Review: L'Oreal Elvive Fibrology

I’m all about the volume. Big hair makes just about anyone look more youthful, healthier and downright sexier. This isn’t just a case of my personal preference for tresses, it’s a scientific fact that the diameter of the hair shaft diminishes as we age. The same goes for health – many illnesses and treatments cause hair thinning or loss resulting in a lanker, more brittle mane. The question is, how can we get Cheryl-esque locks without maintenance-heavy extensions?

I wrote an earlier post on Lush Big Shampoo, which I really like for its all natural ingredient list and boosting formula. L’Oreal’s Fibrology range is the scientifically researched, aggressively advertised, glossy big brother of the Lush version – with a whole mega-range of L’Oreal sibling products to use alongside.

To quote good old Jennifer Aniston – here comes the science bit. The products contain an ingredient called Filloxane which penetrates wet hair and widens each strand by up to 60%. Pretty impressive findings. What’s more, the thickness increases with each wash and stays put.

I purchased the shampoo, conditioner and booster (to be sandwiched in post-shampoo and pre-conditioner). The booster is an odd product. The texture is watery and difficult to apply. Instructions to use a similar quantity to conditioner (annoying when the tube is only 30mls and nearly twice as expensive) had scores of reviewers on Boots.com reeling.

After showering, my hair definitely felt different. Much like the Lush product, it made the strands feel coarse – a dream if you need your style to have staying power. Not an option however, for ladies fond of silky, stroke-able tresses or shine devotees. I’ll be honest; I didn’t notice a difference in terms of bulk, at least not at the beginning. However after a few weeks, I was getting compliments at every turn. Colleagues were saying my hair looked “amazing”, had “so much body” and even seemed (laughably given my penchant for blow drying and straightening the life out of it) “healthy”.

Encouraged in my quest for volume, I persevered with the products. And continued getting compliments. Friends who have tried the range have reported nothing short of hair miracles.

L’Oreal may have cracked the code on this one. A cheap and cheerful answer for girls who crave a boost without nasty extensions. I predict a host of copycat products in the coming months...

Soprano XL Laser Hair Removal at Courthouse Clinics

For years, my friends and I have discussed the idea of getting laser hair removal. The dreamy look of every woman when contemplating a beautiful world in which she would never have to shave, Veet or wax again cannot be underestimated. I had gone so far as to buy a few of the coupon site deals screaming promises of money off – only to find laser sessions could only be redeemed in Barnet, and only on a Thursday at 11am. Anyone unable to commit to shaving their own legs due to inconvenience was never going to travel the length of London on a work day to have that problem sorted out for them.

The thing that really propelled me towards laser is the impending reality that one day, far in the future; I may have to live with a boy. How I will get around my weekly full body tan whilst retaining some semblance of mysterious allure is difficult enough, but add in the expectation of eternally hairless limbs and I’m screwed. Or dumped. Now forget all this feminist chat, I’m as pro-equal pay and opportunities as the next girl but I do like to be well-maintained – and if that means I’m more attractive to the opposite sex, well that’s great too. I don’t just de-fuzz because there is a boy on the scene.

I asked around my beauty journo friends for the best laser place in town and was swiftly given the number for Courthouse Clinics. They use a Soprano XL laser there – which they reckon is more effective than the standard IPL. It works on all skin tones – a new development in the world of laser where previously only pale skin and dark hair could be treated. I bought a course of treatments and although it doesn’t come cheap, the hassle it will get rid of is priceless. The first area I wanted to de-fuzz was “down below” – a fairly daunting prospect although I was assured the Soprano XL was practically pain free. After a skin test session, I started my treatments. Typically, sessions will last between 15 minutes and half an hour – I was amazed by how fast it was over with. Cool gel is applied to the area before the laser gun is placed on the skin. The therapist then rubs the gun over the skin repeatedly. This warms the skin up – on a few occasions I felt it became a little too hot and “prickly”, in which case they are happy to turn it down a few notches. You’ll be placed in all the same hideously embarrassing poses you have to pull at the waxists, so be prepared – it is invasive. Hair takes up to two weeks to fall out after the sessions so don’t be expecting instant miracle results!

I completed my second session a few weeks ago, and my results are amazing so far. I was sceptical about how quickly hair growth would slow down or stop but even after my first session there was noticeably less regrowth. Following my second, there is practically nothing left. My only gripe is the fact that after such a quick outcome, I have paid for an 8 session course!

