Good Morning Baltimore!

Whilst enjoying musical theatre as much as the next gay man, I usually have rules.
1. No annoying American accents
2. No over enthusiastic grinning
3. Must end in tragedy

I am a morbid being whom listens to Phantom of the Opera quite often on the way to work; however, I may have borrowed my sisters Hairspray cd, and I may just have put it onto my Ipod. And perhaps once when I was mooching around Soho feeling miserable, my Ipod shuffle might have launched a song from this soundtrack into my ears, and I might just have really enjoyed it and listened to the rest of the songs with a new found spring in my step…

Ok, ok, I love Hairspray despite it being everything I hate, so when the Mother and Gran landed in London with ticket giving hands I was eager to go see Tracy Turnblatt strut her stuff.

What a crowd. Lots of hen parties a whooping, and irritating children everywhere! Yuk. And the theatre was unbearably hot which prompted Mother to whip out her lime green battery fan, where one gets such a device I couldn’t tell you.

It is a very uplifting musical. The story centres around Tracy, and overweight girl trying to dance on the Corney Collins show and fighting to boot racial segregation as she does so. Quite serious issues when you think about it, but its all done with a joke and a laugh and many many cheesy songs.

Even I, a goblin of the night felt somewhat cheered and at the end was ready to sing that I too was ‘Big, blonde and beautiful’ and felt like dancing on the stage AND eating my pecan pie goddamit! (should either thing have been required of me).

The cast were fabulous. Link, the lead male was played by Ben who was in Any Dream Will Do on BBC (he was often out of tune on this, hence was booted off). The poor guy had no chance of standing upto pretty Zac Efron’s movie role looks wise, but I must say he played the heartthrob very well; it is not necessary the beauty but the presence that is most convincing.

The music is just so catchy! I couldn’t stop myself doing a little jig in the seat and I really am a very restrained person…Set the in sixties its all fabulous swing and jazz numbers, which I am very partial to.

Wouldn’t it be great if life were a musical? I might have to have a small sing song on the way to the bus stop tomorrow, though 'Good Morning Bethnal Green' does not have quite the same ring to it…

Ponystepping away from the Goth

Everyone has a look, that fool proof make-up routine we get stuck into and practice identically for night out after night out. Mine has always been a dark gothic face; inspired by the eyes at Salvatore Ferragamo a season or two ago I perfected a shaded brown and black smoky eye. Soon able to whip this up in 5 minutes flat all to do was power my face white, slick on some MAC nude lipstick and away I went!

I was in a make-up rut, a far cry away from my glitter and metallic experimentation days; so when I acquired a Suqqu neon eyeshadow I knew it was time for a change. Suqqu is a Japanese beauty brand which you can now buy in Selfridges. The packaging is super cute, minimal square and transparent and although it is supposed to be aimed at the more mature woman, I have the shade Moeyamabuki, which is neon orange- not sure I could see my mature mother wearing it… I followed the trail of Derek Lam and decided to abandon that age old rule of either the bold lip or bold eyes. His show make-up is bold yet quietly subtle with soft shading, and the dark lipstick adds a touch of sinister to what would otherwise be a bright face.

Already possessing a dark red lippie (harking back to my goth fondness) I dug out a fuchsia Dior freebie and let loose with the paint brushes. The extremity of my face did not matter, as there are little boundaries down Shoreditch on a Sunday.

Then off we trotted off to Ponystep for a spot of disco dancing to the discs of Lady Bunny and I bumped into my ex-sock shop work college Emma, who is a maniac on the dancefloor despite being a sober girl.

We saw reveler tip himself backwards on an armchair, launching himself through the glass doors only to be pulled up by a strap straddled girl with a high ponytail. I later learnt this was Jonathon Saunders and Louise Goldin at play; I am such a bad fashionista, I never recognize anyone! Lucky that I wasn’t wearing my Saunders dress (which had been an option) because that would have made my ignorance totally embarrassing.

Jeanie

(I swear I years ago I owned that exact bag..think its from Woolworths!)

I’d Hate to be Accused of Prejudice but...

