Reading 2010 - Day Two!

The very much 'before' shot.

Pacing ourselves was the name of the game on the Saturday of Reading - I had made the schoolboy error of drinking too early on the Friday, leaving me tired for the evening (not that I was particularly bothered about missing Guns n' Roses' shameful excuse of a set.)

Sophie and I are in the 2% minority of people who go to Reading hell bent on watching as many bands as possible, as opposed to getting off our heads. Hence why we tend to be in the arena from 12pm to 12am, usually legging it between tents and the main stage. Saturday was no exception, and it was all about the NME/Radio One stage for the second day, starting with me arriving just in time to watch some of Rolo Tomassi. Jesus that girl can scream. It's scary how such a big roar can come out of such a small person, but that's why we love them!
Everything Everything are excellent at producing intelligent indie pop songs, and their harmonies are incredible - but one thing this weekend taught me is that if I don't have an emotional connection with the music, sometimes my mind switches off. Not the case for Band of Skulls though, who are just so cool. In that old school, White Stripes-y, rock n' roll kinda way.

* I got a bit over excited later in the day when sitting down in the main field, only for the girl from Band of Skulls to walk past and stand near us. I did a weird trying to stand up then thinking better of it manouvre, which jsut caused me to fall in a heap on the floor. I decided not to hassle her, even though I think she is awesome! *

Just for old times sake, because we are part of the emo/dance party generation, we headed to watch some Hadouken, which was typically cheesy and silly. Good fun though, but all that dancing made the ice cream van our next port of call. Even if they were £2.50 each - don't even get me started on festival food prices! The bloody cheek of it.

We got our timetable out to plan the rest of the day, when a boy looked over our shoulder and asked who was on the Lock Up tent at that moment. "Some band called The Rats," I said, COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUSLY. "Oh, I heard they were actually Gallows" my new friend pipes up. I gave him the look of death and asked whether he was joking, but wasn't going to hang about just in case.


Running towards the tent, I suddenly heard "This is the captain of your ship!!!" and saw that the tent was packed out. There ain't no band called the Rats, for pete's sake! What an ignoramous! Frank Carter was up on stage giving his best angry man act and I was floating around outside eating an ice cream - something was very wrong here. The ice cream was quickly dispatched to the grass and I pushed my way in, right into the pit where I promptly got destroyed by the guys running around. Fools rush in, and all that. My legs don't look very pretty at the moment:


Anyway, after I fell down, I looked up to see my saviour in the form of a guy in a wheelchair, who reached down to help me up. My hero. Next thing I know, the guy has only started wheeling himself into the pit, ignoring our panic, and was swallowed up by the crowd. Everyone was freaking out, worried that he was going to get hurt. But we had nothing to fear - wheelchair guy was made of tougher stuff! We couldn't believe our eyes when he was hoisted up in the air and started crowd surfing to the front!

A.MA.ZING.

After that, I felt my weekend was complete, and was grinning with hysterical happiness the rest of the day.

Still happy from Gallows, waiting for Enter Shikari to play Sorry You're Not a Winner. it had to be done.

Cancer Bats were seriously good, Crystal Castles was the biggest rave I have ever seen (love Alice and her kerazy stage antics!) Enter Shikari were a blast from the past and watching the Libertines was a truly special moment. I know Arcade Fire were the official headliners, and they were magical, but seeing Pete and Carl back on stage together was something I felt privileged to witness.

All together now: "Awwwwwww"

TBC...

GL


PS This is how truly rock n'roll I am - all that running and dancing had completely wiped me out, but thankfully I had a hotel to stay in this weekend. So after leaving the arena I went back to my room and collapsed on the bed, watching the Bodyguard! Gotta love a bit of Whitney after all that rock!

Images: Sophie, Rocksound, BBC

Fangirls, Secret Shows and A Crowdsurfing Wheelchair: Reading 2010!

