the buzzing noise that is the yuletide whinger.

 

A Christmas Tree you can hang your hat on!

 Mind you I think Christmas is becoming fashionable again after a couple of decades where public indifference was the thing. But it is a very middle class recycled ecological home made kind of Christmas. I blame Jamie Oliver, Kirsty Allsopp and Hester Blumenthal and his 100 quid a pop Christmas puddings on ebay. It’s all crafty and earthy and dull and expensive.  Kind of a lets do the folklore thing but pay a fortune for it or to make it. That is unless you have a great big garden in Dulwich that has half a dozen holly bushes and a  Polish cleaner to come in and clear up all the crap afterwards. A kind of Harry Enfield ‘I saw you coming Christmas’. There is more joy in a Poundland glitter garland.

Oh no, please don't make me!

To be fair though, people should do what they want, not my place to dictate. Christmas is indeed  a delightfully moveable feast, apart from the fact that it is actually on the 25th.  I’m not a Christian and it is not surprising that therefore most of my pleasures are derived from its lively, boozy, convivial and to be frank licentious aspects. It is a good excuse for a party, and in its true pagan form that is what it is. A bit of a jolly up in the bleak midwinter. I am not saying I dislike the religious embellishments, I like some of them, all the glittery angels, fat men in red and hymns. In fact yuletide has not arrived for me until I have heard the mournful tones of the Salvation Army brass band playing ‘O Come all ye faithful’. The Sally Army are always my Christmas charity, and indeed my all year charity of choice. So it is not that I am not fond of traditional things…

A traditional thing..

It is just that I don’t think there is such a thing as a ‘vintage’ Christmas in spirit because in truth most aspects of Christmas are vintagey. No doubt you could make a good period 30’s, 40’s or 50’s themed  one. The latter would be best I suspect because it would include the requisite amount of tack. This for me is the problem with a tasteful Christmas and the vintage ‘retro’ Christmas being peddled by magazines and stores is pushing some kind of Notting Hillesque taste upon us ( a bit too noblesse oblige for my tastes). All this home made marzipan, real trees and hand stitched gifting is also a huge nuisance. So would a real period Christmas be. I would hate to be without working electric fairy lights (until recently the blasted things didn’t work), I prefer artificial trees and I love glitter, sparkles and silly songs.  I don’t want to play board games and charades in front of a fire. I want to drink Baileys in front of the fireplace of a local hostelry and watch Doctor Who on telly.  I also want to wham my pre-made M & S Christmas dinner in the oven and end up with no washing up.  Christmas tea consists of cheese, after dinner mints and more Baileys. and then more cheese.  The only thing I want to stuff over Christmas is myself. 

Vulgar but nice.

I also like office parties, secret santa (now that is a brave thing to admit to), Christmas quizzes, meeting my friends and eating mince pie flavoured brandy butter (I don’t really like the mince pies but what the hell). I like being nicer to people and I don’t mind Christmas shopping that much either, as long as it is not in Croydon and I can reward myself with a nice drink at the end of it, preferably  champagne. But that’s me and that is just the point. I don’t think if I tried to have a vintage Christmas it would work. This is because this time is such an accrual of things; people we have loved, things we always do, things we shouldn’t do but always do, novelty, new memories and sheer indulgence. It has always been a mash of old colliding with new which is why it is also such a good time for telling ghost stories.

The reality for most of us...thankfully!

To be frank, and you won’t find me apply this to many things I am much happier with whatever Christmas the 21^st century throws at me than one anchored in the past.  I’d drop the Nigella Lawson family in favour of the Royle Family any day.  So lets buy the cheap Christmas crackers, the bottles of cava and open the box of cheese balls and look forward to a good Christmas. 

What do you think? do you hanker back to a Christmas past rather than a Christmas now? I would love to know.. 

Red heads under the bed (and everywhere else......)

Lily Cole brunette and light red hair.