I’ll keep you updated when my course is finished – but until then, I urge you, get lasering!

New Year, New Nails!

I have a split personality when it comes to nail polish. I’m very much an all or nothing girl – it’s either a black cherry, a velvety claret or I go completely bare. I love the look of a dark polish on a shorter nail – it creates some sort of strange elongating effect on my stubby fingers and adds a touch of cool to an otherwise safe outfit. Having said that, I’m not one for upkeep. Finding the time to take the messy layers of polish off then having stained fingers isn’t my thing.

I read about the Bourjois Magic Nail Polish Remover on a beauty website – the author called it life changing – a tad overzealous but I decided to give it a go. It comes in a pink pot filled with a nail polish remover soaked sponge. Dip your finger in the hole in the centre, twist a couple of times (the blurb says 1 second – it doesn’t quite do the job in that time, but almost) and remove. Every trace of varnish, even black and deep staining shades, is gone! If you are wearing a glitter polish you may have to go in for a few dips to make sure there are no remnants. The scent left on your nails is fruity and added almond oil nourishes the nail bed – although I always recommend washing your hands after using any chemical containing protect. This beauty must-have is a steal at £4.99 – although even the most dexterous of us would face a challenge manoeuvring our toes into the pot – I suggest you tackle the pedicure with an old-fashioned cotton wool and liquid formula!

This cold weather has left my nails very dry and flaky, meaning even when I do go for a coloured polish; bits chip off within a day or two. I read that having a layer of polish on protects nails from the environment and seals in that all-important moisture so I have been experimenting with clear polishes. The first I tried was Alessandro Pro White at £7.85 which leaves a subtle shine. This pigment in this counteracts the yellow tone on nails and makes tips look whiter. In strong daylight, the pink part of the nail has a lilac hue which creates an overall manicure effect – although the purple tint can be so strong there is a tendency to look slightly hypothermic! I also gave the Ultraviolet Top Coat by Guerlain (£18) a go. The formula itself has translucent purple tint and the boudoir style bottle is irresistible. This created a stronger manicure effect, making my nails glossy and the tips stark white against the nail bed. If you happen to be in a dark club you are also in for a treat – the UV pigment means you will glow! I’m a sucker for a nice bottle, so the Guerlain wins over the medical looking Pro White for me – although the actual outcome of both on the nails was much the same.

Happy polishing!

Review: No7 Perfectly Bronzed Quick Dry Tinted Lotion

Previous readers of this blog will know my predilection for a spot of tan. Fake, false, anything but the real deal. I sometimes try to get on my high horse and spout lots of anti-tan chat about sun beds and cancer, but really my skin just refuses point blank to change colour. Not a freckle in sight, not a hint of redness after a day baking on the beach, absolutely zilch. If I thought it were physically possible, I would claim that I reflect sunlight.

Thus, I have tried every fake tan on the market. I don't much enjoy spray tans (never dark enough after showering, have to leave the salon in London looking like a rather grubby coalminer without the aid of a car to hide in, no thanks), I'm very much a DIY girl. I had brief dalliances with Rimmel Sunshimmer, L'Oreal Sublime Bronze gel (the pungent smell still reminds me of my school days), Xen-Tan and St Tropez (too green). I have an on-going fondness for Vita Liberata, Sally Hansen and now, I can add No7 Perfectly Bronzed to the list. I popped into Boots needing a tan fix pre-pay day. I was in no financial state to invest in my trusty Vita Liberata, and as I had just changed my white sheets, Sally Hansen-ing my entire body wasn't a viable option. Friends had mentioned the No7 tan before and I had tried it in the past but hadn't been a fan. I think my downfall was the colour choice - I chose Light/Medium for my extra pale skin tone, which resulted in an almost imperceptible hint of tan, certainly not sufficient to protect my fellow partiers from a blindingly pale and deeply unhappy Irish girl. There are conflicting thoughts on tan shades from experts, but I always follow the advice I read from the Olsen twins make up artist - the darker the tan, the more naturally olive it will look on your skin. Paler tans will simply impart a more orange shade - not what any self-respecting tanner is after. This time in Boots, I knew better. I choose the Medium/Dark Lotion and skipped away a mere £9.95 poorer.