*Tries to lift hands to type but arms ache too much*

(2 hours later)

Another Reading weekend over and I made it out alive - by the skin of my teeth.
I'm going to have to vacuum pack all the stories in order to fit it all in one post so bear with me, I'll see you on the other side!

Day One: The One Where I - Nearly - Met Ian Watkins

Friday traditionally starts with a 12 noon mad dash for the mainstage, as my pal Sophie and I begin our epic 30-bands-in-a-weekend marathon. Young Guns and A Day to Remember set the tone for the weeekend, as we settled into the festival atmosphere with a bottle of lukewarm vodka lemonade and a dizzy sense of anticipation. Lovely...

There is no way around it, the mud was pretty unpleasant, and a quick trip out of the arena towards the campsite ended in me doing a weird hopping about dance, in order to prevent myself being sucked into the squelchy bog. (Discovery of the weekend, DMs beat wellies hands down on the comfort factor. Not having flappy rubber boots assaulting my calf muscles all weekend was somewhat blissful. However they become an embarassingly epic fail when the mud starts to rise above ankle height.) I soon gave up on that game and headed back in to assume the position for Lostprophets.

Call me a fangirl, call me a groupie, I don't really care. Especially not a time of writing; the early hours of the morning when I am feeling tired, emotional and with a bad case of the post-festival blues. It's like PMT but way more dramatic - I could cry at any moment.

I love Lostprophets and will idolise Ian Watkins for as long as I can get away with, or at least until he hangs up the microphone and MEGA LOLZ t-shirts for good (nice to see the old backdrop!) Bless his little Welsh socks, but the poor boy clearly had a sore throat and the high notes just weren't happening! Although once the crowd warmed up with a few singalongs and he had a sneaky Strepsil (so hardcore) the scream was back. I was down the front, dancing and probably damaging the hearing of those around me with my enthusiastic (read: dreadful) singing.

The powers that be had decided in their WISDOM that the perfect time for Lostprophets to do a signing was directly after they had performed on the mainstage. So true fans had the choice between watching them play or queueing for two hours to meet them. My greedy self decided to try and do both, so we legged it down the field straight after their set to join the queue. To cut a long story short, I spent a long while making friends with the lovely girls waiting with me (the line was 80% women, unsuprisingly) only to eventually get to the front and be told that the boys weren't signing anymore autographs.

Our howls were rewarded by a quick visit from Mike and Lee who signed my poster, while Ian posed with girls on the other side. He wandered towards our side, so my heart started skipping all manner of beats, only to sign one autograph BEFORE WALKING AWAY. I could not belive it. My new 16 year old friends had to console me as I basically had a mini nervous breakdown in the middle of a field. What an idiot. As my Mum said, when I rang in hysterics, '"He's only a boy." Yes Mum, but he is THE boy, and I recall her story of falling to pieces when she met her girlhood idol, David Essex. We're all the same.

Friday wasn't my favourite day for music, but I feel like an awful lot of screaming and dancing was done anyway. We popped into Marina's set just to see what she was wearing and were heartily disappointed by a long black velvet number. Come on Marina, this is Reading! Sick of It All, the nutcases that are Gogol Bordello and very wasted Josh Homme were my saviours and when I heard 'No one Knows', I knew it was going to be a great weekend...

To be continued!

GL

(Image: Rocksound)

The End Is Nigh For American Apparel?

This was the least risque ad I could find. Seriously.

Watch out, longtime lovers of the deep-v tee. If Internet rumours are to be believed, the financial authorities may be calling time on American Apparel due to an overdue quarterly report. There are also multiple threatening lawsuits being banded about plus a re-shuffling of the company's auditors and accountants.

For fashionistas who don't speak Stock Exchange, this is basically Very Bad News. 2010 could see the dark day when American Apparel shuts up shop forever and its customers will be left listlessly roaming the (trendier) streets of the world's coolest cities, going through new t-shirt withdrawal. They may turn to the Gap or Benetton to try and make going cold turkey from AA a little easier, but it won't work – quite simply, when it comes to super stylish basics, no one does it better than Dov Charney.

