Winter Sale Shopping - Essentials

Winter Wardrobe Addendum

So...we near Christmas time slowly but surely and the sales are even closer on our heels. If you haven’t completed your winter wardrobe just yet, then the sales are the best time to make your wardrobe addendums.

Don’t waste time buying anonymous garments unless you really need them. Polo necks, black t-shirts and vests can always be bought for less than £10 in shops like Zara, Hennes and Primark. There’s no point wasting sale shopping money on garments that remain relatively cheap throughout the season and aren’t making much of a statement.
Look out for garments that might be considered a ‘Trend Piece’ that could possibly disappear this time next year.

Gucci RTW- a/w 09/10

Sequined embellished garb, Blazers, Leggings and Evening tops - I always refrain from having too much going on on the upper part of my body – particularly in shiny, light reflecting materials, which can risk making you look like a sparkling elephant. I would look out for sequins in muted colours for this part of the body or choose sequined jackets and boleros as opposed to tops.

Marc Jacobs RTW a/w 09/10

Shoulder padded jumpers and dresses - I have an inkling that like the over the knee boot, skinny jeans and leggings - the shoulder pad trend might stick with us for a moment. I wouldn’t worry too much if you have fallen in love with the embellished shoulder and are buying only padded upper garments. On the other hand you could always head to John Lewis and get yourself a pair of shoulder pads that you can slot into all the tops you own. John Lewis has barely been able to hold onto their shoulder pads this year.

Marc Jacobs RTW a/w 09/10

Louis Vuitton RTW a/w 09/10Boots are always a good find this time of the year – of course if anyone manages to get hold of a decent pair of ‘V Boots’ in the sale then that is the ultimate find! The best pair i’ve spotted are in Topshop, they’ve already sold out once this season and are now on their second run, with only two sizes left! These boots are on and off the shelves so quickly i doubt that Topshop will need to put them in the sale. Aldo have a couple of ‘V Boots’ in the sale, be warned most of these aren’t real leather.
Marc Jacobs RTW a/w 09/10

Coats and Jackets are always on the top of my list in the sales, you can get loads more for your money and of course if you purchase right you can have yourself a ‘Forever Killer Coat’. I always recommend Zara for Catwalk style coats. This season Marc Jacobs is the man dominating the inspiration for my wardrobe with his winter 2009/10 collection. I’ll be looking out for capes (with full length sleeves only)*, coats and jackets with embellished or enhanced shoulders.

Marc Jacobs RTW a/w 09/10

For those that are avid wearers of black, bright bold coloured coats are a must have in this collection - don't be afraid to be bright and definitely be prepared to turn heads - especially in this dream of a coat.

Marc Jacobs RTW a/w 09/10

Another trendy must have is Velvet. We saw velvet trousers on the catwalk three years ago, however this trend disappeared fairly quickly. The cyclical nature of fashion would have it that trends are making their comebacks much quicker than they used to, trends can disappear and reappear in a matter of years now. Velvet has to be of good quality, especially to create the shiny looks that are all over this season’s catwalk. When buying velvet think SHINY SHINY!

Louis Vuitton RTW a/w 09/10

Accessories are so important this winter, so make sure you accessorise this season, Fashionistas! Many don't consider this element of dress to be essential, but when it's cold and bleak outside and fashionistas want to be warm and sparkly there is no better way to do this than adorn yourself in some shimmery winter armour.

Louis Vuitton RTW a/w 09/10

The catwalk would have it that jewellery has been played down this winter, the look is definitely more focussed on a sharper, classier look leaning towards power dressing rather than overtly glamorous and blingy. Keep your ensembles clean and tidy by wearing a few pieces of huge statement making pieces, rather than too much jewellery which can counteract the sharpness of your outfit and ultimately take the attention away from you.

Key jewellery pieces this season are jewelled bibs, which can be bought for less than £5 in Primark, hefty neckwear and of course ridiculously oversized rings. Topshop and Miss Selfridges are my favourite for some serious metal hardware.

Burberry Porsum RTW a/w 09/10

Winter Warmers are now officially as important as your coat. As i grow older the coat just doesn’t seem to insulate me as sufficiently as i need. It’s all about ear muffs, snoods, armlets, fingerless gloves and gloves that make their way all the way up to your elbows.
If you don’t have a snood already then snood yourself now – these are the best things on the planet right now! Hennes have a good selection of snoods that will no doubt be in the sale at some point this week as the sale products expand.

ASOS a/w 09/10

*Armlets are perfect if you’re the owner of cropped or three quarter length sleeve coats and capes. The armlet is great because you can pull them over your fingers when not needing your hands, but don’t have to freeze your forearms when needing to change the song on your mp3 player or searching in your handbag for keys – see how efficient and considerate fashion is becoming?

Gloves this season are big – really? What i mean is, magic gloves for a pound just aren’t cutting it anymore. Leather gloves are as sophisticated and timeless as a Burberry Mac.

Louis Vuitton a/w 09/10

Primark have a whole range of leather gloves, suede, coloured, short, long, embellished, you name it. I do like the idea of matching the colour of your coat to your gloves, it just adds that extra little detail and shows you have taken the time to pay that bit more attention. If you only wear black coats, then how about trying a pair of hot pink or scarlet red leather gloves. Marc Jacobs has once again incorporated gloves into his catwalk this season.

Marc Jacobs RTW a/w 09/10

Marc Jacobs RTW a/w 09/10

Balenciaga RTW a/w 09/10
Hoisery - I’m searching for a look alike pair of Marc Jacobs paisley print pink and green tights – hideous?? I love them. This season is all about adorning your legs, so tights have either got to be 100 denier or printed, sparkling, laced or coloured.

Marc Jacobs RTW a/w 09/10

Primark have an amazing selection of fashion tights, their quality is as good as a pair of Pretty Pollys. If you are really loving the whole tights phenomenon then Henry Holland has an amazing variety of quirky tights. Balenciaga featured a pair of sheer spotted tights in their show this season, these tights are perfect for adding that extra sexy edge to an ensemble without having to freeze your pins off completely as you would in a pair of lace tights. Checkout Accessorize and ASOS for Balenciaga look alikes.

Balenciaga RTW a/w 09/10

Christmas is probably not the best time to be giving shopaholics personal buying tips... but shop - you know you want to, just shop wisely!

Marc Jacobs RTW a/w 09/10

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Profile Piece: The 'BIG BEN' Theory

He’s as alluring as chocolate fudge cake on diet day, as endearing as a forehead kiss and as single as a plucked rose. Ben Vignola is working on the production for T4’s Stars of 2009 Concert. He gives me an insight into ‘Being Ben.’

‘So, what are we drinking?’ Ben Vignola (33) Writer, Amateur Kick Boxer and Production coordinator asks, taking what he has declared to be his new coat off and pushing his sweater sleeves over somewhat significant forearms. He returns with a bottle of red wine, two glasses and a plastic key, which he reveals is a tab. It’s Friday afternoon in Benugo, the BFI’s bar, Ben is sat in a large olive green arm chair, with puppy dog eyes looking over expectantly. This is not the first time we have made this acquaintance. We were introduced by a mutual friend and film director a few weeks ago in a 1950’s bar in Soho, where Ben revealed that he was writing a book and made it modestly clear that everything he writes is rubbish.

‘What did you think of that bar? It’s a cool place.’ He starts. The tiny little red bar, almost unnoticeable in the thick of Soho’s nightlife had steps leading down from the street which acted as a time travel device, once surfacing, the surroundings were complete fifties nostalgia. There was a live fifties band playing, the patrons were dressed in their fifties attire and danced as though they had just swung in from a swing dancing session. There was nothing conventional or pretentious about that little bar and the same can be said for Ben Vignola.