Now for the application. The lotion itself is a mid-brown cream, when rubbed on the skin it gives a very slight tint but not much - excellent news for bed linen countrywide. It smells inoffensive and does dry fairly quickly without a sticky residue unlike many others on the market. I used a tanning mitt for application, it's creamy texture works well on a mitt rather than latex gloves - which I think are simply an aid to streaking. I showered the next morning as usual. Once dried, my skin felt hydrated and smooth. There was a slight lingering smell which was well covered once I applied a scented moisturiser. The colour was excellent - this is definitely a once-only application - coming from me this is high praise indeed. Over the next few days the colour didn't crack or dry out, by the 5th/6th day I looked slightly patchy where the tan had worn off. Pretty good going in a world where a good fake tan usually goes bad within 3 days!

The price, colour and endurance make this an inexpensive staple in my beauty cabinet, I have used it religiously since my first try and have no complaints. When you can buy three bottles of this for the price of one department store tan, who am I to argue?

Review: Lush Big Shampoo

I’m a big fan of volume. Anything that promises to make my hair bigger, bouncier and downright outrageous in height is worth the money as far as I am concerned. So when a friend recommended Big Shampoo by Lush, it is safe to say I was fairly intrigued. I don’t usually believe the hype around shampoos and conditioners which claim to give you sleekness, volume or silky curls – as long as it doesn’t leave my hair lank and heavy with product I’m happy to roll with it.

For starters, Big Shampoo doesn’t come cheap. At £11.50 for a pot (it comes in a useful screw top tub rather than the usual tube) it certainly isn’t your typical Boots buy. The texture is reminiscent of an abrasive sugar scrub - this definitely isn’t like any shampoo you have used before. Rubbing the citrus scented granules into your head is counter-intuitive, it feels like you are simply tangling and pulling the strands. However after a minute or two, satisfying foam appears and the salt disintegrates. A good conditioner is a must après-Big Shampoo as the hair will seem slightly matted (hence the sea salt – for that beachy effect). After applying a detangling spray and pulling through carefully with a wide toothed comb, dry as normal. This is where the magic happens.

During blow-drying, I noticed a stiffness as I ran my hands through the roots and lengths – almost resembling a chalky (although invisible) coating. This made my hair sit taller and stay set – it barely moved – a feat even Elnett can’t achieve. It smelt glorious all day, a heady mix of lemons, limes and vanilla. People commented on my new “big” hair, a colleague even noting that I had probably gained a few inches in height due to the volume I was sporting on top.

£11.50 may be a bit steep for your average shampoo, but the catch is that this is far from average. Go forth and volumize, children!

Dinner at Evans & Peel Detective Agency

Maybe it’s the budding actress in me, but God, I do love a bit of roleplay. Especially when that roleplay involves a night out and a bit of time travel. Enter stage right, the Evans & Peel Detective Agency. Behind an entirely unassuming door on an Earl’s Court side street is this little gem of a find: the sort of quirky, you-don’t-find-it-anywhere-else place that reminds me why I live in London. Ring the doorbell for your appointment (that’s booking to the non-detective layman), and step inside to be transported to a prohibition era office, complete with typewriter and obligatory green shaded lamp. The “detective” will ask you about your case – when making a booking you’ll need to be creative enough to come up with some sort of back story – and it’s up to you how far you take the roleplay. After hashing out the main facts of your case, you’ll be asked to sit in the waiting room, which emerges when the resident detective pulls back their sturdy bookcase. Ah ha – a speakeasy!

Thankfully (for some) there is where your acting for the night ends. The decor inside the dimly-lit space is in keeping with the times, apothecary style cabinets take up space behind the bar, cut-glass beakers sit on tables and light shades and curtains are full of velvet and tassels. The cocktail menu takes reference from the era with creative names and even more creative ingredients – ranging from cardamom to beetroot. The food menu takes second place to the drinks, encompassing mainly glorified bar snacks. Nearly everything has been smoked, some dishes more successfully than others. The mac ‘n’ cheese is glorious – the pulled pork with corn chips less so.

This is the sort of place one could end up spending a lot of money. With cocktails starting at £10 a pop, and the sort of dark lighting which invites a heavy night, don’t be surprised if your bill (and your hangover) reach epic proportions.

Review: Model Co Cheek & Lip Tint

Now ladies, I love a good blusher, I really do. I have a tendency to be a bit heavy handed in the pursuit of a flush of colour – it can all go a bit “Aunt Sally” at times. But when I do manage to keep on the straight and narrow and restrict myself to a normal amount, it really does do wonders for the face. Especially if your usual pallor is akin to the milky stuff left in the bottom of mozzarella packets.