It is so sad to be proved correct when cruelly pre-judging and stereotyping people.

Fresh-or maybe not so much- from work we attended the M and P Models summer party in aka. It is never a great deal of fun to be the fattest, shortest and ugliest girl in the room but it was worth it for the beautiful boy viewing and free bar.

There were cheekbones and pouty lips in abundance and I chatted to one of these male fashion specimens, trying to be open minded.

The pretty boy could hardly speak for slurring; there was a time delay before each answer and then when it came it didn’t make sense. Trying to have a conversation was a painful process and talking to a wall may well have been more productive. I attributed this to the free flowing spirits, for I myself was in no fit state to talk of wildly intelligent things.

I stirred my straw as a welcome distraction.
‘What are you drinking?’ asked Mr Model
‘Vodka and diet coke, how about you?’
‘Just coke, I’m driving home’

Oh dear.

Chaos at Graduation!

You may recall a small degree of boasting on my part that I was luckily enough to wear a Vivienne Westwood gown for graduation…that didn’t go to plan.

Whilst ordering my robe from gownhire.com, I neglected to recognize the significance of the award choosen and absent mindedly clicked ‘University of London’ rather than ‘Kings College London’. In fashion terms this was the difference between getting a beautiful Westwood gown and an ugly brown trimmed sack of a garment. I was so devastated!

The Vivienne Westwood robes really did look stunning. Black, they dropped over the shoulders in a cloak like manner whilst the back featured an oversized hood and elegant draped fabric. All this was finished with a vibrant green ribbon trim (colours varied according to degree). The lovely Jen and Kat were kind enough to let me take a photo, of them in their graduation glory.






The gown disaster was slightly softened by the presence of Vivienne herself. She strutted through the reception area looking fabulous and turning many heads. My Gran was not impressed and informed my Mum, ‘apparently Vivienne Westwarm is here, whoever he is’.

However, she was there to receive an honorary fellowship of Kings College, and it was a truly wonderfully moment to witness her walking into the Barbican theatre amongst the grey governors with orange hair, a head band saying ‘chaos’ and the most massive red platform stilettos.

And it was perhaps more wonderful again to hear the president struggling to recite her biography over the mic; he tried to maintain his deadpan composure whilst informing the audience of her ‘shop named ‘SEX’ and her ventures into ‘fetish, in particular leather strapping and corsets’; she certainly made the speeches more interesting!

Surf's Up In London Town

I don’t really bother with my hair, I hardly brush it let alone style the mop; however there is one product that I love.

Looking grotty with Tesco shoppers, I ventured into the white and clean world of Space NK to treat myself to a bottle of Bumble and Bumble Surf Spray.

I am a beach girl at heart; primary school days ended with parents picking us up with buckets and spades in their arms. Nothing beats a day ending watching the sun set over Welsh sea, and I always loved being wrapped up in a towel with salty, matted locks, my hair never looked cooler. And that is still true. My face shape doesn’t warrant poker straight, tussled and tossled is when my hair looks best.

I have tried many texturising hair products and Bumble in Bumble is the only one that truly gives the authentic day-on-a-beach look without making your hair as stiff as cardboard.

At £16 it has to be a treat, but with the alternative being a £40, 5hr train journey back to Wales and Broad Haven beach it has got to be worth it. It’s just a shame that I am dying of flu currently; mole eyes and a red nose don’t look hot, even with beach fabulous hair.

Mash Ups Private View @ Kowalsky Gallery

Tonight Luisa and Robert (aka. The Style Scout) invited me along to Mash Ups, an exhibition curated by Stuart Semple. I don't profess to know anything about art, but I often immensely enjoy it and this evening was one such occasion.

The show is entitled 'post pop fragments & detournements' and contains the work of 5 young artists including Semple himself; pop culture is predominant in all the glowing coloured, mish mashing cutting style pieces

I particularly took a fancy to this seductive piece by Semple. The gory bloody trickles juxtaposed against the flawless face is breathtaking.