Having started American Apparel way back in 1989, using his university dorm as headquarters, Charney created a brand that seemed unstoppable. Having enjoyed the fastest expansion in American retail history, the company now has over 200 stores worldwide, including 15 in the UK. AA prides itself on paying all workers an above average wage, including the 4000 people working in the LA factory. However one of the tipping points that began the company’s demise was a raid on that factory in 2009, which led to the discovery of 1500 illegal immigrant workers. Since then, it has been a downward spiral of financial problems for this formerly glorious brand.

If the curtain does fall prematurely on the Mecca for all things jersey, I want to be prepared. This is my shopping list of the American Apparel 'Greatest Hits' – pieces that changed the way we did basics, and the AA classics people just won't be able to live without. And yes, I will take one in every colour.

THE SHEER SHIRT

Chiffon Oversized Button Up (£55)

THE TUBE MINI

Interlock Mini Skirt (£22)

THE BEST LEGGINGS

High Waisted Legging (£24)

THE GRANNY SHOES

Lana Shoe (£65)

THE DEEP V-TEE

Jersey Short Sleeve Deep V Neck (£16)

THE SEXY SLINKY DRESS

Velvet double U dress (£39)

THE ‘LITTLE GIRL’ SOCKS

Socks (£8)

THE BODY THAT STARTED IT ALL

Jersey double-u long sleeve bodysuit (£32)

Don't go, AA, don't go. We'll miss you!

GL

All images American Apparel - obviously!

'Tits Are Obviously In The Air This Season"

Now THAT is how you start an Editor's letter. Katie Grand shows us how it's done in the opening pages of LOVE, which was out yesterday.

I have already mentioned how excited I was about this issue, predominantly because of the incredible covers. The girls of the moment, alongside the women of yesterday, were chosen as pin-ups for 'The Gorgeous Issue'.

Now, multiple collector's edition covers may seem frivolous in a time when people are loathe to spend £5 on a magazine. But personally, I think it's a genius idea! This is exactly why I love printed magazines - I could not wait to hold a copy in my sticky little hands, and spent all day deliberating which cover to buy. This wouldn't have been the case if I was just going to download it - I got genuinely excited about going on a late night trip to the newsagents (the weird one that is still open at 9pm in Spitalfields, gotta love a 24hr magazine fix).

And then I stood there, just staring at them in all their Mert and Marcus glory, for a good ten minutes. The shopkeepers were looking a little peturbed.

But seriously though. Just look at them.


Of course I opted for Rosie giving her best Jessica Rabbit face, and making the most of her B-cups. The power of these images is so great, I didn't even look inside the magazine before I bought it. I can't remember the last time I did that.

The truly amazing thing about this issue is that it captures all aspects of modern beauty, from the ultimately feminine shape of Liv Tyler to the androgynous, captivating beauty of Aggy Deyn.


Over a year ago now, I wrote my dissertation on the subject of 'burlesque, glamour and the return to sexuality in fashion.' Putting the burlesque aspect to one side, I am so happy to see my theories about a perceived shift in our attitudes towards the female body, especially in fashion images, becoming reality.

Love magazine celebrates sheer, unadulterated sex appeal in all of this issue's shoots, and the results are truly compelling. Our idea of womanly perfection has changed *coughElleMacphersoncough* and I love being surprised by beauty in all it's myriad forms.

PS I heard on the grapevine yesterday that Crystal Renn is rumoured to be the new face of Chanel. If so, times really are a'changin!

GL

(All images Mert and Marcus, Love Magazine)

The London Diaries: Living the Dream + Sneak Peak at New TOPSHOP Makeup!

Well, that's a catchy post title if ever I heard one. Nevertheless, I trust the allure of new season Topshop makeup was sufficient to spike your curiosity.

