You see this dress, readers?
This dress is from the Topshop Tall collection. Yes, TALL. For women of 5″9 and above.
I am not tall.
In fact, I’m just a smidge under 5″4 (that “smidge” is important, by the way. Not least because it makes me just slightly too tall for the “petite” section, but still too small for the “regulars”. Won’t someone please think of the women who are 5″4!), so when I ordered this, back in the summer, I thought there was absolutely no danger of it being too short. In fact, I was feeling pretty smug, because I felt sure I had stumbled upon The Answer to all of my “too short” dress woes: just shop from the Tall section! Get easy access to dresses which fall just on, or just above the knee, without having to scour the earth from them (or, er, buy them from Bettie Page or Stop Staring, which let’s face it, is what I normally do..)!
This, you see, is an issue which is starting to get on my last nerve. Why must clothing manufacturers assume that every woman in the world wants to either walk around with her ass hanging out, or dress like a nun? Why is there no middle ground? (Other than the aforementioned Bettie Page/SS middle ground, which is an expensive bit of ground, let me tell you.) Why is it that every time I spy a dress I like hanging in a store, I’ll get it into the fitting room, only to discover that if I bought it, I’d have to walk around like a robot, never daring to lean forward or raise my arms even a fraction, lest I show the world my underwear?
This dress is obviously not QUITE that bad. It’s still fairly decent, albeit shorter than I’m really comfortable with, which is why I’ve had it for months, but had to wait until now to actually wear it, because I feel I can only really get away with it with tights. Did I mention how much I HATE wearing tights?
It’s a first world problem, to be sure.
Oh, and just to add to the confusion: Fi also has this dress. It’s roughly the same length on her as it is on me. And Fi is 5″11.
The lesson? There is no rhyme nor reason to hemlines. Most dresses are too short, regardless of what height you happen to be. (Um, except midi-dresses. Those actually ARE all cut for people who are very, very tall. Don’t even get me STARTED on that one…). And if I tell you I’ve had a bright idea regarding ordering clothes from the Tall section? Just ignore me…
As some of you may recall, I am the kiss of death when it comes to beauty products, in the sense that as soon as I find something I love, it is almost certain to be discontinued immediately. This is particularly true of colour-depositing conditioners for redheads, which I appear to be doomed to spend my life searching for, only for them to be discontinued as soon as I come across them.
So far I’ve managed to to get both John Frieda Radiant Red Color Glaze and Wella Lifetex Color Reflex Mask discontinued. This sucks, because apart from that one time when the Wella product turned my hair bright orange, they were great products: basically deep conditioners, but with a bit of added colour which made my hair a little more vibrant and, well, redder.
And then they discontinued them. Gah.
This month, however, a new product has entered my life, and I like it so much I feel duty-bound to warn you all in advance that it will probably be discontinued any day now. It’s Superdrug’s Colour Effects Wash In, Wash Out Conditioning Colour in Warm Copper Gold (fairly trips off the tongue, no?), you use it in the shower, just like a regular conditioner, and it adds nice, coppery-gold highlights to your hair, which you totally can’t see in this photo, but here it is, anyway:
It’s hard to photograph your own head, apparently. It’s also kind of pointless, because my hair colour can look totally different, depending on the lighting, what time of day it is, the angle of the photo… But yeah. Here is the back of my head, last week. You’re welcome!
This is only 99p per bottle, which is another sure sign that it won’t last. In fact, I became so paranoid that it would be discontinued that when I couldn’t find it on the Superdrug website, I sent them an email saying, “You’re totally discontinuing the Colour Effects Conditioner, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” They assure me they’re not, but…we’ll see. In the meantime, and in the interests of balance, I have to report that it’s kind of crappy AS a conditioner, in that it doesn’t do much for, you know, the actual condition of my hair, and I’ve been having to use my regular conditioner afterwards, or I emerge from the shower looking a bit like this. But still: 99p! And also available in other colours, which I’m afraid I didn’t pay any attention to, because I only have eyes for the redhead stuff.
Now, who wants to place bets on how soon it will be discontinued?
(Er, I wasn’t paid for this post, by the way. I just sound like I was.)
