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Archive for the ‘Urban’ Category

Still no job interviews, so what’s a girl to do? Well, best to get some great inspiration to keep away the out of work blues; first, one of my fabbest friends is a teacher so I told her about this fab offer from Lucky Voice – key workers get 2 free hours of singing like a cat’s chorus at this super glam karoaoke establishment – so we did and it was super fab…

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Take a look at this great cover – is he the new Elvis?

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Brush aside those frumpy fash mags and get hold of this super inspirational title, Wonderland, my top favourite magazine

And have you seen this great ad? It’s such a feel good few seconds, I think I’m going to have to dig out my old shell toes

And last but not least, spring is nearly here and that means, cherry blossom everywhere and I got these today from Graham and Green, so pretty and fluffy, they can’t help but bring a smile to my face – and don’t worry, I didn’t spend a penny, I had a £50 voucher to splurge…

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There’s a photo in The Sun today of a very frail Jade Goody in a wheelchair on with her boyfriend Jack this Sunday just gone. She’s outside the Armani store on Brompton Road and about to go in and choose her bridal gown.

It struck me that while we may walk along the same streets, we are all on different paths. For this is the very same place that Miniminx and I were standing outside of and having a laugh on Saturday. The store has a massive video wall with male models wearing the latest collection. Miniminx was pointing at it and laughing and joking about the dogwalk (her thinking; women walk on catwalks, therefore men must do dogwalks).

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As the weeks go by it’s hard not to think that Jade Goody is being subsumed by a cancer with tabloid newspapers and reality tv at the heart of it’s DNA.

I’m reading her story daily and I can’t believe it’s happening so quickly. We’ve been living in a world where there are many high profile stories of people living with cancer, and beating it; Kylie Minogue being one. It just doesn’t seem right or fair that someone so young is fading so fast.

Initially, I wasn’t sure about the story and wondered if it was just a Max Cliffordism to bring her back to the hearts of the British public with a sob story. But then again, who would engage in such a ploy to further their careers? It seemed so strange, such a bizarre quirk of fate, that the Big Brother reality TV show that launched, and then destroyed, her career would then be the place her death sentence would be announced. I wonder how the production team feel about this? How will they remember her? And will this tragedy make them think a bit more about what they are really signing up these contestants for? I doubt it, they will probably find a new way to spin it and make money.

Do you remember the Kylie effect? Women everywhere got checked for breast cancer and lives were saved, I’ve not seen any evidence of this happening with Jade Goody – although I will be making an appointment for a smear this week as I couldn’t bear to face the same fate. In true tabloid fashion, I am convinced that The Sun will sell many more copies of the paper when she goes – and she knows this, which is why she is doing the deals now. It’s extraordinary.

Jade Goody is England’s guileless icon and quite incredibly, has achieved global fame. She’s a funny girl, a business woman, Mother and soon to be wife. I’m not sure I’ll tune in to Living TV to watch her final hours, but we’ll all miss her. And let’s not forget that she’s a hard working Mum with two young children. That’s the true reality.

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As I sat down to enjoy my beautifully prepared lunch yesterday, things took a drastic about turn. My cosy domestic bubble burst in the manner of a very large party balloon being pricked by a very large, sharp pin.

My mobile phone trilled, !NUMBER WITHHELD! flashed on the screen – Ok, better put my professional/together voice on!

‘Hi, can you talk? It’s me, how are you?’
‘Yes, sure I can talk, fabulous thanks and you?’
‘I’ve got something for you’
‘Great, what it is it?’
‘It’s a blah-di-blah-di-blah at blah-di-blah? Yeah? Interested?’
‘Wow that sounds great!’
‘Read the spec, I need to send your CV to them today, they want someone to start immediately’
‘Sure (choke on flapjack silently) I’ll have to you within the hour – I need to change it. I’m not sure it’s working – I’ve had my CV appraised and was told it would cost £350 to put right’
‘Yeah, that social media thing on it, no one gets it.’
‘OK, I’ll dump it’
‘Good idea – get it over, be quick’

And then three job specs came through on email. Three job opportunities! What a bloody shock. I caught myself suddenly having to think. Life could change imminently. This little adventure of unemployment could soon be over. Shit.

As with all things work related, thought was quickly galvanised into action and I dragged my CV out of the document folder – grrrrrrrrrr. I gave myself an hour to rewrite it in a comprehensive and chatty fashion – yes, I’m a dyed in the wool deadline addict.

I began removing all links to my work on the worldwide wonder web which I’d lovingly searched out in my first jobsearch sojourn. Boo hoo – my social media CV was lame and had to be put out to pasture.

Then taking the advice of my CV appraiser, I dumbed down the font (apparently it was distracting and would mean my CV would be straight in the bin), I removed the bolded type (apparently incredibly distracting and annoying and would mean my CV would be straight in the bin) and I added some editorial around my work (apparently just listing it would be incredibly annoying and distracting etc. etc.). The finished work was much better and I spotted a most embarrassing typo – I’d spelt Communications as communciations – which I swiftly changed. Cringe – my usual faves are brest regards and daft copy which never go unnoticed, thankfully I’ve never committed the cardinal sin of typing pubic relations as many of my (former) colleagues have. I digress, as I pressed send message, I breathed a sigh of relief and waited ten minutes before calling the recruiter.