Recently Lily Cole swapped her trademark copper tresses for a dark brunette shade. Being an inveterate hair hue shifter myself I realize you get bored of the same old colour. Some don’t feel this way and happily leave their hair to its own devices. Not a bad idea, au naturel naturally matches skin tone and everything else. Some dye their hair and hang on to the same old shade of blonde forever. This is a little more difficult to understand, if you already zap your hair the condition is whatever any stylist tries to sell you, kaput. Condition is highly overrated; it’s the way it looks that matters. So if you hair is coloured how do you resist the temptation to then tinker with it?

There is no other thing (short of amputation which seems a bit extreme) that overhauls your appearance as effectively. I have personally been just about every shade some of which were ill advised. Jet black or rather Recital blue black was my default in my youth. Then it set off my pallor and I had the youthful patience to paint on my Goth warpaint every morning but I cannot really carry it off now or rather I can’t be bothered. I have had all kinds of blonde from the light and brash (which I liked )to some ill advised ‘classy’ high lights (yawn), I lived in Bath and I think I was trying to match the architecture. Brunette is my natural shade, in my case a darkish chestnut the same hue as fenland soil. I have had lighter browns and personally I like mouse brown. A true mouse brown should be more fairly labeled sable or mink, a lovely tone I wish I had. Currently it is a coppery red but this has veered from marmalade to pinkish in the last year alone.  I do understand Lily Cole’s motivation but the change has somehow or the other managed to make a very tall slim woman with unusual features look duller. This is probably because red hair is so flamboyant, like black and peroxide blonde you can’t escape from it short of wearing a large wooly hat or being decapitated (what is it with me today? I have a very bloody turn of phrase).

Red haired Rita

Brunette Rita

Blonde Rita...

There seems to be a kind of pecking order with hair colour changes. Blondes reverting to their natural brunette works well if the blonde is the high maintenance ‘natural’ type. The brown hair brightens eyes, improves skin and just makes people look more interesting.  A peroxide blonde or that incredibly rare creature the natural blonde can however risk becoming heavier and older; swamped by the brown hair. Somehow or the other moving from red to another colour always seems to involve a kind of ‘giving up’. Moving from a vibrant bright unusual colour into a kind of monochrome. Last time I moved from red back to my natural brown the reaction from many was of dismay. My claims that I needed to save money and time were not sufficient to make up for losing the red tresses which I had become identified with.

Kristen McMenemy's beautiful grey hair.

I’m not always sold on my red hair, my colourist is one of the best in London but when tired or manic I have the suspicion that I resemble Vivien Westwood in one of her stranger moods. Red can be brassy, like black and peroxide blonde it demands some cosmetic effort and it does stand out. It has the advantage of being associated with positive values in a woman: fieriness, passion, strong character  and independence. I also like it's associations with celts, pre-raphealites, jewish proto godesses and romantic heroines. Also it can  absolutely sing when combined with particular colours in a way that blonde never can. Blonde can only be complemented. Lily Cole has been red for a long time and the quiet more mysterious image of the pale skinned brunette must be fun to play with, I would be surprised if she maintains it for a long time. This natural brunette may revert to her brown hair but cannot help thinking that after fiery locks  brown  alone may not be enough and a silver/white streak bleached through the front may be required.  I had to go blonde to go red, and peroxide blonde was tempting for a mad moment but I doubt I'll ever go for a tasteful blonde again.

Of course a white 'mallen streak' might might age me, but that is one of the advantages of styling yourself for yourself; I don’t feel the need to look youthful. I’d rather aspire even if I invariably fail, to look distinctive.  I have also discovered people being surprised by my advanced years recently, I suspect this is because the fake tanning, hair highlighting, figure hugging jersey and modern jewellery default of looking more youthful is perversely becoming ageing. Or maybe it is just down to my immature personality.or dressing like people's grannies. Of course talking of grannies, white and silver tresses are the last frontier of hair colour and if I am fortunate enough to turn a nice shade of pale grey or silver white I may finally hang up my hair dyeing hat forever.  I  am particularly inspired by model Kristen McMenemy's fantastic wintry locks but suspect by the time I get these I may have stopped bothering!