Having left leafy Sussex at the weekend, this has been my first proper week as a bonafide Londoner, and everything still feels new and intriguing. The novelty factor has given me boundless energy rushes in the evening after work, because I am so intent on not missing out on everything that is happening on my doorstep. (Actually, the main 'happening' on my doorstep this week was some delightful curry sick, but that's what you get for living on Brick Lane.)

On Wednesday and Thursday, both balmy evenings with the impending threat of a thunderstorm, I decided conditions were perfect for some explorations. I'm still a naive newbie in this town, so dutifully empty my pockets/bag of any potential mugger's loot before I leave the house. I figure the probability factor of me getting mugged is pretty high - it's kinda hard to hide in the shadows with white blonde hair - so I am preparing myself for such event. Not gonna make it any more profitable for the bastards!

Maybe just because it's summertime, but if you step out of the house at the moment, there is a definite holiday atmosphere. It's NEVER quiet around here, but that is just how I like it. (Sleep when you're dead, and all that). There are always people scurrying about or strolling hand in hand going for dinner in one of the million curry houses - all of which, incidentally, hold the title of 'Restaurant of the Year', 'Best Curry in London' or my personal favourite, '7* Curry!'

Go a little further up, through Spitalfields and into the heart of Shoreditch, and there are so many stereotypes on show it is unreal. A friend of a friend once told me that if you live in the East End long enough, you forget that girls without fringes even exist; I've only been here two weeks and I've already forgotten what a forehead looks like.

The Start boutique a.k.a where I would shop, if I could!

My explorations have lead me past the round-the-block queue for Plastic People, possibly the most over-subscribed club night in London by the looks of things. No doubt I will find myself in that queue at some point over the next few months, just so I can see what all the fuss is about. I window shopped at the Start boutique (owned by Brix of Gok "aaaaaaaaaaaah FASHION" Wan fame), got photographed walking by Cargo and chatted to a theatre producer in the Old Blue Last. I also got accosted by a screenwriter on the tube, who was convinced that I was perfect for a short film he was making. In Paris. His gout nose, greasy hair and coffee breath were obviously not deciding factors in my sudden urge to change carriages.

Strange screenwriters aside, my work with the Fash Ed this week has been particularly productive and enjoyable - we were typing out Grazia features in time to Lady Gaga on the stereo on Tuesday, which is clearly the most professional way to work. You may have spied our aviator jacket story in this week's mag, too - it's such a huge trend that in a way, I'm already sick to the back teeth of it! Wouldn't turn my nose up at a gorgeous Acne aviator though, just like the one acquired by Melanie this week....ah, the life of an internationally respected Fashion Editor! One can but dream.

Eek! Girl loves some new makeup! Shallow but true!

Fashion Juniors do enjoy their own perks too - I was lucky enough to be sent to the Topshop 'Heavy Duty' AW makeup collection preview on Tuesday, which was held at HIX in Soho. Delightful gin cocktails were served, but note to self: do not eat raspberries that have been placed in said cocktails, because trying to maintain a dignified expression whilst chatting to a Topshop PR girl when you have a gin-soaked raspberry in your mouth is SO not a good look.

Anyway - down to business. The collection is perfect; dark, mysterious and heavily Olsen inspired. Petrol metallic nail varnishes in khaki, grey and deepest blue will be on every fashionista's fingernails come September, while I really wanted to play with the intense glittery eye palettes in Thunder and Greyscale (dark grey blues and black/silver). Not that I am a sucker for anything that glitters - much. There is a fat, high pigment kohl crayon and kohl dust, both designed to create the look that you have slept in your makeup, without any of the potential conjunctivitis hazards of actually doing so - genius idea! I will be investing in both, but my absolute favourite product is the Lip Marker. A re-envisioning of 'Benetint' style lip stains, this deep blood red pen is basically a Sharpie for your lips, allowing you to perfect a gothic, bitten lip without any potential smudging issues. To get this level of intensity I normally have to layer on about 5 coats of lipstick, blotting in between, so the Lip Marker is going to be my winter life saver.

