Sunday, 11 September 2011

Heroes of Today

Ten years ago our world changed forever. Our city, our country, our home was attacked by a ruthless enemy.

I don't plan to use this blog to tell you about my personal account of the day, as I was one of the few fortunate not to lose a mother, father, son, daughter, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, husband, wife or friend. Although I was just a few miles away, I feel it would be selfish and indulgent to do so. And we all have our story. I have yet to meet someone who, when September 11 comes up in conversation, doesn't remember exactly where they were the exact moments when the planes hit and the towers fell.

On September 11, 2001, we saw ordinary people transform into heroes. We experienced the worst of humanity but were exalted by the best. We saw a country and a world unite, and we became a part of history.

Today is not about my 9/11 story. It is about honoring those fallen, those hero's, those families and friends left behind to grieve and remember. It is about the lesson's we have learned from that momentous day.

Today of all day's, I am reminded of my mortality; of my loved ones mortality. I am humbled by just how precious life is; and that in an instant it can be taken from any one of us. It is therefore our job to live each moment to the fullest, to let those you love know how much you love them- EVERYDAY, not just holidays; to follow our dreams and not settle for anything less; to make sure that we are really LIVING life, not just going through the motions.

I need these reminders just as much as anyone else. I am guilty of falling into the occasional slump and taking things for granted. However, we need days like today to knock us off our comfort wagon and remember the fragility, the value, the fun and fortune of our lives. These are the exact things that terrorists try to take away from us. So when we do this, we have not only won our own battles, but we honor the heroes of 10 years ago by being one today.

  Photography courtesy of 

Till later,
Meghan x

Saturday, 11 June 2011

Films I've Worked On: Erdem Autumn/Winter 2011

Films I've Worked On: Jason Wu Autumn/Winter 2011

Films I've Worked On: Prabal Gurung Autumn/Winter 2011

Films I've Worked On: Joseph Altuzarra Spring/Summer 2011

Films I've Worked On: Erdem Spring/Summer 2011

Films I've Worked On: JW Anderson Spring/Summer 2011

Films I've Worked On: Juan Carlos Obando Spring/Summer 2011

FIlms I've Worked On: Hussein Chalayan Autumn/Winter 2011

Films I've Worked On: Rodarte Autumn/Winter 2011

Films I've Worked On: Mary Katrantzou Autumn/Winter 2011

Films I've Worked On: Nicholas Kirkwood x Keith Haring

Wednesday, 8 June 2011

The Power of Social Media

Hi all!

I know I haven't blogged in a really, really long time and I'm sorry for that. I promise to get myself back in gear and get some blogs up soon.

In the meantime, I had to share this video with you- just incredible how much power social media holds within its Tweets, Posts and Blogs!

Let me know what you think!

Sunday, 27 February 2011

Fashioning a Balance

As you can probably tell from my past few posts,  I work in the fashion industry.  I'm fortunate to work in the private, creative office of a luxury brand in the heart of London.

With the madness of London Fashion Week over and looking ahead to a couple of days in Paris this coming week, I've had a few moments to get back in touch with myself and my life over the weekend. There are so many things that come from these weeks of fashion- which editor/celebrity was at what show? Who is the model of the moment? Which online platforms were launched? What is the new "it" spot in that particular city? But what we mostly read about are the trends from that season: What kind of trousers are "in"? Is it all about pleating? Prints? Silk? Short hemlines? Tailored jackets? Tuxedos for women? Etc, etc.

I enjoy the excitement, hype and "insiders view" on what's to come in fashion immensely, but I can't help thinking about those people elsewhere in the world, and even in the same city, that struggle to put a single coat on their back, lest it be made of the finest cashmere or highest quality tweed. Those who wish for a single pair of clean trousers, never mind if they are made of the most luxe leather or distressed denim. The contrasts of lifestyle are significant and, if thought about deeply, quite shocking.  How does one balance this?

Arriving in the fashion world a short while ago, it has taken me over a year to begin to understand it. I wasn't raised with designer labels, massively artistic surroundings or an endless bank account. I was raised within an incredibly loving family, who believe that it's who you are inside that counts and exterior appearances will ultimately fade. The only real experience I had in the fashion world was modeling from ages 18 - 21, which ended abruptly when an agent offered to take me on only if I would consider (read: have) my hips shaved. I couldn't get to a gym fast enough (read: modeling over and insecurity complex doubled).

