Thursday, 9 August 2012
Sunday, 29 July 2012
Finding mojo
What's my writing mojo?
I've been trying to find it. It's hard.
You know, mojo - the sweet spot where you finally hit your stride and find your 'voice' - that distinctive style of writing that classifies your writing as truly yours.
Obviously the problem here is that I'm over thinking this (suprise surprise). I spend a lot of time reading - newspapers, magazines, blogs, books - and when I find a writer whose writing I really admire, I completely lose myself in reading anything and everything of theirs I can get my hands on. And inevitably my competitive streak kicks in and I start comparing their writing to mine (the Indian dog-eat-dog education system has ruined me! ).
Now obviously every writer has his or her own particular way of writing, their mojo, something that gives their words a voice and makes them distinctive. And it's difficult, almost impossible, for any other writer to imitate them.
There are loads of writers I admire. Here are a few just off the top of my head :
Zadie Smith - I must re-read her books. She is an intelligent writer - that's the best way I can describe her work. After reading her books, I wanted to pack up and join Oxford and read literature and write novels like 'White Teeth' in my spare time (obviously I was making several wild presumptions here- that A)Oxford would have me, B) I would have spare time and that C) I would be able to write a book half as intelligent as hers!)
Jennifer Egan - A recent discovery. I picked up ' A visit from the Goon Squad' - her Pulitzer prize winning 2011 novel mainly because I was er.. fascinated by the name of the book :/ . Nonetheless, this book is wonderful!! Its soaring narrative draws you in, and her writing is deceptively simple for such meandering, complex plot. I love how the different characters' lives weave in and out of each other - it's a style of writing I admire because I can't imagine the complexity involved in creating a narrative full of so many characters.
Marian Keyes - One of my all -time favourites. Her books are classified as chick-lit but they're really so much more. They're the most evolved form of chick-lit ever - full of dark humour, a witty irresprisible style of writing, idiosncratic characters and situational humour. I am a huge fan! Even more so because Marian suffers from severe depression and it's beautiful how she manages to write such wonderful funny books despite it all.
The only thing these authors have in common is that their writing seems effortless and their voice so distinctive. They've definitely found their mojo!
And hopefully, if I work just a bit harder and write a bit more, I will too!
Till then the mojo hunt continues. ..
I've been trying to find it. It's hard.
You know, mojo - the sweet spot where you finally hit your stride and find your 'voice' - that distinctive style of writing that classifies your writing as truly yours.
Obviously the problem here is that I'm over thinking this (suprise surprise). I spend a lot of time reading - newspapers, magazines, blogs, books - and when I find a writer whose writing I really admire, I completely lose myself in reading anything and everything of theirs I can get my hands on. And inevitably my competitive streak kicks in and I start comparing their writing to mine (the Indian dog-eat-dog education system has ruined me! ).
Now obviously every writer has his or her own particular way of writing, their mojo, something that gives their words a voice and makes them distinctive. And it's difficult, almost impossible, for any other writer to imitate them.
There are loads of writers I admire. Here are a few just off the top of my head :
Zadie Smith - I must re-read her books. She is an intelligent writer - that's the best way I can describe her work. After reading her books, I wanted to pack up and join Oxford and read literature and write novels like 'White Teeth' in my spare time (obviously I was making several wild presumptions here- that A)Oxford would have me, B) I would have spare time and that C) I would be able to write a book half as intelligent as hers!)
Jennifer Egan - A recent discovery. I picked up ' A visit from the Goon Squad' - her Pulitzer prize winning 2011 novel mainly because I was er.. fascinated by the name of the book :/ . Nonetheless, this book is wonderful!! Its soaring narrative draws you in, and her writing is deceptively simple for such meandering, complex plot. I love how the different characters' lives weave in and out of each other - it's a style of writing I admire because I can't imagine the complexity involved in creating a narrative full of so many characters.
Marian Keyes - One of my all -time favourites. Her books are classified as chick-lit but they're really so much more. They're the most evolved form of chick-lit ever - full of dark humour, a witty irresprisible style of writing, idiosncratic characters and situational humour. I am a huge fan! Even more so because Marian suffers from severe depression and it's beautiful how she manages to write such wonderful funny books despite it all.
The only thing these authors have in common is that their writing seems effortless and their voice so distinctive. They've definitely found their mojo!
