It's a ring thing.

I'm loving all the oversized rings I'm spying at the moment. Karen over at Where Did U Get That? (top left)* has been wearing them for ages and now I'm noticing them all over the place. (Click to enlarge pictures.)

We've probably all got pots of costume jewellery at home to choose from but I couldn't resist a little scroll over at Astley Clarke. I'm seriously loving their cocktail rings, from the almost affordable Cherry Blossom Ring ivory enamel topaz and pearls (below left, £295) to the pretty much unattainable Orivesi Ring with cabochon rose quartz and diamond accents (bottom right, £3,695.)

*(I only discovered Karen's blog recently and it has quickly become one of my favourite fashion reads. She puts together high fashion looks from a mixture of thrift, high street and designer pieces. I am seriously in awe of some of the things she thrifts!)

[Pictures from Where Did U Get That?, The Sartorialist and Garance Doré.]

Jarred in Japan.

My friend Jarred is travelling around Japan for five weeks and is keeping a blog. It's a very funny read as he finds his way around. He hasn't booked anything and is going with the flow, sleeping on the floors of a Buddhist temple and being scared when ordering food – he estimates he's lost a stone in seven days! He went to Koyoshi Sushi in Osaka, as featured on Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations (pictured below). A tiny place with seating for only 10 or so, I think I'd be too nervous to go in by myself but everyone was super friendly, watching to see his reaction every time he tried anything. See his Flickr photos here. I'm dying to go to Japan!

Flat whites at Prufrock Coffee, Present.

Having the current world barista champion on the next street is A Very Good Thing if you're smacked out of your head on sleep deprivation. (See last post.) Gwilym Davies (world champ!) and Matthias Björklund (current barista champion of Sweden!) operate a beautiful Victoria Arduino espresso machine at Prufrock coffee counter in sleek menswear shop Present on Shoreditch High Street.

The shop is long and narrow, so the coffee bar as you walk in (almost) makes perfect sense. Matthias told me that they often have a queue right down the shop, their coffee is so popular. Everyone in the line was talking about the coffee and just so you know, if you're single, the clientele was 100% cute guy when I was there.

But, more importantly, the coffee. They are famous for their flat whites, a drink invented by our Antipodean friends: a shorter version of a latte using steamed milk from the bottom of the jug, no froth. It's the only drink to order in London at the moment if you are a true coffee ponce, which I am proud to say that I am.

Matthias made flat whites for myself and two workmates and we were enraptured. No trace of bitterness, robust but smooth, I tasted licorice, Natalie tasted walnut and my boss said he tasted berry-fed badger. But I think he was taking the piss.

[At this point in writing this post I had to actually get up and go and get another flat white, I was craving one so badly. Matthias made it again. Just so good. Sigh.]

The shop itself stocks boy essentials such as wallets, shoes, Aesop shaving products, socks and striped blazers by labels such as Raf by Raf Simons, Trickers, Vans, Eley Kishimoto. I love that they've kept the original signage.

Present, 140 Shoreditch High Street, open from 10:30am.

Oscars, the aftermath.

It was a vintage year for the Oscars. The Hurt Locker (statuesque, fabulous Kathryn Bigelow!) wiped the board, Meryl was gracious and fantastic, Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin were hilarious, Sandra Bullock sort of deserved to win (she was good in that role), Jeff Bridges finally got his Oscar. (So Dude-like! Even in real life!)

The frocks were not a disappointment. I loved the nude tulles and chiffons, Maggie Gyllenhal and Rachel McAdams did the best colour, but the best look for me had to go to Sandy Powell (winner of Best Costume Design for Young Victoria, pictured top) for chanelling Sally Bowles, even down to her green nail polish. Divine decadence, darling! (Even though her speech hit the wrong chord. 'I've already won two of these!')

I loved her armful of bangles. Sarah Jessica Parker had a similar armful, as well as a Chanel tattoo bracelet. I stayed up until 5am so am feeling a bit delicate now but I think I will bangle up in weak homage...

[Pictures: AP Photo/Mark J. Terrill / alt film guide]

Oscar buzzin'.

I watched every single film nominated for Best Picture at this year's Academy Awards, like I said I would.

