Wednesday, February 27, 2008


This is the most brilliant idea I heard in a long time.


1 really, really bad film
2 comedians making live commentaries about it…

…and you have the Barbican Bad Film Club Screening of the Month.

This month’s film will be Glitter, with Mariah Carey.

Now, amazing voice aside, I find Mariah hilarious without even trying. Now, in a film? With live comedians? Starting now, I will probably laugh forever.

For those in London, the screening is on March 4th and I will be the crazy one laughing in the last row.


Monday, February 25, 2008

Black is the new black

Yesterday I was torn between staying awake to watch the Red Carpet coverage of the Oscar (which would mean sleeping incredibly late because of the time difference) and going to bed early (which would mean waking up rested with great glowing skin...or maybe just rested with ok skin, which in any case is much better than tired with horrible skin).
Going to bed won and boy am I glad!
Looking at the pictures this morning, I think the Red Carpet should be renamed the “Black Carpet”. Nothing against a great black dress, especially coming from someone who thinks cream makes a splash of colour…
But come on Red Carpet People, you didn’t even have the Golden Globes to dress up for, so I was hoping for a little bit more creativity.
Oh well, here are some dresses I loved for being colourful and breaking the rule. And, below, the Black Sea on the Red Carpet.

(PS, I did realize, after posting this, that some of the dresses are not black, but navy, like Penelope's, or brown. But it was early in the morning and I was suffering from temporary colour-blindness. Blame it on the Red Carpet People)

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Burberry dreams

Ok, so back to a certain level of pinkness…

I have this wedding to go to in Austria (also known as Gringowlindowland) and of course I am already thinking about my dress. Even though the wedding is only in the end of August. And even though I haven’t even received the invitation. Call me crazy (although I have a nagging feeling that my craziness won’t seem crazy at all to my fellow inhabitants of the female species).

The thing is, I am scarred for life because of this wedding I went a few years back in Madrid. It was a pretty fancy affair but my budget was not stretching very far. So I had the idea of wearing a dress I already owned, a long sleeveless black piece, and jazz it up with a fringed shale. Very Spanish, I thought. Of course it was 150 million degrees and the reception was outdoors. Black in the Spanish summer, what was I thinking? Plus, a friend, not realizing I was wearing black, remarked how “it was a faux pas to wear black at a wedding in Spain”.

To summarize, I spent the whole day hot and very self-conscious (at least until the champagne kicked in and I forgot I even had a dress on).

So since then I take great care to plan my (other people’s) wedding outfits.

I have already found the first contestant. Never mind is from Burberry Prorsum and therefore out of by budget by about 3 thousand pounds. A girl can always dream…

(the dress)

Wednesday, February 20, 2008


I know this blog is normally fluffy and cheerful and pink
But sometimes it’s hard not to feel just blue.

Monday, February 18, 2008

Cashmere in need

I have always wanted to have a cashmere jumper. But they used to be quite expensive. And I used to be quite skint. Then they became cheaper and I bought myself one. Simple and black. From Uniqlo. I have been in love with it ever since and use it all the time, with everything. I even fought my huge aversion to hand-washing and hand-washed the baby as instructed by the label. Oh, my cashmere jumper. It is soft and snugly and comfortable. And now it is also full of little balls.

If anyone has a good tactic for getting rid of them, please email Or just leave a comment...

Friday, February 15, 2008

End of the week

A few considerations about my week at the fashion week:

* Vivienne Westwood rocks rocks rocks and I wanna be like her when I grow-up.

* Even though I walked the length of Fidel Castro’s speeches going from one show to the other (normally located on opposite sides of town), and even though I existed on a diet of coffee, red bulls and wasabi peas (what did I do before them?), my jeans are not even one little inch looser. On the contrary. Isn’t there any justice in the world?

* Without a good little camera it is pointless trying to photograph a show. I have a collection of lovely pictures of models backs. And another collection of lovely images of the backs of the heads of the people sitting in front of me. From which I will spare you.

*Some ideas to copy. Or can I be sued by anyone for saying that?!. Rephrasing:
Some ideas to pay homage to:

Transparent sandals with pompom socks, as seen on Ashish. By the way, anyone knows where to find pompom socks? Haven’t seen them since it was really appropriate for me to wear things with pompoms…

And arm bands and cut-out socks over shoes, as seen on Steve P and Yoni J.

Panties and fish net tights as my next party outfit, as seen on Vivienne Westwood.

Hahaha, just kidding.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Wanna trade a front-row ticket on a cool show for a standing ticket on a crappy one?


Why a blog is the wonderful device that makes sure the annoying things that happen to you are not completely for nothing…

Second day of London Fashion Week…never too early for shenanigans.

So I thought I could go to show A at 16h15 (the crappy one) and still make it to show B at 17hs (the good one). Even though they were on opposite sides of town. And I don’t have a driver (obviously).

