Just Wear White

If you read my blog often, you’ll have seen Antonia Mariconda’s name pop up on more than one occasion. A veritable beauty guru, she has been a great inspiration, mentor and friend to me as my blog has grown. So when she announced that she was throwing a super-chic, glamorous beauty industry party, I knew I had to go along. My ticket arrived with one simple instruction: just wear white.

Having tried on and rejected approximately a million dresses that basically disappeared against my pale skin, salvation arrived in the form of this gorgeous Chi Chi London number.

antonia mariconda white party antonia mariconda white party

I felt prettier than Hilary Duff when that spotlight shines on her in A Cinderella story.

antonia mariconda white party antonia mariconda white party

That’s right, I felt give-you-four-pictures-of-my-face level sassy. Having made up my mind to go full Disney princess on this one, I paired glowy skin and fluttery eyelashes with a glossy purple lip and topped it off with Cinderella heels and earrings that would make Blair Waldorf proud.

When I got on the bus (I know, the glamour never ends with me), someone asked me if I’d lost my pumpkin, so I’m gonna chalk that up as a major success.

I arrived at the sumptuous Home House to a genuinely jaw dropping sight. The room was white, filled with glinting crystal and white roses gently dropping their petals to the floor. There was champagne everywhere. And everyone, but everyone, was wearing white. The gorgeous Nadia Roberts, who I’m sure you’ll be hearing much more about very soon, looked around and commented that she felt like she was surrounded by angels.

white party antonia mariconda antonia mariconda white party

I’ve written before about feeling like an outsider, and this fabulous occasion unfortunately also bore witness to one of the most utterly mortifying moments of my life. At the very front of the room was a wall of photographers, snapping the guests as they entered. Having grabbed the girls I knew and established that we all looked completely excellent, we decided to go get a photograph taken. We strutted up in front of the photographers, struck our best poses and…nothing. Not a thing except muffled silence and bored gazes. Not even one sympathy click to make us feel better. We must have stood there, smiles frozen on our faces for about 15 seconds before it started to dawn on us that no one was going to take our picture. It was like all your worst high-school nightmares come true. Grabbing a glass of champagne and satisfying myself with visions of someday taking Pretty Woman-esque revenge (You remember when you wouldn’t take my picture? Big mistake. Huge.), we fell about laughing and decided to take our own. Because sometimes this world is like climbing a ladder, and while we might have been nobodies in the room, we were still in the room. And I know that some day, we’re going to be the somebodies.

*hair flick, sashay*

antonia mariconda white party antonia mariconda white party

Fortunately, this was the only blip in a truly wonderful night. After hitting the bar to soothe our bruised egos, we hit the dancefloor and soon after, the photobooth.

antonia mariconda white party antonia mariconda white party

We had a few quick words of thanks from the inspiring Tulsi, representing the Katie Piper Foundation, which was the beneficiary of the night’s fundraising. This was followed by the most upmarket raffle I’ve ever seen and a quickfire auction, which raised about £5000 in the space of ten minutes. We danced the night away, but as the clock struck midnight, I started to consider taking on another Cinderella trait…she might have had to act as a servant, but at least the girl got to take off her party shoes.

antonia mariconda white party katie piper

As with everything that Antonia does, the White Party was a glittering success, sparkling with elegance, style and fun. What started as a throwaway comment on her Facebook grew into something truly special. And I’m sure she’s already plotting next year’s encore.

antonia mariconda white party

Me and the woman herself.

Baring Our Breasts, Baring Our Souls

This week, I was invited to the launch party for Laura Dodsworth’s amazing book Bare Reality. I was pretty excited, having never been to a book launch before, so I donned my finest “I’m-totally-a-sophisticate-who-goes-to-book-launches” dress and headed for Brick Lane.

bare reality book launch

Me, failing to look even a little bit cool and nonchalant.

Bare Reality is an intimate and fond study of our complicated and often fraught relationship with our breasts. The book consists of photographs of 100 pairs of breasts, with 100 women’s stories underneath, ranging from age 19 to age 101, from burlesque dancers to nuns. What really struck me looking at these pictures and listening to the excerpts read was how different each woman’s body was, and how different each story was. Even as the owner of a pair of them myself, my exposure to boobs throughout my life has probably been pretty narrow. I see mine. I see my mum’s. I sometimes see my friends’. I see the ones in the adverts. And somehow, this had added up to the idea that all breasts look pretty much the same. Except mine, which are obviously weird and wrong. But seeing these 100 photographs made me wonder how we ever arrived at such a small ideal of female beauty. Every single one of the photographs was stunning. Their bodies were beautiful and strong and most had survived incredible things.

bare reality book launch

For most of the women interviewed, their breasts were not just the lumps of sexualised flesh that we’re so used to seeing them portrayed as. They were what they used to feed their children. They were the stepping stone to sexuality – but these stories focused on the pleasure women got from their breasts, not the pleasure they gave to men. They were just body parts to lots of women, and those women couldn’t give a damn how aesthetically pleasing you found them. They had undergone surgery, changes, insults, huge life events like motherhood, cancer and menopause. In Bare Reality, women’s bodies became the subject, a canvas on which our stories are painted, rather than the object.

bare reality book launchOne excerpt read “when I bare my breasts, I am trying to bare my soul”, casting the idea of nakedness in a beautiful light. The act of being naked not as a sexual experience, but as a literal stripping back of the layers, a search for the you that lives underneath.