Tagged red hair
When I was a little girl I was a big fan of The Worst Witch books by Jill Murphy. Anyone else read those? They were about a young girl called Mildred Hubble, who went to a school for witches (which was totally a thing, even before Hogwarts) where she was, well, the worst. All of Mildred’s spells went wrong. She couldn’t fly her broomstick without falling off or crashing into something. Her bootlaces were always undone, and her hair was always messy. When the time came for the young witches to be given animal companions, all of the other witches got sleek black cats, while Mildred was left with a scruffy little tabby which couldn’t stay on her broom.
I totally identified with these books. My spells never really worked either, you see. And while I was good at my lessons, I was bad at EVERYTHING else. I was always wearing the wrong clothes, listening to the wrong music, saying the wrong thing. None of the other witches girls in my class liked me, either. Mildred and I would have been BFFs, for sure.
None of this has anything to do with my costume for Saturday night’s party, though. I wasn’t The Worst Witch as a tribute to Mildred Hubble: I was just the worst witch in that I bought a hat, slapped on some eye makeup, and called it a “costume”. Happy Half-Assed Halloween, everyone!
In my defence, I had actually planned a completely different costume for this party. I just needed to buy one thing, which I found on eBay… and then got totally outbid on. And I couldn’t find a replacement in time, so this was my “oh, crap, I don’t have a costume now: I’ll just go as a wich!” effort. Still, at least I have great idea for next year!
In preparation for my transformation into a witch, I went to the supermarket last weekend to buy a broomstick. And, you know, at this time of year, the supermarkets ALWAYS have lots of witch-related fancy-dress stuff, so I thought there was no chance of me not being able to find one. Of course, I was wrong: not a broom was to be found, so instead I bought this crappy black rose:
It really has nothing to do with anything: it just looked a bit creepy. I already had the wand, though. Doesn’t everyone have a wand tucked away for these occasions?
 “I put a spell on shoe…”
Even witches like to pose. Shut up, they totally do.
I’m, like, SOSCARY, no?
What do you mean, “no”? Here’s what happened to the last person who crossed me:
 Yes, Terry’s slack-jawed yokel of last week met with an unfortunate accident. That’s the last time he’ll try to stop ME buying shoes.
It’s OK, though, he still loves me:
See?
I’ll get you, my pretties.
 Yes, and your little dog, too.
 Thanks to Steven and Lindsay for another great party: can’t wait for next year!
Tagged halloween
Folks, I’d like to introduce you to the new man in my life:
It’s Terry, the slack jawed yokel!
Handsome brute, isn’t he?
Don’t you just LOVE his hat?
Weird thing, though… when I was editing these photos, I noticed something strange reflected in Terry’s glasses. Something… spooky…
I’m scared. Hold me.
(P.S. As you might have noticed, I changed the layout again. I did this myself, and haven’t quite finished tweaking it yet, so apologies for anything that doesn’t work properly – I will get round to it!)
Tagged halloween, Terry
Caught some grief from a falling leaf
As she tumbled down to the dirty ground
Said I shoulda put her back there if I could
But everyone needs a better day
And I’m trying to find me a better way
To get from the things I do to the things I should
~ Counting Crows, All My Friends
Just a few random photos taken on a run last week. You can tell from the fact that I was able to stop and take photos during a run that I was doing a lot more walking than running: my running schedule has been totally out of whack for most of this year, and by that I mean “I’ve hardly ever been doing it, and the people at the gym have forgotten what I look like”. I have lots of excuses why this has been the case, of course, but that’s exactly what they are: excuses. Now that we’re on the long, slow slide towards winter, though, I’m going to do my best to get out more often (I say that every week), if only to make sure I get as much sunlight as I possibly can. I know I joke about hating winter, but I genuinely get really depressed by the lack of light at this time of year, and the sad lamp doesn’t seem to make much of a difference, so I’m hoping some fresh air and exercise will. Even although my town looks a bit like a prison camp:
I’m always impressed by how Instagram filters can make things that are really very dull and dreary look beautiful. Someone should make Instagram filters for you EYES, seriously. Just think how popular they’d be!