Alongside being a writer, he works freelance in production and has an annual stint with event and TV Production Company, Done and Dusted, who are the producers of ‘T4 on the Beach’. Extraordinarily enough he is also Great Britain’s 2008 heavyweight Shidokan champion in Japan and Sri Lanka. Ben most certainly does not look like a fighter, he’s tall and strapping, yes, but he has large blue green engaging eyes, he’s calmly spoken and has an incredibly inviting mannerism. He’s undoubtedly confident and over his years of travel and life experience is particularly self aware and assured, and comes across enlightened rather than arrogant.

Today Ben wears a pale yellow v-neck sweater with a grey t-shirt underneath, which pokes out at the neck. On his legs are dark indigo jeans and his feet in slightly ruddy Converse All Stars. When asked what his style says about him, he answers, ‘Unimaginative. I dress this way to conform.’ Regardless of his attitude towards his style, which a fashionista could possibly consider difficult, he most certainly is easy on the eye. And on meeting and judging him externally you would say he’s unassuming and unperturbed. Ben looks as though he could be a bit of a charmer, possibly a heartbreaker, following in the footsteps of a George Clooney type. Then again even George Clooney got married. Ben is shocked by such news, ‘George Clooney is gay!’ Of course any woman would contest. The banter continues and as though he is trying to kill any faith us girls may still have in the deliciously unobtainable man, he reveals, ‘David Beckham is gay too! They’re both just like Rock Hudson.’

Ben is naturally forced to undergo a great deal of conflict after making such catastrophic accusations, he surrenders by coolly changing the subject and discloses that prior to our meeting he was having lunch at EAT with a female friend. He is incredibly open and almost dangerously engaging, what was supposed to be an interview becomes the ideal conversation between a man and a woman on a first date, minus the flirting, of course. ‘When I was eighteen I fell in love with a very attractive girl, I loved her for ten years, but we never got together till I was twenty six, it lasted three months.’
It’s this kind of romance and honesty that is intriguing about Ben. He seems to represent this world of polar opposites, the brutality of honesty and loss next to this wilfulness for hope and love. A man that never sees himself married, doubts he’ll ever have children but reveals that intimacy is one of the world’s greatest gifts.
Unlike his nature, that resembles a calmed sea, his past has been somewhat more disruptive. He reveals, ‘I’ve had a f*cked up upbringing – I don’t want to go too deep into it.’ But sat comfortably back in his chair, with his arms folded behind his head he wanders off into histories of the divorce of his Polish mother and Italian father when he was thirteen, substance abuse, running away from home, being kicked out of schools and eventually leaving education at the age of fourteen. Since then he has lived in a vast number of locations, including Shoreditch, Ladbroke Grove, Brighton and Hampshire. And more further afield in the later part of his life in Australia and Japan. Like most of us he is proud of his travels, this is most certainly a predominant theme in his life, whether his travels take him from house to town, country to city. Barely on speaking terms with his parents, no particular desire for a wife or girlfriend and having been single for three years you can’t help wondering where Ben’s ties are and if he ever wants to plant any roots.

‘There are aspects of myself I need to develop. I lack commitment in my life,’ he reflects. To challenge his lack of commitment Ben took on his Japanese kickboxing endeavour, where he lived with a Grand Master in a Hombu Dojo (a martial arts place of training, directly translating ‘Place of the way’). A drastic challenge? Possibly, but his achievements prove that his commitments were not for nought.
He most certainly is a man that favours the experience of life at that moment over building for the foreseeable future. He is a lone ranger with a scope as broad and as round as the world, he’s bound by nothing and takes pride in building his experiences.

Whether the woman lunching with Ben Vignola is a lucky one remains ambiguous, ‘I wouldn’t call myself a bachelor yet, if I’m single in five years, then maybe.’ He orders another bottle of wine and divulges into another story about losing his virginity to a woman eleven years his senior. When asked about the male fascination of the older woman, he says, ‘Haven’t you seen The Graduate?’

Ben Vignola is currently producing T4’s Stars of 2009. Concert date: 29/11/2009 Watch at 13:00 on Channel 4.

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Katerina Drury - The Drury's In

The Drury’s IN!


As one of the fashion industry’s brightest young talents, Katerina Drury’s already wowing the industry bigwigs.
‘I was so shocked when I won it took a week to sink in. It’s very nice to be the winner and has made me lots more confident in all my work and studies.’

Katerina Drury is reflecting on having recently won the Fashion Awards Direct competition that took place during London’s Fashion Week this year. She was shortlisted from one hundred and thirty young designers alongside twenty two other entrants. Eventually twenty two became one and Katerina, despite being only eighteen years old claimed the top accolade on the runway in front of fashion VIPs from Harrods, ASOS and Grazia.
Her excitement is infectious and inspiring. She’s an A Level student from South East London’s New Cross, she’s modest and totally unpretentious, all of which make her so endearing and deserving of her achievement. Needless to say it was Katerina’s design for the competition that catapulted her into fashion acclaim, the design was to be created for a musician or singer and Katerina chose Lady Gaga.
She reveals, ‘I wanted to be able to be bold and imaginative.’ And although Katerina doesn’t particularly like Lady Gaga, she likes the fact that the pop star designs some of her own apparel, which she finds interesting. Katerina seems to have this amazing wisdom, a wisdom you wouldn’t necessarily expect from an eighteen year old. She’s objective and open minded and this is why people warm to her. She reveals that her personal style is nothing like her design style. The piece she created for LFW was a metallic leather handkerchief hemmed skirt with a shiny grey body suit. The design had the essence of Gareth Pugh and Thierry Mugler.

The former is one of Katerina’s favourite and his creations are worn regularly by Lady Gaga and Beyonce. Katerina’s personal style, on the other hand, is simple. She humbly says, ‘I don’t really have an interesting style, I just prefer to be comfortable, but am known for my handbags and earrings.’
Katerina’s ambition is to become a fashion photographer, prior to this she wanted to be a criminologist, but having to re-take her first year at college she decided to play her more creative hand and carried out A Levels in Art and Textiles. Evidently this has worked wonders for her. As part of being the winner of the competition she has been offered an internship at Volt Magazine with the Editor in Chief and fashion photographer Rui Faria which begins in January. In the meantime she seems to have the fashion industry waiting in the wings for her next move: ‘I’ve had lots of interviews since winning but I’ve been carrying on as usual, just getting on with my A Levels.’
Although Katerina comes across as calm, she is by no means complacent and doesn’t see her ‘big win’ as her free ticket into the industry. This is a girl who isn’t afraid of hard graft, welcomes challenges and enjoys risk taking with her designs, whilst being completely level headed. ‘I am hoping that I’m going to have a strong future in the industry but it’s a very hard industry to get into and I’m going to work hard to get this for myself,’ concludes the talented young designer, with typical modesty.

Fashion Award Direct is a charity which runs workshops and competitions to help young people create their futures in fashion. http//www.fad.org.uk/archives/3760junior_awards/index.php

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I Heart Winter 09 - Deadly Serious Fashion

Marc Jacobs RTW a/w09

We finally say goodbye to Sicilia and summer holidays. Summer was all about being FABULOUS, this winter it's all about being SHARP. The sharper the better equipped you are for this season's approach to fashion, which i can only translate as 'Dressing to Kill!' It's time to get seriously fashion once again and right now, fashion is deadly serious!

In my Reccessionista Chic entry I advised fashionistas to stick to black for winter and although I wear black regardless, I was so thrilled when doing my catwalk research to find my favourite designers of the a/w 09/10 had dressed their models head to toe in black.

