White Weddings? White everything!

So, it may have escaped your attention (if you live in a basement/got locked in a cupboard/keep your curtains shut at all times) that it has been snowing here in the UK. A LOT. As someone who lives in the country, I can confirm that it looks very pretty as long as you don’t need to go anywhere, but if you need to leave the house for meetings or crisps, it causes a problem.

As a result, I’ve spent today working from home. After also spending Friday working from home. And, I’ll be honest, I miss my office. I’m starting to get cabin fever, and am constantly asking the dogs for proofreading advice, before enquiring as to whether the cats would like milk in their tea (for reference, always yes).

But, enough of my complaining. Apart from snowmen and suchlike, there is one thing that snow is good for, and that’s for creating a gorgeous backdrop. So, when my Fabulous Cousin got married to an equally Fabulous Chap at the weekend, the snow finished the whole thing off perfectly (my Fabulous Cousin is so organised, I suspect she pre-ordered it). Another lovely cousin (the bride’s sister), now lives in California with her lovely fiance, stepdaughter and son, and came over for the occasion (and to christen her son the week before, which was one of the loveliest Sundays I’ve had in a while, partly because her fiance was her boyfriend until halfway through the afternoon – he proposed, all the women in my family cried, and as I was surreptitiously dabbing my eyes, I realised I’m getting more and more like Lovely Mum), and her fiance and stepdaughter had never seen snow. Which I’m going to use as further evidence that my Fabulous Cousin did, indeed, ‘sort’ it.

I could talk about weddings all day (just don’t tell The Boy), and this one was lovely. The bride looked beautiful, the groom looked dashing, the bridesmaids looked great, they had Party Rings…AND all of my family danced. For those of you who don’t know my family, this is a Very Rare Occurence. Mostly because I usually refuse. This time, I made Lovely Mum dance with me to ‘Dancing Queen’. And during A Mowtown Medley, Darling Sister accidentally smacked Lovely Mum in the nose because (how’s this for irony), Lovely Mum tried to lean around Darling Sister to tell me to be careful in case I hit one of the Little Ones with my exuberant arm-flailing.

Oh, how we laughed. It was lovely to see everyone, in one place, having such a great time, but I’ll have to stop talking about it, because otherwise I won’t stop. A massive congratulations to my Fabulous Cousin and her Fabulous Chap!

Onto New Year’s Resolutions…for those of you who are the betting type, and thoguht that the gym thing would be the first to go – collect your winnings from those foolish enough to bet against you. I can only, once again, only blame the snow. Instead of getting up to go to the gym yesterday, I chose to lie on the sofa, yelling ‘Bring me the custard!’. (Side note – apple crumble and custard is lovely. Adding Golden Syrup makes it even lovelier. However, being too lazy and deciding not to bother getting a spoon for the Golden Syrup is a Very Bad Idea. I poured way too much in and ruined the aforementioned apple crumble and custard, and felt sick for quite some time. Which led to more lying on the sofa. So it wasn’t all bad.)

The ban on clothes shopping is going well for now, I just keep reminding myself that I can buy Joss Sticks and flower-shaped rugs instead. I don’t know how long this will last, however. I fear it may become harder with the new season launches that are filling up my inbox as I type. And, in order to pay for the flower-shaped rugs and Joss Sticks, I’ve decided to do my first car-boot sale as an adult. If you’re a size 12/14, with size 3/4 feet and you live in the Cambridgeshire, come and see me on 10 February – you are in for a TREAT.


It’s that time again….

Happy 2013 everyone!

Well, what with it being a new year and all that, I thought I’d make a few resolutions – one of them is to start writing this blog again regularly (tied into that is not shopping for a whole year, but I’ll get to that shortly). If I’m not writing enough for your liking, or there’s a topic you’d like me to cover, you can follow me on Twitter @fashionfarewell and mention it there!

So, the no clothes shopping rule…it didn’t work out exactly as planned last year (allowing myself to buy one thing a month just opened the floodgates and ended badly – I should have seen it coming), so this year, I’m reinstating the ban. Except for tights. As mentioned in previous blog posts, I have what I like to call a ‘signature look’, which is essentially a dress, a cardigan, a pair of tights and flats (in the summer) or boots (in the winter). I am very clumsy and manage to put my fingers through most pairs, sometimes before I’ve even worn them, so I’ve made an executive decision to allow myself to buy tights. I’ll be honest, I can’t see myself spending £300 a month on them(just as an aside, in case The Boy and/or my lovely Mum are reading this, I do NOT spend £300 on clothes a month, it’s just a random figure), so it should work out just fine. Accessories are also banned, which includes shoes, bags, and belts. But not earrings – I have 14 piercings, 13 of those in my ears, and I lose earrings  a LOT.

Apart from my wardrobe being full to bursting, The Boy and I are  (almost) in the process of buying our first house. So, you know, I need to save money. Or, alternatively, redirect it to sellers of candles, heart-shaped ornaments and waffle throws.

But they’re not my only resolutions, oh no! Over the Christmas period, a couple of helpful souls (let’s call them ‘friends’), brought a couple of things to my attention.

One made a point of telling me how dry my hair’s been looking recently. Which was nice. I personally enjoy being able to impersonate various country-singing personalities (my rendition of ‘Stand by Your Man’ is particularly heart-rending), but if others don’t see the appeal, who am I to disagree? The second told me I’m getting fat (this particular friend mentioned it to me not once, but twice over the Christmas break, just in case I hadn’t heard their soul-crushing pronouncement on my chubbiness the first time).

I was always taught that if you can’t say anything nice, you should say nothing at all, no matter how offensive a person’s halitosis, how dreadful their greasy roots, or their resemblence to a chipolata in that salmon-pink cocktail dress they just ‘had to have’.  But I digress. 

Now, this could easily have gone one of two ways. I’m very stubborn, and have a tendency towards ‘cutting off your nose to spite your face’ defiance. But instead of blowdrying my hair upside down whilst simultaneously tucking into a family-size bag of Doritos, I’ve decided to take what they said, mentally picture myself punching them in the face, and incorporate their ‘suggestions’ into my new year’s resolutions. So I will be aiming to get healthy (going to the gym at least once a week – let’s not get carried away), and will do a hot-oil treatment on my hair once a week.

If you’re a betting sort of person, I can offer you excellent odds on the hot-oil treatment being the first to go.