I was lucky enough to find this little package on my desk the next day:

So I tried out the Marker, and this was the result:

I really liked the colour, plus I loved not have to worry about it budging from my lips for the rest of the night. Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have found a beauty winner! The collection is out towards the end of September (conveniently in time for my birthday :-)

In other news, I have been religiously checking the Office window displays, waiting for a certain little pair of creeper-esque heels to come in. I spotted them at the Christmas press day, and let's just say it was love at first sight. So my happiness increased ten fold when the lovely people of Office were kind enough to give me a voucher to spend in store...which is how I came to be the proud owner of these beauties!

This is real love.

The shop girl didn't want to sell them to me, because it was 5.30 on a Friday, they were the last pair of sixes and she wanted them for herself. I admired her honesty, but there was no way I was leaving without them!

So here ends this brief news update! Hope you are all still alive...

GL

www.office.co.uk
www.topshop.co.uk

Vintage at Goodwood - The Photographic Evidence.

The sweetie shop!

We all picked our favourite vintage cars, naturally...


Adam looking pretty hip in the Warehouse.

This will be my last post about the festival, which overall I judged to be a success, with just a couple of issues that need to be sorted for next year.

The Highlights:

- Kitten von Mew and Gwendoline L'Amour bringing sexy back in some very sweet burlesque routines
- Scaring ourselves silly on the ferris wheel
- Dancing like crazy in the Let it Rock tent (and pretending we were in Nowhere Boy, watching a proper rock n'roll band)
- Checking out the awesome vintage automobiles
- Raving in the Quattro Warehouse- Snapping up some bargains late on Sunday afternoon, when the traders were packing up to go home
- Buying sweets from the too-cute pic n'mix caravan with gingham curtains
- Watching Noisettes bring the house down on the main stage
- My friend Maisie arriving with a vintage suitcase, only to fling it open to reveal cocktail ingredients and a coconut, of all things!

The Lowlights:

- Indecisive, hormonal, changeable, unreliable WEATHER. Rain is the nemesis of all vintage outfits/hairstyles/shoes.
- Ridiculous prices for food and drink, even worse than normal festivals. £35 for a jug of Pimms, anyone?
- Queues for any of the best activities - the Fashion Pavilion was waaaayyy too small considering the importance being placed on vintage fashion this weekend, so it was a shame a lot of people missed out on seeing the fashion shows because they couldn't get in.
- Peter Cook somewhat killing Unknown Pleasures for me. It didn't sound right so I had to leave, before I got too upset.

All things considered, I think the Vintage at Goodwood team pulled off a great event. Next year will be a hundred times better, because sometimes things have to go through these early problems in order to flag up issues. Hopefully all the journalists and bloggers who went through stress and kerfuffle to get their tickets did so in the end, and I'm sure a good time was had by all who attended. Here's to next year...


The Caezars *swoon*

Kitten Von Mew *even bigger swoon*

If you look closely, you can see tears of fear in my eyes. On a ferris wheel. What a child.

Noisettes. Incredible.

GL

(All images copyright Georgina Langford/Sophie Determann)

Vintage at Goodwood - Day Two!

I know I took a vow of radio silence over this weekend, but I had so much fun yesterday I want to get it down on paper (virtually speaking) so that I don't forget a minute of it!

(Please forgive the phone pix by the way, I was snapping on my ancient Pentax yesterday so will get the film developed on Monday. Cannot wait to see how they have turned out, I love the magic and mystery of using film - although sometimes with my camera skills it really is a mystery as to what I was photographing!)

My best pals Lucy and Jena came with me to day two of Vintage at Goodwood dressed in full Forties prairie girl outfits - sweeping blue dresses, granny cardies and obligatory wellies. They looked enchanting, to put it mildly. I, on the other hand, was feeling rebellious and grumpy and decided to wear the fluffy jumper I bought yesterday. BAD MOVE. At one point, while I was dancing to some amazing rock n'roll, Lucy thought I was on the verge of actual heatstroke. Not a good look.