The rest of the exhibition was equally impressive. Art is of course usually aesthetic, but this aspect seemed louder here; upon the walls hung glorious feasts for the eye to gorge upon. The lazy viewer may glance upon the art and gain pleasure, but to study revealed the many 'Mash Up' elements and allowed most precise personal interpretation.

There was also a clever mixture of textures and mediums which seemed to come together efforlessly in the finished piece. This sculputure is made of the strangest combination of materials but looks beautiful (beautiful is such a banned journalistic word but I believe it most fitting).


And everyone was able to take a piece of art home with them, sadly not the paintings, I saw the price list over someones shoulder and lets just say 4 months rent would hardly be sufficient. No, there were 100 silver balloons, screen printed and neatly numbered and signed on the back. By the time I got there they were disrupted and already wound around the wrists of the stylish and beautiful, but I imagine they looked glorious all hudled together in their shiny goodness.



I got number 32/100. It was not great fun taking it home on the 55 and getting disapproving looks from the dull commuters, but it sure looks pretty in my room. Hurrah!

Thecocknbullkid @ Proud Galleries Camden

Since an embarrassing episode where I thought that Aerosmith was a man not a band, I am always wary about whether or not the name refers to the entire outfit or just the frontman. So I researched this one, and yes, Thecocknbull kid is a person; according to Myspace

‘Thecocknbullkid is Anita Blay.

Thecocknbullkid is one word with no apostrophies, please.

Thecocknbullkid is 22 years old and writes all her own songs and produces a number of them too.

Thecocknbullkid is playing live again and writing and recording her album at the minute.’

I have seen this lady in action once before but it was this show that secured my love. The Proud Galleries is a beautiful venue; a large white space with fancy art deco lights, a little different to London’s usual grotty dives. Extra points must also be given for the stables; set in old Camden Stables Market, there are old fashion horse stalls furnished with seats and used as various VIP areas. A fantastic idea.

Anita came on stage in a cutesy floral peasant style dress and sparkly eye make-up. Accompanied by 3 band members (not sure whether they are permanent fixtures) they played a fairly short set which included the new single- well it was the launch party!
I was particularly taken with ‘boys and girls’ which is pop perfection with its luscious melody and funky disco bass line; the sort of song I would like to jam my heels to and mouth the words of on a dance floor.

Also, ‘There’s a Mother in our Bed’ stood out and really got the crowd going. This sees Anita rapping over some ‘serious’ beats; I think that Snoop Doggy Dog or ’50 Cent’ would be given a run for their money in a sing off (I’m thinking one of those circles where rappers duel each other? -Thecocknbullkid would win )



What does Thecocknbullkid sound like? Catchy, 80s keyboard clanging, big drums, big beats, and a sugar sweet voice over it all. I am listening to her on Myspace now, and I really don’t think that the recordings do her justice. On stage it was edgy and pounding with Anita oozing stage presence, factors that don’t come across through cyber space.

And listening to the record cannot show off her dance moves! In an age where the stage show often surpasses the importance of the literal sound of the music, I think that many would be charmed by experiencing Thecocknbullkid live.

This One’s For Wales

Wednesday evening I found myself leaving work in a panic, as I had signed myself up to do live karaoke for Show Studio. Exciting one might think? Yes, but when being filmed by Nick Knight, at Abbey Road studios to go live around the world there is also a degree of terror.

Not only that, but my impulse song choice was bothering me. I am used to East end karaoke sessions; I know the usual ironic/cool song choices, yet I requested to do Tom Jones- It’s not unusual in a moment of patriotic passion! Oh dear.

I thought a pair of good falsies would help- lashes that is; stopping off at Liberty to get some Shu Umera feathers fixed I did feel in better spirits despite the pouring rain.

We managed to get to Abbey Road late after walking around with sodden feet for quite sometime. People kept directing us the wrong direction, and eventually we hopped in a cab as a last resort.

