The mad, the bad, the ugly.

Gimme gimme gimme.




The motorbike, obviously, not the attention seeking model draped across it.

On a more realistic note, how adorable is this? And only £28 from asos.com.



Anyone wishing to splash some cash on me...hintedly-smack-in-the-face-hint.

Speaking of cash, horrible prom-dress-selling-banshee has been entirely unco-operative and so ebay refunded me the money themselves. I've also sold about £150 worth of clothes in three days just by clearing out my wardrobe and half heartedly selling them, in fact I haven't even begun listing any stock yet.

Turned down both job offers after a mammoth scene with my dad (one of those horrible ones that take place in cars) I love my dad to pieces but he does have a habit of being entirely supportive about things and the changing his tune at the last minute and making me out to be impulsive and unfocused (possibly true but I'm perfectly happy bumbling along how I am). Anyway he came home and we made up, then I applied for lots of lovely legal jobs in the city. Big lights bright city.

Tatler had an interesting article today about the re-emergance of the "priviligenstia", read it if you get the chance it's quite amusing.

Lacroix has apparently had some encouraging bids and on a very random note, I know I have a few friends in IT/graphics/photography - net-a-porter.com are looking for a junior retoucher, could be a good opportunity if luxury fashion is yo cup of tea.

On a less encouraging note - Peaches Geldof has been cited as Biba's new muse. Now this girl inspires many feelings within me, creativity and eccentricity not being among them. Take your irritating little face out of the public eye please girlie, having ridden your 15 minutes of fame to exhaustion don't make the mistake of reversing over them too.

Isabel Lucas (model, actress and animal right's activist) might just be my new favourite person.



Driving lesson tomorrow then off to Kim's for a bit and a family do in the evening.

Considering

Considering deleting everything. Facebook, blog, phonebook, emails.

Considering not being so accomodating.

Considering being reckless and suffering the consequences.

If we did half the things we instinctively want to, the world would be a much more passionate place. Isn't it time for a dramatic gesture?

Fools rush in

Fool.

I think my dog, Crab, be the SOUREST NATURED DOG THAT EVER LIVED.

Urgh. That bloody woman won't give me my money back for my graduation dress. I'll show her who's not afraid to go crying to the ebay dispute resolution centre...

Interview went really well this morning, particularly at the point where, whilst describing my duties, she pipes up with "of course sometimes people won't want to give you information, which is when we employ certain tactics. Now, I don't want to use the word "illegal", but..." Essentially, I'd be paid £12 per hour to be sneaky and I've always wanted to whisper onimously down the phone "you'll never know...."

FINALLY getting my mop chopped next Tuesday, and will probably strip the colour out again because I'm royally fed up with being a bottle brunette. I'll probably strip it and then put a light brown in over the blonde. I'm sure you're all enthralled by this...

Quite looking forward to Exeter, although there are a certain couple of people I'd like to see and it doesn't really seem to be happening...am contemplating being more forceful but seeing as I rarely ever have to pursue anything I'm not sure what to do short of posting it on a blimp over Princesshay.

Am out tomorrow and the rest of the week but absolutely can't wait to watch my Versailles programme on tv tonight and get my arts and crafts on again. Probabaly going to book tickets to the proms tonight too, so along with Field Day, Ronnie Scotts, Whirly Gig and Hot Damn I am going to be an utter pauper next month. Might go sell some talcum powder on the mean streets of Lightwater.

Unedited shenanigans from Saturday -


Look at that big, sexy brain. Ha.

Quite seriously all the pavalova about what to wear friday is driving me insane. May go in jeans and a Garfield jumper. No joke.

Never bolt your door with a boiled carrot

Just spent the past two hours customising a sequinned waistcoat - I am literally COVERED in fabric glue and after painstakingly attaching every single bloody sequin I think I've lost the will to live. Anyway Emma and I decided to take a raincheck on tonight's party and I'll need my beauty sleep for tomorrow anyway, so I'm going to snuggle up in bed whilst it rains outside and watch Atonement.

Oh also today I found the most amazingly kitsch tankard/mug - it's designed to look like a tree trunk. I'm going to fit right in at Field Day what with the crockery smashing competitions and young offender's ping pong. Winner.

Angsty pants

Why is it we always want to rant and ramble late at night? I wonder what the first ever deep and meaningful was like. And why do we do it anyway? Why do humans keep diaries and journals and blogs and feel the need to tell other people what they're thinking? I suppose not everyone does, I never used to tell people anything private unless I had to but these days I have absolutely no shame whatsoever and I think most of my friends know more about whats going on with me than I do sometimes. I'm not sure why that's a negative thing, but it feels like it.

