Archive for August, 2009

So in a few days I’ll be jetting off to Africa (or the Motherland, as He so delightfully puts it).

I’m really excited. Really, really excited. And I couldn’t be going at a better time, what with tribal trends dominating the catwalks of the Spring/Summer ‘09 collections. Of course I’m more excited about seeing the lions and the leopards and the elephants and the hippos, but obviously looking half-decent on the back of a juddering Jeep in the dusty Kenyan plains has its priorities too.

When I first heard I’d be dusting it up in the African wilderness, my mind instantly flickered to thoughts of age-old safari tradition: khaki shorts, thick socks and sturdy brown walking boots. It might sound more Indiana Jones than Kate Moss, but with a few twists and turns added here and there I’ll hopefully be able to avoid such a hideous outfit and look a bit more safari chic than safari freak.
So, how would one jazz up their average safari gear, you wonder? The answer: turn the masculine pieces into feminine ones. Masculinity and femme a la mode only go together where high waisted trousers, crisp white shirts and Trilbys are concerned. If you run the risk of going too masculine (ie. borrowing your dad’s khakis), you also run the risk of turning yourself into a big, butch lesbian. Which is great if you are that way inclined, but otherwise… well, let’s say you can wave goodbye to your femininity.

Luckily for me, I have a belted khaki dress which I found convieniently stashed away at the back of my wardrobe. I bought it 3 years ago from Miss Selfridge, full of teenage hope that everyone else my age would end up sporting something similar. Who knew that what I had initially considered a “crap buy” would become so necessary?
Whilst the dress is well and truly sorted (complete with similarly coloured Pashmina head-scarf and over-sized sunnies), I have very little idea about what to wear on my feet. See, everyone I speak to inists on strong walking shoes, but we all know that means. Big, ugly, unattractive steel toe capped walking boots. I’d rather cut off my own genetically-crooked toes than wear them. Hence, I’ve decided it might have to be a pair of gold gladiators. Does that count as strong footwear, does anyone know?!

Aside from safari wear, I’m definitely going to be including a bit of animal print in the collection. The boyfriend claims it is completely and utterly “offensive to the animals”, but it has to be done! After all, what’s wrong with a floaty leopard print dress (perfect for those sticky, mosquito-ridden nights) and a sheer kaftan that blends in with the zebras?

Obviously, there will be pictures upon my return, so watch this space in a fortnight’s time! Kenya here I comeeee.

P.s. Does anyone have any recommendations for travel attire, please let me know? Annoyingly, I have to dress somewhat formally, so tracksuits and jeans are out of the question. Boo.

Following on from my previous post in which I discussed two of the most unforgiving trends to date, I would like to use this opportunity to inform you that the aforementioned shopping trip was not so much a disaster as described.

One thing I did forget to mention in my previous post was the fact that my initially disastrous shopping trip actually resulted in the finding of what can only be described as the bargain of the century. Drum rolls please ladies and gentlemen, for it is now time to introduce you to….

The sequinned dress!

Sequinned dresses, so simple, yet so full of hidden connotations. When we think sequins we think glitz, glamour, Marilyn Monroe, Las Vegas, casinos, James Bond, Bond girls…. and so the list goes on. With so many glamorous connections, it’s therefore any wonder why there are women out there who still find themselves without a boastful sequinned number hanging in their closets.

I admit, since the reincarnation of the sequin trend some two years ago, I was never in any rush to buy myself something “so itchy, so comfortable, and so obviously very tacky” – yes, those were my exact words! I should also mention that my sequin-related disgust was further exacerbated during a moment in a Topshop changing room, in which I became entangled for approximately 30 minutes in a very heavy, very scratchy purple creation covered in sequins the size of 50 pence pieces. Needless to say, I became somewhat very nervy around anything small, round, plastic and shiny following that incident.

Now, however, I have fully recovered, and am fully ready to embrace the trend that so readily reminds me of Christmas, despite its occasional itch and annoyance. Why the sudden change of heart, you wonder? Well, I couldn’t exactly ignore the £30.00 price tag could I?
When I saw this silver/black thing hanging so inconspicuously in one of the most inconspicious shops on the high street, I inconspicuously marched it to the changing room, in which I proceeded to very inconspicuously slip the sequin-smothered chiffon dress over my head, at which moment I fell very conspicuously in love. It was like the perfect LBD and sequin dress rolled into one, with the perfect fit, the perfect cut, and everything, all thrown together as though specifically designed for me. There was no hesitation when it came to producing the plastic, needless to say.

And so this brings forth the following question: Have you, dear readers, ever come across the perfect dress in store? Also, what do you think about this season’s sequinned dresses? Are they a must-have staple item, or a tacky disaster in need of pushing to back of the closet? Let me know by leaving a comment below!

