Tea Affair

As a person who drinks more than 12 cups of tea a day (and sometimes, if I’m honest, a fair-few more than the dozen), I thought it about time that I submit my ‘Ode to Tea’ – especially given my current geographic abode…

tea –noun the dried and prepared leaves of a shrub, Camellia sinensis, from which a somewhat bitter, aromatic beverage is prepared by infusion in hot water.

Now before you all post comments about the dangers of too much caffeine, fear not – I mix my cups up with herbal varieties: peppermint, chamomile, Lipton fruit varieties, and green… oh, but that one’s caffeinated, isn’t it?! How I do love a good cuppa black with milk, no sugar.

Moving into my flat, I knew I had found home when my soon-to-be-flattie asked in her sing-song English twang, “You want a cup of tea, hun?” Oh yes, please! And it was always so comforting starting new temp jobs when on orientation I was shown to the kitchen and pointed in the direction of the cupboard full of the obligatory bags of Tetley… Having never been a smoker, I can only equate the addiction they must feel to how I react to my first cup of tea for the day. Total calm. If anyone remembers the Tetley ads in Oz where the cartoon Tetley worker comes into the scene looking pale, and then upon taking his first sip, his colour replenishes, and he sighs, “Ahhh, Tetley, that’s my cuppa tea!” Well, I’m that cartoon man… only in the flesh, and with a better hair-do and a fabric wardrobe.

For those interested, there are four main types of tea are black tea, oolong tea, green tea and white tea (in order from most processed to least). I have recently become a fan of Clipper’s Organic White Tea with Peppermint (produced in the UK, see clipper-teas.com) – it has the caffeine to give me the buzz I love, and the peppermint to aid my digestion. White tea is the least processed and has the highest levels of caffeine, owing to the fact that the blend contains buds and leaves (black, oolong and green only use the tea leaves). If you haven’t tried it, give it a go… although it’s slightly more expensive than good ol’ Tetley. I figure I’m worth it.

My mock Miu Miu

I featured Miu Miu's leather Coffer Bag a few weeks back in Gotta Love a List, you can probably take from its second mention that I really, really like it. But, not all of us can afford designer price tags, so.... what to do?

Find a cheaper alternative.

And I do mean cheaper, and not cheap. The word 'cheap' has negative connotations, and I don't want you thinking I'm sending you off to the land of polyester and vinyl. No way. I'm introducing you to one of my favourite New York High St designers, Steve Madden. A native of the Big Apple, Madden is the founder and former CEO of Steve Madden Ltd, specialising in fashionable women's shoes, and later branching out into clothing and accessories, like gorgeous handbags. I say, former CEO because he was made to resign in 2002 after being convicted of stock manipulation, security fraud and money laundering - oops! Naughty boy.

He does design lovely shoes and bags though... for which all girls must be thankful. And... as well as stores throughout the United States, and internationally (including Australia, but sadly for the Intern, absent from the United Kingdom), all his stunning designs can be purchased online at stevemadden.com.

Case in point:

Miu Miu, Leather Coffer Bag, £720.00

available at net-a-porter.com

Steven by Steve Madden, BLadyLux, US$195.00
available at stevemadden.com

That's right ladies... start shopping, for less!

Soul Food

It's always nice when you're invited round to a friend's place for dinner. Especially when the company is all girls, and the atmosphere intimate and informal... You just know by the time the corks out of the bottle that the conversation is going to resemble a therapy session - on speed. How is it that we ladies are able to manage our thoughts, talk at a million miles an hour, and listen to our friend who is doing the same, all at the same time? It's a part of being of being female that I just love.

And then there's the dinner.

While I firmly believe that we diet foremost for ourselves, we often relish the results for the impact they have on our other femme fatales... If we're honest, boys are easily pleased and most call us stupid when we start counting calories. Our girlfriends on the other hand praise our efforts, and honour our style... Get us in a room full of food, however, and the diet's out the window and a binge-fest takes its place.

Last night I was party to a lovely social gathering for four. Our host offered up healthy carrot and capsicum sticks with dip for starters, and then fresh burritos (with lots of spice to jump-start our metabolisms) for our mains. For dessert we were treated to grilled peach-halves with melted marshmallows, and a tub of Ben & Jerry's Fossil Fuel was placed in the middle of the table... At first we showed restraint, helping ourselves to a small scoop and savouring every delicious sugary-mouthful; but when our bowls were empty we eyed that tub like it was Brad Pitt on a platter... and the spoons came out again.

Gone was the ice cream and out came a spread of chocolates, ginger slice, mini brownies and Italian shortbreads - and we girls went to town!