When I was a kid, we used to call these things “Itchy Coos”:
We’d open them up and put the seeds down people’s clothes. It was ace. Terry tells me that, round here, they called them “Itchy Poos“. Which is just WRONG, really.
Also on my walk run, I found this mysterious piece of paper on the ground, and obviously I had to stop and investigate it, because it could totally have been a treasure map, or had some dark secret contained within it. Isn’t that always the way of it? It was for Nancy Drew. And the Famous Five.
I saw it as a prison at the foot of some mountains, and thought it was an interesting insight into how the children from this town view the place. Then Terry pointed out that it’s actually a submarine surrounded by OMGSHARKS. Which isn’t an insight into anything, really, but is still pretty cool. I mean, that’s a LOT of sharks, you guys!
In other news, as the clocks went back on Sunday morning, I downloaded a “countdown” app for my phone, which informs me that there are 143 dark days to get through until the clocks move forward again. DAMN. I wish I could just hibernate…
Tagged running
A few years ago, a group of students discovered a blog in a creepy old cabin in the woods.
Of course, they read it.
They couldn’t really make head nor tail of it, though. It was just a crazy, incoherent jumble of words and images: a dress here, a pair of shoes there, a random act of stupidity here, there and everywhere… So they shrugged, and went off to do something else.
A few minutes after they finished reading, however, the phone rang.
“One week,” said a mysterious voice on the other end.
And sure enough, one week later…
…
Absolutely nothing happened.
Because blogs don’t have that kind of power, stupid, only horror movies have that kind of power. Have I taught you nothing here?
So, for Halloween Part 1 I decided to pay homage to The Scariest Movie I Have Ever Seen, a.k.a. The Ring. Well, it was either Sadako/Samara from The Ring, or it was That Old Woman from Insidious . If I’d chosen to go as T.O.W., though, I would have actually have had to LOOK at That Old Woman again, in order to get inspiration for the costume, and… I’m not ever looking at That Old Woman again, and you can’t make me. Also, to be Samara, all I needed was a black wig (eBay) and a white nightgown (my mum), et voila!
The Ring (and yes, I’ve seen the Japanese version, before you all start) was the first film to seriously freak me out. After watching it, I didn’t sleep properly for approximately three years, because every time I closed my eyes, I would imagine Samara standing at the bottom of the bed, and I would want to die. The movie was also responsible for making me frightened of a) televisions and b) phones. (OK, I’d ALWAYS been a bit frightened of phones, but The Ring took it to new levels.) Even now, I only have to THINK about certain sequences from that movie, and I will freak the hell out.
So, what do you do when there’s a character from a movie who seriously scares you, folks? Why, you dress as her for Halloween, of course! And then you spend the entire evening avoiding mirrors, because every time you catch sight of yourself, you almost die of fear. Awesome!
Anyway, raging fear aside, the party was lots of fun (thanks to Nicky and Barry for being our hosts once again!) and everyone looked fantastic. And I know what you’re thinking. You’re all, “We don’t really care about your crappy outfit, Amber, we just want to see Terry’s costume!” Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a while longer. You see, we have another Halloween party to attend this Saturday, and while I’m wearing something different this time (you can only get me into a shapeless white nightgown once), Terry will be wearing the same costume he wore this week. I know the hosts of the next party read this blog from time to time (Hi Steven and Lindsay!) and I don’t want to spoil the, er, impact of Terry’s outfit for them, so I’ll post his photos on Saturday, before we go. I’m sure you’ll all be on the edge of your seats.
To make up for that crushing blow, however, here is Rubin’s “costume”:
And you can deny it all you like, but if the phone rings shortly after you finish reading this, you’re going to be scared.
And you should be.
ONE. WEEK.
Tagged halloween, scary movies
I know it’s not actually Halloween until tomorrow, but my mum just emailed me this photo of Rubin (he stayed with my parents’ last night while we were out partying: we’re heading off to pick him up soon!), and it was too good not to share:
Hope everyone’s having a great weekend!
p.s. One more…
OMGSCARY!
(Note: Rubin wore this mask for approximately 2 seconds each time. No bichons were harmed in the making of these photos.)