Anyway, before we reached that point we had run around, practising our pin up poses by the vintage cars (including a Quattro, it was like Gene Hunt was in the building!). My favourite was a pink and white Cadillac complete with chrome tail fins and white leather/leopard seats. It was perfection in automobile form.

Lucy and I went on some of the kid's rides at the funfair, because we are scaredy cats, much to the amusement of passing photographers. We had some typically extortionate festival food, then watched the Caezers in the Let it Rock tent. New favourite band alert! The spirit of Elvis was alive and well and us girls were coming over all giddy as the lead singer flung himself around the stage, snarling and seducing us with his eyes. In between songs, however, his Bristolian accent killed the magic somewhat (!) but their music is brilliant and I will be hunting down their first single.

Next up was the Grazia/Brix Smith Start/George Lamb fashion show, the organisation of which proved to be a complete farce (not the show, which was fabulous, just the event planning). There has been a lot of grumblings about the cost and organisation of events on site - Amelia Gregory, writing on her blog last week was right to question the pricing and corporate nature of a lot of the activities at V.a.G, some of it was utterly ridiculous. They were giving out free tickets to the very limited capacity fashion shows earlier in the day, but every time we went they were 'sold out'. this was resulting in some very stroppy festival goers who had 'bought their ticket months ago, no-one had ever mentioned additional tickets and queuing for events!'. Fair enough really, our tickets were expensive and there was virtually nothing to do for free on site.

However they put on a repeat of the fashion show, and were doling out tickets for the second performance. However we found ourselves in the scrum for the entrance, where no-one had told the doormen there were different coloured tickets for different showtimes, and they were accepting both! (honestly, it was like a Carry On film - they were even dressed as retro policemen!). When I noticed they didn't have a clue, I shoved our (later showing) tickets into their hands and dragged the girls into the back of the room, as we giggled with triumph. I do love a good blag.



The show was great, Brix's archive photos were fantastic - she was such a hot punk rocker! The models were having fun and the clothes had been really well styled. A nice injection of glamour in a muddy Sussex field!

We then legged it to the Torch club to watch the end of a tea dance and a performance from the delectable Kitten von Mew, who did a classic birdcage/fan dance routine. She didn't look too impressed with the glaring lighting and audience sat on the floor in wellies - not quite the level of sophistication a burlesque diva demands!

From one diva to another - we ran to the main stage to watch the second half of Noisettes, which was typically brilliant. I still can't pronounce the lead singer's name but she was a sparkling ball of wonderment on stage!

When night falls I am drawn like a moth to a flame of the glittering fun fair lights, so it was my brainiac idea to go on the Ferris wheel, which looked gorgeously romantic all lit up. All I needed was a handsome young man to accompany me to complete the Notebook-esque moment, but considering my near panic attack sudden vertigo, I'm glad that it was only the girls who had to put up with my hysterical chattering!

(At this point I was squeaking with fear, but secretly loving it at the same time. I'll be going back on it today :-)

After some very necessary chips to warm up we went back to the Let it Rock tent for a jive - I was attempting to swing dance with the best of them, but wellies and a mohair jumper are not the best accessories for such a task. I ended up dancing in the vintage slip that I had on underneath, which was a little risque for Goodwood but hey, it was 11.30 by that point and I didn't care anymore! As we were dancing, Jena leant over and said 'the girl next to you looks a lot like Daisy Lowe.' To our great excitement it was actually Daisy herself, giving it large on the dancefloor with a certain young man with his hood up. That Doctor Who can bust some moves, not least on Daisy, who he was snogging at every opportunity. PDA's...who needs them!

When we were rockabilly'd out we decided to go for the easy option of the Warehouse rave to finish the night, where the lasers and smoke machine kept us entertained along with the amazing DJs. I felt like a proper little raver, not least because I looked like a mess, but just wanted to keep on dancing!