My favourite of the nominations was A Serious Man. It was pure Coen brothers gold, a stylish portrait of a man unravelling, as Coen brothers films often are. It's in turns hilarious – the kid getting stoned for his intense Bar Mitzvah was genius – and dismaying, but completely stylish and original throughout.

However, as I was forced to watch films I never usually would, my opinion as to who should get the Oscar changed. I don't like gory films or war films, so it was an effort to sit down to watch The Hurt Locker. But I'm glad I did. It was intense, suspenseful and brilliantly acted.

I was dreading Inglourious Basterds having read some terrible reviews. The opening scene is harrowing but gripping, but that didn't last. Brad Pitt should be banned from ever being allowed to appear in a film again: he wasn't wooden so much as downright rubbery. And the same goes for the sick bloodbath at the end. I'm no horror expert but seeing a rubber dummy of Hitler getting sprayed with machine gun bullets is a bit silly. I thought Diane Kruger was great though.

The Blind Side was a fun insight into soccer mom America. Wealthy blonde Texan interior designer takes a homeless young black student into her family. Despite the potential for mass cheesiness, it was actually quite touching and enjoyable and I really liked Sandra Bullock in it. Maybe she'll steal the Oscar for Best Actress in a Leading role...

...in my opinion Bullock should definitely be front running Carey Mulligan, star of The Education, another Best Picture nomination. I found this film flat and dull, Peter Sarsgaard's accent was terrible, the plot wasn't believable (I know it's a true story, but still). And Carey Mulligan was okay but not amazing. Rosamund Pike was the star of the film, to me.

Up In the Air I didn't get at all. I found it charmless, flat, lacking in plot and basically a vehicle for Clooney to play Clooney. Snore.

Precious was both moving and depressing. I was left feeling a bit confused as to what its message or purpose was. Triumph of spirit over shocking adversity? It was certainly a powerful film but I didn't really understand what it was trying to tell us.

Avatar was a REAL effort for me to get to the cinema to watch. I was pleasantly surprised at first: it's visually stunning and who wouldn't enjoy a 3-D day trip to a lush space jungle? The plot is abysmal, though, and the film almost a third too long. I had to leave before the end. (Sorry, but enough was enough.) I was left with the overall feeling that we had been watching the product of a boy playing with his new toy. I really hope this doesn't win, if it does my shaky faith in the Oscars is gone for good.

Up was fabulous, funny, sweet, touching, perfect. It's not a film though, it's a cartoon. Hope it wins the Animated Feature Film award. I'm sure it will.

OK, I have to admit I didn't watch all of District 9. I'm not into alien films. What I did see seemed to be a novel approach to the genre. James (my co-viewer for all of these films) rated it highly.

Our joint scores (I took James' score for District 9) put A Serious Man and Up in joint first place. Apparently there is a new voting method this year, but we scored out of ten. But who can tell what the voting criteria for the panel are. Not me. I wanted to fully inform myself this year to try and understand it better. If they choose Avatar that's me and the Oscars through, forever! I want The Hurt Locker to take it.

I also really, REALLY want Armando Iannucci to win the Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay for In The Loop. I can't even fathom how brilliant his speech would be! Check out this interview documenting his Oscar experience here.

Obviously I can't wait to see the frocks, either. I love the glamour of the myth of the attendees holing up in LA hotels and prepping themselves to within an inch of their lives. And how amusing is the whole James Cameron / Kathryn Bigelow face-off. They're probably really good friends, who knows, but I loved scrutinising their reactions at the recent Baftas. This is going to be even BETTER fun!

I must say that I hope that amidst this circus of superficiality, someone will bring attention to Jafar Panahi, the Iranian film director currently being detained by authorities in Iran, seemingly for nothing more than being in opposition to the ruling regime.

But finally, on a lighter note, check out this hilarious gem from McSweeny's with their Oscar predictions. (My friend @jennalee tweeted this!) Roll on Sunday!

[Picture of Jack Lemmon (love his silly face!) taken from the LIFE photographic archive, which is full of fantastic photographs of the Oscars over the decades.]

Musical letters.

I love this cute original letter that Jimi Hendrix wrote to a girlfriend. You can almost hear him singing it as you read it:

little girl.....

happiness is within you....so unlock the chains from your heart and let yourself grow—

like the sweet flower you are.....