Suffice to say we rolled out of our host's living room, and I waddled to the bus stop, feeling decidedly full but emotionally weightless. Like all good girly-get-togethers we'd managed divulge all our dirty laundry and reassure one-another of our intrinsic goodness - and consumed a few thousand calories. Really, there's nothing sweeter.

Night Ride Berlin

If you’re seeking romance, go to Paris. If you’re after nightlife then Berlin is your city.

Wild parties, techno lights, bright punk-hairdos and metal accessories are what it’s all about in Germany’s urban hub. GF and I have put our raving days behind us, but I did manage to suss out the ‘scene’ for those of my readers who still think the night starts at 2am!

First stop:

90 Grad
Where: Dennewitzstr. 37, Berlin
(closest U-Bahn, Kurfürstenstr)
When: Wednesdays from 9pm – 3am, Fridays and Saturdays 11pm onwards
Scene: Formally attracting the cream of house and techno DJs, now this is simply the place to be seen. Make sure you look like a supermodel because there is a strict door policy, and you don’t want to feel out of place when you’re being served by the incredibly stunning bar staff – especially when the drinks cost more than your airfare!

Then onto:

Berghain & Panorama Bar
Where: Am Wriezener Bahnhof, Berlin – Friedrichshain
(closest S-Bahn, Ostbahnhof)
When: Open 24hrs over the weekend, but the crowd is largest between 3-8am
Scene: Hard-core, heavy house set in an industrial-style warehouse. The crowd is young, fit and likely to scare off clubbers who simply like to waste away in the corner.


For sunrise shenanigans:

Weekend Club Berlin
Where: Alexanderstr. 7, Berlin
(closest S-Bahn, Alexanderplatz)
When: The roof opens at 11pm, but most come (or stay) to see the sunrise over the city.
Scene: Argued as Berlin’s hippest house and techno club, offering up some of the countries most renowned DJs, Weekend is the place to let loose well into the morning, and perhaps a little more street-friendly than Panorama.

And to carry you through to night again:

Bar 25
Where: Holzmarktstr. 25, Berlin
(closest S-Bahn, Ostbahnhof)
When: Club open from 11am Friday to 10pm Sunday
Scene: Right on the edge of the river Spree, Bar 25 is a restaurant, bar, club, cinema and hostel all-rolled into one – and only open during summer. The club is designed like an American-style saloon… by far the friendliest tourist option and not a bad place to enjoy the city the sights, with the lights on!

Journey to Berlin

I like to think of myself as super organised - and I am. But... sometimes I miss the forest for the trees. Let me explain.

Back in June I decided I'd meet up with a friend of mine in Berlin. She and I travelled through India for six weeks a few years back, and the experience bonded us for life: think lots of long, sweaty train trips, being spat on and groped by locals on a crammed bus, and a severe case of Delhi-Belly... We've seen each other at our worst, and best, but haven't seen each other in the flesh for almost two years. So we decided to meet up in Germany's biggest city, for some girly catch-ups, and some currywurst. All-in-all the weekend was fabulous, it was just getting there and back that tried my patience - although, I have no one but myself to blame.

Blond Moment No. 1: Booking an 0630 hrs flight out of Luton Airport

In an effort to save a few pounds (and it really was only three or four), I booked an easyJet flight to Berlin's Schoenefeld Airport at 6.30am for Saturday the 22nd September, not really thinking about the logistics of getting myself to Luton (about an hour out of London) in time for the 4.30am check-in. All last week I sought out damage control - given that the Underground doesn't open until after 5am - and came up with various options, from going to Luton at midnight the night before and sleeping at the airport, to paying through the roof for a cab, but I eventually booked myself on the 24-hour easyBus shuttle from Victoria station. My plan was to catch a 3.41am train from Clapham Junction to Victoria in time for my 4.10am shuttle, and to check-in online the day before... but then we have...

Blond moment No. 2: Missing my 3.41am train

It would be true enough to say that my organisational qualities stem from a slight case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). I am definitely a creature of habit, and one of my more stringent practices is my morning breakfast routine. It doesn't matter what time I have to get up, I can't go a morning without my hot water and lemon juice (with my multi-vitamin and omega-3 tablets), followed by my cup of green tea, then my shower, then my cereal (half All-Bran, half Bran Flakes), washed down with a refreshing cup of peppermint tea. That to me is brekky, and there ain't no way around it. So on Saturday morning I woke to my alarm at 2.40am and went through the motions... until I decided to look at my watch mid-cereal, only to realise that my train was due to arrive at the station in less than ten minutes and I was only halfway through my bowl, not to mention my as-yet-untouched mug of peppermint tea! I stared at my reflection in the night window and weighed up the real possibility of missing my flight all for my bowl of bran - it was a tougher choice than you'd think. I reluctantly spooned my uneaten cereal into the bin and drained my peppermint tea, then I took flight down the stairs of my apartment building and ran like a crazy woman to the station.