Fast forward to today. What I have learned in this period of time is that fashion goes much deeper than the skinny models and trends that appear in the pages of glossy magazines. Fashion is Art. It's an artist's view of life at that moment, their "looks," transformed into garments and accessories and showcased to the world on a catwalk. It is their message to the world; much like Monet's Water Lilies or Van Gogh's Sunflowers displayed in and toured around our famous, international museums. Each "look" began with a blank canvas and was created from the artists mind- an expression of who they are and the story they want to tell.

Personally, to look at fashion in this way has helped me understand and connect to this world. By having the ability to establish relationships with designers has also enabled me to understand the significance of supporting emerging talents as they have so much to contribute - and are so much more than what the Zoolander's have painted them out to be.

Still, the question of morality in this multi-billion pound industry tugs at my heartstrings. To think of the contrasts in this world- those with and those without. How do we justify what we are doing as the right thing? Yes, if what we do feeds, clothes and enables us to provide for our families- it is clearly important.

But where do we find balance in a world of such extreme unbalance?

Till next time x

Sunday, 13 February 2011

Quote for a Rainy Sunday

My mom had given me a book with this quote in it before I moved to London. I often find that it helps to lessen or just make sense of the pressures and anxieties that life can bring, reminds me that where I'm at in my life is OK, regardless of what others may think, and gives me hope for the future. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. x

"Don't ever forget that you are unique. Be your best self and not an imitation of someone else. Find your strengths and use them in a positive way. Don't listen to those who ridicule the choices you make. Travel the road that you have chosen and don't look back with regret. You have to take chances to make your dreams happen. Remember that there is plenty of time to travel another road- and still another- in your journey through life. Take the time to find the route that is right for you. You will learn something valuable from every trip you take, so don't be afraid to make mistakes. Tell yourself that you're okay just the way you are. Make friends who respect your true self. Take the time to be alone, too, so you can know just how terrific your own company can be. Remember that being alone doesn't always mean being lonely; it can be a beautiful experience of finding your creativity, your heartfelt feelings, and the calm and quiet peace deep inside you. Don't ever forget that you are special." - Jacqueline Schiff

Sunday, 6 February 2011

A Saturday Monologue

I definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed last Saturday morning. I have no idea why; I had a lovely evening with my husband the night before and went to bed in a great mood knowing that I could sleep in the next day, waking up to the longed-for gift of 2 full days off. So why did I wake up at 9.03am with a sick feeling in my stomach?

Do you ever have those mornings where there's something nagging at you, but you can't put your finger on what it is? It confuses me to no end, and quite frankly frustrates me sometimes to the point of tears. I'm 27-years old, this is what I did when I was 14 and my hormones were all over the place. They should be pretty much sorted by now, no?

When I was single, those mornings were annoying, but I was able to slip under the radar for a bit, walking from my Hells Kitchen apartment in Manhattan to Starbucks for my morning coffee, over to the East side, always parallel to Central Park so I could take in its natural beauty, past the vendors selling their art on 5th Avenue, finally reaching either the Met or Neue Gallery to pay a visit to my favorite artists. And so by the time I finished studying Klimt's Adele Bloch-Bauer I, I was pretty much over my bizarre mood and ready to re-join the world.

Now that I'm married, I don't really have those single girl "privileges" anymore. However I feel in the morning is immediately carried over to my husband. Obviously when I'm in a good mood, he's in a good mood. But when I'm in this kind of a "I feel this way but I don't know why I feel this way but maybe you could help me because you're supposed to know me better than I know myself" mood, he's just plain confused.

The easy answer would be to tell him I need the morning "off" and to figure myself out. However, when you're as madly in love with someone as I am my husband, and you both start looking forward to the weekend together on Monday morning, the thought of not spending as much time with him as feasibly possible is really not an option.

So I spent most of the morning answering his friendly, unassuming question of "What do you want to do today?" with "I don't know!?" ("!"= frustrated grunt "?"= quivering lip, fighting a tear because I just don't know why I STILL feel this way?!) as I stared at the word "GOOGLE" on my computer screen, forgetting what I was searching for in the first place.