And hopefully, if I work just a bit harder and write a bit more, I will too!
Till then the mojo hunt continues. ..
Saturday, 21 July 2012
Things I will never be
I read something somewhere recently where the author was recounting all the things she will never be. And it completely inspired me to do a similar post. Because all of us are striving all the time to be a better version of ourselves.And while this is an admirable ambition, sometimes it's just a bit exhausting trying to constantly better yourself. And sometimes it's just nice to be able to throw down your weapons, put your feet up and declare truce with your little foibles.
So here's my list. Which is by no means comprehensive. Obviously.
1. I will never be an efficient delegator -
Believe me I've tried. I've tried being all steely eyed and straight backed and clickety-clackety with my heels and barking out orders to my team and delegating all the work that needs to be done. However, I can't get rid of the nagging suspicions that nobody can do anything better than me (I know.. Hello modesty!) and so I'm mostly always dissatisfied with the results of my delegation and just end up re-doing it all myself.
2. I will never be a person who just 'lets go'
I really want to though. It's very true that when things are tough and unpredictable - sometimes you just have to let them be and they will either a) resolve themselves or b) you will benefit from the distance and gain some perspective and then they won't seem so bad any longer. And I understand the logic of that but when I'm in one of these tough situations, all I want to do is fix it somehow, some way , right there and then. It's hard. On me.
3. I will never be a person who can layer clothes.
You know how they show you in fashion magazines - all these tips and tricks for layering up and wearing a jacket over a printed shirt over a cute vest over another cute vest with 4 trinket style necklaces hanging at just the right length - and it all comes together as the perfect summer look? Well, news flash - I've tried that look and it just makes me look like a homeless person who has to wear all her clothes all at once because otherwise where else would she put them?
And all those trinket style necklaces? Well, I can never find enough of them that work together. I mean in what world do a skull and sparrow go together?
And there's no point telling me that they're not meant to go together.. because I just don't work like that. So there.
4. I will never be a person who does things last minute.
My husband is good like that. He manages to make last minute look sexy because he does so many things just before the time they're meant to be done and he does them well (whatever showoff)
But I just can't! I really need to have everything sorted beforehand otherwise I have a major panic. I live in constant fear of 'what if'? Here. Sample my current one.
What if I people at my housewarming party tonight don't have enough to eat because I underestimated the food and now they all hate me for starving them. Oh and I'm also a major cliche because I'm the 'fashion' types who doesn't serve food at her party because all fashion people survive on crackers anyway. Social doom.
So those are some things I will never be for now.
(Lots) more to follow.
Till next time !
So here's my list. Which is by no means comprehensive. Obviously.
1. I will never be an efficient delegator -
Believe me I've tried. I've tried being all steely eyed and straight backed and clickety-clackety with my heels and barking out orders to my team and delegating all the work that needs to be done. However, I can't get rid of the nagging suspicions that nobody can do anything better than me (I know.. Hello modesty!) and so I'm mostly always dissatisfied with the results of my delegation and just end up re-doing it all myself.
2. I will never be a person who just 'lets go'
I really want to though. It's very true that when things are tough and unpredictable - sometimes you just have to let them be and they will either a) resolve themselves or b) you will benefit from the distance and gain some perspective and then they won't seem so bad any longer. And I understand the logic of that but when I'm in one of these tough situations, all I want to do is fix it somehow, some way , right there and then. It's hard. On me.
3. I will never be a person who can layer clothes.
You know how they show you in fashion magazines - all these tips and tricks for layering up and wearing a jacket over a printed shirt over a cute vest over another cute vest with 4 trinket style necklaces hanging at just the right length - and it all comes together as the perfect summer look? Well, news flash - I've tried that look and it just makes me look like a homeless person who has to wear all her clothes all at once because otherwise where else would she put them?
And all those trinket style necklaces? Well, I can never find enough of them that work together. I mean in what world do a skull and sparrow go together?
And there's no point telling me that they're not meant to go together.. because I just don't work like that. So there.
4. I will never be a person who does things last minute.
My husband is good like that. He manages to make last minute look sexy because he does so many things just before the time they're meant to be done and he does them well (whatever showoff)
But I just can't! I really need to have everything sorted beforehand otherwise I have a major panic. I live in constant fear of 'what if'? Here. Sample my current one.