Moment of Clarity No. 1: Taking a mini-cab to Victoria

Now to some this wouldn't seem the clear option at all (given the horror stories of women in London and mini-cab drivers) but at 3.38am with the station's back entrance closed and the likelihood of me making it around to the high street entrance incredibly slim, I swallowed my pride and forked out the 12 quid for a trip to the shuttle check-point. Once on-board I promptly fell asleep. An hour later I was a Luton, and making my way through security...

Blond Moment No. 3: Not taking note of any German phrases

Having been swept up in the brilliance of travelling in Germany with a local (my girlfriend hailing from Frankfurt), I completely forgot to brush-up on my please-and-thank-yous (or should I say, bitte-und-dankes). This posed a bit of a problem given that I arrived in Berlin a good three hours before my GF and had to get myself from Schoenefeld to our apartment in Ostbahnhof, via the S-bahn (overground train) and a bus. I made it, with the help of an English DJ (now living in Berlin) - and even scored mine and my GF's name on the door at an apparently ultra-hip club called Picnic...

THE RETURN JOURNEY:

Blond Moment No. 4: GF and I not reading what time the check-out was

Spending our final morning in the city doing a spot of retail therapy, for GF, not me of course, given that as yet, my health fund doesn't cover such holistic treatments, we arrived back at the Loft to find a lovely little cleaner busy at work on our sheets and pillows. Luckily my OCD had meant that I had already packed, but the abrupt shoo-out of the building left us wandering the streets of Ostbahnhof luggage in tow.

Blond Moment No 5: Back in London missing the stop at Waterloo

Having caught the slowest train from Luton into London Bridge I was rather hoping for a quick transfer on the Overground and a connecting train straight to Clapham Junction. I was told, however, that my best bet was getting a train back to Waterloo and then making my way home from there - a trip that should have taken no more than 15 minutes... But a stickler for correct descriptions I took Waterloo as 'Waterloo' and therefore stayed put on the train as it passed Waterloo East, only to realise as my train took me once again across the Thames that my instructor had obviously meant his directions to encompass all-things Loo... What followed was a mistaken trip from Charing Cross on the Bakerloo line heading North (not my desired Southwards journey) and then two train delays at Piccadilly Circus. Having landed at Luton at 1701 hrs, I didn't touch base back home in Clapham until well after 8pm. Tired, hungry and with a belly-full of airport sweets, I entered my flat and proceeded to unpack. After all, you can't let a little thing like public transport get in the way of sorting out your dirty laundry. Or is that just me?

Note: In tomorrow's post I'll give you the run down of some cool little cafes to visit and the monuments that are must-sees

Ready for the Ruggers...

With the weekend looming and my plans looking set to include another Friday night at a pub watching the rugby, I began to wonder, when did I start watching football?

I wouldn't like to think of myself as one of those girls who is completely averse to attending sporting events, but growing up in a household of four women and a dad who fancied electronics over sports I feel that I have started behind the eight-ball.

London has a huge pub culture - as I have touched on before - but the last few weeks with the Rugby World Cup on the pubs have bustling almost every night, and there have been more than a few coloured jerseys being worn by men usually attired in stiff suits and dress shoes. I have not taken to the change in outfit myself, but I have watched a few of the games... However, I use that term loosely. Where a true fan would watch and comprehend, my eyes simply glaze over the bright green field and spotted players, and then I cheer according to the directions of my fellow drinkers.

I jumped online to try and find out the date of the first RWC game for 2007, you know, to give you guys a bit of background info and make this entry more about the games and less about my ignorance... but... I couldn't seem to find that piece of information on the official site (rugbyworldcup.com). I can hear the groans of my male friends now!

I did source out some information about the game of rugby - in an effort to aid my understanding of Friday night's match (between France and Ireland, or should I write that: France vs. Ireland? Ahhh, the pressure!)

