the lumberjack's daughter

I found this site called polyvore.com which enables you to create your own mood boards from their images without faffing around in photoshop.
I've had this in my head for a while, my Oma called this having a 'yeng', it's lumberjack meets virgin suicides. All a bit plaid and paisley prints mixed with fake fur, the innocence and pale looks of Natalia Vodianova. Accessorise with an axe for added authenticity.

Christopher Kane S/S 10

Sorry about the poor video recording from my phone, our camera man (from Stardoll) wasn't let in, as is often the way as LFW is mass confusion and crossed wires.

So the Christopher Kane show; I was third row and all shiny and expectant looking, like a hormonal teenager at a squeeky clean pop concert. I desperately attempted conversation with my neighbour, who happened to be the fashion editor of Tank magazine, excitedly pointing out the celebs on the front row, big mistake don't act suprised to be sitting behind Erin O'Conner just discuss the risks of making the stairs in spiked heels.

This show had a number of demi-Gods in the Fashion world, including the ever chic Joan Collins who was resplendent as only an ex-Dynasty icon can be in shimmering turquoise. She was sat near Christopher Kane's Gran and mum who appeared very down to earth and were grumbling at the fashion pack attempting to squeeze in on their row.

As for the collection itself, it was an unusual theme of The Brady bunch, think Gingham check, meets Anne of Green Gables, er again think gingham check. It was a little bit disappointing after all the seasons of wild animals, mirrored squares and madness of the Flintstones that come to mind when thinking of a Christopher Kane show. Yet it was still controversial with the use of that schoolgirl familiar print combined with a loose sexuality of messy hair, neutral make-up and thigh high splits in the dresses.

When asking my neighbour what she thought of it all, she replied curtly 'well that was a non event', before sashaying of to stand nonchalantly with a crowd of VIPs. Indeed!

Here are some after the show snaps of super models Natalia Vodianova and Erin O'Conner and fashion blogger Diane Pernot.

Notting Hill Carnival

Sticky hot sunshine, blasting whistles, billowing barbecue smoke, tight bright clothes, shuffling, stomping, dancing crowds.

How to style yourself Notting Hill festival fashion........

Got nothing in your wardrobe that's yellow, red or green? Grab your grass skirt and accessorise with alive snake.

Make sure you outdo your mates in dressing bright like a pack of refresher sweets bright.

Ignore the loud trends and hold onto your decorum doing pencil pleated skirts with a whiff of ladylike chic.

Wear one colour and wear it loud.

If this isn't enough then also let your bum cheeks catch the cool breeze too.

Hawaiian shirts and a bottle of rum is an absolute classic look.

All the above fails roll yourself a spliff and go with the flow.

Ahh domestic kitsch!

I am no longer an Ikea Virgin! Suprisingly I loved the trip and it felt strangely familiar as I spotted objects from friends homes and reminded me of when my sister and I were little and used to play in show rooms...the bathroom and the toilet role playing was always the most amusing!

The oh so perfect Swedish design made me want to look for inspiration in our little flat and I realised quite how many primary colours we have and how many kitsch random bits of decor we have! Here's a few images from when I played around with my camera today.

I have the stuff that you want I am the thing that you need...

Well! I actually can't believe I've been so lazy, ahem, busy busy busy to have not blogged since May!

May is so two months ago, since then the King of Pop has been plucked upstairs by the big diamond encrusted glove in the sky, festival season is drawing to an end, it is currently pissing it down, the bright poppy colours of summer fashion are being replaced by darker autumnal hues and the barbecue has been swapped for bangers and mash.

These are some pictures I had from an exhibition at The Design Museum of Dutch designers' Victor and Rolf's mini me doll collection called 'The House of Victor and Rolf' where classic pieces of their designs are recreated in dolls sized perfection. Awe inspiring and yet slightly scary porcelain dolls which kind of bring back memories of old sleepover boogie tales!

I recently went on a weekend away to Eastbourne, a favourite getaway for the blue rinse brigade. I might have well travelled via the flux capacitor with Dr Emmett Brown (Back to the Future-durr!) as pints were priced at £1.20, the Sartorialist would have had trouble shooting anything more fashionable then Sylvia's store for the truly stylish, and in keeping with the idea of dolls I came across this basket of Golly wogs for sale in the tourist shop! I honestly thought Robertson's jam had hidden every last one in a long hold storage unit in Skegness but I was wrong!

I have also traded in geek chic, moth balls, sensible shoes and the dewey decimal system for a fashion based networking website for young girls. I am currently organising the first ever young people's fashion event at London Fashion Week, it's all very exciting, stressful and involves lots of late night head scratching of what to wear and many conversations involving name dropping 'Oh yes the head of the British fashion Council and her daughter, oh and you know the people at Vogue'. For now it's all a bit hush hush but I'll have pictures soon!

Just spray it!