Tagged halloween, rubin
I got me some new shoes.
I’ll look a lot like Minnie Mouse in them (and, in fact, that’s their name: Minnie.) but I don’t care.
I would actually try to justify these as part of a “Minnie Mouse” Halloween Costume (even although I think her shoes were yellow?), but my friend Ewen is a big meanie has challenged me to dress as something non-glamorous this year. This has proved a challenge indeed, not just because, as some of you know, I like to use Halloween purely as an excuse to be even more over-dressed than usual (see “Marilyn Monroe“, “Audrey Hepburn“, “Joan Holloway“, er, “Lady Gaga” but also because I hate spending money on anything that isn’t a dress or a pair of shoes, and so I was forced to try to put something together on less than £5. (Well, OK, I wasn’t “forced”: I just did it.)
All will be revealed next week: for now, I’m off to stroke my shoes some more…
[Shoes: Miss KG by Kurt Geiger 'Minnie2']
[Disclosure: these shoes were courtesy of Idealo.co.uk, but chosen by me..]
Tagged shoes
(This photo has absolutely nothing to do with anything.)
When I wrote about our Edinburgh ghost walk this weekend, I forgot to tell you how I ended the evening: by almost setting a restaurant on fire.
We’d booked a table at a restaurant near the Vaults, so that when our tour was finished, we could just hop across the road and grab something to eat. When we arrived, though, we were told that the restaurant’s credit card machine had broken down, so it was cash only. Well, no problem: as usual, neither of us had any cash on us, but there was an ATM just a couple of minutes away, so Terry headed off to get some money while I began the lengthy process of divesting myself of all of my many layers of outerwear. Because it was October, and we’d be walking around outdoors at night, you see, I’d assumed it would be freezing, but, of course, last weekend was actually unseasonably warm, so by the time I arrived at the restaurant, I felt like I was fresh out of an oven.
This feeling only intensified as I sat down to take a look at the menu. In fact, as I scanned through it, I became more and more convinced that I could smell something burning. Given the terrible tales of FIRE we’d just heard in the Vaults, and my overheated state, I was pretty sure the “something” must be me. “I knew it!” I thought feverishly. “A demon has totally followed me out of that haunted stone circle, and now I’m about to spontaneously combust. Why does this sort of thing always happen to ME?”
But it wasn’t me that was burning.
It was my menu.
My menu which I had somehow managed to dip into the candle on the table, and which was now ON FIRE: and I’m talking huge flames leaping towards the ceiling, probably going to burn down the whole restaurant if I don’t do something about it NOW. THAT kind of “on fire”.
What I chose to do first of all, was to shriek loudly, as if I was being attacked by the fire. It was completely involuntary, and, yes, quite embarrassing actually, now you come to mention it. Then I had to throw the menu to the floor and STAMP on it to get the flames out. GOD.
I thought I’d gotten away with it. The restaurant, you see, was a kind of T-shape, and it so happened that the other patrons, plus the waitress, all happened to be in a part of the T which my table wasn’t visible from when the burnin’ happened. So I sat back down and tried to read my now-burned menu, thinking no one would be any the wiser.
A few seconds later, however, Terry arrived back from the ATM and confirmed that he had noticed the smell of burning as soon as he’d opened the door, and had known instantly that it would have something to do with me. I would take offence at this, but, let’s face it, I have form with this kind of thing, having previously set a flower on fire in another restaurant.
(And then a minute later, the waitress appeared and offered me another menu, presumably having witnessed the whole thing. They probably have it on CCTV or something.)
That’s why I will now answer to the name “The Firestarter”. Or, if you prefer, “Twisted Firestarter”.
It’s a good job I don’t smoke, eh? Just imagine the trouble I’d get into THEN!
(Also: once I’d finished telling Terry this sorry tale, his first question to me was “Did you take a photo of it?” I really need to blog less…)
As some of you know, I have something of an obsession with ghost stories and horror movies, and in the run up to Halloween, Terry and I have been immersing ourselves in some classic horror, courtesy of the Hitchcock back catalogue, and also a couple of more modern movies (The Orphanage and [Rec], both of which I recommend if you enjoy not being able to sleep at night). When we watch these movies, we sometimes joke about The Signs That You Are Probably in a Horror Movie. There are lots of these: for instance…
1. You find yourself alone in a multi-story car park in the dead of night = you are probably in a horror movie.
2. You discover you are the only guest in a decrepit old motel, by the side of a lonely highway = you are probably in a horror movie.