So of course show A was super late and when I left, at 17h15, I decided it was silly to go all the way to show B as I would not make it on time (ok, Gringowlindow’s text mentioning something about mashed potatoes for dinner also played its part).

So I am on the bus going home and decide to take another look at show B’s invitation. Hours earlier, I had been intrigued by the seating code on it: “Block C Row FIS”. I kept trying to understand what kind of row that was. Row F Standing…But what did the letter I stand for?

Back on the bus, all of a sudden it dawns on me: FIS = FIRST.

That’s what four seasons of standing or seating on row Z do to a poor soul.

So to summarize I went to crappy standing show A and didn’t make it to cool front-row show B. Which probably had a yummi goody bag, but now I am just torturing myself.

PS: I know I could have told the story above in half the space and double the clarity…but please bare with me…too much chiffon makes the brain go fuzzy. Or maybe it is the champagne.

Saturday, February 09, 2008

Westwoodholics Anonymous

Forget the Chinese year of the rat…this is the definitely the year of the Vivienne. Ok, I know I am becoming a bit repetitive with my Westwood-related posts, but what can I do if the woman keeps giving?

So first it was the collaboration with Melissa that got me all excited. Then, yesterday, I am minding my own humble business when the post arrives with an invitation to her show at London Fashion Week. Of course it wasn’t out of the blue, like they one day woke up and thought: “Hummmm, let’s give an invitation to the needy”. I asked for it. But being sort of at the bottom of the fashion food chain as I am, I wasn’t expecting them to actually send me one. But they did. And as much as I want to be all blas√© about it for the sake of looking really cool, the hell with it. YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAI!

So I will have to do one more Westwood-related post after the show, it would be a crime not to. After that I promise I will go on a detox and talk about other things. At least until the sale…

Wednesday, February 06, 2008


I am a big fan of beanies and other woolly hats. And it seems that the designers showing in NY at the moment will also be keen on protecting our ears from the freezing cold come next winter.

The only problem is how to avoid the famous hat-hair. I believe different girls get different types of hat-hair. Mine is the classical shape: all flat and nasty on the top of the head, with the rest flaring out uncontrollably. Kind of like a bell-bottom hair. Or "skinny-flared", as Topshop likes calling them now.
In any case, I digress. If anyone has a good recipe for avoiding hat-hair, please share with the rest of us! The only solution I have found so far is to tuck all the hair inside the hat, thus avoiding the flaring effect. But then I don't get that pretty hat+flowing hair thing going on. And I end up looking more like a giant condom. Oh boy, is there a solution to the hat-hair problem? And more important, don't I have anything more pressing things to do than worrying about this?

(Pictures: Narciso Rodriguez, Alexander Wang, DKNY, DKNY again, Doo.ri, Karen Walker)

Monday, February 04, 2008

I want you!

I raved a while ago about the happy collaboration between Melissa (my favourite Brazilian shoe brand) and Vivienne Westwood (my favourite lots of things). But I was a little bit scared that the final product would be a bit disappointing, like if Shiloh Jolie Pitt would grow up to be, well, challenged in the aesthetic department.

But I am very pleased to announce that the shoes look great and are already on the number 1 position in my “I-want-it-so-bad-and-I-want-it-now” list…

(the objects of my desire)

The shoe comes out in the middle of the year…so dear Brazilian friends-that-became-readers (you know who you are), get ready to cue, kick and slap in order to buy me one (of a few) pair. Seriously, it is in times of need that friendships get tested and I know you won’t disappoint.

Alternatively, if anyone from Melissa happens to stumble upon this blog, and want to compensate my years and years of loyalty to jelly shoes, I am a size 39/40 and prefer basic colours such as black and cream.

(It’s always worth a try, me thinks)

Friday, February 01, 2008

You what???

Disclaimer: This story is 100% true, and it happened to me yesterday, 5pm, at the Royal Academy of Arts.

So there I was enjoying this great exhibition called “From Russia”, which shows amazing pieces from Russian museums and collections, from artists such as Matisse, Picasso and Gauguin.

It was then that I overheard a conversation between two very English, very proper, middle-aged gentlemen.

GENTLEMAN 1 – Oh my god, I have never seen such a massive bonner. (A bonner is a slang for what happens to a man’s…mmmm…manhood when he is happy to see you).

ME (thinking) – Oh my god, I can’t believe I just heard that.

ME (thinking again and never one to miss the action) – Mmmmm, I wonder in which of the paintings the bonner is. Those naughty Russians! Let’s investigate.

GENTLEMAN 2 – True, if I didn’t know it was a bonner I would not have recognized it.

ME (thinking, alarmed) – Oh my god! Where is this huuuuuuuuge bonner??

And it was then that I saw a very large painting. Lots of beautiful, strong colours. No bonner. Then I saw the name of the artist. Pierre. BONNARD.

(A Bonnard. Hihihi)