Before you read this, please don’t get me wrong: I love fashion. In fact, I love it so much I obey and embrace each new trend as though fashion itself is some sort of dictating Fuhrer and I am the obedient, trend-displaying nazi.

Recently, however, it has come to my attention that the Autumn/Winter trends of ‘09 appear to have a pre-conceived hatred for yours truly, and I have no idea why.

The Shiny Leggings

#Take yesterday, for example. The ideal shopping experience: the sun was high, the first Uni semester ever nigh, and I was ready to splurge papers on some well-coordinated outfits for the Autumn/Winter term. In my absolute element, I decided there and then that I was going to outdo Victoria Beckham and The Pussycat Dolls and invest in a pair of very tight, very shiny black PVC leggings. Hot stuff. As I charged around each store in desperate attempt to seek out the ideal shiny leggings, I finally found myself what could only be described as “the perfect pair”. I dashed to the changing rooms, shiny PVC leggings in one hand, never doubting for one second that such a garment could make me feel like VB’s morbidly obese younger sister. After what must have been a solid 10 minutes grunting and squeezing my way into the clingy, bin-liner-esque plastic that made up these leggings, I stood back in the mirror to admire my efforts and… well… my once fairly-sized ego was well and truly busted. I looked fat. And not just your average, slightly-overweight fat either. I looked well and truly ridiculous-fat. Whilst my upper half remained slender and, in my eyes, relatively normal, my bottom half seemed to resemble a very awkward and very bad case of elephantitis, with super-wide knees, cankles, the lot. Now, whilst I have never before complained about the size of my behind or my “thunder” thighs, these particular leggings had the rather impressive ability to emphasise each lump and bump with more cruelty and scrutiny than Trinny and Susannah. I was horrified. Needless to say, the leggings were carelessly slung over the “no thanks” rail in a rather outraged huff.

So why then, does the fashion industry insist on bringing to light the most unforgiving of trends? Take, for example, this summer: the return of the 90’s crop top. Thankfully, I have seen so few women embracing this trend that even I forgot it existed. It has only been the stark number of beautifully printed summer tops cropped to a highly unsuitable midriff-bearing length in shop windows that I have been reminded of this very cruel trend. This furthermore poses the following question: why make an item of clothing fashionable if it involves taking out a gym membership in order to make it wearable? Thankfully, the women I have spotted taking advantage of this trend did have that kind of washboard flat stomach that you usually only ever find on the bodies of popstars and supermodels. Well, if you’ve got it, flaunt it and all that. I know I certainly don’t. Then again, I would much rather choose the very bloating option of bread, rice and potatoes any day over a very obviously hungry stomach.

On that note, whatever happened to the maternity-style tops that graced the catwalks several years ago? They were a God-send for those expanding muffin top days! What’s more, the minute the swathing fabric made you feel like a whale in a tent you could take out an uber-trendy thick belt and cinch it round your waist and… BAM! You were a woman again.

Never mind eh, trends are forever being changed and reinvented, and I’m sure it won’t be long now til the super-tight, figure-hugging, 80s-revamped trends will be well and truly buried. For now, I’ll sick to my loose tops and dresses, ignore Voge and forget about any unforgiving lumps and bumps, and play around with this season’s acid bright colours instead. You can’t go wrong with a bit of colour, surely?

So there I was, in the very tedious process of designing this site, when I stumbled across a quote. I can’t remember where the quote came from, or how I managed to stumble across it exactly, but it went something along the lines of this:

“It’s no good being good at what you do, you have to be brilliant at it”

And it made me think. It made me think of this website, of my writing, of all that I strive to achieve in the forthcoming future and beyond. And then I started thinking deeper and deeper thoughts until my brain was overloaded with rhetorical questions such as “Does being brilliant really matter in society?” and “Why strive to be brilliant when we’re all going to die anyway?” and then I started imagining myself being caught in the grip of a giant supernova and everything started going fuzzy and halftone right in front of my very eyes. And then I came to.

And now I’m sitting here, writing this, contemplating how to make PixelatedBlonde.com brilliant. How am I going to get those hits rolling, how am I going to get those publishers and journalists drooling over every last carefully-typed word, begging for me to come and work for them, pleading for the smallest taste of my coolness….
Well, a woman can dream! In a world where the need for perfection is slowly eradicating the simple enjoyment of doing something out of love, it is easy to wonder what on earth we’re doing taking part in something that we’re never going to be the best at. But rather than worrying about whether or not we’re likely to become “the best” in our chosen niche, we should focus our thoughts on whether or not we’re doing what we’re doing out of pure enjoyment. As long as we’re enjoying what we’re doing, then being brilliant / the best of the best really shouldn’t matter.

Isn’t that such a humbling thought?! See, a bit of philosophy every day never hurt anyone.

In other news, I hope you like the look and name of this brand new website. Let me know what you think by leaving a comment below! New post soon!