My one savior in this mess I made for 2 people rather than 1 is that I am running the London Marathon and, therefore, need to train. Saturday's are my "long run" days. So, with 12 miles ahead of me, I eventually got the motivation to put my kit on and get moving. As I was running through Hyde Park, Green Park, St. James' Park and Hyde Park one more time, I took the time to have a serious chat with myself. "What is wrong with you???," being the centre of my monologue, to which, as always, there was nothing but white noise in response.

I then went through the course of the morning in my head: my waking, my feeling, my attitude. I reminded myself that I really needed this run as I'd eaten way to much chocolate that week, and just because it's dark chocolate doesn't mean I can justify eating 3 large bars of it in 2 days. "Can't you feel the fat building up on your thighs?" I asked/scolded myself. These thoughts take up about 60% of my thinking on a normal run. If there's one thing I can rely on, it's that there is always something for me to criticize myself about. From eating too much chocolate to picking that pimple which made a lovely red mark in the middle of my forehead to my chubby cheeks (why can't I have beautiful, chiseled cheek bones rather than these stupid dimples?) to the fact that training for this marathon has caused my boobs to shrink a cup size (along with causing my body to shrink a dress size...but I'd never dare compliment myself about that). It goes on and on.

Then I finally came back to why I was feeling this way again. Still no answer. Then my mind went back to the single girl I was, and how in control I felt all of the time, to how out of control I now feel most of the time. Isn't life supposed to work itself out as you get older? And why was mine faced, almost on a daily basis, with so many uncertainties? Do most people feel this way? I'm sure they don't - everyone I pass in daily life looks like they have it all together.

My thoughts then digress to most mornings when I go into work. I tend to leave our flat or the gym feeling pretty ok, then as soon as I step outside something falls out of my pocket and as I go to pick it up the entire contents of my bag fall out because, clearly, I wouldn't put it down before kneeling to pick up whatever single item fell out of it in the first place, or the wind is blowing so hard that my hair flies everywhere I specifically placed it not to go, or then I trip over something (or nothing) in the street, which brings with it a silent verbal tirade and probably an actual shake of my head (so if I hadn't looked crazy before I most certainly do now) "Why am I like this??" "What am I doing?" are usually the questions that follow. Then, "Honestly, how do I have the job I do? Am I joking myself? Is this all a joke and sooner or later my boss will figure out that I actually don't know what I'm doing with work, let alone, with life itself?"

The monologue goes on and on. The self criticism never ends. As much as I've tried to stop it, or at least go easier on myself, it always seems to creep back in. I've sat in a program for 36 hours over 3 days, called Landmark, which brings you back to the first time you remembered feeling insecure and makes you ask yourself why you felt that way. Then, it brings you through the course of your life, highlighting those moments you used to reinforce that insecurity. It talks about those "voices" in your head that make you doubt yourself, and gives you tools to silence that voice. As much as this intensive program opened my eyes to some things, I continue to be my own worst critic.

So my run continues. However now, I begin to notice more things along my path- like the green of the grass, the boys playing football on the pitch to my left, the couple strolling hand-in-hand and the man in the wheelchair racing up that hill I always struggle with. I am filled with an overwhelming feeling of thankfulness. Who am I to be complaining about anything? I'm blessed to wake up with two strong, working legs. I get to spend my life with my best friend and man of my dreams. I'm not terrible looking. I'm so lucky that my family is healthy and happy and I can't wait to see them when they visit in April. I can't wait to hug my mom at the finish line of the marathon- having ran it in honor of her recovering from an emergency triple bypass back in August. I can't wait to get back home, take a shower and have a long, lazy lunch with my husband. I'm so fortunate to live in such a cultural and creative part of London, where I feel safe and secure. Wow- what a wonderful life I have.

Why does it take such a low-low to find such a high-high? I am constantly working with or against these two ends of the spectrum. Will it ever end? Will I ever be "normal?"

Who knows. I probably never will. But I'm getting to be ok with that. I guess it makes me who I am. And that's not so bad.

Till next time x

Sunday, 30 January 2011

A Walk in Hyde Park

For probably the first time since moving to Notting Hill, my husband and I took an afternoon walk through Hyde Park today. We are regulars of the park however, as today proved, all we really had known of it was the sub 5-mile perimeter that we zoom through on our morning or weekend runs. (I may have exaggerated on the "zoom" bit)

To have had a leisurely stroll through the park today was like opening a window to a new world. I loved seeing things that I've missed during those runs and now have a new appreciation for the gorgeous gardens that exist on my doorstep.

