Sunday 21 December 2008

Dear Shannon...

Dear Shannon Sossamon,

Hi, how are you? I guess I should introduce myself, my name is Zoe. You may have heard of me, but I say now, the rumours that I've been cyber-stalking you are just that, rumours. Although the fact that I'm writing this may undermine my last statement.

I'd like to begin this letter by congratulating you. Well done on being (argueably unnecessarily) super-beautiful and 'physically successful'. Also, I hear your career is going well, although I can't pass comment as I fear I haven't witnessed enough of your work, and '40 days and 40 nights' probably wasn't your fault. (However, if pressed, I'll admit I found 'The Rules of Attraction' overly, even negligently, editted to the point of gross inbalance where the basic premise no longer made sense, thus undermining the work of you and your fellow actors to adhere purpose to the susbsequently warped and improbable plot.)

There are a few things, however, that I need to bring to your attention Shannon. Although if I woke up one day having somehow metamorphasised into your body, initially I'd probably not waste my time sobbing, as the (albeit unlikely) scenerio wore on however, I'd probably find it freaked my family and friends out, and I reckon I'd quickly get fed up of people just staring at me and forgetting to concentrate on what I was actually saying.

Also, I'm not entirely convinced by the authenticity of your drummer-in-a-band and DJing credentials. I mean when in popular culture have these ever gone hand in hand, not natural bed fellows are they?

Now, I know this might hurt, but I have to say I may have lucked out. Your whole 'being born in Hawaii, growing up in Reno, then moving to LA' may have somewhat bitten you in the arse (sorry, ass, I don't want to confuse you). I know on paper being born and raised in Essex, and continuing to live in Europe with easy access to budget airline flights into Stansted may not be the stuff that inspires great novels, but this scenerio helped me discover one epicly valueable nugget of information (my hairdressers phone number) and the viability to utilise it. In short what I'm saying is, now I hope your sitting down Shannon (sorry, Shannyn, I forgot you changed the spelling when you were 15), I have just had my hair cut and it is BETTER THAN YOURS!

Many apologies
Zoe Edwards

P.S. Enough of the self-consciously contrived lip-biting, we get it, you're cute.

P.P.S Bad luck on Devour. What do critics or ticket-buying audiences know anyway?

Friday 19 December 2008

Base Camp

I'm leaving for the airport in, like, less than an hour so what better time than to start a new post?! Well, I wanted to draw a line under this crazy-arsed year by sharing some pics of my new flat, the venue from which, for at least the first part, I will attack 2009.

I didn't bother to tidy up before papping. Nor did I choose arty or visually exciting angles from which to represent my home. I just wanted to show you how it is.

After viewing eleven flats, I knew this is the one I should live in when my new-flatmate-to-be offered me this:

(The mannequin, not the scarf!). But, as I'm sure you can imagine, one of the very best things about having a place to (kind of) call my own again, is that I once again have a recepticle for all my street finds!:

Monday 15 December 2008

Hair/brain Schemes

Dunno about you, but in a similar vein as actors altering their hair and makeup to portray a different character, I’m pretty convinced that in real life how you wear your hair makes a real impact on how you feel , as well as how you are perceived. Let me tell you a little story...

Once upon a time, several lives ago, I had dreads. As I have no pictorial evidence to hand, you’ll just have to believe me that, for the most part, I believe they looked pretty cute. And no, they didn’t smell. So when I’d had enough (about 10 months in) I ended up hacking them out with a knitting needle (!), then getting what I could salvage cut into an elfin ‘do. That was six or seven years ago, and from then on I have been growing my hair. For the last couple of those years my hair idols all resembled this:

Having dabbled with growing it out, I am committed to The Fringe. Got that part covered. However it turns out that the rest of my hair just isn’t playing the game when it comes to texture. I have to accept that. Tough times. So these days I can be found rocking a cute fringe/topknot combo:
And I ain’t the only one:

However, I am increasingly aware that this is a pretty identi-kit Barcelona look. A month or so ago, my mate trimmed my barnet. Now I kind of feel a spell has been broken and I am on the verge new hair dynasty. Whilst hanging around down by the beach I saw (ok, stalked) this girl whom unwittingly provided a light bulb moment:

Now I think my aim is a haircut so cute, that it makes total strangers weep! Having undertaken further research I am considering something along the lines of this:

A hair appointment has been procured with, in my opinion, the best hairdresser in Christendom (who happens to live in Essex, who knew?!) for when I return to the UK. Any thoughts or comments to help make this a 'happy ever after' would be gratefully received...

Wednesday 10 December 2008

Nice piece of skirts

Umm, maybe I was a little hasty to declare that it’s all about dresses. Ok, largely it IS all about dresses, but not ALL about dresses, if you get what I mean. Occasionally, and those occasions seem to be coming thick and fast recently, it's quite a lot about skirts.

I have long been a convert and creator of the A-line and pencil varieties; however there may be a third way! I don’t know what the fash-on term for this style, which I feel I should, but it kind of goes a little something like this:

The above was created by the uber-talented Christine, she of the potentially-nicest-dress-on burdastyle-or-even-in-living-history fame. THAT Christine. This type of skirt has a waistband, something I haven't tried since my ill-advised dabbling with full '50's styles the year before last. Well, I had pretty much written it off as a style that wouldn't suit my 'womanly' curves, and then POW!! This happened:

I know. Honestly, I know. Who knew ''70's house wife on holiday' chic was so now?! Another Burdastyle triumph, click on the image for credits and info. Now I'm pretty much determined to make some interpretation of this skirt style work, no matter what.

Well, I'm thinking of cheating and going for an inbetweeny, less full and subsequently less scary variation akin to this Built By Wendy interpretation:

Still waistbandy, but not so high, with some fullness but not so potentially 'tenth birthday party' (something that, I'm quick to point out, the top two examples have well fallen the correct side of).

But as Christine in the top image has quite correctly pointed out, reality requires tights:

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