What if I people at my housewarming party tonight don't have enough to eat because I underestimated the food and now they all hate me for starving them. Oh and I'm also a major cliche because I'm the 'fashion' types who doesn't serve food at her party because all fashion people survive on crackers anyway. Social doom.
So those are some things I will never be for now.
(Lots) more to follow.
Till next time !
Thursday, 31 May 2012
Getting Married 101
Of late I've been obsessed with weddings.
I guess it was only natural. Apparently, an average girl spends 80% of her time between the ages of 13-25 daydreaming about -
a) The perfect man
b) How to find him
c) How to get him to marry her
Ok fine, I just made that up. But it's a fairly reasonable statistic to believe, don't you think?
Anyway, that (made up) statistic doesn't really apply to me because I'm not really
a) An average girl
b) Too much of a daydreamer
c) erm .. between 13-25
(What is it about this post that is making me write in bullet points??)
So while I've spent a fair amount of time dreaming about The Perfect Man, I don't really think I ever really got into the practicalities of how exactly I would find him or he would find me. Or of what exactly we would do once we had found each other.
And once you've gone away and washed your filthy minds with soap- I meant how exactly would we choose to live our lives together - get married, have kids etc etc. ;)
One of the greatest pearls of wisdom I have achieved in recent times (all on my own, yay!) is that relationships need to be handled very pragmatically. Yes, yes, this may be common knowledge to the world and it's aunt but I'm a bit slow.
And nowhere is the pragmatism more evidently in play than when you decide to get married. Suddenly the rose-tinted glasses and hazy edges the world had acquired during your courtship period, vanish and you are faced with two sets of parents eyeing each other warily, heightened emotions and major life-or-death decisions ( what date? where? who's invited? )
It's as if your life is effectively hijacked by this BIG DECISION you have taken. And whereas earlier it was just the two of you coochie-cooing and taking leisurely strolls in the park, now suddenly the families have a stake in this relationship and they're not afraid to remind you of it anytime, anywhere.
For the most part, the wedding planning period is spent managing egos, desires and differences. An oft used phrase by the parents is 'but I only want the best for you..' delivered in a mildly quivering voice that hits you right where it's meant to hurt, reminding you of all the years and years of nappy changing and hand holding they've done and you can't even agree to get married in that particular shade of red they want? The cheek! The phrase 'emotional blackmail' hovers around constantly in the background.
It's emotionally exhausting trying to
a) Plan the wedding
b) Build new relationships while valiantly maintaining the ones you currently have
c) Be the Happy Blushing Bride (because you know, you're supposed to)
It's a tough juggling act worsened by the fact that everyone, everyone is constantly telling you that you must enjoy this time because you will never be a bride again. Oh My God.
It's almost like you don't have a license to be sad, nervous, worried, tired, crabby, cribby etc etc.
So yeah, I wish someone had told me it was going to be a tough ride.
Because I sure as hell am going to tell all brides to be - It's tough, tiring and traumatising.
But totally worth it.. :)
I guess it was only natural. Apparently, an average girl spends 80% of her time between the ages of 13-25 daydreaming about -
a) The perfect man
b) How to find him
c) How to get him to marry her
Ok fine, I just made that up. But it's a fairly reasonable statistic to believe, don't you think?
Anyway, that (made up) statistic doesn't really apply to me because I'm not really
a) An average girl
b) Too much of a daydreamer
c) erm .. between 13-25
(What is it about this post that is making me write in bullet points??)
So while I've spent a fair amount of time dreaming about The Perfect Man, I don't really think I ever really got into the practicalities of how exactly I would find him or he would find me. Or of what exactly we would do once we had found each other.
And once you've gone away and washed your filthy minds with soap- I meant how exactly would we choose to live our lives together - get married, have kids etc etc. ;)
One of the greatest pearls of wisdom I have achieved in recent times (all on my own, yay!) is that relationships need to be handled very pragmatically. Yes, yes, this may be common knowledge to the world and it's aunt but I'm a bit slow.
And nowhere is the pragmatism more evidently in play than when you decide to get married. Suddenly the rose-tinted glasses and hazy edges the world had acquired during your courtship period, vanish and you are faced with two sets of parents eyeing each other warily, heightened emotions and major life-or-death decisions ( what date? where? who's invited? )
It's as if your life is effectively hijacked by this BIG DECISION you have taken. And whereas earlier it was just the two of you coochie-cooing and taking leisurely strolls in the park, now suddenly the families have a stake in this relationship and they're not afraid to remind you of it anytime, anywhere.