I hate that half of me is still back in Exeter. I know there are a certain few people I'll still visit, but other than that how are you supposed to cut all ties with a place where you've had so many experiences over the past few years? Just because someone isn't a close friend or an old boyfriend why should that make it any less important to keep in contact...but then why keep in contact with someone when, from a completely impartial point of view, they probably won't ever have any significant impact on your life again? I don't want to keep marking off weekends in my diary so I can jump back on a train to Exeter, especially when I've realised how many incredible friendships I have at home and how easy it is to pick up where you left off three years ago.

I had a little panic earlier. The next year of my life is going to spent trying to remember to send "pre-midnight" texts to my parents if I decide to stay out and making up excuses about where I am and who I'm with...no more crashing in at 5am and drinking in tea in the kitchen and leaving a trail of belongings up the stairs. I might get another tattoo. I'm not sure why, I got over my tattoo phase years ago. I really wanted to paint something earlier but I have no idea what...I used to have so much patience for things like that, I'd spend days over a painting and now I can't even be bothered to doodle. I don't know why I'm talking about doodling. I get really frustrated with myself these days, I keep thinking horrible things (also, I've had this thing recently where something terrible will cross my mind and I'll think "god, can you imagine..." literally always those exact same words and now I think I've jinxed myself and one day one of these horrible things will happen and it will all be because I kept saying "god, can you imagine" like I was asking for it or something) and I keep completely fucking myself over too, entirely in self-sabotage mode, and where as whenever anything used to go wrong I'd write really long lists of the things I needed to do to make everything ok again and turn things around now I've completely screwed everything up so many times I know my lists are useless and so I have nothing to do, no motions to go through, to even TRY and make myself feel better. And what is a Luckey Oakfield girl without her lists????

This time last year I was in a serious relationship, completely and utterly in love and applying for training contracts with top Law firms. What's scary is that I was so blissfully happy, and I can remember what it felt like, but I can't seem to imagine myself like that again. I know it's a massive assertion to make but I quite seriously can't imagine myself ever feeling that attached to someone again. And part of me really wants to but whenever I get anywhere close I get this horrible uncomfortable feeling like things are expected of me and the same seems to be happening with careers; the thought of being stuck in some 3 year graduate programme absolutely terrifies me. When did I become such a commitment-phobic cliche?

I was really hoping writing all this down would get it off my chest and help me get to sleep but I'm wide awake. Quite seriously I have no idea what to tell myself or how to remind myself to stop fucking up at the moment. How can you be so in control one minute and so...the next. And I know it probably did happen around the time we broke up, so was I a perfectionist for me or for someone else? Everyone claims you go away to uni to find yourself but quite honestly I had a much better idea of what I wanted from life before I left.

Where have you Balmain all my life??

Natasha Pretty Poly

So Daisy Lowe and Pixie Geldof have all been dropped from Select modelling agency. Where are all the new wild young thangs? If anyone dares throw Pixie Lott's name into things - pipe down. You should be ashamed.

Next topic - There's a new film in the works entitled "Beyond Biba - a portrait of Barbara Hullanicki", which as you might have guessed is a documentary centred on the infamous Hullanicki, founder of Biba vintage which was an integral part (if not the epitomy) of the swinging sixties and finally closed it's doors in 1975 under somewhat suspicious circumstances. Hullanicki has since then been quite the recluse, shunning the usual social circuits and disappearing from London. So now we have bio-pics on Coco Chanel, Anna Wintour and Barbara Hullanicki - one word, rhymes with "huzzah".

Also I fully recommend that people read "The Bolter", a biography of Idina Sackville, the flappiest of all flappers who married and divorced five times and was well known for her raunchy parties, which were essentially the equivalent of today's car-key-swaps. In a nutshell she scandalised London society during the first world war and beyond before moving to Africa to continue her sordid escapades. The book is written by her great-great-granddaughter, it really is a gorgeous read.

Scrap that

Tried on grad ball dress and it absolutely swamps me. Like, literally you could fit two of me in there. Angst. I am once again sans dress. Shit.

England will win if Camilla Parker Bowls.

Hello graduation ball dress :)



I'll take more pictures of it when I'm actually wearing it later.