For years I rallied against using a liquid blush, assuming it would only serve to dilute and rub off underlying foundation/bronzer. I stuck steadfastly to Nars Orgasm for years - until two brand new palettes broke into tiny pieces for no apparent reason. Paying £21.50 for the privilege of a broken blusher – I think not. So I gave in to the hype and decided to try out Model Co Cheek & Lip Tint in Rosy Red. Don’t be put off by the word “tint” – this isn’t as scary as the infamous Benetint. I don’t care how many beautiful faces that stuff graces, I find it nearly impossible to apply. This squeezes out of the tube to become more of a cream gel and is easy to swirl onto the cheeks with your finger. It blends easily but as with all cream/gel/tints do take care to work fast (it will dry in quickly) and be sparing – you can always add more. The colour is less of a red and more of a fuchsia pink which works well on complexions with blue/purple undertones (anyone vaguely Celtic will understand this). The tint has excellent staying power and even I don’t feel the need for a top up when I get the mid-afternoon pales.

Given that this is technically a multitasking “Cheek & Lip” tint, I should really be reviewing its wonderful pout enhancing qualities too. Sadly, a look like a small child experimenting with my mother’s make up when I dare wear vibrant lip colour so I’ll have to pass on that front.

All in all, an excellent product – and a damn sight easier than carrying round a blusher compact and brush in your clutch!

Review: Pescatori Mayfair

I am very rarely a fan of a brightly lit restaurant. However there was something reassuringly warming about the glow from Pescatori on Dover Street as we stepped away from the dark rainy evening outside.

We were welcomed by reassuringly Italian waitresses and seated at a cheery little table complete with vine tomatoes to taste while we perused the menu. We settled on the fresh crab salad and the goat’s cheese and chicory to start. The crab was plentiful and very fresh (as one would expect in a seafood restaurant). The goat’s cheese, chicory and walnut salad was delicious and just the right amount for a starter – although I could have eaten plenty more of it! I went for the salmon for main course (I’m a little bit of an amateur when it comes to fish so I play it safe for the most part) while he chose the wild sea bass. Both were delicious – as was the spinach accompaniment. We washed it all down with a bottle of Soave Classico, a decent mid-price bottle which complimented the food.

We rounded off the meal with a cheeseboard – these can be hit-and-miss – especially when you don’t have the opportunity to pick the cheeses yourself. Served with a tiny bowl of walnuts, honey and some crackers, these were a lovely way to end and perfect sharing food for a date (an easy point of discussion when your date’s conversational skills are otherwise lacking).

The bill was reasonable and the buzz of the restaurant combined with good food would entice me to return. The lack of personality in terms of the decor and ambiance is the only factor which lets down this otherwise very competent Italian – a safe bet on an otherwise risky Dover Street.

Review: Homeslice Pizza, Covent Garden

The Homeslice tagline is "Pizza, wine and beer" - and that is precisely what it delivers. Tucked in the charmingly hippy Neal's Yard at Seven Dials, the interior is all shabby minimalism - a sure fire way to know the food is the star of the show. Tables are packed in closely side-by-side - you may want to pop to the loo before the adjacent table receives their pizza - the sheer size of it makes climbing past an obstacle too far for me to bother.

The menu is far from ordinary with a blackboard of offerings ranging from basic margarita to oxtail and bone marrow. Pizza can be bought by the slice or as one giant (and I mean giant) pizza - one pizza fed five girls at my table so don't be tempted to over order. Diners are welcome to go half and half on toppings - we opted for a Caprese (torn buffalo mozzarella, tomato and basil) and a chorizo, corn and coriander half. For those of you fortunate to have visited my favourite pizza joint Franco Manca, the pizzas taste similar, with a lovely sourdough chewiness and not too much cheese to hide all the wonderful flavours. Ordering wine here is novel and gimmicky enough to win me over, with a magnum brought to the table for you to drink as much as you wish. The bottle is measured with an old school ruler at the end to work out how much you need to pay - a dangerous concept in the hands of some.

When our bill arrived at the end we felt like we were robbing the place - a fiver each including tip. Not bad in today's otherwise overpriced and queue heavy London pop-up scene.