For those not in-the-know:

• Rugby (short for rugby union football) is an outdoor sport, played by teams of 15 players a side, who are able to kick and at times carry an oval ball. Note: this means visually you can differentiate between 'football' as in soccor (black-and-white-checked round ball, no hands) and rugby union football (which I am told has to be referred to as just-plain 'rugby');
  
• An adult-level rugby match goes for 80-minutes, and consists of two 40-minute halves, plus time added on for injury (don't quite get why they don't stop the clock but if any of my readers are rugby fans, feel free to comment below... actually, I'd like you to!);


• Points are scored by 'trys' or 'goals' - a try is scored when the ball is grounded (thats when the big boys run and plunge themselves into the ground near the goal posts) and it gets them 5 points... A goal is scored if the ball is kicked between the goal posts and above the cross bar. But this is where it gets a bit tricky because there are 3 ways to score goals: i) a drop goal - where the ball must hit the ground immediately before it is kicked, ii) a penalty goal - awarded when the other side breaks a rule, and then the side infringed against can try for goal from the point of the infringement, iii) a conversion - this is where the side that has just scored a try gets to go for a goal too, either by a drop kick or placing the ball on the ground. Note: A penalty or drop kick is worth 3 points, and a conversion is worth only 2 points.

They're the important bits anyway. I'm sure there's more, but if I research any further I might be turned off entirely and choose instead to spend my Friday night at home, with a DVD and some popcorn...

Travel's Where It's At

As a young girl I coveted the glossy pages of women's mags, so when it came to my career, I just knew it would have to be played out within the walls of a publishing house. I'm a firm believer in positive thinking - picture it and it will one day be...

So sitting in on the weekly editorial meeting for HB's December issue - as both travel editors were out of the office for two days - I was like a kid at Christmas, bubbling with excitement and jumping out of my chair (on the inside that is... my exterior was cool, calm and collected, I promise!).

Going through the issue was our managing editor. Basically the 'book' (not magazine) is broken into pages, and the pages into sections. Each section is managed by an editor who either writes the 'copy' (stories) him/herself, or commissions freelancers. When our ME got to Travel's pages all eyes were on me - and I loved it! I hurriedly took everyone through the 'pages,' referring to the scribbled notes I had taken down in the two-minute phone conversation I'd had with my editor that morning. Our ME smiled - I think she gathered my excitement from the cheesy grin on my face - and before I knew it we were on to the next section. What happened to 15-minutes of fame? I'm sure I only got in three...

While I have always known glossies were for me, I was never quite sure about the ins-and-outs of the editorial team. Having now interned five months in New York for Bridal Guide and three weeks here at Harper's I'm starting to feel quite at home with the different departments. The funny thing is that I had always thought I'd find my place in Features, but both internships have been in Travel, and actually, I'm starting to think myself quite lucky.

You see Travel is where it all happens. Sure in Beauty you get lots of freebies, but who really needs a dozen types of hand creams, shampoos and eye-liner pencils? And yes, the girls in Features do get to interview some famous faces, but how nervy would that get? It's far better to mingle with them at events when you're relaxed and have a champagne in hand. And don't get me started on the poor loves in Fashion - for them it's all about unpacking boxes and boxes of clothes that are way too small for the average woman to even think about wearing. But us Travel girls are the ones who are wined and dined and sent off to Tuscany for the weekend to sample a new five-star villa, or jetted Out of Africa to don a safari suit and sip evening cocktails on the edge of the Okavango River. Or at least the editors are...

Now it's just a matter of closing my eyes, taking a deep breath and imagining... the power of the mind is a great and wondrous thing.

Ladies and their loos

However common an occurrence, it always strikes me as funny when I'm out in a group and one of my girlfriends announces that she needs to use the restroom. Not because I find her bodily functions in any way amusing, but rather because without doubt her next line will be, "Do you want to come with me?"

Do I, really? Regardless of the state of my bladder it's fairly certain that I will say yes. Because this is the way of women. Men are hunters - stealth beings in a constant state of competition, who choose often to take on the world alone - and women gather. We gather together in office kitchenettes to discuss last night's television shows, the state of our home lives, a new purchase or the guy on level four who looks like he's interested. We also congregate in kitchens at house parties to discuss similar topics although this time under the guise of food preparation or dish washing. But our favourite place to cluster is the loo. For the plain and simple fact that we know the men aren't going to hunt in women's toilets, whether they want to or not.

Now if truth be told I am not one for bringing my friends to the lavatory with me unless I don't need to use the toilet at all, and am taking her there purely to purge a juicy piece of gossip... that's because I'm the kind of girl who likes to pee anonymously. But I will never pass up a restroom invitation from a fellow femme, as to do so would likely mean missing out on something interesting - and you never want to be left out of the loop!

At the weekend I experienced a case of the 'event-exodus' loo-liaison, the ones where you and your girlfriend/s need to plan a way to exit a party either without making a scene or indeed, without being seen... And just yesterday I was party to a colleague-bitch-fest in the company loo. In the latter case we organised our 'rendezvous' through facial expressions alone, employing our eyebrows like the catcher uses his fingers to communicate to the pitcher - in fact we chicks have skills those boys can only dream of.