Cue costume change; at the speed of light, I whipped off my soaked black tights and pumps and struggled into some white tights and the highest most ridiculous pair of shoes I own. The taxi driver chuckled and said ‘don’t worry! I will not look! Is it safe to turn around!’ etc jest etc. Sadly, I am too observant and noticed him discreetly adjust his mirror in my general direction…

We went into the ‘green room’ and I cannot for the life of me remember if it was indeed green in colour, but I suspect it was. The studio itself was down below, a massive wooden hall style space with an area sectioned off for the performance. It took me quite sometime to descend down the metal steps to get there in my silly shoes, I went side ways, like a crab and avoided disaster.



I drank lots of champagne quite quickly, thought this was the best tactic in such a surreal situ. There was a small crowd of us jigging around in bright artificial light with a camera in our face, as one person took centre stage. And there were certainly some performers; emotional falling to the floor, high kicks, screeching, wallowing. I don’t wish to discuss my personal performance, I got through it without falling over, which was my main objective.

Except to say; all day I had been thinking of something I wished to do. During the funky opening of It’s Not Unusual, ‘do dodo do dodo’ I wanted to say into the mic, ‘this one's for Wales’. I thought that would really amuse me. But when it came to the into it was all I could do to stop myself keeling over, and the words left my mind. So sad!

What fun. And I must mention the luxury buffet. Amongst the goods there were actual lumps of Parmesan cheese to eat, how decadent!

We ended the evening with more karaoke at sing-a-long and a lengthly dance on the light-up dance floor. It was in Electricity Showrooms that I finally fell. I toppled down the stairs but all limbs were in tact, so I felt that in general, the shoes had been a success.

Miss Havisham Hits Paris

Work today was quiet. There was a model shooting but sadly female so nothing to gawp at. After making myself a fair quantity of coffee, I headed toward style.com. The couture shows are so aesthetically pleasing and one image in particular caught my eye:

This Christian Lacroix dress has an obvious reference to bridal wear with its gauzy veil and ivory colouring, but what struck me in particular was how morbid and deathly it is.

Perhaps its the make-up, perhaps the antiquated style of the bodice and sleeves, but this girl could either be walking down the isle to her husband or walking to her coffin.


My first thought was Miss Havisham; the iconic Dickensian character. Being obsessed with the Victorian era and especially Dickens, Great Expectations is one of my favourite books, and Miss Havisham my one of my favourite literary characters. Jilted by her beloved on her wedding day she spends the rest of her days wasting away in Satis house. Time stops. She keeps her wedding dress on, the wedding banquet remains. When we, the reader, meet her she is an old withered woman in a decaying dress, a shadow or a ghost of the woman she was.


I personally do consider marriage a death. Its a death of what you knew and have always known. Once you have committed you can never be the same, this may be desirable, or like Miss Haviasham a darkening of your former self.


I read about an interesting concept awhile back. Brides who trash their wedding dresses for a photo shoot once the big day is over. There are photos of women lying rolling in mud, running through puddles, floating in streams...all in that dress so painstakingly chosen for 'the big day'.

(Image: trashthedress.com)

I think the linking of marriage with destruction rather than preservation is really interesting, and really a rather clever concept. Should I ever get married (an unlikely occurrence) I would well consider partaking in this 'trash the dress' trend; though rather than shred it with scissors, I would do like Lacroix and embrace the deathly essence of the ceremony, perhaps submerged in water like a calm Ophelia or a graceful Lady of Shalot.


Alternatively, maybe I should stop identifying with doomed literary females...

Ping Pong – Circus @ Soho Revenue Bar

A celebration was in order for Jeanie’s Birthday and I was pleased to hear that she had decided on Soho restaurant Ping Pong to dine in. I have heard so much about this place and the wonders of the ‘Dim Sum’. ‘Oh its amazzzing’ people would shriek at me, but I am from Pembrokeshire, we don’t get such fancy delights down Wales.

Busy on a Friday night we had a tasty variation of a Mojito before being led to our table. The concept of Ping Pong is lots of little dishes which you fill in yourself on an order form; whilst this probably saves the waitresses stress, it means you need to be sober whilst ordering. Thank goodness we had the mega organised Ravi to silence our chatter and recite the order twice for security.

Dim Sum is quite amazing. My main worry was accidently eating something containing a fish or a shrimp or a prawn but everything was well labelled so I was safe with my veggie options, and also a curious ‘steamed bun’ which was too tasty to be healthy.