Homeslicepizza.co.uk

Review: Monu Illuminating Primer SPF 15

I’m a big fan of any SPF-containing product which can help me fight the good fight against premature aging and uneven skin pigmentation (read “freckles” – my nemesis). I have been wearing an SPF under my make up since the tender age of 14 so I have tried every UV ray blocker on the market. As my daily routine sadly involves getting into the office before the sun rises and stepping out into darkness again at 5pm, I thought I would lessen the protection for the winter months (I’m usually a Factor 50 girl) and up the skin quenching vitamins.

Hence the arrival of the Monu Illumination Primer SPF 15 to my beauty routine. I’m not traditionally one for primers – mainly because after I use my Skinceuticals Pigment Regulator, Clarins Eye Cream and an SPF, I feel like an added primer would simply create a greasy, shiny canvas for my foundation. As with many things, too many layers surely complicate the issue. But on receiving a sample I decided to give the Monu Primer a whirl. As with all Monu products, it’s derived from natural ingredients and smells like a delicious spa treatment when applied. The blurb involves all sorts of chat about radiance and antioxidants, all good words I believe.

The cream itself is alarmingly thick – you will squeeze too much out on your first go so be gentle – a little goes a long way. Despite the rich texture it sinks in to the skin well and feels like it really is moisturising rather than simply acting as a barrier. Make up can easily be applied after five minutes and glides on. My biggest problem (despite having dry skin) was a shiny t-zone with SPF creams which seemed immune to even the thickest layers of loose powder and furious blotting. But Monu seems to keep a matte consistency yet still manages to brighten my skin. I will stop short of using the word “illuminate” here – that is both physically impossible and not what the product does – but it certainly makes my skin look fresh and hydrated.

If only Monu did a SPF 50 version for the summer months...my t-zone would certainly thank them.

Evening cocktails with Phileas Fogg

As the descent into the dark afternoons of the winter months begins, spending time indoors getting that warm glow only a good gin cocktail can give seems like an excellent way to spend a Saturday. Which is exactly why I took myself off to try out Mr Fogg's, the latest offering from the chaps behind Battersea favourite Bunga Bunga and Thatcher-themed Maggie's.

Arriving at 5pm, the bar was almost empty, which suited well as we had made the faux pas of not making a reservation. The doorman rang the buzzer to allow us entry and we were greeted by a gaggle of uniformed young men ushering us inside. The owners really have gone to town with the adventurer-theme and it certainly makes an impression. On walking in, it feels like you are stepping into a Disney-fied colonial drawing room, complete with pith helmets, game skulls, old trunks and antique flags. Every corner is festooned with all manner of explorer’s trinket - I defy anyone not to be won over by the sheer attention to detail in this bar. The cocktails are pricey but delicious - they don't scrimp on the alcohol and when served up in old fashioned cut glass they seem worth every penny. The staff are helpful and happy to tailor cocktails for your taste buds although the huge menu should cover even the pickiest drinker.

I'm a sucker for a themed bar, and all the better if the loo can carry on the story in style. Every aspect, from the vintage toilet roll holders to the audio reading of "Around the World in Eighty Days" was as it should be.

We spent hours getting to know the cocktail menu in this wonderful, if slightly peculiar place. I will certainly be back - post-payday it must be said - but perhaps not every week. A fantastical trip into Victorian eccentricity and definitely one for the tourist looking for a slice of London at its oddest.

Mad Hatter's Afternoon Tea at The Sanderson

Now first things first. I'm not your average afternoon tea customer. A few tiny cakes and some dainty cups of Earl Grey don't tick many of my "fun day out" boxes so it was going to take a lot to wow me. However, after two trips to The Sanderson for their excellent Mad Hatter inspired spread, I can truly say that it has surpassed my expectations. On my first visit in the summer, it was held in the central courtyard, next to a bubbling water fountain which just added to the garden party jolliness of the whole expedition. This time, in the midst of an English November, my sister and I ducked into the Sanderson just as a particularly thundery rainstorm was brewing. I really hoped we were not going to be relegated to the faceless interior of a hotel restaurant for the tea, and thankfuly we were not. The courtyard had been transformed via a waterproof marquee so we were safe from the elements yet still in the open air to make the most of the "garden party" effect. We were welcomed in and presented with a choice of four teas, aside from the usual offerings. Rubharb & Custard, Apple Pie, Strawberries & Cream and creamy scented Chocolate Peppermint tea leaves were placed before us in delicate glass vials to tickle our fancy. We declared Apple Pie as our choice for the afternoon and were soon presented with silver strainers and a musical jewellery box full of sugar cubes to play with. The menu came within a vintage book, detailing Alice in Wonderland themed delicacies to whet our appetite. Our cake stand was brought to the table piled high with delicious tiny sandwiches, mini quiches, desserts and more. The creativity was the best part - tiny carrot meringues with peashoot stalks and marshmallow toadstools set the scene. Tiny glass bottles complete with hand written "drink me" labels contained a fantastic layered passionfruit syrup which was much more than just a gimmick. The desserts were extremely sweet and could do with a little tweaking to even out the balance but the aesthetics were truly delightful. The self service Jelly Wonderland trolley with unusual and intense flavours completed the afternoon and drew it to an entertaining close. I left the Sanderson on a sugar high but full to the brim with praise for the entire concept and execution. A grown up Disney. Now that's what I'm all about.