For the most part, the wedding planning period is spent managing egos, desires and differences. An oft used phrase by the parents is 'but I only want the best for you..' delivered in a mildly quivering voice that hits you right where it's meant to hurt, reminding you of all the years and years of nappy changing and hand holding they've done and you can't even agree to get married in that particular shade of red they want? The cheek! The phrase 'emotional blackmail' hovers around constantly in the background.
It's emotionally exhausting trying to
a) Plan the wedding
b) Build new relationships while valiantly maintaining the ones you currently have
c) Be the Happy Blushing Bride (because you know, you're supposed to)
It's a tough juggling act worsened by the fact that everyone, everyone is constantly telling you that you must enjoy this time because you will never be a bride again. Oh My God.
It's almost like you don't have a license to be sad, nervous, worried, tired, crabby, cribby etc etc.
So yeah, I wish someone had told me it was going to be a tough ride.
Because I sure as hell am going to tell all brides to be - It's tough, tiring and traumatising.
But totally worth it.. :)
Tuesday, 29 November 2011
Eggs in a Basket
Do you ever get the feeling that you want to just let go and run screaming at the top of your lungs down the road, up the hill, across a bridge or wherever it is that you can run to?
I do.
This year has been tumultuous to say the least. I've covered a lot of distance (not in geographical miles, but in life miles) this year. But in the process, I think I've lost a little bit of myself somewhere along the way. Just the other day, I was on the tube to work and out of nowhere, a thought popped into my head. A thought that I would look back upon this year as the year that I lost my innocence.
Ok it's not as traumatic and boo-hoo as it sounds. What I mean is I've just dealt with way too many life changing situations, decisions and moral dilemmas this year. I've been let down by people really close to me. I've had moments of intense vulnerability and for the first time this year, I've found myself alone, truly alone, in dealing with them. For the first time I haven't had a single person to turn and talk to. And this is mainly to do with the fact that I felt like the situation was mine alone to deal with.
Call me strange, but this is a new experience for me. I pride myself on having a strong support network, one that has stood me in stead in worse times.
But this time, I put my heart, soul and faith into one person - the emotional equivalent of putting all my eggs in one basket - and was let down. Rather badly. Trust was shaken, heart was chipped etc etc. So yeah, it was bad.
And so now the question remains for me to ask myself - can I teach myself to trust this basket (no that wasn't a typo) again? Can I put all my eggs (love, faith, trust, happiness, strength) into this basket again?
I think it takes a certain amount of old world naivete, of blue eyed innocence to trust like that.
And I just need to make up my mind and my heart if I can.
-----
On a different note, I updated my iPhone 4 software yesterday after my sister's insistent nagging. And I muttered and moaned my way through all 58 mins of the software update. But what's this? My 14 month old phone feels like a brand new one. It's snazzier, sharper and more gizmo -ey and I've fallen in love with it all over again.
Perhaps there's a life lesson in that.
I'll leave it for my heart to figure it out.
I do.
This year has been tumultuous to say the least. I've covered a lot of distance (not in geographical miles, but in life miles) this year. But in the process, I think I've lost a little bit of myself somewhere along the way. Just the other day, I was on the tube to work and out of nowhere, a thought popped into my head. A thought that I would look back upon this year as the year that I lost my innocence.
Ok it's not as traumatic and boo-hoo as it sounds. What I mean is I've just dealt with way too many life changing situations, decisions and moral dilemmas this year. I've been let down by people really close to me. I've had moments of intense vulnerability and for the first time this year, I've found myself alone, truly alone, in dealing with them. For the first time I haven't had a single person to turn and talk to. And this is mainly to do with the fact that I felt like the situation was mine alone to deal with.
Call me strange, but this is a new experience for me. I pride myself on having a strong support network, one that has stood me in stead in worse times.
But this time, I put my heart, soul and faith into one person - the emotional equivalent of putting all my eggs in one basket - and was let down. Rather badly. Trust was shaken, heart was chipped etc etc. So yeah, it was bad.
And so now the question remains for me to ask myself - can I teach myself to trust this basket (no that wasn't a typo) again? Can I put all my eggs (love, faith, trust, happiness, strength) into this basket again?