3. There is a small, creepy child, who watches you silently = you are probably in a horror movie.
4. You are in a mental asylum/orphanage/deserted mansion/corn field = almost definitely in a horror movie.
5. The phone rings, but there is no one there = you are probably in a horror movie, but you may also simply be being telmarketed, so be wary of this one.
6. You hear strange sounds from the attic/basement, but decide not to investigate until you are in the house alone one night = dude, you are IN A HORROR MOVIE, FFS! You also kind of deserve whatever is about to happen to you, because seriously? The basement at night? Have you learned NOTHING from the horror genre?
There are, of course, many more things I could add to this list, but there is one particularly important one, which I discovered on Sunday night:
7. It’s the week before Halloween, and you find yourself in an underground street which was mysteriously abandoned a couple of hundred years ago, and which is now hailed as one of the most haunted places in the city. Why are you there? Because you got a Groupon offer for a ghostwalk, of course, and you totally failed to take into account the fact that you are an absolute WUSS when it comes to these things: d’oh!
So, yes, on Sunday night, Terry and I headed into Edinburgh for a tour of the “haunted” vaults under the city. These vaults were home to some of Edinburgh’s poorest and most desperate characters until, as I said, they were mysteriously abandoned and bricked up. No one knows why this happened, except for the fact that, oh yeah, probably something to do with the poltergeist, ghosts, and various evil demons that live there, yeah?
We’ve actually done a few of the various Edinburgh ghost tours, and only one of them seriously scared me (and, er, still scares me to this day, actually), so I wasn’t really worried about this tour… until the moment we got ready to step inside the vaults.
“Does anyone have difficulty breathing, or suffer from heart problems?” our guide asked cheerfully. “Only, sometimes people faint or have heart attacks in these vaults, so if you think you’re going to die, just give me a shout, OK?”
Of course, I DON’T suffer from any health problems of this sort at all… until someone tells me I’m about to do something that would exacerbate any of these conditions, and then I instantly can’t breathe and think I’m having a heart attack. So that was how I felt as I stepped inside the creepy old underground street: basically, as if I would not be leaving there alive.
“OK,” said the tour guide, placing her torch under her face in classic “creepy” fashion. “Couple of things. You see this long, spooky corridor we’re standing in? The one which fades to blackness at either end, with God knows what lurking in the shadows?”
We all nodded.
“This corridor is haunted,” said the tour guide. “So if, for instance, you feel a small, icy hand creep into yours, don’t worry! It’s just a child who was killed here a couple of hundred years ago: just give him a little squeeze back, to reassure him!”
Oh. My. God.
I should probably point out here that just as I do not have breathing difficulties until I’m warned I might experience them, I don’t actually believe in ghosts until I’m told I might just feel some small icy fingers creep inside mine. And then I kind of freak the hell out, because, seriously? You want ME to reassure the GHOST? Oh hell to the no. At this point I stepped closer to Terry, grabbed his coat with both hands (sorry, icy fingers! No room for you here!) and sent out what I hoped were “Get your icy fingers away from me!” vibes.
The icy fingers, however, were to be the least of my worries. As we walked around the caverns under the city, hearing the tales of all of the terrible, terrible things that had happened inside them, and of the many, many ghosts that are said to haunt them, I became uncomfortably aware of the fact that no matter how quickly Terry and I tried to walk, we always seemed to be at the very back of the group. This meant that there was a comfortingly large group of people, there was ME, and then there was pitch darkness, lots of haunted caverns, and a whole population of GHOSTIES. So that was a happy thought. In fact, at times I couldn’t even concentrate on what the guide was saying, I was so busy craning my neck round to see if there was anything approaching from the darkness beyond. In this fashion, I managed to work myself into quite the fever pitch of nerves, go me!