Last week I helped my tutor out with his interior paint magazine photo shoot which took place in an old warehouse in Peckham and involved a lot of spray painting. Eggs, spoons, flowers, even wooden hands...which I've just found out might be worth something though apparently not if you take a liking to a big can of turquoise spray paint. humph!

Ashley painting some pan pipes.

Ash wearing a gas mask and a hoover tube in this seasons paint palette!

Loren breaking out into dance to Janet Jackson in the middle of painting a set.

Mr Tucker smiling manically in his paint splattered clothes.

The final images for 'Day Tripping' the fashion shoot

Photographer: Ori Latter, Model: Katie Hart, Creative director: Amy Nightingale, Stylist: Elana and Nina Soloman, Make-up artist: Alexis Day.

The making of the fashion shoot 'Day Tripping'

Last weekend after jumping through several hoops I managed to gather a photographer, a model, a make-up artist, two stylists and some muscle men to help create a fashion photo shoot for a project as part of my class work.

The 6 page shoot is intended as a supplement for Farmers Weekly! I love writing that, the link between farming and fashion is rather tenuous at the best of times (anything waxed, rubber or wipeable, not to be confused with the porn industry!) and yet we have noticed it cropping up into our everyday fashion. Whether it is the yummy mummy's of West London in their Hunter Wellies and gilets marching darling little Sebastian about Primrose Hill or the cool kids of Brick lane wearing tweed shooting jackets and flat caps while trying to indifferently look like they have some purpose.

My supplement taps into this interest but it is for the youth of rural England and young farmers. If you are not aware of a young farmers way of life, allow me to introduce you to John*, we met at a farmers wedding. He- monobrow, cider belly, ruddy cheeks, a penchant for girls aloud, and a large milking herd, me- agog at the brow and scared at being propositioned. My dad nearly had me married off to this one. Don't think you're forgiven.

My research has shown that these rural communities encourage high levels of depression from the isolation and the all consuming work of farming. Therefore my solution is fashion! and also travelling, dating and news, a lifeline of popular culture in a few glossy pages. Ta-daa!

The shoot is 'Day Tripping' and its theme is country chic with a twist of feminine everyday style. It was shot in Ally Pally park and these are a few amateur pics I took, the finished ones I will pop up later.

Katie in make-up.

Alexis doing Katie's sun kissed look: alexismday@yahoo.co.uk

Katie wearing vintage Aquascutum jacket, boyfriend ripped t-shirt, denim shorts and tasseled suede boots. (all charity shop)Floral maxi from Debenhams sample sale (20p! Thank you Pip!) Lace gloves vintage.

Traffic People white chiffon blouse, H&M Bubble skirt, Hunter Wellies.

* I used a fake name. You never know when a rich farmer in want of a wife might come in handy!

J'adore les fleures

Yes British weather is world renowned for being ridiculously temperamental. We have to layer up our clothing for hailstones to blistering balmy sun and endure lithe tanned Europeans laughing at us as soon as a smidge of sun pops out and we are all pink, semi-naked and developing sunstroke.

However the sun doing all that in out in out shake it all about business does make a good recipe for the classic ditzy riot of colour that is the English countryside of blue forget-me-nots, white cowslips and yellow daffs. It is a delightful change of colour after the black of Londoners fashion and the black of the tube, even bogeys here are black!

I have flowers in jam jars, in my hair and on the prints of my dresses. I also find greenfly floating in my cups of tea, flys under glasses (its the legs, it's unnatural to have so many legs, I can't just shoo them out the window) and house spiders on curtains, but they are worth it.

Taken in Alexandra Park.

Wibble wobble wibble wobble jelly on a plate

For the past few weeks the luke warm sunshine that has been filtering through my curtains and blindingly waking me up at an anti social hour of 6.30am has actually prodded me into doing some exercise.

Learning how to stay alive during the months of enduring cold (I'm not being melodramatic, I'm from Somerset and it was bloody freezing with our record breaking winter!) involved a lot of baking of classic British puds. The apple crumble was successful unlike the stint at making toffee, which just ended up as a tray of stubbornly un-solid gloop which Dave (housemate) likened to what his bum produces after a heavy night out. appetising.

However the carbs and the sugar have happily settled around my tum to merrily jiggle when I walk, run or laugh almost in a jolly Santa belly shaking fashion (hopefully exaggerated in my mind but is a good-bad-warped incentive to do something about it)

First I tried running, jogging or yogging with a soft 'y' (sorry for the Anchorman quip!) but other then being thoroughly knackering, I just sort of felt stupid in my non Nike trainers and lack of i-pod to distract me from my red to the point of self combusting purple blob that had replaced my head.

So then I tried my sister's work out dvd, some sort of class of perma tanned, day glow grinning, lycra encased bevy of beauties Eric Prydz would have hired on the spot. Yet conversely because there wasn't an audience I couldn't be bothered to finish what I'd started. The mystery of my exercise problem was getting cryptically Goffmanesque in its roots.