Black often is considered safe and boring, but true fashionistas will know the impact of black; sharp, timeless and instantly sexy, even if it is just a black t-shirt and black jeans – I love it!
For this season the only accessory you’ll need for your black outfit is lots and lots of sex appeal! How exciting!

Fashion seems to be taking a nostalgic reminiscent turn for women, taking us right back to the eighties – hard shoulders and cinched in waists. If you are not focusing on extending your shoulders then make it all about the legs this winter -it HAS to be one or the other! Throw your jeans out and get in with the tighter than a skinny jean fitting leg wear whether it be leggings,

tights or trousers and if not then....

Gucci and Roberto Cavalli have made THE boot of the season; the thigh high boot currently coined the ‘V Boot!’ The V standing for Vagina - the higher up the leg these boots go, the more of a fashion superstar you are!

In my opinion these are by far the most exciting item on the catwalk this season (next to a Marc Jacobs crimson red cape) and I have already begun my research into purchasing a pair. Winter dressing always excites me, but this is a special winter where women can be classy, sexy and most importantly empowered.

Gucci RTW a/w09

It's time to get serious, fashion lovers and there is nothing safe about this black...

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The Last Supper - Ciao Sicilia x

There are four cars of us heading towards Etna for Pizza tonight, we all meet at a central point where we switch cars in order to mingle and mix, then continue the journey. Miraculously Kimmie always ends up in Lothario’s car, the car that none of the other guys want to travel in because he prohibits smoking. Strange that Kimmie - pro smoker should wish to travel this way!
The pizza place is the same place me and The Sicilian go with the family. Due to there being so many of us out for dinner we are given a private area which is located on a small terracotta terrace, enclosed with black cast iron and climbing vines. The pizza selection is limitless, there is possibly a hundred pizzas on the menu, the Nutella pizza being amongst the options. Eating was just a small part of this particular meal; we drank lots of wine, had lots of great conversation and told lots of jokes. We spend most of the meal in fits, exchanging embarrassing stories about one another and getting to know everyone. Due to there being so many of us our Pizzas take a while to come to the table, but nobody seems to notice.
This was my favourite meal of the holiday – everyone was in great spirits, the pizza was delicious, we laughed hard, swapped pizza slices, took loads of pictures and sat for hours with no rush or worry.
We left the trattoria at half past midnight, perked up with some coffees in the local bar, hung around the square and witnessed a power cut. Then began the second part of our night at the Tennis Club.

The Tennis Club

The Tennis Club was filled by the Sicilian glitterati, once again the party was held outdoors as so many Sicilian clubs and parties are in the summer – a huge blue ray of light came from the centre of the grounds – the vast majority of the grounds being taken up by an immense swimming pool almost the length of the main party area. Patrons danced from all four sides of the pool and some were even brave enough to dance the on the pool edges. This was Beverley Hills, Sex and the City, Hollywood eat your heart out! And once again we danced the morning in and didn’t leave till they shut the music off. Modus operandi, on the way home all four cars stopped for Tavola Calda, where we engaged in more conversation and made a few more jokes, before being too tired to make sense we are chauffeured back to the apartment.

Tindari - Madonna Negra

Our time in Sicily flew by and before we knew it reality had started to hone in on us – our last day had arrived. We went to Tindari, a small town whose patron saint is a black Madonna. We walked around the quiet, tiny town. The roads are sandy tracks without pavements and front doors are left open. We even became acquainted with the local dog that followed us throughout our walk in the town, we named him and Angel Rae and The Sicilian fed him some water!

The Last Night

The gang met up for the final night – unfortunately Monday nights in Catania are dead and we struggled to find anywhere to go. We had been directed to a bar called Tre, which also turned out to be closed. The owner, Dario Poeta was on his bike outside ready to leave for the night and saw us aimlessly hanging around. Being familiar with one of the gang he opened the bar for us and served us bottles of Prosecco, which we had to fight to pay for. After leaving Tre we hung out in the city square, prolonging our last night for as long as possible. Inevitably home time arrived, Lothario to our surprise accompanied Kimmie Parker home, a romance has sparked and they spend what’s left of the night dancing in each other’s arms, exchanging sweet nothings!(ugh). Genevieve, Angel Rae and myself childishly spend the rest of our night spying on the couple!!

The Last Supper
The day we’re set to leave the sun comes out full throttle. After packing our suitcases we go and sit on the beach with what is left of our Sack of Crisps – a bag of crisps we bought from the supermarket big enough to feed the five thousand. The Sicilian meets us on the beach and gives us the great news that his friends have given us a further discount for our week in their resort.
We have our last supper in Catania’s city square, and for the sake of tradition we all eat huge dishes of pasta. We do a quick whip around the high streets, where we pick up souvenirs and bits to take home then we are rushed off to get ready for our flight. Me and The Sicilian go back to his family’s house to bid our farewells and pick up his sister. Outside the airport we take the final photos of us all together, The Sicilian’s sister exchanges her hugs and kisses goodbye and tells us that we are the funniest group of girls she has ever met, of course we take this as a compliment. We say goodbye to Costanzo and Lothario and make our way to the check in desk.

The Catanese were great hosts to the girls, everyone was welcomed with open arms, the Sicilians most certainly take pride in hosting and showed my friends an amazing time. Our gang was made up of so many different characters but the chemistry and group dynamic was as though we had all known each other for years and holidayed regularly with one another. The most difficult of the holiday aside from choosing where to eat, was saying ‘Goodbye.’

I hope a Sicilian reunion is in the pipeline for next year...?

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Mansion Parties and Granita in the Morning

Mercati Mansion Party

Small dresses in bright colours, huge heels and clutch bags

Genevieve and GiGi stay home tonight, while The Sicilian drives the rest of us to the location for the night – Mercati, an old mansion which has been reworked for partying purposes. Angel Rae, Kimmie and myself are dressed in our typical London club attire, small dresses in bright colours, huge heels and clutch bags. Nobody in Sicily on a clubbing occasion dresses like this and when we step out of the car in our tiny dresses and walk into the Tavola Calda bar the looks we receive are so forceful they could almost push you over. Kimmie doesn’t seem bothered by the attention but me and Angel Rae are practically edging back into the car. We order our food and sit down, while The Sicilian goes to pay – one of the waiters looks at us inquisitively and whispers something to a colleague. I can’t help thinking that the waiter thinks we’re prostitutes and all three of us start to get defensive. ‘Omigod, have they never seen a girl look glamorous before?’Angel Rae huffs. When The Sicilian returns with our food he informs us that the area we’re sitting in is for table service only and that we had confused the waiter. ‘Oh, so he never thought we were prostitutes?’

Mercati plays hard core house and a little bit of funky – this place is for the true raver and in every corner, on every table and chair, behind every tree and bush there are people dancing hard. Girls have left their Sicilian classic attire at home and now resemble the trendy festival goer, dressed in flip flops and wellies, leggings and shorts.
Instead of being in a botanical garden, tonight we are in the garden of the mansion which has acres and acres of land lined with Lime Groves, which are lit with tea lights and dotted with art deco chairs and tables. Lothario Roma and his friend join us and continuously order glasses of Tequila. I say glasses, because to call these shots would be an understatement, they were literally plastic cups filled with the deadly fire water. How anyone could down this drink in one go is beyond me, but of course my friends the hardened drinkers didn’t waste a drop!

Lothario and Kimmie spent the night dancing together and taking silly pictures of each other, Lothario in his moment of rapture, Kimmie awe and drunkenness decided to start dancing on the art deco chair – the chair unable to take Lothario’s graceful dance movements fell back. Falling like a pushed domino, Lotharia also fell back with the chair, the large lime tree breaking his fall and taking a pounding from his head. Kimmie, as concerned and thoughtful as she is runs over to Lothario and struggles to help him up in between bouts of laughter. The Sicilian, somewhat quiet tonight is bent over in laughter, while myself and Angel Rae watch the whole thing in complete dismay. Unfortunately Mercati stops serving drinks at three, strangely the club goes on till the last man’s standing – we try our hardest to work our foreign charm to get the barman to serve us some alcohol, ‘Prosecco?’ Kimmie says, almost mortified when he refuses. On that note – we leave.