The Lake

Lovely swan who kindly stopped fidgeting to let me take a picture!

Monument of Prince Albert

Royal Albert Hall

Cool piece of art in the middle of the park

Just another one of life's little reminder's to stop every once in awhile, take a look around, really take it all in, and to be very thankful for the beauty that surrounds us.

Sunday, 23 January 2011

My Daily Reminders

As a sort of New Year's Resolution, my husband and I are trying to go to the movies together one night during the working week.

Last week our movie of choice was 127 Hours, a story which begins with incredible stupidity and ignorance but, over the course of the film, changes into a lesson of perseverance, humility and an excruciating hunger for life. We are taken on a (true story) journey through the eyes of a young man called Aron, played by James Franco, who, while on a solo expedition in Utah, finds himself trapped in an isolated canyon with his arm pinned against the wall by a fallen boulder. This crazy hunger to save his life grows over the 5 days we, the audience, spend with him. We watch his mood go from one of desperation and fear to delerium, defeat and finally to a furor of ambition which drives him to snap his forearm, dislocate his elbow and amputate the lower half of his arm with a dull army knife.

While watching Aron's transformation of moods and mindset, we also play witness to numerous "visits" from his mom, dad, sister, friends, old girlfriend and unborn son. The people who meant the most in his life and who, ultimately, give him an entirely new one. These are the people, not the things, that drove Aron to physically remove a part of his body, without the use of anesthesia, the expertise of doctors or the "convenience" of a sharp object.

If you've read any of my blog, I'm sure you can eventually tell that I continually try to find the relevance of an experience, message, opportunity or even a movie, within my own life.

It also got me thinking about my favourite book in the world and one I've read at least 6 times, called "Man's Search for Meaning" by Viktor Frankl. The book chronicles the true story of a Jewish doctor during his time as an inmate in Auschwitz concentration camp, and describes his method of finding a reason to live through the tortures of daily life. According to the author, the book is meant to answer the question "How was everyday life in a concentration camp reflected in the mind of the average prisoner?"

The major take away for me after reading the book was Frankl's personal struggle as a prisoner and his motivation to live and ultimately survive camp...his wife. Not knowing if she had been murdered on Day 1 or was still alive and suffering the same punishments he was had no impact on his motivation to live. It was the mere thought of her- how he remembered her in his mind and in his heart- that kept him going, kept him fighting through the torturous "death walks,", the rampant disease and the mental anguish that was bestowed on the prisoners living in that hell on earth. He concludes that the meaning of life is found in every moment of living; that life never ceases to have meaning, even in suffering and death.

Frankl's story has been a constant source of insight and inspiration for me. It sheds light on many problems, circumstances and opportunities that we, as human beings, naturally go through in the course of our own lives. Mostly, it provides a strong reminder of how lucky I am, how much I have to be thankful for, and forces me to reflect on whether I'm living this life to the fullest.

In this instance, I left the theatre thinking about what drives me. "If I was in Aron's position, what would I do?" or "Who would I think of?""How would I do things differently if I were given a 2nd chance?" I promised myself that I would call my mom every week when I said I would, that I would give my husband a hug every time he did something that bothered me rather than "nagging" him to fix it and that I'd pursue that entrepreneurial idea that will make us millions... first thing tomorrow morning!

But while these are genuinely amazing sources of "wake up calls," how long do they stay with us? How long should they stay with us? Do we need to think of them as daily reminders, or is there actually a genuine nature about us that drives us to do the good or right thing?

I think the answer to those questions are completely subjective. Personally, what they have done for me is to create an awareness of the things that I may otherwise take for granted in daily life. These are the things that continually stimulate and satisfy my appetite for living. The birds chirping outside my window in the morning, the vivid green of the grass in London (a positive result of the many rainy days!), a "see you later" kiss from my husband, the mere fact that I can wake up, put my feet on the ground and walk by myself, without any one person or machine to help me. That I can speak with freedom and confidence, that I am loved and that I love the people who surround me. These are my daily reminders. They are why I fall in love with life each and every day...

..although a little reminder every now and then never hurts.

Friday, 21 January 2011

Black Swan

I had the privilege of attending a press preview of Black Swan this past week in London. After reading various reviews about it and remembering those reporting on how grotesque and psychologically thrilling it was, I admittedly was nervous when the lights went down in the Covent Garden Hotel theatre.