Ultimately our gatherings take place when we're up to no good, but that doesn't mean they're going to stop anytime soon. Cave women started it (or at least I assume), and modern women will continue the trend - although now in tiled rooms, and far better dressed - until time immemorial.

London's Fashion

Fashion Week has finally hit London, so I suppose it makes sense that I devote a posting to current clothing trends... I'd like to think of myself as abreast of fashion - one look inside my overflowing wardrobe and it is clear that I have a penchant for retail therapy - but putting my own ideas down as gospel, I think not. Instead, I turned to October's issue of Harper's Bazaar, just to confirm if my thoughts were in line with my mag's fashionistas... and I'm pleased to say, a few of them were:

Here's the London-lowdown: 10 style updates to keep up with trends

10. The biker jacket

Okay, so I've tried a few styles of leather jackets on in the past few months... I went with a mushroom-coloured version from H&M, according to HB you can throw these babies over last season's shift dresses to funk up your outfit.

£150.00 Leather Crop Biker Jacket by Kate Moss (topshop.com)

9. The structured tote

This is where I can gloat a little... I've been ahead of this trend for a few years now (ahhh!). I purchased my current fave from a street vendor in NYC for $35 - and without fail, every time I take it out for a spin people comment, even guys! HB suggests investing in a classic shape and colour (did I tell you mine was black?), and 'it will look forever chic.'

£735.00 Balenciaga Large Bag (asos.com)

8. The cape coat

Not quite sure about the practicality of this one. I can imagine there will be a few of us who buy one if these for winter and end up storing it further to the back of our cupboards so as to avoid the constant reminder of being a financially-crippled slave to fashion. But... if we must, HB advises that we keep our hair and make-up modern to avoid looking like we're in costume.

£50.00 Black military style belted cape with 3/4 sleeves (dorothyperkins.com)

7. Colourful patent courts

Yay, yay, yay - I was chatting about this one just yesterday... Although it's hard to miss these bright and shinnies in the shop windows of Office, Aldo and Topshop. HB recommends teaming them with a midi-length skirt for maximum leg-lengthening effect.

£55.00 High Perspex Heeled Court Shoe (topshop.com)

6. The pencil skirt

If you wanna look ultra sexy and downright bootylicious, definitely take on this trend. I found the ultimate but-lifting style on topshop.com (ruched bum pencil skirt in black, £30) - wear a high-waisted version with a fitted shirt in the same colour for the ultimate figure enhancement.

£30.00 Satin Ruched Bum Pencil Skirt (topshop.com)

5. Black ankle boots

As far as footwear is concerned, boot is best. But for those of us not blessed with luscious long legs, team them with black opaque tights to elongate, and add a short, flirty skirt to ensure a feminine look.

£30.00 Brogued Lace Front Ankle Boot (asos.com)

4. The statement white shirt

Nothing beats a crisp white shirt. The look is classic, and comfortable, and after last seasons smocks and shapeless shifts it's time to embrace fine lines and tailoring. HB suggests updating your look by sewing on contrasting black or gold buttons to the cuffs, and the Intern advises her budget conscious friends to check out The Gap's new Classics range...

£20.00 Ruffle pintuck shirt (gap.com)

3. The waist-cinching belt

Now, I've bought a fair few of these over the past couple of seasons, and wear them sparingly... after all, there's nothing worse than feeling like you're wearing a girdle, but HB assures us that structured versions, 'make a woman's body look the best it can (by) pulling in the stomach and improving posture.'

£12.00 Gold diamante waist belt (dorothyperkins.com)

2. Wide-leg trousers

Ahhhh, I love it when you invest in a trend that sticks. In the summer of 2005, I splurged on a pair of black Zimmerman wide-leg trousers (to the tune of a few hundred dollars)... at the time I thought myself mad, but they have seen me through. My tip, spend a wee bit more - they will most likely have a better shape and this style is all about wearing a good quality, tailored fabric.

£235.00 Tibi Black wool high-waisted wide-leg pants with a pleated front (net-a-porter.com)

1. The oversize clutch

According to HB this item will be the statement piece for the season (as they say, 'the bag du jour'). And it's practical too... finally, a clutch that actually fits your money, phone, make-up and keys!

