Friday, September 29, 2006
My only photographic contribution to the wonders of blogging before Beholden was born was an excitement-inducing posting of my picture on the fabulous Dressaday blog.
If you scroll down on this page to the Duroesque (again) post, that rather stretched and headless photo is me!
Erin (McKean, the incredibly intelligent and gorgeous blogger at DaD) is now talking about bringing together all Duro loveliness to create a handy link at the side of the page so I'll have to get a wiggle on with the liberty fabric I found at this great shop in South Kensington so I can show her the other Duros that I have on my production line.
My autumnal resolution is to photograph everything that I make so that I can have a record of my creations. Will I remember to photo, post, and blog?! As well as the gym membership I've just started?! One can only hope...
Friday, September 22, 2006
My birthday present from my sister was a weekend in Paris. The hotel was hysterical and brilliant. I found the Hotel Esmerelda on the lonely planet site. The second picture shows the stairway up to our room: the wallpaper is actually sheets of wrapping paper glued on in layers. It was fabulously central (most rooms overlooked Notre Dame, though ours, at forty euro a night, didn't)
My top tip from the weekend was Les Marolles, a district north east of Notre Dame and absolutly gorgeous. The interiors shops and homewares were stunning and the buildings and halal and kosher pizza shops delicious. The only glitch was the area's consciousness of its popularity which resulted in too many signs in French, English and German, which always makes me feel like a tourist and slightly ruins the feelings of discovering a new area that I enjoy most about holidays. It's like seeing a person who's really well dressed strutting around waiting for someone to notice them. It just ruins the aftertaste of an initially eyecatching combination or outfit. Loving my mixed metaphors.
Just around the corner from our hotel was the wonderful Shakespeares Bookstore. A fantastically *Parisian* man sat reading a paper, oblivious, or possibly ignoring, the number of people photographing him looking picture perfect. There was even a woman with a vintage cinecamera shooting him reading. I think Cate trumped the whole unsubtle crowd by snapping a picture of her shooting him. Now that's postmodern...
Friday, September 08, 2006
Today is my last day in the office for a while. I have been a mindless secretary in order to build a nest egg to pay for a return to college. The egg is nested (though sadly not as rotund as I had hoped) and I start my course in two weeks' time. I have made two very great friends at this firm and I will be sad to leave our lunches and wanderings around the City behind.
I will not, however, be sad to leave the monotony, the assumptions of stupidity, the slowly explained instructions for perfectly simple tasks, the humdrum and office politics. I am looking forward with pencilcase loads of trepidation to the beginning of a new life. I'm also terribly anxious. I spent two of my three years as an undergraduate as a not very happy bunny. I developed pretty severe depression under the pressure I put myself under, coupled with a rather nasty breakup and some rather flaky housemates.
This time around I'm very aware of the impression I want to give and the impression I give to people when I'm aware of myself. These things are often at opposite ends of the spectrum of sane. I overanalyse to the nth degree and worry. And I'm going into overload at the moment. Everyone wants me to be excited about the course and I just can't muster it. All I can muster is abject fear and trepidation. I have no idea what to expect, in terms of the structure of the day, the spectrum of the students, the societies, whether I will fit in or feel ancient, and it all terrifies me. I am turning into a 'hornbeast' as I call it, snapping at anyone and moody to everyone. The cartoon above popped into my inbox yesterday and has stayed with me ever since. I am truly terrified that the current nastiness spewing forth from my mouth is not just the horrid effects of nerves and anxiety but a demonstration of the development of my personality.
I read Dorian Gray the other day. Perhaps it will start showing on my face if I am actually changing as a person. Maybe one day...