Nostalgia week – commence! After four and a half years at The Times, it’s my last day next Thursday. Of the many opportunities I’ve had here to write about something I feel really strongly about, my 2010 series about being a feminist, LGBT-supporting person getting confirmed was one of my favourites. I know, sexy subject, right? Nothing says “This won’t alienate people at all!” like talking earnestly about faith, religion and small sacred biscuits that are actually really difficult to swallow. Continue reading
Guys, can we forget that it’s Indian Summer territory and pretend it’s freezing? Thanks. Let’s chat warmth. Continue reading
Growing up in London, and later in Hampshire, I loved nothing more than playing with my BF, Ben Key. Ben was a cultural ambassador in otherwise fairly boring Raynes Park, and introduced me to Clueless and my two great loves, X-Men comics and Grease 2. Unfortunately, whenever we tried to play together, our horrible mothers forced us to endure his younger siblings, Marcus and Tammy, and my younger brother Nick being foisted on us whenever we tried to play essential games of Captain Planet, or The Worst Witch. Continue reading
I’m currently working on a guide to where tall girls can buy decent clothes. Shopping when you’re 6’1 can be a sodding nightmare. In the meantime, I thought I’d round up some of the most useful posts I wrote in my fortnightly column for Domestic Sluttery: ones that focus on brands rather than specific clothes that might no longer be in stock. Continue reading
In preparation for doing a juice fast (more on that story later: spoiler! It’s like having your own butler bring you feelings of smugness and health) I went to the library and carted a stack of books home.
One of the best things about our new office is that it’s just up the road from John Harvard Library, which has a varied graphic novels selection. I’d gone in hoping that the entirety of Fables would be patiently waiting for me, but luckily they weren’t. I got a bunch of new stuff: 100 Months, which I’d seen at the British Library’s Comics Unmasked exhibition; Blue is the Warmest Colour (because so far I’ve entirely failed to watch it on Netflix); some Alison Bechdel (never read her books, only panels accompanying Bechdel Test posts); Blankets by Craig Thompson which rang a bell for some reason, and Please God, Find Me A Husband! by Simone Lia which had lovely illustrations and opened in Leicester Square. Continue reading
Tall Girl Treat is back! Before we get started on clothes and shoes, can we just have a moment for a couple of really amazing things? Thanks.
1) Temperley London’s Pre-Fall and Winter collections. I loved Dolce and Gabbana’s fairytale-inspired AW line, then saw one of Alice Temperley’s shirts on Instagram and went into a spiral of lust. Oh my good lord, literally, if anyone has to be violently copied by the high street this season it’s Alice Temperley, because I need all of these gorgeous patterns, laces and flowers, and I have none of the many hundreds of pounds required to obtain them. I spent 15 minutes last night putting expensive clothes on Pinterest and half-weeping while trying to work out whether Diana had actually sabotaged Iain on Bake-Off. Continue reading
I was thrilled when the Evening Standard announced that they were covering Camberwell in Homes and Property (today, people! Today!). I love H&P. It’s the covetous, property porn jam to my otherwise disappointing Wednesday toast.
And I was thrilled that people were going to see how great the place is. Sarah Waters’ new book, The Paying Guests, has a ‘genteel Camberwell villa’ at its centre, and lots of Camberwell is indeed jolly genteel. So much so in fact that there was much “Wuh?” from SE5 residents on Twitter when Time Out posted a review of the Camberwell Arms (announced today as one of The Good Food Guide’s top 50 British pubs) painting SE5 as a grim, downtrodden haven of grime, and nought else. It was so bewilderingly sniffy that those comments have since been removed from the review.
My brother used to come to Jazz in the Crypt at St Giles all the time, but as far as I was concerned Camberwell was unreachable – largely because everyone told me it was. When I moved here three years ago, I may as well have been moving to Narnia. “You have to walk? To get to a bus stop? For 10 minutes?” I was weak at my under-exercised knees.
OH HI GUYS, I’m back! Shelf Esteem, previously housed at Domestic Sluttery, is now on my own doorstep, which means I can write each review while doing helpful things like bothering Cat Brown and de-candle waxing the mantelpiece (that last is not a euphemism but something I actually did last weekend, but wouldn’t it be a great euphemism?). Continue reading