And then I found this 1950s perfect bikini in Primark (I know I've gone over to the dark side...but then if Nike can reform after all they exploited out in the sweat shops of the 90's then surely Primark has a conscience...maybe) The version I bought has heart detailed buttons and combined with the ditsy print it is just right for the public swimming pool and the support of the top stops it letting your, er, inflatables float free! Not only is this lovely piece of lycra a bit of old Hollywood glamour on a budget, but it shall be my incentive to swim, tone up and be more hair free in all the right places!

It's not really suprising that I'm hooked on mybigwardrobe.com when my shopping psyche is this commercially brainwashed...sigh!

Floral prints, granny chic, imperial mints, tory bashing freak...

This was how my thought pattern was running this weekend, very spasmodic and just bit confused!

I met up with the family outside of London, in the valley of the Rar and O.K Yar in Oxford. Perhaps to anyone who is not familiar with the British class system might like a swift, biting and oh-so-very tongue in cheek definition of a 'rar' or an 'O.K Yar'.

Also known as a Sloane in the 80s, they are children of upper class descent who favour the following shops; Jack Wills, Abercrombie&Fitch, Ralph Lauren, Fat Face, and White Stuff. Both sexes enjoy any form of rugby shirt which the female sex accompany stylishly with a pashmina and gravity defying back brushed hair ,whereas the male sex invariably wear with boating shoes or flip flops regardless of the seasons. The term 'rar' and 'O.K yar' refers to the loud braying noises often emitted from them into i-phones or across pubs to each other as a form of communication.

As arrogant as a chav playing their latest Ndubz tune on their phone discerningly combined with the correct use of the Queen's English, the 'rar' is both feared, loved and loathed throughout Britain. However the females technical approach to vah-vhooming hair and appearing girly in a totally indifferent manner I can admire and is most definitely inspiring my style right now.

This weekend I came across another sector of Tory voters, in fact I was staying in their house at a local B&B near Oxford. As my sister said of the place it was like walking inside a museum of all things kitsch. There were china dolls, toy cars, plates covering the walls, witches hanging from the ceiling and of course a yappy bulgy eyed, runt of the litter rat of a dog, to provide a soundtrack of high pitched barks during our 24 hour visit.

The icing on the cake was the parting opinion, from the seemingly sweet old lady who ran the guest house, which ran along the lines of 'single mothers are the downfall and breakdown of society'. She was Maggie Thatcher in a twin set and pearls.

Politics and snobbery aside, the rar's and the single mother bashing older ladies know how to work some serious style with the older generation matching pastels, florals and lace. It was all suddenly starting to look a bit Luella.

Therefore today I am dressing in honour of the Rar's and the blue rinse brigade with Luella in mind in lace gloves, satin bows, pearls, a spring-like floral dress, red lipstick and vah-vhoomed hair. Though I think I'll leave the un p.c thoughts at home amongst the china dolls and yappy dogs.

Right said Fred

Yesterday the ingenious Fred Butler visited our little class and allowed us into her kaleidoscopic world of toy robots, eye watering colour and her refusal to be defined.
Although Fred is vague about what it is exactly that she does for a living, she can be described through a medley of definitions as a fashion prop stylist or an art director, and she can now add the title of accessories designer with her new S/S 09 range of adaptable origami style pieces. Which of course she was wearing when she arrived, with two geometrical cubic pieces pinned to her head, setting off her white blonde hair.

From her softly spoken voice and polite manner, you wouldn't have expected her to have been so bold as to go to New York on her industry year, as part of her Brighton based degree in fashion, and to seek out some little known designers called 'As Four' and promptly become their first intern. Or to have phoned up Shona Heath, an art director and set designer, to ask her 'just a few questions on a project I was doing. I had to ask her how much she earned! But she did offer me a job after the conversation' and she then worked for Shona for a 18 months, painting plants gold and making giant sweets from cellophane.

Although us students and Penny Martin, ex Show Studio editor in chief, battered her with questions Fred was completely unfazed and at ease. She only became excited when someone nailed her perceptions of her work; how she likes to place the set on the body, tries to get as much humour into her work as possible 'my friend wanted me to put a joint in the photo but I don't think Kickers would have gone for it, but I managed to sneak in a flag with the word cannabis!', and how she loves children's memorabilia.

Explaining her working method and haphazard approach to finding inspiration, she mentioned how she cannot go to the library and just consume visuals or read but has to pick things up, touch stuff and fiddle with everything in order to be intrigued by something.

This intrigue is also surrounding Fred unconsciously as she is many things; a hoarder, a magpie, a tactile touchy-feeley person, an artist, a surrealist, a believer of magical realism, and most definitely unaware of her inspiring others.