When our feet couldn't take anymore we started the long walk out of site, through the beautiful highstreet and back to the car. An amazing day, spent with friends who I love - it doesn't get much better than that. Vintage at Goodwood has redeemed itself after a slightly washed out start, and I cannot wait for the closing day today. See you on the other side!




(a very tired) GL

Vintage at Goodwood - Day One

At flipping last! Vintage at Goodwood began today after many, many weeks of fevered anticipation, and I was there to witness the highs and lows of this fledgling event. And there were indeed lows - this is a brand new festival so there are teething problems and much talk of bad organisation. However I wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt and will be giving my honest feedback on Monday, so watch this space.

Obviously, prior to my arrival on the first day there was much hair curling, lipstick applying and stocking straightening to be done, which achieved my desired 'demented librarian/Victory roll vamp' look.


I promise this photo will be replaced shortly by one of the countless shots taken by style snappers at the festival - you could not move without bumping into a style blogger/paparazzi, which got a bit tiring, and I was on the other side of the camera as well! (I began to get a little bit concerned that there were actually more voyeurs than participators at the event - is this a sign of the times, perhaps? Only about 70% had made an effort with their outfits which was a shame, I would like to see more over the weekend please!)

My Fash Ed has unfortunately been struck down with sickness which meant I was riding solo for most of the day, so I made the most of my alone time to accost strangers with my camera. There will be enough style shots of pretty girls in pretty dresses to sink a battleship by the end of this weekend so I thought I would grab unusual people instead (plus I just love co-ordinated, loved up couples. Damn them and their matching cuteness).

Made for each other, much?

Cardigan: Best in Show.

Josephine Baker, eat your heart out. Incredible!

ACTUAL granny chic. One day, I'm gonna be just like her...

How cute are these mini-rockers! Their quiffs needed some more Brylcreem but they were getting in the spirit!

After spending some time with friends in the painfully authentic Soul Casino (the horrendous patterned pub carpet was straight-outta 1975) I nipped down to the Torch Club for a tea dance. Because you know I am actually 85 inside. The Club itself is brilliant, with a proper dance floor, a chandelier, table service (for those who could afford it!) and an actual band who accompanied our quickstep lesson.


My pal Samira had encouraged me to go to the dance alone, assuring me that I would find some gorgeous be-quiffed boy to twirl me round the floor. Yeahhh - maybe not. I ended up with a charming 'older' gentleman who despite the approximately 55 year age gap between us, out-danced me by far. I'm blaming my clumsiness on inappropriate footwear.

I popped in to the Biba fashion show/talent contest which was pretty cool as you would expect from such an iconic brand.


And then the rains descended. Joy. 'The only festival where you can wear heels!' cried the posters. Ummm, maybe not, as I found out, wading through mud in 3 inch heeled brogues. Not a wise move.

The rain forced me into the cinema, where I watched nearly all of 'Absolute Beginners', which is a completely barmy yet brilliant film set in the 50's but made in the 80's, featuring David Bowie and Patsy Kensit. It's just a little bit nuts.
A quick trip to 'Quality Knitwear', my new favourite stall, and I became the proud owner of the jumper version of a fuzzy peach - this ridiculous mohair number.

Yes, that is what happened when I brushed out my Victory rolls.

So when the mud called time on my fun (look at my poor shoes!) I began the long trek back to my car, which probably would have taken me about 45 minutes with my heels and wiggle skirt to contend with. Thankfully, some guardian angels arrived in the form of a beaten up Goodwood Landrover, two security guards who decided to rescue me and let me hitch a ride down the road. Thank you for the kindness of strangers!


So tomorrow, I will be wearing practical footwear (wellies if I must), warm clothes and taking as much money as I can scrape together, cos this festival certainly ain't cheap. If nothing else, I need pennies to spend at the funfair...


(For more shots from today, see Fashion Editor at Large blog)

GL

PS That's your lot for a few days, because Glitterbird is signing off to party!