Posts Tagged ‘Zara’

h1

Tube update: Finchley Road & Frognal and Hampstead

July 15, 2012

Today, Toby and I had a long lie-in and I finished watching Veronika Decides To Die (excellent, thought-provoking film; Sarah Michelle Gellar is captivating). We didn’t really know what to do with ourselves – we were debating whether to go to Westfield but decided that a Sunday trip would be better as it will hopefully be a little less busy. So after breakfast, I tempted Toby with the idea of going to Hampstead. I go up there for work sometimes, and the leafy, suburban feel is different to the London that we normally inhabit. We got the Overground from West Brompton to Finchley Road & Frognal:

Then, we walked up to see Sigmund Freud’s house on Maresfield Gardens. It’s £6 to go in and have a look, and I’d heard that the museum inside was fairly tiny, so we left that for another time when we were more in the mood, but from the outside the house was very quaint:

We then decided to explore Hampstead High Street, since I had heard that it was a lovely area, but had never been there myself.  On the walk there, the heavens opened and so we took shelter in Caffe Nero, where we had lunch. The rain passed, and we looked around the Oxfam Bookshop and Zara Home. I also saw Hampstead tube station:

We then walked back to West Hampstead to get the 328 back to Earls Court, which was a long journey! In my previous London Underground post on West Hampstead, I had just posted a picture of the Overground station, and as the bus was going past, I managed to snap a quick picture of the underground station across the road, so I thought I would add that one here too:

Oh the glamour! But it was lovely to explore parts of London we don’t see, and that have such a different feel to the Royal Borough and Fulham. I look forward to doing some more before the summer is over!

Advertisements
h1

fight or flight.

September 13, 2009

Tonight I met up with Adam to wish him well as he moves back home to Devon, and we went to Cabot Circus for some drinks at Giraffe and a meal at Gourmet Burger Kitchen.  Walking into Cabot Circus, I bumped into my friend Annie who works at Harvey Nichols; we exchanged pleasantries and enquired about each others jobs – the usual.  As I said goodbye to her, I walked along towards the Cabot entrance by Zara, and I saw what suspiciously looked like a group of my old colleagues from the Perfume Shop.  After the untruths that they have been telling both themselves and other people, I really have nothing to say to them so I turned around and walked into Cabot the other way.  Walking back past Annie, I said to her “actually, this way is quicker!”  She laughed, my excuse was made so that I didn’t look totally bizarre, and I met Adam, positioned overlooking the escalators so I could hide should the Perfume Shop crew be approaching my direction.

This is the second time recently that I have had this sort of reaction: to want to actively avoid certain people.  It happened when I was in Zara with Hannah and my ex L was at the till, and it happened tonight.  In both cases, I turned around and walked the other way.  Was this the right response?  After all, I have nothing to be ashamed of: I never meant to hurt L the way that I did, and it was his choice not to accept or to believe my apology and explanation for what happened.  I never stole anything from the Perfume Shop, and I never gave discount to anyone I didn’t know, no matter what they say.  I don’t feel any guilt, and there is no reason for me to be ashamed.  So why did I walk away?

It was the fight or flight response.  In each case, I made a very swift judgement call, and in both cases my brain told me to get out of there.  Part of me resents that; like I said, I don’t have anything to feel ashamed for, so why should I leave? Why should I run away?  Isn’t it the stronger thing, the better thing to stand there and fight and show that I’m not going to be cowed or intimidated by anyone?  That I believe in my own convictions?