Next, the guide showed us a room which is used today as a temple by members of the Wiccan church. “This room isn’t the one they originally chose as their temple, though,” said our guide. Apparently the original room had so terrified the members of the church, who would frequently emerge from it covered in scratches which they couldn’t explain, or feel like they were being choked by some unseen presence, that they had asked to move to a room closer to the exit. “When they moved,” the guide explained, “They told us never, ever to take tour groups into the original room, because it was too dangerous. So let’s go there now!”
It was at that point that I realised I was in a horror movie. And what was worse, it was one of those modern horrors which are set around Halloween, and involve hapless tourists who just think it’s all part of the “show” when the redhead at the back is suddenly attacked by a demon and spirited away, never to be seen again. Crap.
We all shuffled into the Room of Evil, which contained a stone circle, placed there by the Wiccans, before they were scared away.
(Love the expression on the guy at the far left of the photo. That’s pretty much how I looked, too…)
“This room is full of Evil,” intoned the tour guide. “The evil originates in THAT corner of the room!”
She pointed to me at this point. Awesome.
“Now, however, the evil is believed to be trapped inside the stone circle,” continued the guide, going on to explain that tourists have passed out inside the circle, have thrown up inside the circle, have emerged from the circle covered in scratches… the list goes on.
“Does anyone want to stand inside the circle?” she asked. “Because if you do, just wait until I’m out of the room, because it makes me nervous watching it.”
Then she left, and I prepared to leave too, because, seriously, it’s not like anyone was going to ACTUALLY stand inside the circle, was it?
Oh.
“Take my photo,” said Terry. And, of course, I got out the camera, and IT WOULDN’T WORK. Probably because of THE EVIL. And by now, everyone else had left (except for one other guy, who may or may not have been the devil, actually, and not part of the tour group at all, because now I come to think of it, that was the only time I remember seeing him on the tour. Hmmm. Also, he was dressed in 18th century costume?*), so now I’m standing in the pitch dark, in the Room O’Evil in a haunted underground cavern, with my husband standing inside the Stone Circle of Doom, alongside whatever it is that lives there.
“Terry,” I said. “We are SO in a horror movie right now. Also, you are SO going to die.”
(He’s still alive. So far.)
We caught up with the rest of the group, and, of course, once again, I was right at the back, and totally defenceless against the evil beings that would surely be coming for us. “At least I have Terry to hold onto,” I thought. This thought comforted me, until…
“For the final room, I want everyone to split into two groups,” said the guide. “Men on the left of the room, women on the right.”
AAAAAARGGGGHHH.
“DO. NOT. LEAVE. ME.” I hissed at Terry. But, of course, he left me, and I found myself standing with a group of women I didn’t know (and, thus, couldn’t reasonably expect to cling onto), with me YET AGAIN at the very back of the group, with lots of creepy darkness behind me. And I’m making light of all of this, but I was seriously terrified. Like, I’m-going-to-cry-if-this-doesn’t-end-soon terrified. I am not proud to admit it, but I was a WRECK, seriously.
“This room has a poltergeist in it!” our guide told us. “He likes to attack women!”
And then I died.
OK, I didn’t. I waited until she switched off the ONLY LIGHT IN THE PLACE and we were plunged into darkness: a darkness so complete that I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face, or the people standing around me. And as I stood there, listening to the tales of horror being told by the guide, I became convinced that I was alone: that when the light came back on, I would be the only person in the room… OR WOULD I?
(The fact that I could still hear the guide speaking should obviously have clued me in to the fact that I was not, in fact, alone. But it didn’t. Because I am a stupid girl, who should stay away from the haunted caverns at nightfall.)
And THEN I died.
I will say no more about What Happened in That Room, because I don’t want to spoil it for anyone who actually goes on the tour. I will, however, say that it was all very well done, and if you enjoy a good scare, I can highly recommend it. (The tour company’s website is here, should you want to check it out.) Please don’t allow the fact that I haven’t been able to sleep properly ever since (not even joking, here) put you off.
And I’m sure the mysterious noises we keep hearing from the attic now have absolutely nothing to do with Terry’s decision to stand inside the stone circle. That kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life… does it?
(*No he wasn’t.)
|
|
|