I think it takes a certain amount of old world naivete, of blue eyed innocence to trust like that.
And I just need to make up my mind and my heart if I can.
-----
On a different note, I updated my iPhone 4 software yesterday after my sister's insistent nagging. And I muttered and moaned my way through all 58 mins of the software update. But what's this? My 14 month old phone feels like a brand new one. It's snazzier, sharper and more gizmo -ey and I've fallen in love with it all over again.
Perhaps there's a life lesson in that.
I'll leave it for my heart to figure it out.
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
Blueberries and Oranges
Life is a patchwork of moments. Happy moments. Sad ones. Angry, frustrating, gut-wrenching, despairing ones.
And then there are those unassuming moments, fleeting but beautiful - they creep up on you, work themselves under your skin, wind into your hair, grab you by the throat, take your breath away and touch your soul - visceral, animal, alive.
We have a new intern K at work and she is such a character that I find myself increasingly fascinated by her and her stories and her life. She reminds me a lot of myself at her age - ambitious, motivated and yet naive and enthusiastic.
Anyway, this post isn't about her but something she said a couple of days ago.
K decided she thinks I'm a blueberry. Yes, a blueberry. You know, the fruit.
Considering she just threw this at me while I was in the middle of a complicated excel sheet, I was a bit blindsided. Recovering my composure, I wondered if it was even worth my time to ask her what exactly she meant. Before I could make up my mind, she announced that she thought R, my boyfriend, whom she had met very recently, was an orange.
Now that completely threw me off course.
Because you see, blueberries and oranges don't go together.
Have you ever heard of a blueberry and orange smoothie? A healthy orange and blueberry salad? No.
Oranges are fresh, zesty and pack a punch. Blueberries are mellow, flavourful and squishy.
So, they don't go together.
Clearly I was reading too much into one offhand remark and yet, I couldn't get it out of my head.
We've always been different, Him and I. We work differently but we always work together. And yet, K's offhand remark seemed to stir up some unpleasant thoughts. Were our differences so distinct and our personalities so individual so as to make us seem incompatible?
On the train back home that evening with R , I sat sulking, trying to talk some sense into myself. And when that didn't work (which to be honest, it never does), I turned to R and said, ' Do you think blueberries and oranges go together?'
To his credit, his face didn't register any surprise, nor did he show any inclination to move very far away from this very crazy woman. He heard me out as I expounded upon my oranges-and-blueberries-don't-go-together theory in great detail and with all the gravitas of recounting a major life issue.
I ended dramatically with ' So, have you EVER heard of a blueberry and orange smoothie?'
And he said ' But maybe that's what the world has been waiting for.'
And there it was. Perspective and Poetry all rolled into one moment.
I don't know how he does it.
And then there are those unassuming moments, fleeting but beautiful - they creep up on you, work themselves under your skin, wind into your hair, grab you by the throat, take your breath away and touch your soul - visceral, animal, alive.
We have a new intern K at work and she is such a character that I find myself increasingly fascinated by her and her stories and her life. She reminds me a lot of myself at her age - ambitious, motivated and yet naive and enthusiastic.
Anyway, this post isn't about her but something she said a couple of days ago.
K decided she thinks I'm a blueberry. Yes, a blueberry. You know, the fruit.
Considering she just threw this at me while I was in the middle of a complicated excel sheet, I was a bit blindsided. Recovering my composure, I wondered if it was even worth my time to ask her what exactly she meant. Before I could make up my mind, she announced that she thought R, my boyfriend, whom she had met very recently, was an orange.
Now that completely threw me off course.
Because you see, blueberries and oranges don't go together.
Have you ever heard of a blueberry and orange smoothie? A healthy orange and blueberry salad? No.
Oranges are fresh, zesty and pack a punch. Blueberries are mellow, flavourful and squishy.
So, they don't go together.
Clearly I was reading too much into one offhand remark and yet, I couldn't get it out of my head.
We've always been different, Him and I. We work differently but we always work together. And yet, K's offhand remark seemed to stir up some unpleasant thoughts. Were our differences so distinct and our personalities so individual so as to make us seem incompatible?
On the train back home that evening with R , I sat sulking, trying to talk some sense into myself. And when that didn't work (which to be honest, it never does), I turned to R and said, ' Do you think blueberries and oranges go together?'