But nevertheless, I chose to avoid the confrontation.  Perhaps it is just easier to get out of there; to avoid things being said that might worsen the situation, to get into an uncomfortable exchange that might only leave an unpleasant aftertaste more bitter than that which lingers already.  Although part of me feels that I should stand my ground, another part feels that the more mature thing is just to rise above it and conduct my life along a different path.  I have plenty of my own shit to focus on without dealing with other people’s shit.  I don’t need to deliberately put myself in the vicinity of their insecurities and problems, because even if I have no reason to run away, it doesn’t mean I should purposely seek out such a confrontation.  I had a lovely evening tonight, and had I approached my old colleagues, that could very well have been ruined before it had even started.  So even if I should have been unashamed to stand my ground, I stand by my decision to choose a more positive alternative and bypass the negativity altogether.  Avoiding a toxic situation is preferable to fighting poison, because even in fighting it you risk becoming poisoned yourself.  Sometimes we have to choose our fights, and whether it’s best to fight on, or to fly high; this time, I chose to fly high.

h1

run this town.

September 2, 2009

On a day like today, despite having less than 5 hours’ sleep and nearly 30 pages of spreadsheet to type up onto the computer at work, I was feeling fierce.  I got up earlier than usual so that I could get to work early and make my hours & fit my social breaks in too.  I had my new top on from Zara and I looked pretty nice, if I do say so myself. (There’s nothing like wearing a new purchase for the first time.) As you might know, at times my self-esteem can be a little bit low and I can feel vulnerable and insecure – as much as I would like to pretend to be invincible, I’m only human.  But I also think it’s important to acknowledge and document when I’m feeling up and strong and good.  For every negative, sooner or later there comes a positive.

Looking at another unemployment report on the news, and recognising the jobless state of 1 in 6 UK young people as myself only 6 weeks ago, I felt that if I could find work, these people will do too.  If you really want it, there is hope, even though you might feel hopeless.  Just don’t give up.  Everyone is down sometimes – as much as some vindictive people might want to make you feel low, it doesn’t make you a failure or any less of a human being.  You just have to take a moment, acknowledge your pain or mood, regroup and come back swinging.  After a summer where I left my job at the Perfume Shop in full faith that my new job was going to be better paid and a better standard of work, I had to wait around for 2 months before I even got a start date.  Now that I am working, I am pretty happy with my job – my office is comfortable, the people I’m with are nice, my boss appreciates and respects me, the pay rate is higher than what I was on at the shop and I don’t have to bust a gut, while I am treated with more respect and my brains and skill generally is more appreciated.  I don’t feel like I am fighting against anyone just to get through the day – I feel like I am generally being helpful and other people want to help me too – it’s constructive and not an uphill struggle.  Looking back, although I loved working with perfume and some of my colleagues at the Perfume Shop ended up being good friends to me, I dreaded going to work more often than I should have, and I ended up feeling bullied and harrassed at work by people who wanted to wring every last drop of blood out of me.  I was worth more than that, and it took me too long to realise.  The limbo of being unemployed in between that job and my current work at the hospital only exacerbated that feeling of helplessness and worthlessness, when I had unwittingly pushed myself into that limbo precisely because I thought I was worth more.  It was a hard period, and I felt somewhat embarrassed and stigmatised to be in that situation, because I didn’t want to be judged as somebody who was “on the dole” or “too lazy to be in work”, because that is the farthest thing from who I am or ever will be.  But I didn’t give up and everything is turning out right – I like my job, they like me, and I got funding for my university course starting in 3 weeks (!!!) and I hope that that will lead me in a direction I want to go.  I feel optimistic about my future.