Genevieve is still awake when we get home, we decide to watch the sunrise and gather our towels to sit on the beach with the Tavola Calda we bought on our way home. We look out to sea and watch the sky, night is meeting dawn and the sky is mixed with a hue of pink. ‘Red sky at night, shepherds delight ...‘Kimmie re- sites.
All too tired to wait for sun rise we go back to the apartment.

Granita, Martini's and Prosecco for Breakfast

Today we decide to have a traditional Sicilian summer breakfast consisting of Granita (a crushed fruit and ice - sorbet/ice cream) with warm Brioche, the size of a large bap. On my introduction to this ice cream and bread collaboration I was almost in disbelief, thirty year old men eating ice cream in a roll for breakfast – this is absurd! But when in Rome... And like every food item in Sicily there’s a whole variety of flavours the granita comes in; strawberry, almond, chocolate, pistachio, lemon, raspberry and many other flavours.
For our granite we go to Mythos, a bar in fishing town, Acireale. Mythos faces the Cyclops Riviera, where three great stacks of rock loom over the sea. Greek mythology would have it that these three Cyclops are rocks that Polyphemus threw angrily from his home in Etna at the Greek hero Odysseus, in retaliation for being blinded by the hero. Mythos is filled with the few Sicilian tourists and the upper middle class local, draped in designer, flash sunglasses hanging from noses and one particular beautiful woman we can’t help but look at. A certain Lothario joins us for breakfast, he’s hung over from the night before and has a sprained wrist. Being a doctor he has already put the necessary accouchement on the injured arm for a speedy healing process. Luckily enough for excessive food consumption, we can barely manage to get merry let alone have a hangover! Lothario and Kimmie exchange romantic glances – could there be a possible romance blossoming between the two anti-relationship protesters?

After breakfast we head back to the apartment where we relax, sleep, beach, read and prepare ourselves for Pizza in the mountains with the whole gang for dinner!

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Dinner with The Godfather ...

Head to head, we tackle the horse on our plates...

Twenty or so of us gather in another of Catania’s many horse meat restaurants, this one located opposite an enormous castle situated behind the ruins of Catania. After exchanging kisses and hugs hello we get down to the nitty gritty, four bottles of local red wine are ordered and we are given plates for the Antipasti buffet. Before the antipasti are finished plates of horse meat are laid in front of us. The plates consist of a horse meat meatball, a horsemeat cut/steak and a Sicilian sausage, seasoned and filled with mozzarella. The girls look at me astonished, ‘This is too much food.’ I tell them to take their time and enjoy the meat. Mmmmm, this is probably one of my favourite Sicilian cuisines and packed with iron, horse meat is advised to eat once a week by Sicilian doctors. Throughout the meal, our Sicilian hosts watch in apprehension as we tuck into our food. ‘I know you can eat,’ The Sicilian’s friend says to me, ‘but what about the rest of you?’ Head to head, we tackle the horse on our plates, both Kimmie and I manage to give some food to some of our fellow diners, Angel Rae loosens her belt as she struggles, Genevieve hides her food with other food on her plate and GiGi slowly but surely manages to finish everything on her plate. She is crowned ‘The Honour of the Table,’ (a title I have earned at The Sicilian’s family home) and applauded her for her achievement. Complimentary of the restaurant we are given a plate of Involtini (a tenderised piece of meat, rolled up, stuffed with mozzarella and bread crumbs) for the table to share and a glass of Limoncello each.
Feeling uncomfortably full, we head to the Sicilian’s sister’s friend’s summer house overlooking the sea for after dinner drinks and ice cream.

The Honour of the Table

Dinner With The Godfather & Family

The Sicilian’s godfather stroke uncle and his wife, The Sicilian’s aunt insists on having all five of us for dinner. Dressed in our most family friendly attire we prepare ourselves for dinner with the family – and I finally christen my red Miu Miu’s. The dinner sitting consists of the girls and myself, The Sicilian, his sister, their mum and dad, the godfather and the Sicilian’s aunt, their three daughters, the youngest who speaks perfect English with an American accent (she learnt while hosting an American girl in Sicily), the daughter’s husbands and partners, the two elder sister’s children; three little boys, the oldest a child Benetton model and the sassiest little seven year old girl I ever met, she was a little madam who spent most of the evening bossing the boys around, showing off and being cheeky to her mum. ‘Remind you of someone, does she?’ Kimmie asked me, sarcastically.

Angel Rae whispers to me, ‘The family aren’t eating the way we are.’

The Sicilian’s aunt is famous for her pan fried Veal Escallops and we are, by now famous for our food consumption – it’s a perfect match. The spread of food is once again overwhelming, salami, Parma ham, pecorino, zuzzo (which looks like jellied spam to me and I’ve never been brave enough to try it), oven baked potatoes covered in rosemary, olive oil and chopped onions with Sicilian seasoned sausage, a huge bowl of rice salad, chicken and veal escallops.

We sit around the table and wait for someone more familiar to begin digging in. ‘Start!’ The Sicilian’s godfather insists – we are told to eat everything, anything left over won’t be taken lightly. So we begin. Kimmie takes potatoes, rice, cheese, salami, escallops all for the taking, the godfather watches, amused – of course in Sicily they eat by first plate and second plate, never mixing meats with the first plate. The godfather offers to give Kimme a pizza plate, ‘That should be big enough for you to fit everything on.’ He jokes.

Myself and Angel Rae both keep an eye on the potatoes and sausages, we really don’t want it to go before we get to it, but both of us are too polite to dive in – of course we have already had our first round, but with the food tasting so good the glutton in you unwillingly shows itself. Half way through the meal Angel Rae whispers to me, ‘The family aren’t eating the way we are.’ To be honest I hadn’t noticed, the escallops are out of this world and I’m just trying to figure out how I can make space for more.

After dinner we sit in the garden, where we talk to The Sicilian’s cousin, she speaks perfect English with an American accent, she learnt by hosting an American girl living in Sicily.
The tray of sweet pastries, cakes, cannoli’s and tarts we collected from the bar on the way were brought out and laid on the table, the food consumption began yet again – the crowd formed around the table. Each to their own!

Kimmie works her charm with the Surfer dude...
For after dinner drinks we head into Catania City Centre for student night, where we meet an old school friend of The Sicilian’s, a surfer who spends half the year surfing in Catania - where he owns a surf school and the other half the year in Costa Rica. He invites us all to surf with him, before I can politely decline, The Sicilian kindly interjects for me, ‘She doesn’t do water, she has a problem with her hair.’ Err – the reason I DON’T have a problem with my hair is my adversity to water – THANK YOU.
Genevieve, GiGi, Angel Rae and myself spend the rest of the night man watching, while Kimmie works her charm with the Surfer dude.

Taormina and La Isola Bella

Angel Rae disgusted, screws her face up at the Sicilian man’s choice of swimming trunk...

We decide to have a day at the beach, although this was not particularly on mine or Genevieve's agenda, the rest of the girls all have tanning on their schedules and with the weather heating up we, head to Taormina.

Taormina is a town that come summer or winter is always brimming – the Sicilian’s, the Italian’s, general tourists, weddings and film festivals are all in Taormina. The Sicilian and I spent our Valentines here this year. Before making our way up to the town we stop off at Taormina’s infamous beach, La Isola Bella (the beautiful beach). We are joined by The Sicilian’s friends, we’ll call them Lothario Roma and Costanzo.

