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