£365.00 Stella McCartney Black patent finish fabric concertina clutch with zipper detailing on front (net-a-porter.com)

Ping Pong's great, but it ain't no Yum Cha

About a month ago, I enjoyed a giggle when I signed onto my beloved Facebook and saw that I had been invited to join the group, 'I wish Yum Cha trolleys would circulate through my place of work' - which to-date enjoys 2,207 members. Yum Cha takes the Chinese-dining experience a step further by circulating ready-to-eat, tasty morsels around the restaurant thus honing the art of up-sell, ensuring happy (and stuffed) customers. Dim sum (those yummy steamed, and sometimes fried, parcels of all-things veg or meaty) are definitely the cat's pyjamas in my book, but that may be because when it comes to eating out I have managed to convince myself that if it's bite sized, food has no calories.

So setting out on Saturday night for the South Bank's hip dim sum joint, Ping Pong, with a group of friends I was ready for a good meal. With several locations over London (including in ultra-funky Soho), Ping Pong has done for dim sum, what Wagamama's did for the noodle, and they have an impressive cocktail menu to match. Although I have to say, the experience just isn't the same without those Yum Cha dollys and their trolleys.

At Ping Pong it's all about style. The impressive decor includes floor-to-ceiling windows and lots of mirrors, round tables downstairs and low couch seating upstairs, complete with mood lighting. The staff were friendly enough - although one poor waiter dropped a tray of sugary cocktails over a girl in our party which did dampen the evening somewhat. Funny how it's at these moments you can recognise who in a group has worked tables before - I shuddered as I recalled spilling the contents of a diet coke bottle into a customer's bag of Prada goodies during my time back in New York... he had handled it very well... although, if you can afford Prada, I'd imagine you're unlikely to sweat a dry cleaning bill. Our girl mopped herself off with humour and grace, and the waiter made himself scarce for the rest of the evening.

As for the food, the dishes were delightful. Fresh Asian greens, and succulent seafood with just the right about of sugar and spice, although the cocktails were a bit on the icey-side of full. If you do choose to Pong while you're in town definitely try their Honey Barbecued Pork Steamed Buns, and their Spinach and Beef Gyoza, served with ginger sauce... yum!

Ping Pong, South Bank

Festival Terrace, Southbank Centre

Belvedere Road

London SE1 8XX

tel: 020 79604160
open: Mon - Wed 12pm to 12pm/Thur - Sat 12pm to 1am/Sun 12pm to 10.30pm

dim sum dishes from 3 pounds

cocktails from 5.50

Must, Must, Must...

It's Friday, again. My how quickly the weeks they-are-a-passing... Here are a few musts for the weekend ahead:

Must see... Atonement

Keira's being heralded for an Oscar, and James McAvoy is just plain yummy. Add to that the fact cinema-pickings lately have been less than alluring, I'm very keen to tuck into some popcorn and get lost in Atonement this weekend.

Must listen to...

She may have lost her Aussie accent but I feel the need to support our old Neighbours star. Reviews so far have been fairly positive for her latest release, Glorious, a compilation of new and old singles from the past decade.

Must visit... Carnaby Street

With my new post at Natmags I have become quite familiar with Soho's famous Carnaby Street. Just down from Oxford Street, and east of Regent Street, this is the place to find funky boutiques, as well as more mainstream fashion... and there are cobblestone streets as well (my fave!)

especially... Liberty of London
This is how department stores should be - absolutely luxurious. Imagine a boutique on steroids, with prices to match - think handbags, travel accessories, jewellery, lingerie and scented candles...

An Expat's Embrace

Catching up with friends is always a fun affair - but when you're on the 'other side' of the world the catch-ups are far sweeter. If it's a girlfriend that's visiting then your initial embrace will coincide with screams and giggles and squeals of delight. You'll hug a few times, look each other over, comment on each other's changes (or lack of changes), and then start chatting away at a million miles an hour, each of you talking over the other your excitement and adrenalin somehow allowing you to hear and speak at the same time. And then you'll breathe.

If it's girl meeting boy after a long time apart, then the hug is far less intense, you'll probably give them a kiss on the cheek, look each other over and rather than comment on specific changes in features are more likely to simply say, "You look great!" And then you'll look each other over again and assess (in your head) whether or not you're meeting up again as just friends or friends-with-benefits. That is, will the evening include one bottle of wine, or two?

Having witnessed a few long-awaited reunions between boys it is clear such interactions begin with the least ado and end the loudest. After sharing a few beers and stories regaling past drunken times, guards are let down, and then and only then, is it time to hug - briefly.