The Sicilian, Lothario and Costanzo strip down to their trunks and head off into the sea, Angel Rae disgusted, screws her face up at the Sicilian man’s choice of swimming trunk or should we call them Speedos. Of course I have forbidden The Sicilian from wearing such a thing, but Lothario and Costanzo and most Sicilian men see no problem with donning these – these – knickers!

‘They’re just hideous!’ Angel Rae goes on, ‘Why should they think they can wear those things?’
Next to join the guys in the sea are Genevieve and Kimmie – Kimmie slips into the water and swims off, only to notice that she has left Genevieve somewhat behind. From the shore myself, GiGi and Angel Rae can hear a loud rip of laughter coming from the sea, this is Kimmie cackling at poor Genevieve as she not only gets bashed against the rocks by the waves, but loses her bikini top in the process. When Genevieve returns her back is red and bruised!

Costanzo gets us some beers and for the first time in ages we talk about something aside from food – relationships. Recently single, Kimmie has concluded that relationships are ‘Rubbish’ and with two single men both once broken hearted as her audience, they can’t help but to agree.
After finishing our beers and enduring the looks of the other Sicilian sunbathers who have barely managed to peel their eyes away from us, we head up to the town.

Kimmie claiming that one of the brides looks like a hippo...

On our brief stay at Toarmina we witness at least five weddings, Kimmie claiming that one of the brides looks like a hippo - Genevieve angrily grunts at Kimmie’s harsh words. Taormina is a beautiful, picturesque romantic town, filled with beautiful churches, an amazing view of Sicily and some absolutely amazing restaurants. Shopping in Taormina is expensive, it’s literally all high fashion. I found myself mentally coaching myself away from all the gleaming shop windows.

Before sitting down for a drink we bump into possibly the best looking Sicilian man the girls get to witness on the holiday – from a very wealthy Catanese family, and the other half of the couple who own the resort we’re staying in – we’ll call him Angiolucci.

Angiolucci introduces himself to my friends and Angel Rae and Kimmie struggle to hold back their winning smiles as they kiss him hello. Angiolucci is dressed in a suit, attending one of the many weddings taking place in Taormina today.

‘Who the hell is that?’ Angel Rae whispers to me. ‘Married with child,’ I answer.

Me and Angel Rae are playing staring games with the Italian and Sicilian passersby ...

We sit in a bar watching the passersby of Taormina with a bottle of local wine. Considering we’re in the heart of the touristy Taormina the local wine is surprisingly cheap – we ching our glasses, ‘Salute!’ The wine tastes absolutely amazing, we all mmm and aah as we drink, this could possibly be the best local wine I’ve had on my Sicilian travels and The Sicilian agrees.

We’re all pretty tired and trying to stay lively, Genevieve looks red from the sun, Kimmie is striking up conversation with Lothario Roma, me and Angel Rae are playing staring games with the Italian and Sicilian passersby and GiGi, just about to take a sip of her wine – PLOP! A seagull decides to locate its toilet right in her glass of beautiful, full bodied, local red wine – of course for GiGi this doesn’t go down too well! But it certainly makes us forget our tiredness and stupid games for a moment.

We get back to our apartment with bottles of wine for us and a crate of beers for The Sicilian. We chill for a few hours, The Sicilian takes a nap and we drink some Fragolino, looking back on the holiday so far...

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Sicily Awaits the Spice Girls

No worries people, i am still very much here and still very much blogging! It's taken me a while to get the complete Sicilian experience into words, but all 5,ooo words of it is done, dusted and chronicled. I am likely to publish it in sections everyday or so ... so watch this space for the next entry...

There were four new girls landing in Catania...

The week leading up to the girls arriving in Sicily, The Sicilian made sure to do his PR. He let every shop owner, friend, business affiliate, street sweeper and club owner know that there were four new girls landing in Catania in the next few days. I was asked to show pictures, give brief character descriptions and inform them of their marital status. The Sicilian would revel in the excitement that he was creating – four women from London coming to Catania! It wasn’t long before the Catanese people thought they knew the girls and had even coined them ‘The Spice Girls.’

Tuesday finally arrives, me and the Sicilian have our last lunch with the family, take a quick siesta and then begin to prepare for the big arrival. On the way to the hotel we go to the Sicilian’s godfather’s supermarket where we put together a little welcome pack for the girls – this surprisingly consists of alcohol; the pack contains Local red wine for three Euros, rose and Fragolino, a deep red sparkling wine made with strawberries. I struggle to the counter holding the six bottles of alcohol - the Sicilian looks at me disapprovingly, ‘Don’t you think you’ll need some food?’ I pick up a bag of crisps and we check out.

We rush to the Cucaracha, (where me and the girls are staying) a beach resort owned by two powerful Catanese families and good friends of the Sicilian. I get ready at lightning speed, it’s quarter to eight in the evening, the big arrival happens at nine and by ten thirty we have to be at The Garden for aperitivo. The girls are yet to find out that they have less than an hour to be ready before we hit the bars and clubs.

There they are, waving, jumping, blowing kisses with huge grins...

The Sicilian and I stand in Catania Fontanarossa airport – I seem to be attracting a slight crowd, it’s probably not often that women in airports are dressed in Zebra Print dresses and huge towering heels. Trust me, it looks tasteful! So, once again we are stood at the frosted glass doors, waiting apprehensively. I can’t help but notice that the Sicilian seems far more excited than I am – he can’t wait to show off his country! The doors open then close, open then close – there’s no sight of the girls, the clock is ticking, time is running away leaving less time for them to get back to the resort, get ready and head out to The Garden. The doors open again and some pale, back pack carrying people arrive, me and the Sicilian decide they must be British and must have got off the same plane as the girls. The doors close and then open once again – there they are, waving, jumping, blowing kisses with huge grins plastered across their faces. Well – apart from frequent flyer Angel Rae, who seems to be cool, calm and as though she’s been here twenty times over. Kimmie Parker, who I was told had sent out instructions for all girls to travel in heels, is wearing Carvela wedges – evidently her fellow flyers never listened.

The Garden

Dressed to impress, a bottle of wine in the back of the car being shared out into plastic cups we head towards the coast for drinks at The Garden. On our journey the Sicilian acts as a tour guide, he ensures that all bags are kept on the floor and never on laps and that the door remain locked at all times. It has been known for thieves to smash the car windows in order to grab purses and bags. This seems to freak Kimmie out more than expected and when driving through what you might call ‘ghetto’ ensures that not only do we have doors locked, but that we keep our windows up and make eye contact with nobody.
We arrive, The Garden is an outdoor bar, situated on a roof terrace. The terrace is lit with pinks and purples and dotted with Olive trees, a DJ playing eighties funk in an open space towards the end of the terrace, located opposite a complimentary buffet. The complimentary buffet and food is common practice in Sicily, particularly in bars, they often don’t serve drinks without a mini pizza, a bread crumbed mozzarella ball, mini arrancini or at the, least some fruit. Of course we find our spot by the buffet - eyeing up the food eagerly, a little apprehensive to go and help ourselves, all but Genevieve. She helps herself to a plate, gets her food and begins to munch away – it doesn’t take long before the rest follow suit. As usual the Sicilian asks the bar man to make us a deadly cocktail, which consists of three different vodkas; peach, strawberry and normal, with proesecco and strawberry syrup. The cocktail, as you can imagine takes effect very quickly and amongst The Garden patrons we begin to dance to the eighties music. Aperitivo consists of dressing up, heading out to the location of the night, meeting friends, acquaintances and associates, having a drink, maybe two and some general chit chat to get you in the mood for the rest of the night, very rarely do you see the locals singing, dancing and drinking the way we were – for the first time is Sicily we stood out and I didn’t care. We spent the rest of our time at The Garden taking pictures, laughing and dancing – The Sicilian’s sister – the organiser of our night tells us it’s time to head on to our second location for the night.