To his credit, his face didn't register any surprise, nor did he show any inclination to move very far away from this very crazy woman. He heard me out as I expounded upon my oranges-and-blueberries-don't-go-together theory in great detail and with all the gravitas of recounting a major life issue.
I ended dramatically with ' So, have you EVER heard of a blueberry and orange smoothie?'
And he said ' But maybe that's what the world has been waiting for.'
And there it was. Perspective and Poetry all rolled into one moment.
I don't know how he does it.
Saturday, 12 November 2011
All that glitters
So it's my birthday soon. Now I'm like a child when it comes to my birthday. I start getting excited a month in advance, and am in an almost hyperactive state of excitement the closer I get to the big day.
Yes, I know it's probably extremely naff to still care about birthdays but I can't help it. There are some things that are worth keeping that childlike wonderment about and for me it's birthdays. I love waking up with that innocent joyous knowledge that today, on your birthday, nothing can go wrong, the sense of tingly anticipation at the thought of all the little gifts and surprises your loved ones are surely secreting somewhere for you, that certainty that it's your day and it's special and whatever you really really wish for will be yours. In the words of Paulo Coelho, the universe will conspire =)
So in order to help the universe along, I start randomly dropping supremely broad hints about all the beautiful things out there that I'm just dying to have ('Oh that pink hairdryer? yes, yes it's so beautiful. *deep sigh* if only I could buy it!', 'That gorgeous red fur lined lampshade would so totally fit in my bedroom! Hmm, if only I could justify it. On a completely unrelated note, did you know it's my birthday next week?' ).
I also make random plans with long lost acquaintances (ex-colleagues, friends of friends etc) on and around my birthday, only to cancel/postpone last minute by pretending as if I had completely forgotten it was my birthday so unfortunately I have to cancel as I have other plans, but we MUST catch up soon to have birthday drinks etc etc... It's a Sneaky plan to surreptitiously let them know of my birthday see? So now they'll HAVE to call/text and wish me on birthday day and I can feel all glowy and special that they remembered. Plus, I get free birthday drinks (you say sad, I say resourceful)!
So yeah, I basically turn into a nutter roundabout this time!
And this year, I managed to achieve (what I thought) was the unachievable. I bought a sparkly dress for my birthday! Considering I've been wanting one for like forever, this is BIG! And I know it probably even more naff to want a sparkly dress than it is to get excited about birthdays but who cares?
I had been on the hunt for a dress for my birthday. This is fairly unusual for me because I rarely ever need to buy dresses for occasions, mainly because I'm such a shopaholic that I usually have ten dresses on the go, and am frantically scrambling to come up with events and occasions to wear them to. So I'm not really good at finding clothes on a need to have basis, especially since I also truly believe that the more you look for particular clothes, the more elusive they become(life lesson that).
Anyway, this year I found myself in the unusual position of having an event - my birthday party with a few of my closest friends - but NO dress. Panic not, I said to myself, this is London, one of the best places to shop in the world. Fashionistas all over the world swear by London's high street.Surely, there was something out there for me?
Apparently not.
Seemingly, London's high street turns into a sequin covered horror story this close to Christmas, with everything on offer being either glittery, sparkly, shiny or shimmery. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't hate glitter and sparkle. In fact, I love it. In a parallel universe, I would only wear shimmery dresses and sleep in a sequinned bed snuggling into my glitter covered duvet.
But it's really hard to find a dress that is beautiful, sophisticated and that glimmers with a radiant light rather that rupturing your eyeballs with its brashness. Every single sparkly dress I came across was either cut so short that you couldn't bend down without flashing everyone, or cut so deep that you were in constant danger of 'boob escape' or cut so tight that you had to basically hobble everywhere.
So there I was, rapidly losing hope and conjuring up wild ideas in my sequin addled state.
I could wear an old dress and pretend as if it was brand new and if anyone dared suggest they had seen it earlier, give them an icy glare and banish them from my facebook friends list? Social ostracism at it's worst.
Perhaps I could turn up in my pyjamas and be all 'darlliiings this is the height of fashion' (Prada did do pyjamas on the runway two years ago, you know? So I wouldn't be completely insane)
And then I saw it.. a sparkly dress that wasn't ..short, wasn't ... cut down to the navel and wasn't cut for an anorexic 10 year old. I could barely believe it. It was a grown up but glamorous sparkly dress. I almost had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't hallucinating in my glitter induced despairing state.