As the opening scene began, I found myself totally transported into the world of Nina, a vulnerable, self mutilating, obsessive compulsive ballerina played brilliantly by Natalie Portman, whose emotionally deranged mother keeps her "sweet girl" hidden from the world with a bedroom full of stuffed animals, bubblegum pink walls and obsessive phone calls. As the movie progresses, we see Nina win the role of Swan Queen in her company's production of Swan Lake.

With her inner "white swan" perfected, I became completely immersed in Nina's rollercoaster ride of letting her inner "black swan" loose. This achievement plunges Nina deeper into her already quite dark world where there is no equilibrium, no moments of calm or ease. I found myself constantly on the edge of my seat, preparing for the worst and hoping for the best.

Although this quite controversial movie sheds a serious light into the world of a mentally unstable young woman, there are parts of Nina's breakdowns, and breakthroughs, that I found myself relating to. As Nina goes through her emotional journey of pursuing her own self-perfection, there were times when I felt as though I was looking at myself, empathizing with the feeling of trying to break through something within, something that's holding me back, but not fully knowing what that "something" is. The act of doing so causing so much internal struggle that the resentment within myself, for myself, continually piles up. There are times in my own life where I reach a point when I almost don't recognize myself, when the person staring back at me in the mirror is someone I feel so alienated from. This person who should have accomplished so much more in her life by now, who doesn't understand how others can deem her remotely attractive, who doesn't know where her career is going and who is a constant disappointment to others (read: herself). Unlike Nina, however, I am able to snap myself out of this state. Sometimes it takes longer than others, but however low I get I am luckily always able to rebound to an equal, if not greater, high. I often rationalize this behavior as my "A-Type Personality" acting up again. But when is enough, enough?

I think it is fair to say that we are all, at one point or another, guilty of striving for some sort of "perfection". But what is "perfection"? And do we need really need it? From birth we are constantly exposed to society's "perfect" look, "perfect" life, "perfect" job, "perfect" family. But what is it all really about? Is it nailing that starring role, signing the bottom line on a major deal, having that 3 carat engagement ring that will send your friends green with envy; is it getting that promotion you've been working yourself, and those around you, crazy for? When does it end??? We constantly strive for perfection, but what about the imperfection that make us individually perfect?

I came away from the movie with a rush of many emotions, but also with a lot of insight. As though, at times, I was an outsider looking in on my own life. The movie reminded me of the dangerous borders this self destructive behavior causes one to cross.

The lesson of acceptance is a hard one to swallow, but it is essential. Will I ever be able to fully accept myself for everything I am? I hope so. I try every day to do so. I constantly try to turn negatives into positives and not allow myself to revel in my own self pity. I continue to try to be easy on myself, to not expect the unachievable, but to embrace who I am and where I am. To continue learning and loving, to be the best person I can be and, at the end of the day, put my head on the pillow feeling pleased that I've done all I could possibly do, and to let everything else go, if just for a night. Then to wake up in the morning ready and excited for what lies ahead. To find the balance between my "white swan" and "black swan."

My final thoughts for this post come from a prayer which I learned as a child and has grown with me, within me, throughout my life. It's held different meanings at different ages, but has always managed to shed light and comfort on whatever I'm needing it for:

The Serenity Prayer
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
the courage to change the things I can;
and the wisdom to know the difference.

Till next time x

Sunday, 16 January 2011


Isn't it amazing how you can feel quite normal, indifferent or even a bit down, at one moment and then something happens that gives you the most amazing lift?! And suddenly whatever was causing that bit of static or, dare I say - depression, completely disappears and is filled with an overwhelming empowerment, as if you can do anything, if for only a moment?!

Personally, I find these drastic changes in emotion quite incredible. How does it work, exactly? And am I the only one who feels this way? I'm not sure if it's because I've been built with clearly complex hormones/genetics, but I find these high and low emotions happen to me on a weekly basis, which I'm sure my husband will happily vouch for (poor guy). I find it's not even the big things in life that do this to me (those actually seem to be more manageable for some reason?) but rather the little, unexpected things that cause such extreme emotional shifts- like my boss telling me I've written a great email or a friend saying I looked extra nice that day. I go through this so often that my friend Mike has given me the honorary title of his "flippity, floppity friend."