Benacherino

We pull into the club grounds and are directed to the club’s private car park. As we step out of the car we can hear the music booming from in the open field, however we can’t seem to locate where exactly the club might be. Our six inch heels digging into the ground, and drinks from The Garden in our hands in plastic cups we make our way to the unidentifiable nightclub. Not knowing what to expect evokes some nerves and excitement amongst us, Angel Rae continues to tell me that she feels nervous and isn’t quite sure why. Strange for a girl who has travelled half the world?

It oozes a sexy exoticness and is simply breathtaking...

Benacherino is a club situated in a botanical garden, huge deep green trees loom over us and the plants and flowers that surround us are amazing, it oozes a sexy exoticness and is simply breathtaking. Drinks in hand we hit the open dance floor and we dance the early hours of the morning in, locals stand around to watch these strange specie ‘the non-Italian’ enjoying themselves on their land, dancing up a storm. And dance up a storm, yes we do!

We dance in the open air till it rains, Gi Gi, Angel Rae and myself try to dance underneath a panel that shields us from the rain, Genevieve continues to gyrate in the rain, flicking her red hair about – we all know that subconsciously she is re-enacting a scene from J-lo’s Waiting for Tonight video and Kimmie Parker – well...? She reappears with a Sicilian on her tail, she claims that the attention he is giving is unwanted, of course, neither of them being unable to speak the same language can be Kimmie’s only excuse for bouncing about the club with the man without communicating her discomfort!

Prima Tavola Calda...

We leave Benacherino, miraculously our two car entourage has increased by another two cars and a mo- ped. The Sicilian’s sister tells us the addendum to our group are acquaintances of the ‘hello, goodbye’ quantity, that want to witness and take part in as much of the London Sicilian experience as possible. So all thirteen of us go to L'Etoile, the Tavola Calda bar, situated near the arches in Catania’s centre. Tavola Calda is the Sicilian fast food, translating ‘Hot Table,’ and serves a vast selection of sweets and savouries, typical of Tavola Calda is; Arrancini, a ball of rice coated in bread crumbs which can be filled with Bolognese or mozzarella and ham. Pastries filled with Frankfurters and Mozzarella with black olives, Bolognese sauce with mozzarella, ham and mozzarella, onions, Bolognese and Mozzarella, Aubergines’ with Mozzarella and Bolognese, Pizzetta’s (small pizza’s) and that’s just to name a few. And the Sicilian being the reign of the sweet food, the cakes, pastries, cannoli, tarts, pies, cornetto’s (croissant filled with marmalade, Nutella, white Nutella) are decadent, rich and indulgent. The food is presented beautifully behind a glass counter triple the size of a deli you’d generally find in Sainsbury’s. The arrangement and immensity of the food is overwhelming, and when we entered the Tavola Calda bar I’m pretty sure we all shared one thought, ‘How much can we eat?’

After getting over the party going on in our stomachs at the excitement of food, we made our selections and grabbed a corner where all thirteen of us sat, the men watched in amazement at the speed and ease of the food disappearing. And of course we all went in for round two, none of us being particularly hungry, the girls wanting to sample as much Sicilian cuisine as possible (even though they had all week to do so) and my excuse was – well, I just love Sicilian cuisine. The bar offered us all a free glass of Prosecco and complimentary cakes, we continued to eat and drink some more while we discussed how good the food was, the Sicilian struggled to make plans with us for tomorrow and decided, ‘We’ll go for something to eat in the morning and then decide.’

After a few nights of no sleep, sharing a double bed in between Kimmie Parker aka snoring bull and Angel Rae aka selfish duvet hoarder I begin to accept that this holiday will not involve much sleep. Genevieve, unable to politely wait for people to wake up in the mornings looms over the beds, singing, ‘Anybody up?’ and the Sicilian before we’re washed and dressed is knocking on our door, coaching us to get ready and get out for the events planned for the day.

Our days generally didn’t start without eating Tavola Calda and sipping a glass of Prosecco to set us up. We’d eat enough to keep us full until the evenings, when we’d head out for dinner then on to a bar or a club.

The Sicilian took us to Mount Etna, where we braved the freezing cold and harsh winds and looked at houses that had been destroyed by the active volcano. After leaving Etna we went to the Botanical Garden’s where we trailed through Olive Tree groves and walked through botanical waters set in deep gauges.

The journey home was a long one where I was unfortunately forced to listen to the shrill, deafening singing of LaRoux or the life threatening 'singing' of Angel Rae – as much as I have taken a disliking to La Roux, this was the preference over Angel.

The weather back in Catania had taken a turn for the worst, torrential rain fell, lightning split the sky and although GiGi had a moment of anger about the weather we remained in high spirits, determined to have a great holiday. . .

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Sono Arrivata - I Have Arrived!

(Sorry people - this is a rough and first draft entry. I am working on the Sicilian's sister's computer and have limited time on here. It will be edited when i am back home, just wanted to get this online in the moment - enjoy!!)

