Rebelicious Magazine - Playing Dress Up... The Rebelicious Way!

For those of you who love to read about fashion and music but like a little more attitude, definitely check out www.rebeliciousmagazine.com. I recently added to this fabulous mag with a 'How to?' guide on dressing up without compromising your style.

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'No true alt girl wants to compromise her style but sometimes your trusty skinnies and Drop Dead vest just aren’t going to cut it. But that doesn’t mean to say something like Aunty So-and-So’s 60^th birthday should see you in a pink fluffy dress and pumps. Oh no no. But how exactly do you still look unique when doing the formal thing, in a world where so many people are trying to look like us? (We should be flattered really…Shouldn’t we?)...' (Full article at : Rebelicious Magazine Online)

Love L x

Music: It's a love/hate thing...

'Oh you know, just hangin' out with Elton'

I can't decide whether I am a bit of a music snob or not. See I definitely am in the fact that uneducated fungi that fester at festivals (Oo good title) make me want to rip off their fluorescent Ray Ban knock offs to poke them relentlessly in the eyes with and only stop when they can name me another line of Sex on Fire that isn't 'Your sex is on fire, doo, doo, dooo.' But I'm also not, in the essence that, I'm not afraid to have my car windows open at a red light with Wet Wet Wet, Love is All Around on whilst singing the Love Actually, Bill Nighy version.

I love music. Fact. But I love LOTS of music. I don't hide the screen when my iTunes library is open just because it encompasses Britney, Christina, Spice Girls and to some extent... Green Day (Who, by the way, are apparently a band you probably shouldn't put in your 'Music' section on Facebook if you want to keep any friends. This is ridiculous. I will gladly stand up and say that I love American Idiot. Blame that album for the 'grom' infestation as much as you like but Billie and co inspired a heck of a load of kids. I know, I'm one of them.)

See to me, songs are not just songs, I'm pretty oversensitive about them. I will just cry. Sometimes I'll find an epic piece of instrumental music in a song and I’ll just loop that over and over. There's one song that always gets me, by my favourite band and I swear I could actually listen to that 1.13 minutes of music for the rest of my life.

Whenever I am asked what my favourite band is (Idlewild, in case you were wondering), I always add a disclaimer beforehand, as I don't want to come across as the kind of person who will purposely name a band nobody else has heard of, just to come across as superior. Oh dear, people that do that must seriously have no friends. It's as though a gig would only be worth going to if only they and the band showed up. Losers. Screw them and their quiffy haircuts and smelly, vintage shirts.

One thing that does annoy me, and truthfully, I'm SEMI guilty of it, is when people expect you to know every bloody fact about a band in order to validate your like for them. Otherwise, you're just a poser in their eyes. Oh give us a break will you? Jeez, the only band I seem to delve into the personal life of is McFly and that's only because their information comes with yummy photos and silly boyish jokes (Just because I don't know Ian MacKaye's favourite colour does not mean I don't know who he is.)

And I am guilty at both ends of this spectrum. I once owned an Iron Maiden t-shirt, not because I liked the music but because I liked the design on the front and years later I'm still being abused for it. I did this, yet at the same point in my life, I was under the impression that you had to name at least 5 songs by a band in order to wear their t-shirt (Practice what you preach, I know, blah blah blah). Now I think it's 7 songs? No, an album? No, all respective members’ dates of birth? Ah who the heck knows?

Perhaps one thing that makes me less of a snob is that I'm proud to say that I discovered everyone's favourite, 2010 indie princess at the grace of my dad. Yes, Florence and the Machine's album Lungs was played in my dad’s car long before I could even drive my own. This is another album that 'grinds my gears' (Thanks Peter Griffin) too because now it seems a little bit unfashionable to like her. Of course, we do have Sky1 and BBC3 to blame for overusing its songs on their adverts but I can't understand how people can then turn this annoyance into denying that Florence Welsh has any talent. It's just one of those things in life like; The sky is blue, salt and vinegar are a couple, Jake Gyllenhaal is beautiful and Florence Welsh can sing.

I suppose really it’s the ‘fashionable’ element to music that bugs me the most. I do wear skinny jeans, pin badges and Vans but the difference is; I did it when magazines told me I shouldn’t and got ridiculed for it by people that I remember announcing they thought the RHCP were ‘goff’ music. I think that’s where music sort of loses its credibility now because people are too quick to either jump or dump the next big thing (Most of which I think you can‘t tell the difference between). I don’t know if I would prefer it if you had to prove your worth when you associate yourself with a band. Maybe introduce questionnaires on the door at gigs? Keep receipts when you buy an album to show you’re not on the bandwagon? Okay now I’m being a snob… I’ll stop.

Love L x

Model for a Morning

Last week I got a phone call from a friend who is currently studying Fashion at university. She asked me to do her a favour and spend a morning modelling her designs. Sure, I am quite a posy person; I can’t go past a mirror, window heck even a spoon without checking out my reflection. I’ve even adopted a walk that could be mistaken for a strut which, let’s face it, doesn’t exactly belong in the ready meals aisle at ASDA. Nonetheless I was a little hesitant to agree to such a request. I can pose at my own will, one of the great gifts Myspace left us with, and I can gracefully carry off a few metres in heels before elegantly stumbling but posing when someone else tells you to is something that I don’t have much luck with. I’ll normally find it the perfect time to start giggling about something totally irrelevant I found funny a week ago or get so nervous I just pull funny faces. Still in the spirit of friendship I decided to go along with it.