A good example of this low/high occurance was last Sunday. To follow up from my previous blog (Not Just a Facebook Friend), I was able to speak with my friend and am happy, if not relieved, to report that everything is fine. However, as I was ringing her to discuss that quite harsh email from the week prior, my stomach was in complete knots about the prospect of being told off for something I wasn't aware I did and trying to come up with a convincing apology (was I trying to convince myself or her??). To my surprise, I never had to do that and as soon as we started talking everything was back to normal (think Jerry Maguire's "You had me at hello", but without the romantic subtext). There was a good reason why she sent that email, which I understood (as only dear friends can) and we were soon chatting like no time had passed since we'd last seen each other. This was completely exciting for me, as one minute I was planning a nervous apology and the next I was so full of happiness!

I hope this doesn't come across negatively- that you're not thinking, "Wow, I wish I had this girl's life if all she has to worry about it making up with a best friend." If you are thinking that, I can only say I wish you were right! But, as I said before, I find these seemingly insignificant issues in life to be the ones which throw me either one way or the other. I've definitely had my share of seriously low low's, but those I somehow find are less drastic and, when in the middle of them, are easier to get on with, than the little unexpected twists and turns that pop along the course of life.

I guess this can all be chocked up to the wise words, "It Is What It Is." Always remember to breathe, be kind to yourself and, as Eat, Pray, Love tells us, "Smile from your Liver"

Till next time x

Sunday, 9 January 2011

Favourite Focus: The Sartorialist's Scott Schuman at Work

I find The Sartorialist incredibly inspiring as it documents real life fashion- what is seen on the streets rather than just on the catwalk. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did!

Check out for your own inspiration!

Not Just a Facebook Friend

Every now and then I take a little "time out" to self-analyze: Am I being the best person I can be? Is there anything playing on my mind or conscience that needs to be addressed? Am I procrastinating dealing with something important? Have I made any decisions I'm not happy with? How do I rectify that? I'm sure everyone does this from time to time, in one form or another.

One question I've been struggling with lately is: Have I been a good friend? Admittedly, I'm complete rubbish at keeping in touch with people via phone, although I do have Skype programmed into my speed dial (so that counts for something, right?). I'm a great Facebook friend, Text-er and a so-so Emailer. I've never been one to talk on the phone (apart from the 1,000,000+ hours logged between ages 15 - 18) as I've always preferred face-to-face conversations, especially when discussing something quite personal. I never feel like I'm getting 100% out of a conversation over the phone.

You're probably asking yourself how on earth does a girl from New York, living in London, have any friends with this kind of attitude? To which my response would be "I have no idea!"

In my defense, I actually do have amazing friends back in New York who get how I work, and actually work in a similar way, and with whom I instantly pick up with the minute we see each other.

However, there are those friends who I completely adore, but whose idea of "keeping in touch" includes actually keeping in touch. I was reminded of this last week when I received an email from one of them telling me how she had been going through a very difficult time a few months ago, one which I've actually gone through myself, and she had wanted to talk to me about it on one of my past trips to Manhattan. Unfortunately, that trip didn't see us meeting and I was shocked to hear this news months later. She continued in her email to then tell me that she always regarded me as a good friend, but that she didn't see our friendship continuing after this instance. Shocked, I immediately responded asking for her number (no, I did not have it due to my phone dying and wiping all my contacts) so that I could call and work things out. About 3 days later on a Wednesday I heard back that she would be free to discuss this on the following Sunday.

As it's now Sunday and we are scheduled to chat in a few hours, I can't tell you how the rest of this story goes just yet. However, what I've contemplated these past few days is how I let our relationship get to this point.

My answer came to me at brunch this afternoon, when a friend openly admitted that he's also been rubbish at keeping in touch with friends and he is now focusing his time on repairing those relationships. His reason was that he, subconsciously, liked to keep them at arms reach- so that he couldn't be pushed away but rather be the one in the distance. I instantly related to this as, my fear isn't that I would be pushed away, but that there was something "safe" in keeping people at an arms reach.

What I've realized in my own life is that by working in this way, I've completely shut doors that should have been open and I've missed so many special and crucial moments...and aren't these the moments that make our lives?? A friend walks this life with you, hand-in-hand, not text-to-text.

My New Year's resolution is to be a fully hands-on friend. I ask that my friends reading this really hold me to it. This is my promise to you. And it begins with a Sunday evening phone call.