True, it wasn't the most fabulous dress out there and it didn't take my breath away but when I put it on, I felt .. happy AND (this is going to sound ridiculous) sparkly!
And so I bought it. A sparkly dress that makes me sparkle!
I have a feeling it's going to be a great birthday ;)
Yes, I know it's probably extremely naff to still care about birthdays but I can't help it. There are some things that are worth keeping that childlike wonderment about and for me it's birthdays. I love waking up with that innocent joyous knowledge that today, on your birthday, nothing can go wrong, the sense of tingly anticipation at the thought of all the little gifts and surprises your loved ones are surely secreting somewhere for you, that certainty that it's your day and it's special and whatever you really really wish for will be yours. In the words of Paulo Coelho, the universe will conspire =)
So in order to help the universe along, I start randomly dropping supremely broad hints about all the beautiful things out there that I'm just dying to have ('Oh that pink hairdryer? yes, yes it's so beautiful. *deep sigh* if only I could buy it!', 'That gorgeous red fur lined lampshade would so totally fit in my bedroom! Hmm, if only I could justify it. On a completely unrelated note, did you know it's my birthday next week?' ).
I also make random plans with long lost acquaintances (ex-colleagues, friends of friends etc) on and around my birthday, only to cancel/postpone last minute by pretending as if I had completely forgotten it was my birthday so unfortunately I have to cancel as I have other plans, but we MUST catch up soon to have birthday drinks etc etc... It's a Sneaky plan to surreptitiously let them know of my birthday see? So now they'll HAVE to call/text and wish me on birthday day and I can feel all glowy and special that they remembered. Plus, I get free birthday drinks (you say sad, I say resourceful)!
So yeah, I basically turn into a nutter roundabout this time!
And this year, I managed to achieve (what I thought) was the unachievable. I bought a sparkly dress for my birthday! Considering I've been wanting one for like forever, this is BIG! And I know it probably even more naff to want a sparkly dress than it is to get excited about birthdays but who cares?
I had been on the hunt for a dress for my birthday. This is fairly unusual for me because I rarely ever need to buy dresses for occasions, mainly because I'm such a shopaholic that I usually have ten dresses on the go, and am frantically scrambling to come up with events and occasions to wear them to. So I'm not really good at finding clothes on a need to have basis, especially since I also truly believe that the more you look for particular clothes, the more elusive they become(life lesson that).
Anyway, this year I found myself in the unusual position of having an event - my birthday party with a few of my closest friends - but NO dress. Panic not, I said to myself, this is London, one of the best places to shop in the world. Fashionistas all over the world swear by London's high street.Surely, there was something out there for me?
Apparently not.
Seemingly, London's high street turns into a sequin covered horror story this close to Christmas, with everything on offer being either glittery, sparkly, shiny or shimmery. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't hate glitter and sparkle. In fact, I love it. In a parallel universe, I would only wear shimmery dresses and sleep in a sequinned bed snuggling into my glitter covered duvet.
But it's really hard to find a dress that is beautiful, sophisticated and that glimmers with a radiant light rather that rupturing your eyeballs with its brashness. Every single sparkly dress I came across was either cut so short that you couldn't bend down without flashing everyone, or cut so deep that you were in constant danger of 'boob escape' or cut so tight that you had to basically hobble everywhere.
So there I was, rapidly losing hope and conjuring up wild ideas in my sequin addled state.
I could wear an old dress and pretend as if it was brand new and if anyone dared suggest they had seen it earlier, give them an icy glare and banish them from my facebook friends list? Social ostracism at it's worst.
Perhaps I could turn up in my pyjamas and be all 'darlliiings this is the height of fashion' (Prada did do pyjamas on the runway two years ago, you know? So I wouldn't be completely insane)
And then I saw it.. a sparkly dress that wasn't ..short, wasn't ... cut down to the navel and wasn't cut for an anorexic 10 year old. I could barely believe it. It was a grown up but glamorous sparkly dress. I almost had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't hallucinating in my glitter induced despairing state.
True, it wasn't the most fabulous dress out there and it didn't take my breath away but when I put it on, I felt .. happy AND (this is going to sound ridiculous) sparkly!
And so I bought it. A sparkly dress that makes me sparkle!
I have a feeling it's going to be a great birthday ;)
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