Cricket tomorrow, hoedown tomorrow night (possibly) and a packed weekend. Today is going to be dull in comparison. Does mean that I'll probably come down to Exeter a day early though, provided the thought of a week in an empty room with nothing but a sleeping bag doesn't put me off, would much rather stay in someone else's house in Exeter or maybe a hotel. Mr Barclays would love that.

Then when I get BACK from Exeter it's birthday parties and camping and Ronnie Scotts and Camden and Curly Whirly and Hot Damn and I might totter off to Yorkshire or the Lake District for a few days or just ask dad if I can use the boat and go to Bournemouth or something.

Question: do I try a european festival next year, or glastonbury? Answers on a postcard.

I want to add his initials to my monogram

Just found out a whole load of really important messages have been forwarded to my junkmail, so I have about four months worth of emails in there and ALL of them are upsetting me. Nasty emails about important things. Ignorance is a special K bliss bar.

Really long, really tiring day. I've recently rediscovered all the motivation I had in first year, which is fantastic because I love getting things done and feeling productive but I'm physically exhausted and can't keep up with myself at the moment.

Unrelated - I phoned my gym about renewing my membership now I'm home and literally classes have doubled in price since I left for uni. I nearly had a Hyacinth Bucket moment and gagged on the word "extortionate". Is this what being in your 20's feels like?

Eat your spinach

Where, Mr Postman, is my graduation ball dress?

There's more to being a male model than just being really, really, really ridiculously good-looking

No, no there's not.
Shut up.
Look pretty.

Bi-polaroid

Ya like dags?

Never, ever, employ yourself. I am a nightmare to work with. I honestly didn't think finding a set would be this difficult, but lovely and big as my garden is it's just not all that exciting and the one place I do want to do it is owned by someone who seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth and thus I can't ask their permission. It's very tempting to ask the people at Penny Hill Park, after all there are only three of us and we'll be very discreet, but for some reason I still feel really self-conscious about the whole thing with regards to the fact that it's going to be all big hair and dark make-up and short skirts and sequinned knickers - possibly not the look the most famous spa in Britain is going for. Class darling, class. In addition to all this I need to think about registering with the Companies House and drawing up all my silly articles of association etc etc. Plus the fact that all of the clothes I have at the moment are quite small (I do have a couple of other friends who could but with bigger chests than mine, a lot of the dresses were made for children and therefore definitely won't, um, accomodate, them.) Which all means that I won't even be able to direct it or have a look at the photos whilst they're being taken. My parents probably won't appreciate their daughter running around in her scanties either so I need to get them out of the house if we do it at home. I just can't believe that such an amateur, informal photoshoot could be so complicated - ffs it's three girls and a pretty standard sony digital camera. angst.

Had a phonecall for an interview this morning but I can't remember what job it is so I'm a little bit reluctant to phone back because I genuinely can't remember which job she's referring to. Blabbering on about my microsoft excel skills is probably a safe bet.

An 8 hour peep show of infantile erotica

I am in lust.

With Valentine Warner.




Pour quoi?

"That's about an 8 on the yumm-ometer"

*Forgetting to use oven mits*
"I always get so excited I forget to use protection."

The bride's attitude towards her husband can be summed up in three words. Aisle. Alter. Hymn.

Angst, today did not get off to a good start -

Dad: so just so we're clear you're looking for a job where you can earn a lot of money and utilise your degree.
Me: I want to sell vintage clothes
Dad: Fine fine, whatever...have you applied to CSC's legal department?
Me: I don't think they want to buy any vintage clothes from me.
Dad: you need a plan... Read More
Me: I have one, it involves faffing around with websites and couture and just having a part time job as a receptionist or something whilst I get my business up and running.
Dad: We need to get you on a graduate programme.

I, for some VERY weird reason started to cry, which is odd in itself because I'm very rarely emotional about anything. At which my dad comes to give me a hug and I screech at him "DON'T BE NICE TO ME YOU'LL ONLY MAKE IT WORSE!!!" So for all their nods and encouraging "we'll support you"-isms it seems my parents aren't taking me all that seriously. I seem to be being herded into some hypothetical high flying career and can literally see the cliche lurking in my closet now - in ten years time I will be working in some massive, faceless office, earning money which I spend on things like swiss egg-whiskers and dustbusters. I will probably be wearing twinsets at an early age and reading Jackie Colins.