In Soho on a Friday night, there was only one possible outcome…Circus hosted by Jodie Harsh. The walls are made of dark velvet. There are antiquated mirrors on every wall so it become confusing. Whilst I don’t care terribly for Jodie Harsh, she certainly can mix a good tune and span out wonderful pop/indie hits with the addition of pounding baselines.

Circus has the air of creativity and people really go to town with their outfits. Stars of the night were this banana headed pvc siren and this fantastic gold winged mask figure.

Being a demi-goth these days, I also loved the look of this guy; the grey lips are hot and what a good idea to stick gems on your face. I am such a sucker for a nice Elizabethan ruffle too.

Ps. Its easy to get photos, you simply tell people ‘you look fierce, can I have a photo?’. Tyra Banks teaches the best lessons for life.

Too much make-up?

So I just took a photograph of my make-up bag contents for http://www.beautypopstar.blogspot.com/.

Here they are:

The terrible thing is, that isn’t even all of it! I had to choose the things that I used the most as there wasn’t enough floor space to host all the goods!

I feel a little sick as I may just have realised why I am never out of my overdraft… students can’t afford Dior or MAC yet that’s what my collection consists of. I am working now but still my wage doesn’t warrant such extravagance…

I guess its good to have Dior somewhere in my life; one day it will be a wonderful plush fur coat or gorgeous dress, but for now? A Dior Show Blackout Mascara, fabulous.

Designer Gowns From Vivienne Westwood

I was pleasantly surprised to find out that Vivienne Westwood has designed our new Kings College 'Academic Gowns'. The College have new awarding authority (previously awards had been from University of London) so decided a new gown was in order.

Vivienne Westwood commented: ‘Through my reworking of the traditional robe I tried to link the past, the present and the future. We are what we know.’

Vivienne designing academic gowns? Sounds like an unlikely venture for the crotch flashing pensioner. But before you get excited and start conjuring images of tartan robes with safety pins, the gowns are surprisingly traditional; black with a Kings College London Lion button on each shoulder, they are not as exotic as her usual runway offerings.

The coloured sashes represent your degree type and I am annoyed that Humanities are stuck with green! Dental Institute get fushia, School of Medicine get purple and Nursing and Midwifery get Lilac. Heck even the Lawyers get silver!

Oh well, it will probably be the only chance I will get to wear Westwood this year...

Duotard - Dance Party 2000 -Bethnal Green Working Mens Club

For those who have not experienced this East End 'Working Mens Club', it does what it says on the tin. A square wood paneled room with a small bar and a small stage reminiscent of a community hall a Mum might book for a 16th Birthday. I half expected my vodka to be mixed with flat Diet Coke from a squashed bottle stowed behind the pump-less bar, by an aging tart no less.

My flatmate Becky and I were lured to this dark strange street of London last Friday night by the close proximity to our flat, but also by the event 'Dance Party 2000' hosted by Duotard.

'Duotard' are self-defined as 'everyone's favourite husband and wife interpretive dance duo'. Yes, I'd agree with that. They both wore neck to ankle sequined purple spandex and kicked off the night with a dance that was definitely interpretive; it was a song about burgers, I faintly remember the lyrics 'meat or cheese?' being repeated rather emotionally as they threw a giant 'burger' at each other- interpretively of course.

The crowd differed from the Shoreditch usuals; there were indie kids, people in fancy dress, drag queens, transvestites -there is a difference, lesbians, men from the office, short people...and of course that obligatory bald tanned man in the white shirt with the bad dance moves. (he bought me and Becky a drink we didn't want and then got in a huff that we weren't very enthusiastic when 'dancing' with him). Nice to have a mix and when Duotard premiered their new dance video there was not a single person sitting down, even I found my long lost dancing shoes!


A bag of popcorn from the cross-dressing glass collector and we finished the evening with the dance party 2000. The music was determined by spinning a wheel; I'd never danced to 'Hilly Billy' followed by 'Goth Rock' before but I must say, I enjoyed it.