Comments are welcome, especially if you have just had or are planning to change your hue. How about you redheads, how do you feel about your flame coloured tresses?

that wedding.....a tale of Royal wedding frocks.

On the whole I like weddings, but Royal weddings I am not so sure about. The Queen’s one seems charming in retrospect but that may be my vintage bias. There is something about the fact she felt the need even though quite unnecessary to save coupons towards it that appeals. No doubt there will be much speculation about whether William and Kate Middleton will display recession sensitivity. In one way I hope not, as long as the tax payer doesn’t foot the bill for a gazillion quid dress and larks dressed with gold leaf. The security and whatevers we are stuck with.

Already the moronic womens interest press are wittering on about Miss Middleton’s fashion credentials. She is a modern Sloane in her clothing inclinations and much more, any of the flamboyance that tends to be displayed by the lady art historian has been stamped out if it ever existed. I actually like her best so far in that see-through dress she modeled at St Andrews. No reason however why the woman should be forced to be a fashion ‘icon’, although becoming a walking clothes hanger for British designers might make her an effective if not particularly cheap advertisement for our designers and fashion retail industry.

That.. ahem..dress.

For the next year or so we will have to put up with rumblings about the bridal gown and I must admit that I get sucked into this, merely because I am very very nosy. Thus here in my own small way I contribute to the avalanche of speculative dross on the subject. 

I doubt very much that Kate Middleton will make the mistake that her late mother in law did with that ghastly dress. When Diana first appeared swamped in that huge creased horror of a  frock my late nan and I let out involuntary gasps of horror. She looked like a thin blonde stick that had been pushed into a three day old blancmange, with a skin. Charles, not the most attractive man actually looked quite smart by comparison. I preferred Sarah Ferguson’s Edwardian ensemble, very Downton Abbey and showed off what was at the time a rather good figure. Shame her hair wasn't put up.

Nighty as wedding dress

The worry is that Kate might go to the other extreme and opt for a minimal dress, the kind beloved by all nice middle class girls. Is there anything more boring than these structured tasteful shoulder less dresses accessorized with teensy little jewels, tiny silly flowers, a fake tan and tightly pulled back hair (a Croydon facelift with a bun). Actually there is; the floaty silk dresses that look like nighties.  The dictates of a cathedral wedding should put paid to bare shoulders and access to all those jewels may stop her from looking mimsy, get that tiara on girl! If conventional is chosen I’d rather see a sampling of gran- in- law’s look or even great umpteen times great gran’s look. Nothing wrong with a neat crinoline. I just hate that smug minimal look unless it is accompanied by a simple wedding. And it seldom is. I'd rather have Katie Price excess. 

Royal purple Vivien Westwood, sadly I cannot see it happening although La Middleton would look splendid in this..

Perhaps the original mad granny, Viv Westwood should make the dress. I’d love to see a corseted, sleeved, structured gown with silk. In fact even a high neckline, something a bit rococo or tudor would be nice. (although those tudor Catherines had mixed fortunes).  If we are going to endure all this majesterial nonsense I expect it to be a bit dramatic.  I'd make her carry a small bulldog puppy instead of a bouquet, wear a ruff and have helicopters embroidered on her train. Somehow or the other I suspect I am going to be disappointed and in truth Viv hardly has an unbesmirched rep when it comes to monarchy. In truth she would be a hypocrite if she did produce a royal wedding dress.

Now these are wonderful gowns...

Red legs in Soho’s last word on the subject is that if she was about to stomp down the aisle at Westminster Abbey she’d opt for John Galliano. Whilst he might be working for what is in truth an international corporation he is British and British trained. He also ticks the multi-cultural and hard working boxes. This is a man who understands dramatic grandeur and can create that sense of restrained flamboyance that the good wedding frock should rock. How nice would it be to see a bride resemble one of Beaton’s elegant debutantes with a touch of wicked lady and just a touch of prole. I rest my case. You might not very sensibly actually care, but do you agree? Minn xxx

Galliano, all you need to do is add some sleeves...or a bloody great cape.