Bonne Justice

C'est la chaude loi des hommes
Du raisin ils font du vin
Du charbon ils font du feu
Des baisers ils font des hommes

C'est la dure loi des hommes
Se garder intact malagre
Les guerres et la misere
Malagre les dangers de mort

C'est la douce loi des hommes
De changer l'eau en lumiere
Le reve en realite
Et les ennemis en freres

Une loi vielle et nouvelle
Qui va se perfectionnant
Du fond du coeur de l'enfant
Jusqu'a la raison supreme.

Apologies if I've made a mistake during translation....

It's the hot law of men: from grapes they make wine, from coal they make fire, from kisses they make men.
It's the harsh law of men: to keep themselves untouched despite/inspite of wars and wretchedness, in spite of death's dangers.
It is the gentle law of men: to change water into light, dreams into reality and enemies into brothers.
An old and new law that continues to perfect(?) itself from the bottom of the child's heart up to the final reason.

I'm not a religious woman but I find if you say no to everything one can hardly tell the difference.

I don't do drugs. If I want a rush I'll just get out of my chair when I'm least expecting it.

And the award for generally being a bit special and yummy goes to...

If more women did Women's Institute there would be less need for hallucinogenic drugs.

Bridal at 2.52.



Is it me or do the models look more awkward and uncomfortable than usual? I adore the hair and make up though the the grecian gown with lace underlay is exquisite.

His courtesy was somewhat extravagant. He would write to thank people who wrote to thank him for wedding presents.

Doesn't this Ladybird jumper just make you want to bottle-feed little baby lambs?



Unfortunately it's in the region of well over £250, although it is really tempting to just buy a retro red jumper and customise it, perhaps making the black spots from black sequins. However I fear this will only encourage yet another conversation with my mother resembling the one when I asked her to knit me a reindeer jumper for Christmas, her response being "Sarah, do boys actually find you attractive when you dress the way you do?" (Which, coincidentally, reminds me of a saying from my old school - "smile, or you'll never get a boyfriend").

So far this week I've had friends over every night which has been absolutely lovely - so much nicer than doing the whole "post university catch up" thing in a crowded bar somewhere - so last night Emma and I got our scheming pants on and planned a surprise birthday party for Holly, we even created a facebook event for it, which Emma then promptly invited Holly to join, the smooth criminal. So that all unravelled but we made a ridiculous amount of plans for the next few weeks, including lots of antique shopping, watching the cricket, outdoor theatre, camping in the New Forest and even going to a spiritulism meeting, which might be a little bit cringe but who knows, my chakra might come out of the closet.

Yesterday I made a start on I Wish I were Bob Geldof Vintage - scouting out potential web designers, looking at rent costs for stall spaces in Guildford, flyering licenses etc and also hunted down my first bit of stock which I'll rebrand and merchadise on models, customising if I need to. The whole concept of working for yourself is incredibly liberating, particularly when even graduating with a Law degree and numerous extra curricular achievments doesn't even guaruntee you a foot in the door at the moment. I need to pop down the bank and start separating my finances, otherwise I know perfectly well I'll just keep buying stock out of my own pocket, deciding I want to wear it and then half heartedly selling it again. In reality I need money to be transferred to and from the same savings account, hopefully bypassing my personal account altogether. I also had a peek at rental costs in Guildford for shops near the high street and was so disappointed to find that the cheapest rent is £15,000pa, which means that to earn a decent and still VERY basic living I'd have to have a turnover of £30,000 a year entirely from my own endeavours! Angst. I may look into selling at festivals next Summer, although I'm sure stalls at Glastonbury and Reading require a long and tedious application process. I've also come to the conclusion I can charge more over the internet than on stalls. Anyhoo I need to run up to Beyond Retro next week and have a little chat to them about a job.

BBQ tomorrow night, where is the sun?

Left - Chanel
Right - Topshop


Pretty pretty.

It's Paris Haute Couture Fashion Week

So here are a few of my favourites from over the years. 2007 was particularly impressive but I'm possibly a little bias - Dior took a different angle and chose a theme centered on the monarchy and general excess and opulance, which of course I adored. J'adore Dior.







Jean Paul Gaultier, for a change.







The funny thing about couture fashion weeks are that we expect each show to take our breath away more than the last (which is perhaps a reasonable expectation of contemporary fashion shows), but we forget that many of the materials and techniques used in couture have evolved over centuries, not to mention the designs which are commonly based on Georgian designs, or even Tudor.