Tuesday morning came and I was introduced to the fashion department at her university. It’s pretty sad how intimidating a bunch of girls armed with moody faces and sewing needles can be. Anyway, I decided to shrug the intimidation off and move over to the clothes rail I was assigned to. If it had been anyone else I was doing this for I would have probably cringed at the thought of wearing clothes made on a fashion course, giant collars and concept clothing are not exactly my idea of fashion, however, this friend I trust, and she did not fail me. I was really excited to try on the fur coat and cute mini dress she had made and I didn’t miss the opportunity to throw in several hints about taking them home, all of which remained fruitless.

The time came for me to get changed and I was suddenly  sent into panic mode when I realised that I was expected to do this in one of the classrooms. I sheepishly walked into the room only to be confronted by a bunch of other girls all doing the same thing. Never in my life did I expect to be stood in my tights and bra in the middle of a full university classroom, I was just thankful she’d told me to wear matching underwear. I scanned the room, as you do, hoping to get a glimpse of what some of the other girls were being forced to wear, and shamefully hoping to see something unfortunate. Yep, sure as anything there was. I looked over to smile at one disappointed looking girl, who had been held hostage in what can only be described as Harry Hill’s female twin’s party outfit.

Finally, we had to go into a room to be judged. I walked in and placed myself in front of a panel of 5 people, all of which were of some importance in the fashion industry. I was dying a little inside, my knee wouldn’t stop twitching and I just didn’t know where to look, fearing that if I looked one of them in the eye they would kill me or god forbid ask me a question. I felt like a complete doll. I didn’t expect to be poked and prodded at like I was a strange food you play about with not knowing whether to eat it or not. I began to see what it must be like to be one of those models on This Morning that have to stand there whilst Holly watches as the camp fashion guy pulls and adjusts the dress that the poor woman is wearing.

It was then that I realised how unimportant to the process I actually was. They don’t care about the model, you’re just a clothes rail with arms and legs. It was kind of embarrassing when I was asked to walk and heard ‘Can you imagine that on a model sashaying down a runway?’ Gutted, I thought I’d put on my best model impression. Suddenly my grand moment had turned into Carrie Bradshaw’s infamous catwalk catastrophe, except without the falling over and I was asked to take off my heels as my stupid choice of tights kept rejecting them from my feet. A friendly but shameful ‘Oh you don’t wear heels do you?’ prompted my face to turn the same colour as my hair (Currently Cherry Red so you know). Still it was all in the name of being a friend and a size 10. It’s tough being beautiful!

Love L x

Dressing Like Nan

Walking through the shopping centre of a busy city, you are bound to come across some people who dress a little on the ‘odd’ side. The thing is I actually quite like the genuinely ‘odd’ look. Multicoloured tights, patchwork pieces, vibrant Doc’s, etc. But this is something that my mind just can’t comprehend; girls and boys that seem to want to dress like Nan and granddad. Where the heck did this come from?! You know who I am talking about. All over the place I am seeing chunky beige knit cardies, granny fringed shoes and bags that wouldn’t be out of place on a market stall with a man shouting ‘2 for a fiver!’

I remember a time when charity shops where a place only whispered about when your friend asked you where you got that ‘lovely’ dress from that your gran bought you and you wore just to be polite. Nowadays if you do happen to stuff the embarrassment of an Oxfam carrier bag away into a slightly cooler H&M one you’re suddenly throwing some sort of fashion statement away.

Anyway back to the point. I’m aware that no style is particularly new; they’re all just recycled ideas that we put our own modern spin on but to see a girl walking along with her grandparents and mistaking her for one of their pals from the bingo is just simply wrong. We’re not the first to reuse old styles. Look at the way our parents dressed when they were young, it may have not been completely new but at least they had the intelligence to add a little extra and not just shrink granddad's Christmas jersey.

I know exactly who is to blame for this travesty. Topshop. Honestly, if they put a neon bin bag on a window mannequin I swear that no less than a week later everyone would be donning the old Halloween costume trick of cutting armholes into a bin liner.

The contents of their stores are made up of flat caps, brogues, baggy jumpers and trousers that have that annoying, perfectly ironed line down the front. What perhaps surprised me more was that these ‘kooky’ people actually own an iron. There’s preppy; cute sweater vests, shirts and plimsolls and then there’s just plain OAP.

I just don’t get it, guys that want to wear brown loafers without any socks like they belong on some boat or golfing holiday. Stop it already, you’re not retired yet! Another thing that baffles me is the type of people that have adopted this style. For something that looks so twee and muted, the attitudes of ‘I’m-better-than- you- because- I- knitted- my- own- scarf’ completely contradict the clothes on their backs.

Whoever thought that this ‘idea’ was a good one well first of all; well done, you’re probably rich but second of all; what were you thinking? It’s boring, it’s not clever and (thanks again to Topshop) it’s expensive for something I could have swiped from my Nan’s wardrobe as she watched Coronation Street.

I’ll leave you with one final thought. I can’t honestly see how the style makes people feel attractive at an age where we can pretty much get away with whatever eccentric style we want. I put the question to a male mind and he simply replied in what I think sums this up quite nicely ‘Yeah but...who actually wants to kiss grandma?’

Unfortunately I have no example photos of this kind of dress (Thank bloody god.) So here's a nice pic of a dessert that smiled at me:

Love L x