Which is why I don’t understand the attitude of some of my old colleagues who practically blank me when I walk past them in town.  It happened today, and it’s not the first time.  Despite the hugs and best wishes everyone gave me when I left, apart from the times I’ve popped in to visit them, I’ve heard nothing.  What happened to friendship? What happened to all the hard work? What happened to all the favours I did, conversations we had, presents I bought, music I bootlegged for them?  Did it really mean nothing?  I mean, surely a friendship should go two ways, so if they want to speak to me, they can contact me.  I grew tired of making the first move and initiating conversation by popping in to see them.  It makes me question whether their friendship was ever true.  Like I said, some of the people there I’m sure were genuine friends, and we don’t have to talk all the time for that to remain true.  But to be ignored in the street, to be judged and hear gossip about me that not only is untrue, but is damn unfair considering how much I bent over backwards and did so many favours for some of them – it does sting a little bit.  I guess it’s “c’est la vie”, and I have to remember that I am in a better place now.  I made the decision to break free, and I guess that their reaction is part of the whole reason why I was so dragged down while I worked there – perhaps they don’t like that I found somewhere where I feel more valued (and paid)?  Perhaps they decided to villify me once my back was turned because it makes them feel better about the fact that there is nobody to be their workhorse now that I’m gone? I don’t know.  I wish them only the best, and I hope that some of my friends realise that they too are worth too much to be downtrodden and worked to the bone at a young age there, only to never get the prime position because there’s always someone new who swoops in and pushes them back down.

If you’re wondering why there is a fly picture of Rihanna at the top of this post (not that I need a reason 😛 ), check the title – it’s taken from the “Run This Town” video from Jay-Z’s new Blueprint 3 album (which I am really feeling).  The swagger of the song, epitomised just by the title, is something that I was feeling today in my nice clothes with my nice friends and in my nice job.  I’m working hard, I’m moving up after a brief (but long enough thankyou) period of stasis, and I am determined to achieve my goals and “run this town”.  I hit the gym to look fly.  I socialise to enjoy myself.  I make music to achieve my dreams of being a singer (once again, check Touch Me and enjoy it – there’s plenty more where that came from!) and also to push my artistry forward and entertain my friends.  I make money to hit the gym, buy my labels and keep everything easy.  I am close to friends and family while also pushing forward for my own independence.  I want, more than anything, to be a success and to be happy.  Isn’t that what we all want?  So this is more than anything, a motivational post because I’m feeling good and want to share that energy with y’all – I can “run this town”, and so can you.  Never give up!!!

h1

i, love

August 25, 2009

I love… Trey Songz’ new album.  You already know that I am feeling LeToya’s Lady Love (read the review here), and you can add Trey Songz’ Ready to that list.  A step up from his previous Trey Day (which in turn was a step up from his debut), there are plenty of standout tracks such as the single “I Need A Girl”, the urgent “Black Roses”, the epic closer “Yo Side Of The Bed” (which really reminds me of Prince’s “Purple Rain” at the beginning and in certain places where the guitar kicks in) and the ridiculously silly and yet chirpily addictive “LOL 🙂 “.  I guess I am a slave to Soulja Boy – it is my ringtone already.  Listen to it and enchant yourself… (maybe that is the wrong word but you’ll see what I mean!)  But it’s a really impressive, solid album, with great vocals from Trey, nice production throughout.  Dude is the new R. Kelly, for sure.

I don’t love… being fooled.  By now I should know better, I really really should.  Basically, I was on the dating site and I noticed that R was online.  So I clicked on him out of curiosity, and his profile basically said “In Birmingham on the 25th, at such and such hotel, looking for a horny 18-25 yo guy for fun times.”  I was like “OKAAAAY… so do you have a boyfriend or not?  And if so, where the fuck is he?” (Certainly not in Birmingham.)  Either R is a liar or he is a cheat, and yet for a week I was spinning out thinking how wonderful he was.  Maybe I’m more naïve than I thought.  Maybe his profile got hacked… but that’s really unlikely, and I’m not that naïve.  So I was inspired to write a song called “Delete U”, which I finished the rough edit of today.  Needs a little polishing, but I took that feeling of disappointment and was spurred into creativity, so it can’t be all bad.  And I certainly don’t pine for him anymore, though in honesty I haven’t pined for him for a couple of weeks now.  It’s just surprising when you think you connect with somebody and then you find out that they are a whole other person.  Not good for my judgment of character. :S

