glitter

I must say, although the brightness of spring and summer had me more optomistic than Barney the Dinosaur after a cheeky line or three, I'm totally over it and ready for autumn and winter, because that means fur, sparkle and tartan, and I love fur, sparkle and tartan.

I've just been looking back over Ashish's A/W 2011 shows and, OH. I adore sequins, I adore Ashish. Yes, winter equals swathing oneself in chunky knit after chunky knit, but let's not forget the mystical glamour of this season, how can you not love this...

(Yes it is a tartan dress, MADE FROM SEQUINS!)

And what has really got me in a magical mood is Zara. I popped in there the other day before work and could not wait for my day off so I could indulge in some retail therapy. There are so many metallics in there I nearly cried. Delicate tops laced with silver threads, gold foil cardigans, gold jumpers with gold elbow patches, gold jeans, gold dresses, gold skirts, gold, gold, shiny, SHINY!





I love how the colder months force texture upon our wardrobes, mixing knitwear, leather, tulle and lace, and the grunge/punk/rock revival this season is awesome. It's game over for the floaty florals of summer, time for a little darkness and edge. Oh and of course if it's time to wrap up, it is time for faux fur, glamorous, sumptuous faux fur. Yay.

youths

As I am currently living in Devon, working in a tea rooms and my most frequented mode of transport is the public bus, I seem to spend a Hell of a lot of time in the presence of the elderly. Now this is not a problem, I find the elderly quite sweet, humorous, kind, but the other day whilst on the bus, this was not the case.

As usual the bus was running late, and so while I was waiting for said bus, I (as the vast majority of people do nowadays) decided to listen to my Ipod. I was dressed in my work clothes- black shirt and black jeans (granted my shirt was untucked, but none-the-less I believe I was in still in the smart spectrum of dress) and once the bus had eventually arrived I got on, scanned the lower deck for free seats (doubles being the priority of course) with no avail. So, not being bothered to carry myself upstairs, I decided upon a seat next to surprise, surprise, an elderly woman, much to her discomfort. She looked me up and down in such a manner, the only word to describe it, 'snooty'. I was perched, yes, perched on the seat next to her, so I know for a fact I wasn't squashing her. But after having been in this position for a few minutes I thought 'Sod the bitch' and relieved my strained leg (preventing me from falling off the seat due to the single bum cheek situation) and sat down properly. She tutted and readjusted.

This whole episode made me feel very uncomfortable, I don't like knowing that people don't like me, naturally, especially when they're old. I thought I had gone past the age of scaring the elderly, being classed as 'youth of today' or a 'yob' but apparently not. Perhaps, like myself she just enjoys having a spare seat next to her, not having to share personal space with strangers and thought that if she made a fuss I would move, and her actions would be understandable because she is old and you don't question the elderly.

On another seat related note, I made a bit of a faux pas whilst on a train recently. Having booked my seat to ensure I didn't have to sit in the aisle/toilet area, I alighted the train and found it, only there was a girl sat in the one next to it, with a ginormous suitcase next to her and McDonald's wrappers scattered about. I asked if I could sit there and she obliged by moving everything, really and truly squishing herself up next to the window, crushing her legs underneath her suitcase. Whilst I was waiting for this space to be created, I noticed how many other seats were available, people in the seats next to them without excess baggage, but it was too late, I found myself sitting down next to the squashed girl, even though I was only going to be on the train for fifteen minutes maximum, so I could have sat anywhere, even though I had now come to realise that this was not my reserved seat, the time had past, the train was moving, I was there. I felt like a right bitch, the sweet girl next to me probably thought 'Why the Hell did she choose this bloody seat? What a bitch!' And when the train came to my stop, I felt that something had to be said, so I thanked her, apologised and scurried off.