Okay okay, I know it's been a while...

Given that my post New Year resolutions are rarely successful, I have given myself a pre-NY resolution instead. To write at least one post a week on a new experience/beauty product/fashion buy/dining spot I have encountered. Watch this space...

I Really Am Marvellous At Blogging...

Hi all you avid readers...yes, both of you.

It's been quite a while. Life has taken over somewhat. The past month has been quite the whirl. I'm verging upon a quarter life crisis, but I have been for about 6 years now. Speaking accurately, it's probably a third-of-a-life crisis but sure I don't want to panic myself completely.

Good news: I have a fabulous new job.

I promise I'll be back soon. Ish.

Loves xxx.

Bras for the Bigger Busted Lady

As you may or may not be aware, I am the owner of a pair of considerably dimensioned assets. Coupled with my petite frame, it all starts to look a bit Pamela Anderson at times. Ironically I have met Pamela Anderson. And have her poster on the inside of my wardrobe. But let's save that story for another time.

Now, for the larger boobed ladies of the world, underwear shopping poses quite a challenge. For the slender of back and large of breast this challenge is compounded further. In this age of boob jobs, you would imagine finding a 32E or, God forbid, a 32F wouldn't be a massive (excuse the pun) problem, what with all the Jordanesque girls around. Apparently companies just refuse to make this size. So for several years, La Senza was the only refuge I had - unless I wanted to go down the Freya route - giant gauze cups, God-awful patterns and 3 inch wide straps. Could you imagine one of those sexy numbers poking out of the side of a tank top? The horror. Even in the saving grace that was La Senza, it was difficult enough to find something was:

a) black, red or pink - the only underwear colours I deem acceptable. Don't even go near me with a nude. It makes me want to vomit.

b) didn't have massive shoulder straps to keep everything adequately "supported".

c) attractive but didn't have appliqued flowers/hearts/polka dots or most alarmingly, pinstripes. Just in case you wanted to channel your inner business woman through your underwear choices. I like lace. That is all.

So for years I battled onwards, in the hope of eventually finding where all the silicone enhanced ladies of the land buy their lingerie. Today, I was nearing my wits end. I had searched ever faithful M&S (same strap problem, or worse, anything above a D consisted of a mesh cup. I have a nipple phobia. So much so that a former flatmate used to deliberately not wear a bra and see how long I could stand her for. The thought of a visible nipple through a mesh cup actually makes me gag), La Senza and Selfridges. My last hope was Debenhams. And behold, I struck lucky. Usually I cannot abide Debenhams, as they separate the bras into sections based on size, which always proves terribly embarrassing, especially when there is stray lost male in the vicinity and you happen to be perusing bras with cups bigger than his head. But they had a plethora of colours and sizes and skinny straps and lace and nice matching french knickers and it just so happened to be a half price sale. Phew. It was great. So, just some words of wisdom for those who share my plight. There is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Review: Make Believe Self Tan Lotion with Bronzer

As you are all aware, I am quite the fake tan aficionado. Being Irish and all that jazz, the girls I grew up with were obsessed with colouring their skin as deep an orange as possible. So much so that I believe my old Bebo account (God, now that really was a long time ago) from back in the day cites "waking up to a biscuity smell and a satsuma-hued glow" as one of my favourite things.

It kind of still is.

