I am so not trendy. Back in the late 90s, I bought a pleather café racer-style jacket. Being pleather and having moved it back to Singapore soon after, the jacket soon started peeling and died a lonely, sweaty death. Even though it said ‘Fool‘ on the front (and I surely am one), I continued to covet these (motor)sporty numbers.
Enter the Superdry outlet store in Swindon. There was only one of these white Speedway leather jackets on sale, and it was in my size. Oh, happy day! I only needed a few minutes of wondering if it was worth the discounted price.
It is warm, I tell you. Summer is ending and I expect to be wearing this a lot. I know I bought it from a brand that’s very fashionable right now, but my reasons are over a decade old, so I’m sticking to my claim — I’m not trendy.
(It also smells lovely.)
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That obnoxious response on Facebook is by far my favourite. But they’re all good. So, so good. Via Grammar iz Kewl.
There’s been an addition to the family. What a blessing. Mila also turned up on Saturday afternoon, which was awfully considerate of her.
So why am I feeling so crap?
I think I’m having a delayed emotional reaction to the surgeries I had to undergo to get rid of an ectopic pregnancy (1, 2, 3, 4). The happiness and positive feelings that had built up in the few short months I thought I was pregnant have been transferred to Mila’s arrival. I’m ecstatic she’s here, and I can’t wait to meet her and give her a cuddle.
But I’ve been damaged by my own experience. My body has been cut into and messed about with. Nothing’s been the same. I feel pain in my scar when I’m worn out at the end of the day. Because something went wrong when we tried it, all I can think about is all the other things that could (will?) go wrong. I see pregnant women and think, I’m defective, I can’t do that.
It’s completely irrational, I know. Although the chances of another ectopic pregnancy are higher (10% now), and I probably have the same odds as everyone on something else going wrong, I can’t help but feel the run of bad luck must continue.
Maybe this is what I need to go through to really recover and move on. Maybe this is me finally grieving for a loss of innocence of some kind. I don’t know. All I know is I already feel better for writing this.
Nothing gets in the way of being happy that Mila is finally here.
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My own mother can’t make me born-again, so it’s unlikely an Internet pastor stands a chance. He calls it the ‘atheist religion‘ — I don’t think he gets it.
Someone get a sub-editor
‘Mediums’? Really?! Is Google clairvoyant?
I couldn’t really take any part of the article seriously, considering no one picked up on this basic mistake (which appears twice). Sloppy!
(I forgive the ending with a preposition. Everyone does it. Recruiting psychics to channel departed souls in the UK launch of Google TV, however, is unacceptable.)
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Really — ‘abortion providers’ only do one thing? No. I wish the media would stop pussyfooting around the people who are anti-choice and call them out for what they are.
It’s only when I look at my wardrobe that I realise how important the colour (shade?) grey is to my tendency to fade into the background.
Er, what?
Basically, I like grey. I think a pale grey wall looks incredible with gloss-white woodwork (by that I mean skirting, facing, dado rails, that sort of thing), and I think it makes touches of colour stand out so much more.
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I’m obsessed with the Ikea 2012 catalogue that came through the mail slot on the weekend. This is to compensate for the extreme irritation that comes from not living in our own home.
It was displayed alongside fully-restored hot rods
I have to say this car was my favourite at GrillStock — a barbecue festival held in Bristol in July. The others were hot rods, shiny and fast (I assume). But I liked the shape of this one the best.
Happy birthday to my niece, Mila!
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Banana Republic does Mad Men. I’d love it if this banished the ‘worst of the 80s’ fashion theme we’ve been subjected to. I doubt it’ll happen, though.
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The latest thing to piss me off about sloppy use of the English language? ‘Draws’. WTF? Drawers. There are letters you’ve left out. The first time I saw it, I thought it was a mistake, and now I see that bloody word every-freaking-where.
Oh. Emm. Eff. Gee. I am suffused with desire for that bookcase. There’s nothing I don’t love about it. Except maybe the top would get very dusty because I’m too short to bother cleaning it.
Via desire to inspire.
Consumer morale drops further in July:
Consumer confidence edged down further in July, a survey showed on Thursday, in another sign that subdued consumption will remain a major drag on the fragile economic recovery.
…
Consumers’ assessment of their present situation was unchanged from June, but they took a gloomier view of the future.
Perhaps we should stop thinking that buying shit we don’t need contributes to an economic ‘recovery’.
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40 Publishing Buzzwords, Clichés and Euphemisms Decoded: heh, especially ‘edgy’ and ‘literary’, which usually mean pretentious as fuck.
I wanted some khaki chinos. I tried all the places I thought would have them. When did pleated trousers that make you look like you have a gut drooping over your lady bits become the height of fashion?
The other extreme is the super-skinny cut. I do like my jeans skinny (these days), but what I’m seeing is ridiculous. You’d need practically fleshless legs to get into most of these things.
Why are retailers penalising people with muscles? I don’t want to have to buy jeans at least two sizes too big in order for them to fit round my thighs and calves, only to have it gape like a mofo at the waistline.
And I don’t have big legs!
Neil and I watched Cherry’s Body Dilemmas last night, where she tried to tackle the issue of body neuroses. I do believe that we should be more accepting of all our body types and shapes, but we need to aspire to be fit and healthy — none of this loving yourself for being fat / obese. And clothes designers and retailers need to take healthy bodies into account.
I am an Aus/UK size 6 (US size 2) — not exactly massive — but these ludicrous super-skinny jeans and trousers might make me feel fat if I was more insecure. Like when the salesgirls in Far East Plaza told me my thighs were too big for a size large.
I ended up with a pair of trousers from River Island in a size 8.
