What The Season Brings: Jumper Shopping

The curtain has evidently fallen on Britain's unexpected Indian Summer, which can only mean that fluffy socks, wooly scarves, bobbly jumpers and Starbucks' red Christmas cups are lurking just around the corner. My preparations for the coming cold began a couple of weeks ago. Like a pioneer on the American homestead I have diligently harvested every charity shop and supermarket for warm clothes, seasonal veg and tinned soup, just in case we get hit by a Bristol blizzard and a quick trip to Tesco or Reg the Veg transforms into a life threatening expedition requiring ice-picks and skis. I have recently discovered that my windows are not double-glazed and since they take up most of my outside wall, my mornings are spent huddled under the covers, like the warm left-overs of last nights' meal might snuggle under the plastic tupperware when placed in the fridge. Therefore jumpers have become quite a necessity.

My annual Christmas jumper hunt was targeted predominantly at Gloucester Road: the edgy, bohemian, free spirited part of town. Louis and I screeched down the street, ruthlessly looting (legally) charity shops of their woollen (or polyester) goods. His jumper purchase was a lot more festive than mine, but I'm really pleased with my practical, cosy choices. We finished up in Cafe Kino (our new favourite place - blog post to come!) donning our acquisitions despite the fiery heat of the mid-Autumn sun and proudly sipping our ethical beverages. I'd really like to encourage you all to look at charity shops and ebay for your Christmas knitwear - not only is it so much cheaper and better for the environment/society, you're also more likely to find authentic, well made, better quality garments. For example, one of my finds was a long black jumper made up of 70% wool and 30% silk and it cost me a grand total of £6. Talk about a steal!

What are your autumn/winter essentials?

Creative Impulses

It's Saturday morning, which in itself is loaded with potential. Like every other day since returning to Brizzle, I have woken up to the smooth and sophisticated sounds of BBC Radio 3, clasping in my hands, a piping hot mug of tea and balancing my bible on my thighs. I read over Pslam 16 - it's basically the psalm of my life right now, every verse is relevant to this day, check it out. The to-do list has just been written and apart from being a pile of yawn (except the 'learn songs for 'Anything Goes' callbacks this afternoon' - that's gonna be fun) it's also frustratingly uncreative. All I want to do is sit in a cafe and write pretentious thoughts in my journal, instead I'm going to be sitting in a cafe writing a German essay about recycling or something lame like that. Above are the notebooks I long to fill with interesting and meaningful ideas. My friend Gemma bought them for me from a quirky shop in Covent Garden a couple of weeks ago and I'm in LOVE with them. I always feel this pressure with awesome stationary to do something significant with it, maybe I should write my poems down in one of them or dedicate another to theatre ideas or perhaps use one for the music theory which I intend to learn eventually!

But all this fussing is futile for today refuses to embrace the filling-up of these smooth bound books of lined paper, instead it's pushing me down a road of practicality where I will spend my morning with my head under a towel steaming my sinuses with olbas oil and then proceed to battle my way through 'Die Leidung des Junges Werthers' whilst I stare in awe at the fiery autumn sun and try to suppress, until appropriate, all my creative impulses. YAY for Saturday.

I wish you all a pleasant weekend. Anyone doing anything exciting?

Where Lipstick is concerned...

There's a part in Breakfast at Tiffany's where Audrey Hepburn's character, Holly Golightly, asserts that 'a woman can't read that sort of thing without her lipstick'. The 'thing' that she is referring to is a letter from José, her Brazilian lover, telling her that he has returned to his homeland alone and doesn't intend to marry her after all. Before she hears the words of the letter, she insists that Fred wait for her to apply her lipstick. Now I'm not here to gush about how great Breakfast at Tiffany's is, but this particular scene sums up the reason why I and many other women wear lipstick - to feel confident.

Now perhaps this confidence translates as sex appeal, for indeed when you hear the word 'lipstick' you are likely envisage that daring shade of red which hangs tentatively on the border of sophisticated and slutty. Get it right and you'll be another Marilyn, get it wrong and you'll end up looking like a porn star or Miss Hannigan from Annie (or if you're unfortunate, both) In the patriarchal societies of yesteryear, lipstick wearers were prostitutes or at least considered as such. However, as female empowerment has increased attitudes to lip colour have changed. The suffragists and suffragettes are said to have worn lipstick to rebel against convention, the 80s woman is said (according to my quick skim-read of google results) to have considered her Lippenstift as an essential part of her 'power suit' - her weapon against the dense glass ceiling she pushed against on a daily basis. I believe that lipstick has become less about seduction and more about confidence. Fashion magazines allude to the 'boldness' of wearing lipstick, implying that the stark contrast between skin and lip colour that the stuff induces requires a certain amount of intrepidity if it is to be considered a success.

In my generation there is a sense of lipstick being the lip covering of the daring and the sophisticated; the woman who wants to stand out. I have recently become a fan, not necessarily for the reasons stated above, but rather because when I hear the word lipstick it instantly conjures up connotations of Hollywood Glamour, classy, well dressed women, smart outfits and schmaltzy evenings filled with full moons and wafting jazz music - if you like, an amalgamation of Gatsby's cocktail parties and Rosie the Riveter's WW2 posters. Two of my favourite things.

I particularly like the aesthetics of lipstick. I'm not one for shiny things: diamonds are not my best friend. I like pearls, I like my colours matte, I like my printed photos matte and I like my face to be shine-free - hence I was never much of a gloss wearing teenager. I have recently bought possibly my favourite lipstick of ALL time - it's by Aldi's Lacura brand and costs about £1.99. Not only does it act as a lip moisturiser, it also smells divine and the colour reminds me of all the crimson leaves I see around Bristol - so perhaps it's a seasonal look rather than a year in year out investment. But I love how it makes my face feel complete, how the contrast of pale skin, brown eyebrows and pink lips establishes definition and therefore requires a lot less make-up. After application, I feel ready to stroll confidently down the street, swinging my arms and grinning widely with my pained smile. I wear lipstick for confidence.