I know the answer—

Just spread your wings and set yourself

FREE

Love to you forever

Jimi Hendrix

I found it on Letters of Note, who publish original letters. There are some astonishing letters: a gorgeously sweet one from Iggy Pop to a fan, a letter from Murry Wilson to his son Brian explaining why the Beach Boys were no good (shortly before he went on to record Pet Sounds), and a crazy one from Mark Chapman to a memorabilia dealer, wondering how much the copy of Double Fantasy he got John Lennon to sign before he shot him was worth. Twat.

London brings the sun.

Well done London! You did it. The sun's out. I took the scenic route to work this morning. Everyone's in a great mood this week because it feels as though Spring is here. I always feel jubilant, as a cyclist, to have made it through the cold dark months.


This Italian deli in Islington (used to be A. Ferrari) is a brilliant place to stop should you ever need a coffee, or a pot of homemade pesto or really delicious soup to take home. It has recently been taken over from the previous owner of seventy years. The new owner is a sweetheart who lets you taste everything, offered to let me pay next time I came and knocked a bit of money off a bottle of wine I said was too expensive for me.


Love how the railings in the churchyard have been shaped around the cattle trough. And look! Flowers! Yay! Sunshine!

Summer Babe.

I'm loving these portraits of Cat Power.* Loving the tan, the eyeliner and the brown hair that's gone golden in the sun. Roll on the summer...

*I don't love her music, though. In fact the only time I've seen her perform I thought she was awful. Is there anything I should be listening to that might change my mind?

(Photos by David Black, via A Continuous Lean.)

Save Plastic People, London's best underground club.

As you may notice up there in my profile, I used to be a bit of a party girl. And my church was a London club called Plastic People. I'd define it as an underground club: there is only a doorway with a broken sign, it's hard to find, the owners don't seem to feel the need to promote the place. Because it's a club that's all about good music for people who love music, not about playing to the lowest common denominator to getting passing trade through the door.

As such, it has a very peaceable, relaxed atmosphere. You don't get dressed up in your best heels to go there, because it's too dark to pose. It really is all about the music. The kind of club where at midnight on New Year's Eve you'll hear Let's Stay Together by Al Green. And have a few other spiritual moments where you'll put your hands in the air and clink (plastic) glasses with everyone around you. It's definitely NOT the kind of club where you get people whispering in your ear, 'Want any drugs?' It just doesn't attract that kind of element.

Which makes it puzzling and bizarre that the authorities are trying to close the club down on the grounds of preventing public nuisance, crime and disorder.

This is a club that is all about music. The most innovative music in the world is championed here. There are nights such as CDR where everybody is invited to create their own music to bring in to play. Nights such as Co-Op fostered the best of London's own new music. But global innovators also play at Plastic People. If this venue is lost, an invaluable part of London's musical culture and heritage is lost.

Please help prevent this potentially devastating loss by signing the petition to Hackney Council. Join the Facebook page here. It's even reached the LA Times - read this interview with Four Tet discussing the importance of Plastic People. If Plastic People is lost, London's most valuable music space is lost. Let's not let that happen.

[Photos borrowed from Zi Wang and Vent Fury with thanks.]

CA4LA: Japanese hats, London style.

CA4LA is a gem of a hat shop, hidden down a side street  in East London. Japanese owned, the shop itself is stripped back to the bare bricks with old wooden shop fittings, chandeliers, shabby antique display cases and shelves made out of ancient doors.

The hats are all designed in Japan. From cossack-style fur to fascinators and the crazy inbetween: silver straw hats with dotted veils and tiny top hats with coloured feathers. (Click to see details on picture above.) Oh, and a stuffed boar wearing a leather top hat embroidered with the face of a Japanese dude wearing shades.

But there are everyday felt porkpies and trilbies for those feeling less adventurous. The perfectly hatted and seemingly straight out of Shinjuku staff are as helpful as can be, padding out bands or stretching, to get you the best fit.

To counter the February weather (drizzle, grey, sleet, drizzle) and with a fringe to protect, I decided to invest. LOVING my new hat. I don't CARE if it keeps raining, now.

Diana Vreeland and the Mitford sisters: It girls gone by.

I remembered I have a copy of DV by Diana Vreeland on my shelf, bought for me by my mother for Christmas years ago and still unread, thanks to Sneaky Magpie who commented on my post yesterday. Along with a copy of The Mitford Girls, a biography of the Mitford sisters also bought for me by my mother and unread, I think I have my reading for the rest of February sorted out. Eccentric New York magazine editor and aristocratic sisters of dubious politics? Check. Don't these two look so stylish and slightly batty in this picture?