Rioting in Camber.

Now I haven’t been away on a weekend thingy for a long time and when I did it almost definitely involved The Cure, tents, trying to look gothic in the rain and too much cider. Now my dotage approaches I regard the idea of tents with horror. And the festivals of today with a few exceptions are full of childish badly dressed people and corporate to the nth.  For the past few years I’ve been tempted by the ‘weekender’.  This has several advantages over its skanky festival cousin. It generally involves chalets, toilets and facilities (never underestimate the importance of ‘facilities’). More pointedly whether car, sixties, Northern Soul or discofied they are focused and tend to attract a more committed kind of attendee.

Sadly there is, as yet, no weekender for the thirties or forties fan inspired by music and style (rather than re-enactment). I like the ‘Home Front’ stuff, it just isn’t my idea of a weekend of fun. Perhaps it is the military hardware, and the ghosts. The next best thing for me is the fifties, and fortunately that period is well served by weekenders with Hemsby and the Rockabilly Rave amongst others.  Additionally the music is likely to be  good, the cars are actually interestingly decorative and my collection of tatty fortiesish clothing might just about past muster.  So last weekend I found myself revisiting the scene of many a childhood away- day: Camber Sands. Or rather, Rhythm Riot at Pontins in Camber Sands.  I’d been wanting to go to this for years, partially because I knew some nice people who go, the best sign you can have of quality and partially because Lady Luck have a night and people like Top Shelve Jazz were playing so I knew there was crossover with the scene I am perhaps more used to.  I was sharing with two friends I’d known for a while and a couple I hadn’t met before (who turned out to be complete stars).

Once there it was clear that this had something of a reunion about it, people clearly came every year and were in the know (torches for the bootsale as the room is so dark). There were also contingents who had travelled from other parts of the globe.  The Dutch contingent were very unimpressed with their accommodation but in our case the doom laden tales of cat pee scented chalets and dirt proved unfounded: the chalet was warm, clean and comfortable enough. Perhaps because we’d opted for the ‘luxury’ option. 

The journey down was fun, how nice to be surrounded by victory rolls, quiffs and red lippy and be in the majority for once. Pontins was already full when we arrived of wonderful old cars ready to cruise through Rye on the Sunday. I was very struck by the atmosphere, it was strongly redolent of a school trip, perhaps that is because I remember South East London’s school kids descending on Butlins out of season. Except the trippers were older, carrying cans of beer around and festooning their chalets with lines of washing and the decoration du jour: bunting. I was particularly impressed by the tower of popaddoms in one of our neighbours chalets, and it is clear that some were serving as impromptu mini party venues.  This amiable atmosphere continued through a weekend of incessant music, d.j.ing ,vintage bargain hunting and dancing en masse. Due to illness I hadn’t been able to brush off my dancing shoes and learn enough to join in but watching was good enough. It was a chance to catch up with a few friends and put faces and characters or to names heard or friends previously only encountered on line. The weekend included a walk on the beach, dinosaur shooting, air hockey, trying to re-learn the stroll, rooting through tables of bric a brac (sorry ‘vintage collectables’) eating dirty fried chicken and listening to a wide range of R&B (the real thing), bluesy, rocking, country, swing sounds. I also learned what figging is, although I could have done without that….

As a newbie I hadn’t known what to expect but the Rhythm Riot exceeded my expectations on the sheer laugh factor.  It is easy for things attended by devotees to have an element of cliquishness or exclusivity but the Rioters where clearly there for the music and the cars and the company. If I had been able to dance and had not been such a semi-invalid it would have been even better. How expensive it is depends on you really, I wish I had had more money to spend in the vintage and repro market or to get  Miss Betty to style my hair (you know you are onto a winner when your hairdresser is also there) but generally it was as inexpensive or expensive as you chose. Pontin’s is sadly going into administration although the rumour is that the Riot is fine for next year, and hopefully many years after that. This blog is illustrated with assorted photos from the weekend.