I love… the new Prada L’eau Ambrée.  I came across it in Debenhams today (during a reasonably successful shopping trip, which involved worshipping at the altars of Britney Spears and Zara), smelled it and felt love.  Love for the utterly sophisticated black and gold bottle.  Love for the sexy blonde model in the ad copy.  And most of all, love for the soft amber-floral-cream fragrance.  I am going to return to Debenhams tomorrow for another smell.  All the while repeating to myself “I must not buy it, I must not buy it, I must not buy it…”

I don’t love… wishing I were constantly somewhere else.  I said in my previous post that I had travelled to various exotic locations in my dreams, but I really wish that I could just run away to Milan, to Marbella, to Brazil, to Hawaii, to New York… and start a new life.  I have goals that I want to achieve while I’m here in Bristol, such as: getting my Careers Guidance qualification, getting my driving licence, moving out, getting a sixpack, getting a hot boyfriend, dressing head-to-toe in Gucci.  But some of these are more likely than others, and I hope that by the age of 30 I will be set up in one of these countries.  I don’t know why, but I have never felt at home in England.  I don’t feel the slightest twinge of patriotism (though I do love my city, Bristol), and my brain tells me that land is land, and a home is what you make it, so I should be able to live anywhere because it’s all the same.  But my emotions and heart cry out for the various places I have listed (most of which I haven’t even visited!) because I can imagine being happy there, or finding certain elements which would fit me a lot more than the awkwardness that Bristol sometimes forces upon me.  Here, I have lots of friends and I know where and how to enjoy myself, but I don’t really fit into or click into a niche, and I would like to find a place where I can do that.  Just maybe.

I love… feeling loved.  My grandmother is off to Italy on Thursday, and even though she really upset me last week with some insensitive comments, this week it’s water under the bridge.  I’m really going to miss her for the 3 weeks that she is away!  My mother and I have been getting on really well lately, and I don’t feel closer to anyone than her, even though there are a lot of things that I don’t wish to tell her at times.  My closest friends are either living in other cities, travelling about the country / continent, or preparing for new faraway opportunities, but yet I am glad for each of them and hold them dear to me.  And even if it’s just in my dreams, the sweet kisses and loving embraces of Thore Schölermann / Rafael Verga / random indie DVD cashiers keep me warm and make me feel like maybe that could one day happen in reality, just like a fairytale. A really, really sexy fairytale. Who knows… we live in reality, but it doesn’t mean that dreams don’t come true.  If it’s rare, it means that it happens, and hopefully it’ll happen to me.  As always, when it does, you’re gonna be some of the first to know!  Thankyou for reading once again, take it easy 🙂

h1

façades.

July 18, 2009

Driving home on the way back from my nan’s (oh, conundrum solved; we decided to choose a picture of my grandad for the funeral plaque after all), i catch glimpses of myself in shop windows, in the wing mirror and in people’s faces as we drive by.  I have big dark Prada glasses, a vaguely tanned face, black hair and a fitted black Zara top on, and we have a black Hyundai coupé.  I love the way it looks (everything matches!) but at the same time I see people looking and I wonder what judgment they make.  Most people who look just look away, occasionally you get the odd stare but that could tell you more about their own temperament than about what they think of you.  It’s the occasional extra rev of their car at the traffic lights, the look-look away-subtle double take that gives away someone’s competitive nature, their arrogance or insecurity.  You can never be sure which one it is, but the fact that I can elicit a reaction at all makes me feel a little bit powerful.

I’ve always been someone who can elicit reactions, since at school.  Praise from my teachers, makeups and breakups with my peers, hotly-debated criticisms of my voice / sexuality / fashion choices… I don’t know why, but I’ve never been able to blend in and I’ve always been a topic of conversation and rumour.  Without even doing anything on purpose half the time, I was noteworthy.  And I would much rather that, as someone with aspirations to fame, than to blend into the background – but at the same time, I was never desperate for the gossip, it all seemed to happen by accident.  I have not worked at the Perfume Shop since June 4th, but when I last went in 2 weeks ago to see everyone, there was a barrage of news for me, and also criticism of my bag and of a couple of things I had done wrong a month and a half ago.  I guess I play on people’s minds.