‘Hi – I’ve sent you my redraft, it’s much better’
‘Thanks, I’ll pop it across’

Ten minutes later, !NUMBER WITHHELD!, I knew it was her…

‘Darling, what was your last job title? I can’t see it on the CV…’

Oh god, in my panic I’d left it off.

‘Don’t worry I’ll change it and pop it over.’
‘Thanks (choke), speak to you soon!’

With that done it was time to pick up Miniminx – we did the weekly shop and went hideously over budget. By the time we got home I was feeling tired and irritable.

‘Sorry, Mummy is feeling a bit cruddy’
‘Don’t worry Mum.’
‘It’s just that there’s all these job thingies.’
‘Yeah great, you need a job.’
‘I don’t know if I want to work, I like being at home and doing my blog and writing.’
‘Well it’s tough Mum, I’d rather be at home all day but I have to go to school. Sorry but you have to go to work’

And so I heard a small version of myself deliver the bare naked truth…Mummy needs to get a job.

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I’m so pleased it rained all day yesterday, as it meant I could pull the hood down on my parker while staggering to school with Miniminx. 

It must be a sign of age, but I could hardly move yesterday after my night on the town.  The heady combination of being out, red wine, loud music, high heels and dancing, is just too much of an assault on my senses to have no lasting effect.  I spent most of the day lying down in a darkened room and laughing occasionally as I gradually pulled together my evening’s highlights.

Well, to start I missed out on the bleedin’ Dorchester through no fault of my own.  I tried to order a bottle of champagne to be on the table for my Sis’s party but the Maitre D said I couldn’t pay over the phone, so I settled for a sweet note for them to explain how I’d tried to order a bottle but they wouldn’t let me etc. etc.

So heading North, what better place to start than the Hawley Arms in Camden, home to most of the Art School scrag ends wearing exactly what I did twenty years ago.  Oh, how simple life is for them with all their hair twiddling and loose limbed foppery, I spent most of my time agog and holding myself back from lunging to grab wobbling beer glasses which looked ready to drop on the floor. ‘For god’s sake, they’re not toddlers!’ I kept saying to myself -not out loud obviously.  I’m an avid people watcher and this lot were already shouting and it was only 6.30. Two girls next to me were nattering away quite happily…

‘Ya, he’s definitely bi you know.’
‘Oh my god, he sooo is, he so definitely is…’
‘Yeah, yeah, and he’s slept with everyone at college.’
‘Do you know that Russian girl?’
‘Yah, todally’
‘She wears those blue tops – she should change her hair’
‘I don’t like it short.’
‘It’s really long.’
‘But she’s Russian?’
‘Yah’
‘Wears skinny jeans’
‘Yah’
‘Silver bag’
‘Yah’
‘Blue hair’
‘Um, like no’
‘Oh weird, there must be two Russian girls’
‘Yah, that’s like soooo mad.’

Well, if you can’t beat them join them, so I ordered a glass or red and lurked in the beer garden for a quick smoke while waiting for my friend.  After another glass of red, we headed off to what I thought was the theatre and it turned out to be Grace Jones – oh my god it was amazing.  She is amazing and the audience was a total 80s throwback, chin strokers spotted evenly around the venue and a few (starting to look really) old faces, including a record producer I used to know back in the day. 

We got invited to the after show party but I was dragged out kicking and screaming because it was a school night.  Much as I would loved to have gone, I doubt I would have made it out of the house at all yesterday if I had…

Stilll, if you can’t enjoy a movie on a rainy day, when can you? So I plumped for The Family Stone which was much funnier than the reviews…

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After an hour with a recruitment consultancy, meeting two great people who I hope will be able to nudge me in the right direction, it was time to pace the pavements of Tottenham Court Road, Oxford Street and Regent Street to walk off the effects of a very strong coffee and kill time before the lunch time drinks party in W10.

Gor blimey – The Pier was having a liquidation sale, 20% off at Heals, everywhere I looked SALE, 20%, 30%, 40%, 50% – going, going, gone…but most of it’s all tat. No real bargains and all the joy of and magic of Christmas is disappearing down the drain – what about the Christmas lights and the window decorations? It’s all become a cut price parody of the traditional Peace and Love to All Men. So I bought very little but discovered that in Topshop it’s business as usual and there were queues at the tills, the same in H&M Kids – Zara and Mango had sales on but the clothes were dreary, Urban Outfitters just looks so cheap, I didn’t bother buying anything, but a Grace Jones T-shirt caught my eye and that’ll be great to wear on Christmas day so I’ll have to pop back. It’s a real nonfashion moment this year – no great boots about so my Belstaff’s have been refurbished to last another year. Most of my presents this year are from Space NK (even they have a sale on – which I’ve never known), Cowshed and Amazon. My final fright was Primark – people sitting on the window sills outside having lunch – it was as if the old Wembley Market was on – it’s dire. But it does seem that all the value shops are still full without having to go to the lengths of a pre Christmas sale.

So that’s enough of the West End until next week – every year I take Miniminx to Selfridges, usually on Christmas Eve, and we go to Gordon’s Bar, it’s a much loved tradition of ours, last year we were sat next to a very gorgeous looking Jordan with one of her young children – I have a glass of champagne and Miniminx has an icecream float, then we waft around the store and spend lots of money. It’s frivolous, festive and fun – I hope they have the coat and bag room again – you can leave your shopping and coats for £2 and hightail it round the store in style.

This is precisely why I need a job – I love London and it all it brings!

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