Feeling at ease with my new life in London (some might call it a love affair), seeing old friends luckily doesn't send me into a spin of homesickness - rather the opposite... I go into recruitment-mode and feel the need to sell my new hometown to whoever is visiting. I often go further and begin to plan the finite details of their obligatory relocation. Good friends placate me and join in with my planning, and we while the hours with fun and fancy. After all, that's what friends are for.

Luxe for Less

Last night I enjoyed a heated discussion with my flatmate (a guy, and straight - but one that openly reads Grazia magazine and has a penchant for teaming fitted shirts with trendy jeans), about elements of style and whether or not clothes with obvious labels - think T-shirts that blare D&G logos or Louis Vuitton sneakers - are in fact glamorous or simply garish...? I asserted that the truly stylish buy couture clothes for their material worth, in that they are often made from higher quality fabrics and designed with better cuts, and don't make an effort to flaunt the label. While he was of the opinion that fashion encompasses all types of trends and that label-sporting individuals (if they're indeed wearing real and not fake designer clothing) are just as fashion-conscious.

Lets say I'm right (for argument’s sake!): Can you have style on a bag lady budget?

I think yes. As one who is currently earning less than it costs to feed, house and transport herself (and is in fact eating into savings that have been borrowed from Mumma and Pappa), I am faced with the challenge of putting together funky outfits, simply from the wears in my wardrobe, on a daily basis. And my 'wears' include precious few designer gems. It's all about matching the right sort of fabrics, choosing cuts that suit your shape, and never wearing the same item two days in a row... and yes, that includes your jeans too!

And if you want to hunt for some luxe for less items...

Sydney: You can't beat the Sunny Girl range, for stockists phone +612 9281 8185 or Ladkah Collections on +612 9211 2622

New York: Don't go any further than H&M, phone +1 212 564 9922

London: It's all about Primark - the wonder store, on +44 20 74950420

Feed Me, it's Fashion Week

Okay, so not yet here in London, but in my old hood of NYC the stilettos are out, and the bronzer is on - fashion week has come to the Big Apple. And while you want to think it's all about the clothes, ever since last years uproar in Milan and Madrid over "size zero" models - following the death of two South American models - the media is devoting half their time to the runways and the other half to the BMIs (Body Mass Index) of the girls teetering down them. And I have to say that I think it's a good thing.

We are daily bombarded with images on television and in print media, and whether or not we freely admit it, we compare, contrast and contort ourselves to fit the figures we're confronted with - and those figures of aspiration are generally the most unrealistic. But whatever may be said about airbrushing, the truth is that most of the models in magazines are far thinner than the average woman, even before their hips, thighs and cheekbones are taken for a ride through Photoshop. So what would happen if the fashion world united to make sure that the images we saw never went below a healthy weight range? If we stop seeing emaciated girls on the catwalk and in mags, will we really start embracing our curves? Maybe not... But it surely couldn't hurt.

And it might even help girls already in the industry. In an interview with London Lite, 22-year-old, Zimbabwean-born model, Charlotte Carter (see above), spoke in favour of the ban after being told she was too thin to appear in next week’s shows. Having battled with various eating disorders, the young model claims that it took her agency telling her to gain weight, for her to realise that she was dangerously thin.

With only five days to go until London Fashion Week, the media (yep, they be the same ones parading off skeletal girls in fashion spreads and news stories) is eager to condemn organisers for not banning size-zero (a UK size four) models entirely from the catwalk. Although, the event has seen fit to impose a minimum age limit, thereby ensuring that no 14 and 15-year-old girls will be taking to the stage next week. And there won't be any high-flyers either, with backstage drug testing also being introduced. You can almost hear their dealers revolt!

model at DKNY, Spring 2008

model at Diesel, Spring 2008

model at Diane von Furstenberg, Spring 2008

Dress me up Bolly!

I know it's a desire that most of us grow out of - like playing in sand pits and finger painting - but I do love a good dress up. Although these days’ people's parties are generally too highbrow to request fancy costumes in their invitations, hosts are more concerned with showing off their culinary skills, or extensive bar selection... Give me candied-apples and lolly bags any day!

That's why I just couldn't pass up an invitation to a friend-of-a-friend's 'Empire Strikes Back' event last Saturday night. Don't think this was some Star Wars convention either... no, no, no. We're in the London now... it's all about the British Empire, baby. My girlfriend and I thought about our costumes for a good month beforehand. Obviously, we wanted to go all-out (otherwise, what's the point?), but it was vital that we construct a get-up that was not only original, but that made us look hot... after all, no one wants to be the one in the ugly banana suit sitting in the corner of the room. We decided on Bollywood - that was part of the Empire once, wasn't it?