Which is what upset me about Make Believe, or more specifically, as I don't like to paint all products under the same brand name with the same brush, Self Tan Lotion with Bronzer. Now, first things first. My tanning preferences require a good, dark colour. I'm not saying it HAS to be orange, but I would like to look pretty damn sunkissed if I'm going to the hassle of messing up my bedsheets and enduring the smell of DHA penetrating layers of my skin for a night. This is difficult to achieve on skin which naturally has a transparent white to bluish tone. Seriously, you can't get any paler than this. Which is why, dear friends, I wear fake tan EVERY SINGLE DAY OF MY LIFE. No exceptions. - plus it makes you look skinnier. Which is all important.

So on Monday night I applied a layer of the above lotion. The stuff itself does smell lovely, like some sort of delicious summer dessert. As all tanning fans will know, that's pretty damn hard to achieve. St Tropez tried it with their promising "Aromaguard" technology, but sadly all they managed was to make the cream smell more like a bottle of Veet Hair Removal than a tanning lotion. Unfortunate. The colour of the bronzer in the Make Believe stuff is very nice it has to be said, and creates a good colour straight away. The problem occurs the next morning. So I wake up, admire my glow with the bronzer and hop in the shower. I get out, pat myself dry and take a glance at my gorgeous tanned self. Not a bit of it. There is literally no change. My skin is still no darker than my (white) bathroom tiles. You can imagine how upsetting this was for me. In fact, the effect was so negligible, I was forced to wear a long sleeved top, as I couldn't bear my pale arms to the glare of the general public.

Not to be deterred by a minor setback (I'd also heard good reviews on other blogs about the same product, AND it did come with a fairly hefty price tag - albeit with a third off in Boots!) I decided that perhaps due to the unnaturally pale colour of my limbs, it needed another application. And so I went through the same process last night. I awoke this morning full of hopes and dreams of brown arms. These were dashed when the same problem occurred. There is perhaps a mild colour difference between an un-fake-tanned bit and a Make Believe-ed bit. But not much. Certainly not enough when you consider that the tan was working on what can only be described as the blankest of canvases. Disappointment indeed.

As I'm going out tonight I'm going to have to resort to desperate measures and rub on a bit of the old faithful Sally Hansen. It has never let me down. And in the meantime, it'll be back to Fake Bake. Although my beauty PR friend has handed me a bottle of Rodial's Brazilian Tan Dark - the very darkest fake tan on the market.

Do I dare?

The No Carb & Alcohol Test: The First Hurdle

Last week I decided to take extreme measures and cut out the carbs and alcohol. I am holidaying in exactly one month and things need to change in time for the beach. A lifestyle revolving around the hearty consumption of alcohol and cheese on toast has served me well for many years but as I have a morbid fear of fat I feel it must change sooner or later.

Now, let me clarify the phrase "cut out carbs and alcohol". By cut out, I mean I will drink less than usual. "Usual" has recently grown to several glasses of wine four nights a week. "Several" means lots. You catch my drift.

As for the carbs, I'll stretch to a few spoonfuls of granola or two crackerbread in the morning if I'm feeling cheeky. Believe me, I'm dying inside. I LOVE carbs. Potato and white bread and pasta and pizza and chips. But I'm hoping to train my body into not needing these things. It's tough, and lunchtime is a minefield of taunting sandwiches and baguettes but no, I refuse to be broken.

Friday evening was a perfect opportunity for some silly alcohol induced fun, what with the beautiful weather and the outdoor drinking and whatnot. But in the company of old friends I decided to have one drink and that was it. They couldn't believe it. Lo and behold, the world didn't end and I enjoyed myself just as much as ever. Although during our dinner at Pizza Express I definitely would have rathered jump on the American Hot train rather than the Pollo Verdure salad. Oh well.

Last night was a house party with canapes a plenty and hosts willing to top up glasses willy-nilly. Some rice crackers were consumed, as well as a homemade brownie. I'm not going to lie. But, in my defence, I managed to stick to two glasses of wine for the duration of the whole night. This was very possibly the proudest achievement of my life. To fully understand why this was the case you must understand the background. I was once dubbed Party Girl Extraordinaire - a label only ever bestowed on those with dubious drinking/staying out late/dancing on table habits. This combined with my family's nickname for me of "The Common Denominator" - I have a penchant for being the one person who attends EVERY social event, regardless of bodily wellbeing, hungoverness, flying to foreign parts the next day - you may see why I feel the world should be proud of my two glasses of wine.

And with those thoughts, I will keep you posted. Just don't expect a miracle.

Summer Clothing Dilemmas

Hi there boys and girls!

So the sun is finally managing to pierce through those heavy English clouds and shine down on us, praise the Lord. This fact, however, makes a certain daily decision even more difficult:

What to wear?