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See? No seduction to be seen.

What do you wear to feel confident?

What The Season Brings: Pumpkin Spiced Latte

Soooo it's Autumn (yay!) I've done all the obligatory activities associated with the falling leaves, like buying stationary, ordering books, attending induction lectures, enduring Fresher's Fair, starting new notebooks (all things I LOVE) but I have yet to indulge in the more festive side of the season. So I thought I'd start a regular post called 'What The Season Brings' where I have to do a couple of seasonal activities a month and blog about them, otherwise time is going to get the better of me and I'm going to miss out on a lot of fun. Hopefully you'll enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy experiencing and posting them :-)

First up is the Pumpkin Spiced Latte. Now this particular beverage seems to be the sacred nectar of every lifestyle blog and twitter account on the web - everyone is raving about it. I always thought it was an exclusively American thing because I'd never seen it sold in any of my frequented Starbucks however, whilst mooching around Clifton I saw that Coffee 1 had an Autumn Drinks Menu and low and behold it included a Pumpkin Spiced Latte. I made a mental note to find someone, anyone to go on a coffee date with so that I could taste this much sought after flavoured coffee. A week later, I hurried excitedly down Clifton High-Street with Louis to Coffee 1 where I proudly ordered my first ever Pumpkin Latte. The barista, a friend of mine, looked at me like I was crazy 'You want a Pumpkin Spiced Latte? That sounds disgusting!' yet I was determined, utterly resolved to sample it, my mother's words ringing in my ears 'You won't know unless you try it'.

It's awful. I was so disappointed and yet I wasn't at all surprised. All I can say is that I'm so glad I ordered two drinks, the second being a regular, unflavoured latte; after the sickly, monstrously sweet tasting gourd based hot drink my mouth was pleading for something familiar. People should just never mess with coffee. I'm enraged that they even dare call it a latte - there was no coffee and if there was I certainly couldn't taste it! Thankfully Coffee 1's regular lattes are pretty incredible and Louis agreed to switch drinks (he needs the calories more than I do) so the whole experience wasn't a total disaster. Later, I also found this article from HelloGiggles where a fellow Pumpkin Spice Hater spews out her venomous views on flavoured coffee and, like me, is an avid Americano fan.

Basically sweet coffee is for whimps, the goodness is in the bitter after taste. Punkt.

Milan: Sunsets

I think the pictures say it all. Italy has beautiful sunsets. They took my breath away every single evening.

Milan: Waterfountains

One thing I absolutely LOVED about Milan were the water-fountains, partly because they look awesome, but also partly because it was free water - BOOM (take note Bristol)

These fountains are dotted all over the city and the suburbs and on my first night my host taught me the best way to drink from them. You place your middle finger underneath the spout so that the water rises and then you dip your head and drink as much as you possibly can. It was so refreshing!

But there are other ways to drink from them, like placing your bottle underneath (standard), one little girl used the cup of a kinder-egg surprise, another man just shoved his head underneath and hydrated his entire face and another couple cupped their hands so that the water made a little pool in their palms.

As you can see, I tried to take a detailed photo account of this experience and ended up spraying water everywhere. Such a tourist.

Milan

Okay, so I've been back nearly two weeks and still haven't posted anything about my crazy Milan adventure. It was a fantastic experience, one that I struggle to put into words, or rather I manage to put it into words but instantly become dissatisfied with my descriptions. However, I will endeavour to summarise the 7 days as eloquently as possible.

The DK guidebook describes the city as 'chic rather than attractive, a city of wealth as opposed to imagination'. This, for the most part, is a very fair description. Milan is not romantic, but it is elegant. It is proud, fashionable, uncompromising and especially honest (bordering on snobby). In September the tourists walk around in cut-offs and sandals, drowning in the humidity, whilst the locals are kitted out in slim feet jeans and heeled boots - not a drop of perspiration to be seen. I was a true victim of the climate. Me, a sweaty, fleshy white girl innocently wandering around in as few clothes as modesty would allow and consequently got refused entry into the Duomo!

We stick out like porcelain snowmen, with large cameras, loud voices and still hands, for the Milanese speak in hushed, dignified tones and gesticulate incessantly. Models are as common as tramps, hopping onto the Metro with their understated attire, long legs and clear plastic folders filled with beautiful, airbrushed photos. Dogs are everywhere and are often given better treatment than human beings. The children are like Prada clad Mowglis: mischievous and playful and despite their elegant attire look prone to scabby elbows and dirty knees. The teenagers are copper skinned, jean wearing, converse walking, backpack holding gangs, chattering excitedly and confidently striding around their city.

My time at the YWAM base, was a particular highlight. I had the opportunity to join in with their staff meetings and really feel like a part of their ministry. Every single person taught me something and inspired me to be more aware of God's daily whispers and to worship Him with more intergrity. My last night was spent dancing around to worship songs played by a large Italian builder on his guitar, whilst me and the other girls sang in a mixture of Italian, English and Russian. It was just gorgeous! I was also lucky enough to catch the backend of the Milan film festival, followed by 3 hours spent in a charismatic Catholic prayer meeting, which was enormously humbling and perspective changing. I spent a lot of time by myself, walking around the city or just reading quietly in the apartment. What I thought was going to be a crazy, manic week turned out to be a God-intitiated period of rest - just what I needed! That's the one thing I want to bring back to my life in England, as well as a passion for learning the Italian language. This year I need to prioritise rest (and language learning). I need to emulate the slightly more laid-back culture of the Italians and enjoy my surroundings without fretting that the time is flying by so quickly.