Anyway, Oxford Street yesterday - big fat mistake. Topshop sale was distinctly unimpressive and I ran out of time to go to Camden or Brick Lane because I had a doctor's appointment first thing, which I was also late for. Hopefully off to Ronnie Scotts soon but as far as the rest of the week goes I'm having friends over pretty much every night and a BBQ on Friday. A party would be on the cards except that my neighbour has quite literally had three children in three years, can you imagine being pregnant, like, ALWAYS? She probably hasn't seen her feet in three years either. Point being a house full of screaming babies probably won't appreciate Glass Candy being blasted out at 3am. Chin chin.

I can sympathise with other people's pains, but not their pleasure. There is something curiously boring about somebody else's happiness.

So I have been home for 48 hours and the first thing my lovely wonderful parents gave to me was a massive bouquet of pink roses and other pretty little flowers which my mother stoically pointed out and named knowing perfectly well I won't remember, either way they smell gorgeous. I also got a very sentimental card (and anyone who knows myself and my family knows we don't really "do" sentimental, stiff upper lip and all that) and a cheque from mum, which unfortunately will go straight into the black pit that is my current account and nowhere near my wardrobe. I lie, of course, I bought a waistcoat-mini-dress and a hunting jacket but both are yet to arrive and then I'll make a decision, I'm still umming and ahhing about graduation ball dresses anyway and also I bought a load of stuff from Topshop and then lost the receipts. Clever Trevor. So I shall have to sell them.

Anyway my computer is being a little slow because the internet upstairs is hit or miss, so hopefully I'll post some pictures of my flowers and my newly unpacked bedroom in a second. I can't hang any of my clothes on the wall so it's all looking a bit sparse and also I couldn't get my georgian writing desk today so I'm making do with some throwback from the nineties. I mock but I'm not sure why.







My photographic skills are basic at best, and once again I've faffed around with the flash too often and got it stuck on some god awful setting, so sorry about the picture quality.

Also had another bouquet from my brother yesterday followed by the usual phonecall;

"thank you so much for the flowers."
"how do you know they're from me...maybe you have a secret admirer?"
"well...you wrote your name on the card".

Raw vegan is going terribly, I'm only managing about 70% raw and today I haven't eaten anything at all because of the tennis and I spent all day running around after my brother's dog Benni. Bad form. I want to say this week will be better and I'll put 110% effort into it but lets face it I have about a million things planned and probably won't have time to scoff down the amount of fruit and veg I need to hit my daily targets.

I'm actually not missing Exeter quite so much as I thought I would, but perhaps that's because a lot of people from farming county are on holiday or travelling and I don't really feel like I'm missing out, on top of which I'm now only a short distance from London and can go up a couple of times a week if I want to...which makes me think well what exactly is there to miss in Exeter anyway? I suppose I feel quite guilty for not missing it considering everything that's happened there over the past three years. This week I'm hoping to go to Camden one day to pick up some shisha pipes for a party on Friday and have a look for a vintage bowler hat, one that will actually fit my abnormally big head. I'm also scouting for some photography exhibitions in the area, although the last couple I went to were disappointingly select and a little over-subscribed with "modern art". I despise most modern art. Like that horrible man who tied a dog up in an art gallery and left him to starve over weeks as people watched, which is absolutely disgusting behaviour and it really riles me that no one intervened, not even the authorities. Art shouldn't be a vehicle for depravity and cruelty. I'm getting infuriated just remembering it even though it was at least 18months ago by now. Anyway. Bowler hats.

Actually whilst I'm here I might just throw in a couple of photos from our last night out - "If you kiss girls but you don't want to sleep with them..are you BI-sexual, or just B-sexual? Bomosexual? No, betrosexual??"

The day my peach committed suicide.

two lollipops
carrot sticks
two glasses of wine (haven't actually had those yet but we're going out later so it's a prediction).

I promise I'll write something more exciting tomorrow/the weekend. At the moment we've just spent three hours cleaning the house from top to bottom and I stink of disinfectant and oven cleaner. Becci, Gwen, Harry and I are toddling off to Al Farid tonight for shisha and drinks so I think I'm going to have a little sleep, scrub myself clean in a nice hot bath and don the gladrags for my last night in Exeter.

I also got the results of my law degree today and did well. Relief. Expect EVERYTHING to now be signed by "Sarah Louise Adams, Llb". I'm really looking forward to spending the weekend with my parents before they go on holiday and I think my mum (bless her little marks and spencer's socks) is really looking forward to having me home, my dad has probably been driving her crazy.

I'll start posting more pictures of all of us too I think as I'm taking my camera with me everywhere at the moment.

bisous xx

*******

two peaches
two lollipops
half a bunch of grapes