Right, just nipping to the shop for some amaretto to put in my hot chocolate and then another February day has been successfully warded off.

Funk you, February! (A good month for self-help.)

February is absolutely kicking my butt. A combination of dark, depressing weather (it bloody snowed again today!), everyone having colds, plus working out my notice period (37 working days left!) is making it very hard for me to get up in the morning.

So it's timely that I appear to be reading my first ever self-help book. If You Have to Cry Go Outside is written by Kelly Cutrone, fashion publicist power bitch. Her PR company People's Revolution runs fashion shows, which she oversees in a very-cool-but-with-a-heart power bitch kind of way.

It's actually really refreshing to read a completely kick-arse woman's journey, especially relating to such a fickle field as fashion. I've not finished it yet – she's just given birth as a single mum and appears to be rocking at it, having the cash and wherewithal to hire help instead of worrying about having a man around – but it's seriously brightening up my day. Here she is, on 'urban single power-girl pregnancy.'

'I could not wear maternity clothes. Ugh, yuck, no way, no thanks, never! Pea in the Pod made me want to kill myself. What were these fabrics? Floral prints? I was sure I'd rather clean toilets than be seen in them.'

Right, who else's inspiring story can I read until this dreary month passes?

[Kelly Cutrone pictured above left, in House of Holland FFS shirt.]

Red and blue? What a to-do.

I've really enjoyed leisurely watching the shows streaming live from London Fashion Week. My favourite so far has to be Charles Anastase. (Shown above and below.) The colours were an inspired mix of mustard, turquoise, salmon, burnt orange and blood red.

The loosely layered coats made me think of what an actress in 1930s Berlin might throw on to escape out of the stage door after an evening's performance. And the pyjama suit shapes and ruffled hats reminded me of something Otti Berger might have worn to class at the Bauhaus.

(Otti Berger, from an exhibition at the Bauhaus Archiv, earlier this year.)

Duvet day. (And in favour of the 21hr working week.)

I took a duvet day today. I have a cold and was already feeling the effects of a long week so didn't fancy ten hours out of the house, an hour spent cycling to and from work, then chores still to do when I got home.

Despite my foggy shuffling around, I have achieved SO much today. The flat is sparkling, I've been in constant contact with a client and a designer regarding a project, I've picked up a prescription and done laundry. During my normal working week of being away from the home from 9am to 6pm some of these small chores seem completely inachievable. When will I get a chance to go to a chemist? The cats are out of food, but the pet shop is only open whilst I'm at work?

The recent report suggesting that a 21 hour working week would be a beneficial to a lot of people makes real sense to me. So many of us overwork, then over consume because we're time poor. Distributing the working hours means that more people get a chance to work and we all have increased spare time to try to live in a more balanced and sustainable way.

In the meantime, roll on April 16th. My last day at my office job! Have a great weekend, dudes. (The quilt in the picture was handmade by Made By White's mother and sister. I can't tell you how much I want one!)

The Shop. (My favourite vintage shop in London.)

A while back, in my reader comments, someone asked if I could recommend the best vintage shops in East London. I am an expert in this field, I cannot be modest, so I thought I should tell you about The Shop on Cheshire Street, which is definitely my favourite vintage shop in the area.

A veritable veteran of the area at fifteen years in business, it is run by a mother and son team. The Shop always has marvellous and plentiful stock: vintage dresses in wonderful prints and fabrics, quality cashmeres and woollens, piles of silk scarves and fabrics neatly folded into every possible drawer and cabinet, eminently wearable hats, and a huge cabinet of costume jewellery, hair combs and beaded evening bags. There are also cabinets full of folded and pressed vintage fabrics.

The biggest plus point to me is that everything is in great condition and very reasonably priced. There is absolutely no mass-bought vintage filler, the stock is pure quality throughout. And I can let you in on a tip: Thursdays are when they bring in the new goodies.

I escaped with only a vintage cream silk blouse today, in perfect condition and a bargain at £15. I can't get enough of silk at the moment: hurry up Spring!

The Shop is at number 3, Cheshire Street, and is open every day.