I have officially arrived in what i like to think of my home away from home, except here seems far more exciting and far more richer and warmer in all the elements of life that i love that little bit more than in London. On my arrival i was greeted by the Sicilian's in laws, waiting with beaming faces and skin as dark as a golden desert. They wave to us through the glass windows while we await our baggage and once we meet them on the other side of the doors rapturous gestures, big hugs and kisses are exchanged. They show their affections to their son, the Sicilian. His mum looks at him with pride and happiness to have her son back home. Then they turn to me and bombard me with hugs, kisses and the italian language, which my mind is working over time to understand. The Sicilian's father, a huge Sicilian masculine character in side a four foot something tiny body tells me my italian is improvng, "Now, let's work on your Sicilian!" he jokes. He can only be joking.We step outside of the airport and are greeted with a still, intense humid heat, it's nine o clock at night and the temperature is twenty nine degrees centigrade - the Sicilian's father looks at me with all my London armour as though i am a crazy person, my new leopard print oversize scarf that i bought earlier this morning from Primark and my black blazer is most certainly NOT NEEDED HERE. As we walk to the car the in laws hustle me out of my excessive attire, leaving me with a vest, jeans and pumps on - it's still ridiculously hot, there's no breeze, the leaves on the trees stand as still as stone and the heat leaves sweat beads on the Sicilian's face.In the car we have the inevitable important conversation and i am so glad that this conversation has come so soon, 'Cosa mangiamao? - WHERE SHALL WE EAT?' The options are Carne di Cavallo (Horse Meat) at Achilles, a trattoria specialising in horse meat which the Sicilian and i frequent with his family every Sunday for lunch or Pizza in the mountains - the Pizzeria is located on the drive towards Etna, the Sicilian tells me that during the summer the Catanese (people of Catania) and general city folk head to the mountains where it's cooler to do their essentials for the day - which is of course eating dinner and eating ice cream.
So - eventually we decide to head to Achilles; Achilles is located in what you could call the ghetto, although amazingly picturesque with beautiful rustic terraced houses and a back drop of castles and cathederals, it is the urban part of Catania. People here are on the grind and doing what they can to make a living, most of which are making their living from food - so you can imagine how good the food is here. As we make our way up to Achille i am surprised at how many people there are simply hanging out, on every street corner there are people, Sicilian people from the age of two right through to eight years old - i am yet to see one foreigner or holiday maker. Every bar or restaurant or Carrozzoni (a food place in the style of a mini hut or mini van usually selling pannini's and beers) has a gathering of people surrounding it. Achilles's is set on a narrow main road, along this strip there are probably another twenty trattorias just like Achille. They have huge grills outside where they grill the horse meat, creating fumes and a smell of cooking meat in the hot air, due to the heat the trattorias have had to extend their outside space to accomodate their loyal customers, who want to site outside. So all the trattoria's have placed their grills on the edges of the road, some have even placed some tables and chairs in the road just so they can get as many people outside. Cars and bikes struggle to pass down the now narrowed main road and of course abusive rhetoric is exchanged even more frequently from the drivers than usual. It is not long after our arrival in Achilles that the Polizia arrive and initiate some havok, telling all restauranteurs to set back their tables and chairs and get their grills out of the road. 'You would have these tables bang in the middle of the road if you could,' the police man continues, he cusses like a Jamaican -the Sicilian is known for their oral expressive nature. They are quick, witty and sharp tongued and they never miss a beat.Once we have finished watching the Polizia raid the trattoria's we eat - for starter's we head up to the buffet where me and the Sicilian load our plates with Parmagiana (an aubergine cake, layered with egg, parma ham and sometimes cheese), a spinach and cheese cake, red peppers with bread crumbs, Finochio (Fennel) and Crochette di patate. We order half a bottle of the local red wine, which is served in a jug cold, when Salvo (the waiter) brings our wine without any glasses the Sicilian's mother yells, 'Salvo!' Here there are no airs or graces, if you want something just ask and if you can't be heard, talk louder and if you can't be seen then shout! So at Achilles this is how you dine and my meal is punctuated with the yells amongst the wiaters and customers calling out at each other, 'Vanessa! Agata! Salvo!' When you are a foreigner here it is so easy to take delight in the colorfulness of this culture and the Sicilian people and i always catch myself taking a moment, studying and falling more and more in love with this island. My thoughts are interrupted by my Polpetti di Cavallo (horse meatballs) which are placed in front of me, the rest of the table have a mixture of horse meat, which is cooked like a steak only cut thinly and Salsiccia condida (seasoned sausage), in the centre of the table a tomato, garlic, onion and cheese salad to accompany the meat. I tuck into my food, how i have missed these meatballs - 'Ho!' The Sicilian father says, (Ho is the equivalent to Oi), 'Do you come here to see us or eat our food?' He jokes. They joke about me arriving looking too skinny and tell me that they will take even more pride in fattening me up. Grazie!So after finishing at Achille only naturally we head to Quaranta, a gelateria (ice cream bar, it is completely packed - inside people push their way to the ice cream counter which features Mars, Forrero Roche, Kit Kat and Nutella flavoured ice cream as well as many many more. Outside there are wicker chairs and tables where we sit and enjoy our ice cream as we would enjoy a glass of wine in a bar in London...

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Naomi Parker's Send Off - The Hen Weekend

Ciao Ciao London

It started off with The Sicilian saying goodbye and pre warning me of my behaviour as I hauled my powder pink suitcase and Sicilian biscuit package onto the bus to Victoria. Accompanying me was one of my roommates for the weekend, Gi Gi Live – who was making a huge statement with royal blue nails and oversized Victoria Beckham style glasses. ‘I tried to buy some wine,’ Gi Gi says, her nails highlighting her sentences as she waves her hands about, ‘The woman in the shop looked at me as though I was crazy. We don’t sell wine before eight thirty the she told me – don’t you know that – she asked me. Why would I know that?’ Gi Gi laughed, ‘Everyone in the shop looked at me as though I was an alcoholic.’

Purchasing wine at eight thirty AM – this is a hen weekend with good intentions.

McDonalds Calls

Victoria station with an hour to kill, there was only one way to start the weekend. Mc Donald’s! En route to McDonalds I stop in Claire’s Accessories to buy myself one of those plaited hair bands. Then myself and Gi Gi sit down to two Big Breakfasts – man, how I forgot how good a McDonald’s sausage is! In fact the last time I had one I was also headed to Leeds.

Mid gossip, in floats the hen herself, with a suitcase maybe not as bright but as large as mine (this makes me happy). Naomi has attired her long body with a Spanish red floating maxi dress, to accompany her long flowing mane. Behind her is Kimmie Parker, chugging along a rather large Paul Frank bag, Canterbury Parker, mother of Kimmie and the hen and friend, Louise. Like a moth to a flame we have all coincidentally been drawn to the evil lure of McDonald’s breakfast.
‘Thought we might see you bitches here!’ Kimmie, with her affectionate Bitch calling settles down with a Mc Muffin. In her bag are bottles of wine, Cava and Vodka!
‘Can’t believe we’re all early,’ Naomi says, I feel all eyes shootng me knowing looks.
‘When it’s important I can be fashionably punctual,’ I say, between mouthfuls of Mc Donald’s goodness.

The Coach

On the coach, before we hit the road we are informed of how to flush the toilet, we are told not to consume any hot foods, take any hard drugs or consume any alcohol. Of course the alcohol rule irks us, Canterbury has come fully kitted out with plastic cups and screw top bottles of rose.

AC - Why can’t we drink alcohol?
Canterbury – This is public transport, of course we can’t drink alcohol.
AC – Are you sure this is public transport?
Kimmie – Of course it is.
Canterbury – What kind of public transport are you (AC) used to?
AC – I’m just saying, as far as I’m concerned if I can’t use my Oyster card to travel - it’s not public transport.

***LAUGH***

There’s only so much talking about Argentine lovers, the Sicilian, fiancés, boyfriends and fashion we can do to pass the time ...so we pop the rose. And with great discretion, fear of getting kicked off the coach and left for the hard shoulder and a good love for alcohol intoxication we consume two bottles in no time.

Now – we are ready for Leeds.

Arrivata

We arrive at the Jury’s Inn, just near the Royal Armouries, let’s call it the Leeds equivalent to Canary Wharf. We are located amongst, the river beautiful bridges, new build apartments and shiny hotels. We are pleasantly surprised at how plush our hotel is.

Readying for The First Night

All gathered in the Hen’s room we drink warm Cava and Champagne, we toast the hen and then indulge in what seems to be a rather long conversation about our bums – or for Kimmie – the lack thereof! We shake our booties for a while, acting like confused Carnival dancing video veterans – then we yet again engage in some more male concerned conversation whilst painting our nails and intermittently swapping nail tips.

The First Evening

We head to Sicilian Salumeria for a six course food tasting meal.
For our Digestivo we go to the Epernay Champagne bar, which is situated in a glass ceilinged court yard called, The Electric Press. Here we meet hair colouring obsessed, dinner party hostess expert, Genevieve Winona Eckhart, who has joined us later due to work.

Once the whole cohort has consumed enough champagne for the bubbles to tingle our feet we head to The Living Room where we dance the night away. Naomi abuses us with her somewhat violent drunken dancing and once we are defeated we walk through Leeds City Centre and make our way back to the hotel.

The Drunken Walk Home

We discover a twenty four hour Greggs – yes Greggs! The bakery! Like school kids let out for lunch we bound into Greggs thrilled by this phenomenon. Why don’t we have a twenty four hour Greggs London? I grab a stake bake and relish every last bite of it.

The Hang Over

We force ourselves out of bed at 8.30, having gone to bed only hours ago. On arrival at breakfast we are all impressed with the spread of the buffet breakfast. I greedily and with no consideration to diet, calorie counting or bridesmaid pictures indulge in a three course breakfast.

Breakfast chit chat consists of replaying the night before, we cackle with laughter and to be fair are probably the loudest group of all the young inhabitants breakfasting, henning and staging in the hotel! We laugh until tears are in our eyes and decide we need to get out of London more often.

