Tuesday 11 September 2012

1960's Redux

I've just spent a few weeks at my childhood home surrounded by piles of long-forgotten books, stacks of obscure scientific papers and the general chaos of 50 years,  and I unearthed this photo of my parents.  There they are newly married, shiny with youth, love and ambition and wow, does my mum rock!  She's standing there in a very demure version of the Angelina Jolie leg, with a cute up do, beaded evening clutch and a loose Astrakhan fur with just a sliver of a satin cocktail dress showing. It made me remember that if you get the details right, everything else follows.  So as soon as the weather turns back to a more normal 'postman's special' (eg rain/sleet/hail/snow) I'm digging out my newest rabbit fur shrug to layer over a thin cashmere jumper, my textured crocodile green clutch and my new 'best' pair of ankle boots from the new Rag and Bone store...roll on autumn!

Sunday 4 March 2012

Photo anxiety

Why is it that I find having my photo taken akin to being undressed in a very public place? I just had what was to me a cringe-filled experience of having a new photo taken for the about page on my website. The photographer, kind and lovely Debra Rapp (www.debrarapp.co.uk) had me swathed in my rabbit fur scarves, perched variously on chairs and benches and supplied with a bottomless cup of camomile tea.  Every ten photos or so we'd have a quick look at what was there and each time I felt vaguely horrified by what I saw, giant cheekbones, enormous rabbity teeth, etc. With my features magnified on a super high-resolution screen I felt myself to be unrecognisable from my normal self. Was it pure vanity or the simple disconnect most people feel when they hear their recorded voices for the first time? I'm still unsure, and after an angst-filled thirty minutes, the photo I chose is a heavily filtered black and white one. The question is, why is the most filtered photo the one I feel represents me the best?

Sunday 12 February 2012

Cold!

The freezing weather has made me realise just how cold a house in London can get in February - that's inside, not out!  Even after plenty of years living in the UK I guess I'm still unused to the heating not being permanently fixed into the ecologically unsound 'on' position. Instead, by mid-afternoon the median house temperature has plummeted to what feels like negative numbers, and threading a needle becomes ever more precarious.  I've realised the key to staying warm is keeping my neck and chest cosy - my toscana sheepskin snood hasn't left my neck for days, which can look a bit suspect if I'm in trackies, but what the heck, I'm warm! Jess, in the photo, demonstrates what looking warm in the snood and not trackies can look like....