Till next time x

Wednesday, 5 January 2011


Webster's dictionary defines a Family as "a group of persons of common ancestry or clan; a people or group of peoples regarded as deriving from a common stock"

The words that stand out to me in that definition are "common ancestry" and "common stock". How opposite are those two descriptions? Ancestry relating to bloodline is an understandable explanation of the traditional idea of family, however being of common stock to me implies actually being similar, having the same views, ideas and passions. Personally, this is more a description of friends than it is of family. I can only speak for myself, but there are definitely some members of my family who I am constantly perplexed about how I have any relation to at all.

There's the old saying "you can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends." I'd imagine Audrey and Russ Griswold felt exactly this way during their many "fun, filled family vacations" to Walley World or quests to cut down the perfect Christmas tree in National Lampoons.

I'm a firm believer that your friends can actually be your real family. You can count on them, they have the courage and dignity to tell you how they feel rather than going behind your back, you share similar views (and even if you don't, they are interested to discuss it!), they are a positive influence in your life and, most of all, they love you for the right reasons.

I don't mean to be Debbie Downer on families- there are absolutely people in my family who I would do anything for and who are the most precious things in my life. It just confuses me occasionally about how there are some people I'm meant to consider "family"- but would I really want to be friends with them if I had the choice?

All that said, I guess that no matter how crazy, depressing or just plain weird some family members may be, they are still family and we have to accept them for just that. Focus on those you love - be it family or friends- and laugh at the rest.

In the wise words of Clark Griswold:

"I think you're all f*@ked in the head. We're ten hours from the f*@king fun park and you want to bail out. Well I'll tell you something. This is no longer a vacation. It's a quest. It's a quest for fun. I'm gonna have fun and you're gonna have fun. We're all gonna have so much f*@king fun we'll need plastic surgeory to remove our godamn smiles."

Till next time x

Tom Ford SS11 Show- Love it!

Loving the use of ALL types of beautiful, sexy "women" in his show!

Sunday, 2 January 2011


For possibly the first time since I was able to be let out of my parent's supervision, I spent New Years Eve not out at a crazy club or party, trying to hold a conversation which felt more like a screaming match, completely missing the "ball drop" because it's too loud to even think about what time it was...or to even think for that matter; but rather I spent it at a fun, relaxed dinner party in my Maid of Honor's new apartment on Exchange Place with my husband and 2 other close friends. It was possibly the best New Year's I've had in a long time. 

Does this mean I'm getting old?! At a prime age of 27 I would really hope that, if I truly wanted, I could be out till 6am dancing on tables, hopping from one party to another and drinking my body weight in alcohol. Is it bad that I was actually happy (and relieved) not to have the worst hangover of my life on New Years Day? To be able to look into the light of the morning and not need to immediately curse the sun or feel the room spinning around me and then spend the whole day on the couch hating myself was, admittedly, pretty amazing. 

Thinking back to only a few years ago when the thought of "staying in" on New Years was the most absurd idea one could have, I'm forced to question myself and what's happened within the course of the year that's brought me to embracing a quiet New Year's Eve in the city that never sleeps. Is it that I've just exhausted all my potential to party till the early hours? Is my life so busy that any chance I get I completely crash? What am I using my energy on? 

I could go on and on about the questions I ask myself. But as good as that can be occasionally, after awhile all it does is waste time. Why am I looking back thinking that that was the "right" or "cooler" thing to do? Why can't I just accept that that was then and this is now? Admit to the fact that I loved having a quiet night of catching up with close friends, having quality time with them and really getting to know what is going on in their lives, making sober resolutions that are actually remotely achievable and participating in Dick Clark's 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, HAPPY NEW YEAR! countdown, hugging and kissing with meaning and pride in what's been and excitement at what will be. 

At the risk of dragging this on, overall, I can take 2 things away from this. 

1. It's a lesson in acceptance. Accepting where we are at this exact moment in our lives. Looking back on the fun and, more often, stupid times with a smile and to look ahead with a promise to be aware of where we're at in life, to own that place like there's no tomorrow and to not beat ourselves up for it. Change what we can, know what we can't and accept the rest.

2. Although I didn't talk about this much in this post, to be incredibly thankful for your true friends. To know who those few people are and to keep them close to your heart forever. They are the ones who will laugh with you, look back with you and know where you've been without explanation, be the mirror you can't face looking at sometimes, and who will accept and love you for all of it. 

Happy Accepting x