We had grandiose plans at the start... thoughts of buying saris and bangles and bindis and henna tattoos. As the weeks past we downgraded a bit, thinking instead of teaming pashminas with skinny jeans and sky-high heels... but I have to say, our final choice was definitely the kindest on both our wallets - already had the maxi-dress and bindis cost 1 pound for a pack of four - and our feet - dancing for a whole night in stilettos can really do some damage - and we certainly ticked off the 'hot' box... if we say so ourselves!

Check these pics out...

Gotta Love a List

Nothing pleases me more than putting pen to paper. Actually, taping keys on a keypad does it for me too... I just love words. And lists. You gotta love a list. My favourite type of lists are the ones that note down my future fashion fixes - shopping list 101.

Looking around the mag office I'm amazed by the varied array of fashion styles. Natmags is no Devil Wears Prada, Elias-Clark. You don't have to wear heels, and you're not scolded for scoffing a brownie - but there are some women there who just have it when it comes to dressing, and I am secretly taking note. While I won't be buying their designer-labelled versions, I am jotting down their colour and fabric combinations and taking mental snaps of their accessories so as to be on the lookout when next I visit Portobello Markets, or my beloved Topshop. The fashion team at Harper's simply exudes effortless-style, and boy do those girls love to shop!

Peering over my desk I jealously covet their lunchtime purchases - new Rock and Republic jeans, a gorgeous leather handbag from Miu Miu's new Fall/Winter range, and a designer jacket fresh from their tailor, that perfectly contours their fashionista-frame. If I one day own half the couture these girls do, I will be a happy chappy. But that's the beauty of a list... noting down the clothes you want to buy makes you feel like you're actively contributing to your ultimate fashion transformation. You might not buy every item in the draw, but you're creating a place to start.

Regardless of the lack of a formal dress code, there hasn't been a morning this week that I haven't gone into mini panic mode as I exit the bathroom en route to my wardrobe. My mind races with possible outfit options - like Cher's revolving wardrobe in Clueless, wouldn't you just love one of those in your bedroom? - and as I scour my rack of tops, dresses and slacks, I think back to my wish list, and try to recreate the dream from the clothes of my closet reality.

Supreme Purchase

There comes a time when every girl will lament a purchase. At these times it is crucial she do so with dignity, and even more important that she do so in private. Okay, she can moan to her girlfriends if she must, but she should never admit it to the man in her life - be he her father, brother, lover or friend - because a man will always gloat, however removed he is from her financial situation.

This girl has bought more than a few items that have found themselves unused, unopened or unworn, although the latter case refers mostly to shoes... I find that I'll always wear the clothes I buy, even if only once. Although, I try never to reprimand myself for my shopping-indiscretion. Instead, I focus on the lesson learnt: I must not buy shoes a size too small, or large, and think that I can stretch them out, or pad them with shoe cushions as the case may be. And then I palm my purchase off on one of my sisters or a friend, thus redeeming myself in my own eyes, by finding said-purchase a right and proper home.

Aside from shoes, my biggest money-wasting moments are all exercise related. I have a rather impressive collection of aerobics and yoga DVDs purchased in the belief that they would save me paying a gym membership; and I've paid full-terms of dance classes where I have attended only one or two lessons... Then there was my Swiss ball that went flat, and the dumb bells that held my bedroom door open more often than they were held in my hands... But, the biggest and best of my penitent-purchases would have to be my Supreme Pilates machine (think of a small, fold-up version of a Pilates Reformer bed), as advertised on the Shopping network and sold online. Yes, I tend to have my moments of exercise inspiration when sitting in front of a computer screen. Laugh if you must, but this time I really thought I was on to a good thing - and for two solid weeks I dutifully stretched and toned myself with the help of Supreme Pilates creator and coach, Ellen Croft. It's just that then I sort of stopped.

I've had my reasons (read: excuses)... First off I was relocating from New York to London, so had to pack my machine away to ship it. And then once it arrived in the UK I kept it in its box because I was staying at a friends and I thought it more sensible to leave it under wraps so that it was more easily transportable when I finally found my new home. But now settled in my Clapham flat, poor Supreme is gathering dust in the corner of my bedroom - because the American DVDs of Ellen's programs that came with it aren't multi-regional and thus cannot be played through our DVD machine. The fact that the Supreme Pilates apparatus is perfectly functional without Ellen's class instructions is a point I choose not to focus on too deeply. I tell myself that I will once again stretch and tone and trim my figure with the help of its sturdy frame and springs when the time is right. Maybe at the weekend, maybe next week... just not right now.

For now I'll go for my morning power walks, drink lots of water and mind what I eat. Funny, how good weight management needn't cost a thing.