Are bare legs acceptable in the office? Are flip flops? Or a more subtle and robust flat sandal - one that manages to avoid tassels, beading and jewels - so we don't all look like we're on our way to the beach? A flat pump - with the risk of highly sweaty toes? A chaffing heel? A highly-dangerous-to-walk-in wedge? Are shorts work-wear enough? How short do I dare? Is a vest too clingy on the breast area? Is it OK to flash a summer-bright bra strap? Is a maxi-dress OK on anyone under 5ft 7?

So very many questions. And yet no answers. I have seen so many fashion crimes on the tube this week I actually dread the daily commute. My eyes are offended by a multitude of summer-induced sins. Namely:

The nude tight. Too hot for an opaque tight? Then why the hell are you wearing the same garment in a highly unflattering matte "American Tan"? Note: When accompanied by an open-toed sandal this is possibly the most upsetting thing of my entire day. Or even better - the nude tight OVER, and I repeat OVER, an anklet. For the love of God. The sort of person choosing to wear skin-coloured hosiery is definitely not in the same personality category as a free-spirited hippy anklet-wearer. So just stop it.

Sports shorts. So it's a beautiful summer day outside and you are scrambling around in your wardrobe looking for something weather-appropriate. Whereupon you happen upon a plain tank. And a pair of polyester sports shorts. The ones manufactured by Kappa, Adidas and the like back in 1998. A short is a short, right? NO NO NO NO NO. Team this ensemble with a pair of white sports socks and you may as well be dead.

Skirts with back slits. Now come on. Those derriere brushing slits are pushing the levels of decency at the best of times. But paired with pasty bare legs, they are all sorts of wrong.

"Nautical inspired" (read anything involving red, white and blue) outfits. Just because you are wearing a white stripey top with a navy blue skirt, it does not entitle you to don any red shoe you can find it to really work that anchor and sailboat look. This was never fashionable (well, maybe once according to Dolce & Gabbana, but Lord knows you can't trust them to lead you in a classy direction). In fact, red shoes are mainly the work of the Devil. Nothing sets off sunburn/pink knees/shaving nicks better than red footwear. Just a warning.

Ladies, the above is why God made white loose cotton shirts, sand roll-up chinos, t-shirts, cropped leggings, tunics and summer day dresses. For those of us with taste.

A Lovely Little Poem, Possibly my Favourite

Ok so I do admit that I found this poem on another blog, but it is pretty fantastic. And straight to the point. Two qualities rarely found in poetry.

French Women Don’t Get Fat and Even if They Do They Still Look Nice

I took the Eurostar to Paris yesterday for a spot of shopping and perving on fine-boned French men. The usual trek around my favourite store in the world, Galeries Lafayette, was as wonderful as ever – I can confirm that their new(ish) shoe department really is a joy to behold. Apparently is it the largest in the world, and honestly ladies, nowhere else even comes close. The only gripe I have is the layout, which is a tad confusing for those not blessed with a natural GPS/any sort of spatial awareness – much like myself.

While foraging in Lafayette and Printemps I stumbled across a fantastic new label - The Kooples. Aiming to mix Parisian fashion with that cool London edge, it boasts a collection of mainly black separates for girls and boys. Beautiful tailoring, unusual fabrics and a bloody amazing brand image - this label is going places. I fell in love with the most sensationally tailored tux jacket, but then remembered that I am technically a pauper and cannot afford such things. One to watch for definite.

I also made the trip right across town to the Petit Palais to see the new YSL exhibition but the musee turned out to be closed due to it being the 8th of May. Being a good Catholic, I really should know what religious holiday this date corresponds to, but I don’t. I think the Virgin Mary was involved though.

Now, on the Metro I spied several women dressed in questionable fashion, usually with a decidedly shit choice of shoe. But somehow, and don’t ask me how, they pulled the whole look off, reeking of chic. At first, I blamed the dusky complexions, messy hair and skinniness but after a while I realised that even the heftier ladies looked great. Confidence appears to be the only common denominator. Confidence and the addition of a good printed scarf. There’s a lot to be said for covering up – a lesson for us all in the UK. No one wants to see a pale boob hanging out of top or a generous muffin top spilling over a jean edge. Some layering would do us all a world of good. And for God’s sake put away the pink feet and the sandals. It may be May in London but it’s only 10 degrees out there.