The Burlesque Class

Well ... the teacher was a short haired, tiny pole and burlesque dancer who strutted about the class room in nothing but a black vest top and frilly knickers. There is nothing too complimentary to say about my fellow Burlesque dancers – we rolled about the floor like sea lions whilst nursing delicate bellies and thumping headaches!

To make ourselves feel better where better to head to other than Primark? We shopped for an hour or so, bought more food and alcohol and headed back to the hotel.

Four in a Bed

Kimmie infiltrates me, Gi Gi and Genevieve’s room. She climbs into the bed with us where we make jokes, take the complete piss out of each other, reminisce on old boyfriends and contemplate the future. We laugh ourselves to tears and perfect six packs! (We wish).

Sailors - The Second Evening

Dressed as sailors, we head out for the big night! In Leeds City Centre we are one of many Hen crew. ‘Oi Oi sailors!’ a Leeds man shouts to us and we all respond with a salute. We look at each other enthused and like little school girls, we laugh and giggle excitedly!
We enjoy our Tapas and Cava sangria, with great luck our bill arrives without the last two bottles of wine charged to the bill. No wonder Gi Gi and me are the last sat at the table - completely oblivious. We knock back the last of our wine and head out ASAP!


Chilli Whites

Love London exclusive clubs? Then Chilli Whites is the Leeds equivalent – only ten times less expensive than our good old capital raving scene. We spent most of the night dancing to funky house and posing as sailors! Chris Brown’s Forever comes on, when the song hits the bridge we miraculously and completely unchoreographed manage to fall into a dance routine we copied off YouTube!

My shoes slowly but surely defeat me and for the first time in years I find myself sitting in a nightclub nursing swollen feet! It’s all getting too much for me now!

Back at the hotel Kimmie pours two glasses of Vodka and pineapple juice? We sit outside and watch the last of the Leeds ravers play fight drunkenly in the street, we voice a few disgusted opinions at their behaviour and then finally head off to bed.

Not so Bright Eyed or Bushy Tailed

Me, Gi Gi and Genevieve manage to force ourselves out of bed for the final breakfast. Nobody else joins us, obviously K.O’d from the previous night. Genevieve decides that we are the true hardened ravers – I couldn’t agree more. My feet are swollen, my head is spinning and I look ghastly but here I am, 10.00 in the morning, drinking a black coffee and eating hash browns. Still no concern of how I’ll fit into my bridesmaid dress and at this minute really not caring.

My Lobby is your Lobby (or front room)

Our last day in Leeds is spent in the hotel lobby, where we stay for the WHOLE day. The Hen, Canterbury and Louise head to the spa. Gi Gi Live, Kimmie Parker, Genevieve and myself set up camp in the lobby, I charge my Blackberry, we buy herbal teas and hot chocolates and put our feet up. We pass the time discussing our ideal three course meals, recent films we have seen and of course how hung over we are. Kimmie is in and out of the bathroom with self proclaimed food poisoning – she moans and groans at the mention of food. However secretly the rest of us can’t help thinking that alcohol poisoning may have been a more apt diagnosis!

5 hours later

We’re still in the lobby, having popped out for Burger King and Nandos (did I ever mention that we were fabulous?). I sink a double whopper and cheese burger with chips –somebody say “bridesmaid dress!!!”

Back in London

As tired as hell and feeling ten pounds heavier, we are back in London and we’re all feeling slightly deflated. Pretty little Leeds seems like a lifetime ago.

As soon as I get home I head to my bathroom and jump on my scales to confirm that I am the heaviest I have been in two years!!!! OMG – what about my bridesmaid dress???

To bed I go, depressed as hell!

We will always have Leeds. X x x

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Recessionista Chique

It was the usual Friday evening at the South West London home of the green fingered photographer and ex London College of fashion student, Canterbury Parker. Protocol of gatherings at the Parker home are drinks, tortilla chips and humus dips, gossip, fashion pondering, wine sipping and drunken calorie burning dancing.

Myself and vintage shopper and charity shop aficionado Kimmie Parker and her mother, Canterbury were sat in the garden, Kimmie and myself flicking through high fashion magazines and building mental wish lists, when I came to the conclusion that, 'I need a new image.'
Looking down at my jeans and a vest top outfit I couldn’t help feeling slightly upset and annoyed by the fact that it had taken me almost two hours to select this ensemble - (surely an outfit worth two hours of trying on and taking off should be more...creative?)
'A new image? That costs money,' Kimmie Parker says, sucking on her Vogue cigarette.
'It doesn't have to. You can just style what you already have differently,' Canterbury Parker advises, pulling weeds from one of the flower beds of her much loved garden.

Transform Primark garments into fashion history homage

I was an expert of styling while being a student, I spent most of my time shopping in my mothers wardrobe, which is like fashion heaven, filled to the brim with vintage, classic and quality goods. When my much needed student loan arrived I would stock up on Primark garments and key accessories such as bags, jewellery and shoes. By the end of the semester I could transform Primark garments in to fashion history homage, cleverly styled, interestingly worn outfits.

Since being employed I must admit I have become somewhat lazy, I am very proficient in taking myself to Zara or Topshop and buying myself a Catwalk look a likey whenever an event pops up. I can't help thinking this is all too easy and a lot less fun!
Never fear, the impromptu shopping for occasion attitude will be over in the next few months. The coming months will not only see me considerably poorer due to heading back to university - but headed to FASHION university (the Gold winners of Graduate Fashion Week) some serious creativity and art will need to be applied to my dressing technique.
Now is the time for me to pull my finger out and get all Recessionista chique!

Outfits look great with a bit of vintage punctuation

'Gok Wan says the key to dressing in high street and cheaper garments is to accessorise - often these garments miss out on detail.' Kimmie says.
Sipping my wine, I concur. I am a true accessories practitioner - I don't believe an outfit is complete until you have considered your belt, it's buckle, your earrings, your necklace or chain, rings, bracelets, your handbag and shoes. If you're a truly serious dresser you'll even have a selection of watches!
The Sicilian always says, 'A man can be wearing anything, but he will always be judged by his watch and his shoes.'
Accessories can speak volumes about your outfit, your style and your ability to dress - I believe all outfits look great with a bit of vintage punctuation, whether it's a vintage belt, bag or shoe; vintage always puts you in a league with the connoisseurs. Accessories can easily get over looked or become a second thought, to some, maybe they are. In my case it would take me far longer to decide NOT to wear accessories than it would for me to pile them on.
My ears were pierced before I even knew what earrings were and since then I’ve never looked back. As a dancer in my late teens I would go as far as to pack a special pair of earrings to wear whilst rehearsing in the studio, once rehearsals were finished I would replace my dancing earrings with my statement earrings!
Many of my friends would die at the thought of leaving their homes without their earrings, particularly frequent flyer and bling - a - ling supporter, Angel Rae; in the six years that I have known her I am yet to see her without earrings big enough to pick up a satellite signal. It's her thing and it works!

If and when you have to buy garments, buy them in black!

Accessories are a necessity, particularly for the Recesisionista Fashionista who doesn't have thousands of pounds to rework their image, but still insists on being individual and stylish. I am not saying that everyone should go out and spend thousands of pounds on accessories, that would defeat the whole object. But if sacrifice and compromise happen to reside in your fashion styling technique, then instead of buying a load of clothes from Primark that are anonymous and more than likely not necessary or spending sixty pounds on a dress from Zara, that can only be worn once around the same group of friends, focus more on a pair of statement shoes, a killer coat, a broche or clutch bag. My key tip for Recessionista Chique is; invest in items that can transform outfits and can be worn continuously throughout the season. And if and when you have to buy garments, buy them in black!

Cont’d in Accessory Necessities...

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