I realise that by this point I sound incredibly conceited, but what I have always been hyper-aware of is image. I remember a long time ago reading an interview with Christina Aguilera, and she said something very true: you have to conduct yourself as a product for consumption.  Every single thing you say, do, wear, don’t say, don’t do, don’t wear, listen to, don’t listen to etc. becomes a part of your persona.  Anything that is done in public becomes a part of your image and the conception of “who you are”.  So you need to be happy with yourself, because if you’re not happy with anything you’re doing or not doing, you’re effectively lying to yourself and those around you.  Every day that we step out of the house and come into contact with others, in a way we are consumed by the public.  You don’t have to be famous for that to happen; how many times have you seen people walking past you down the street or in the mall, and made a snap judgement about them based on their clothing or their shoes or their walk or their accent?  We all do it. And genuine or not, façade or reality, the image we project is the summary of ourselves we portray to the world.  If somebody had one tweet (140 characters) to summarise their impression of you, what would it say?  If you had that same tweet to summarise your impression of yourself at any given moment, what would that tweet say?

The power that I mentioned at the end of the first paragraph stems, I believe, from an awareness of these reactions that we are able to elicit.  The façade I try to give off at most, if not all times, is one of icy confidence.  I have an interlude on my forthcoming Quiet Storm album called “Theory”, in which I briefly explain why I have grown to like designer clothes. The status of wealth that labels emit, whether true or false, gives out a certain image that can protect the inner me.  Whether I’m happy or depressed, whether I am feeling insecure about my body or thinking about my family, the image I portray is teflon confidence. I guess in a word, it’s my armour, and I use people’s presumptions to my advantage.  I know the real me, my friends who have penetrated beyond the façade know the real me, and know that I am deeper than Prada and Armani.  The rest of the world just knows I look fly, and that’s exactly how I like it.

I often get mocked for my vanity by family, friends and colleagues alike.  I’m always checking in mirrors (only glances, but I happily admit I glance quite often – when no mirror is available, the back of my ipod is most handy) that my hair is fine, my body is complimented by what I wear, my lips don’t look dry, that all is well.  That’s who I am, and that is not a façade!  But I am my own harshest critic.  I don’t go to the gym and wear what labels I wear solely because I want to fit a stereotype or be accepted socially.  I don’t seem to be able to fit a stereotype even when I do want to, and social acceptance seems to come to me as a thing of luck in any case – I am thankful to have family and friends around me in whom I can confide, even if sometimes I prefer to let my façade do the talking because there are things I want to keep to myself.  I exercise and work to my own diet (which you won’t find in any magazine, partly because it’s just a bit crazy and uneven!) because I have a drive to be the best I can be.  I can accept criticism if it’s something I’ve already conceived (which most of the time it is) because then it’s a work in progress that I’m aware of and looking to fix.  What throws me for a loop is the rare occasion when I’ve been completely misconstrued, misunderstood, or somebody has made a judgement that I couldn’t have seen coming in a million years.  Those occasions are very rare, but it’s at those times when my façade might slip, because I am taken by surprise.  Of course, it’s food for thought, and I probably do devote too much time to what other people think, but I see my own self-improvement (or masturbation, to quote Tyler Durden) as resulting from an exchange of ideas.  Sometimes criticism is ridiculously invasive, but other times it can be constructive.  At the end of the day it’s my decision to do something about it or not, and the decision I make is in order to carve out my identity and benefit me, not anyone else.  That’s why I choose to portray myself the way I do, wear the clothes I wear, sing the songs I sing, go where I go.  If I’m happy with the final product, then whatever people think is secondary… at least on the outside.  Of course, we all have insecure moments, but then who is really happy 100% of the time?  As long as people are thinking that I’m happy / successful / sexy / non-stick, then the façade is working 😉