One woman talked about being tall, and how tall women, especially those with big boobs tend to hunch over, to make themselves small and inconspicuous. I glanced round the room at this point. Every single woman straightened up and stood a little taller.

bare reality book launch

Laura, looking justifiably delighted with her book.

Laura described the book as “100 acts of feminism”, and I think she’s spot on. I’ve said this before, but we exist in a world where having autonomy over your body, taking up space and generally existing as a female is seen as offensive, as a demand for attention, as an attack. Our physical existence is a political act, whether we like it or not. And with that in mind, to stand up and say “Here is my body, and I think it’s great” is an incredibly brave thing to do. And I absolutely applaud every single one of these 100 women for their courage.

bare reality book launch

Lots of boob love on The Canvas’s body positive wall!

Okay, to the event itself! The launch took place in the Canvas, an adorable-yet-edgy cafe and exhibition space a stone’s throw from Brick Lane. The white walls are peppered with questions, ranging from “What’s the best thing that happened to you today?” to “Where do you want to be in ten years?”. People have scrawled and sketched their answers beneath in pencil and thick black marker. It’s gorgeous. I spent most of the evening wandering around, reading the little snippets of their lives people had left behind.

Having never been to a book launch before, I was completely nervous about going on my own. I had reruns of old school discos playing in my head, although it being a book about body positivity, I hoped at least to avoid the question of why I was wearing a bra when I had nae tits to put in it. Fortunately, as soon as I arrived, I was adopted for the evening by Becky, founder of Who Made Your Pants, and her friend Clare.

bare reality book launchThey were both hilarious and gorgeous and world endingly fantastic, so I hope we bump into each other again. We went through a few glasses of Prosecco, more than a few chocolate truffles and chatted about everything from teenage feminists to religious mythology. No, really. They were great.

Laura was waiting at the door to greet us, and I shuffled a bit shyly when she asked my name, convinced that she would have no idea who I was. When I introduced myself and explained that I had been invited after the whole Protein World thing, my fears were immediately put to rest.

“FUCKING YES,” she shouted, giving me a high five, and then a kiss for good measure. She then proceeded to introduce me to everyone she spoke to. Basically she is warm, radiant and excellent in every way.

The event was a huge feminist love in, and I felt so absolutely honoured to be in a room with some of these men and women. I met Lucy-Anne Holmes, who founded the No More Page Three campaign. I met Caroline Criado Perez, who I chatted to for five solid minutes before suddenly realising who she was. Instead of playing it cool and acting like I’d known the whole time, I fully went “Oh my god! Caroline! You’re Caroline! Like, Caroline Caroline!”. Facepalm. I am the worst at being a sophisticate.

DSCF1252 DSCF1246Somewhat crazily, I spoke to at least three people who, when I introduced myself, responded with “Oh my god! That’s where I recognise you from!”

People recognised me you guys. I don’t even know how to deal with that. Again, I was super uncool about it. I’m basically a 23 year old feminist fangirl.

I left the event feeling ready to kick the patriarchy right in the face, despite the fact that my sexy-sophisticated Kate Middleton shoes had given me a bit of a limp by this stage. I felt so buoyed by the passion and confidence and sheer power of the women in that room. These women remind me what I’m fighting for, what I’m aspiring to, what I’m strong enough to withstand.

The Razz For Life

So. I’m throwing us a party.

Razz For Life (1)

I don’t know about you guys, but I am way, way over cancer getting all up in our business and taking away the people that we love.

For anyone who doesn’t know my history, my mum was diagnosed with cervical cancer when I was just 16. My sister Sophie was 11. This completely sucked. But amazing advances made by organisations like Cancer Research UK meant that 15 years after my dad lost his mum to cancer, I didn’t lose mine. She beat its ass and now spends her time drinking cocktails in her Spanish apartment, taking hilarious selfies with our dog and cruising the Norwegian fjords.11243676_921685944537392_512823715_n

Awesome.

But I’m not through with cancer yet. Because while I was lucky enough to keep my mum, lots of people haven’t been. And this is not over until no mother ever has to sit her kids down and tell them she has cancer.

So I’m doing what Glasgow girls do best: picking a fight and throwing a party.

On the razz:
out enjoying oneself or celebrating, especially while drinking freely.

We will be taking over the fabulous basement bar at Farr’s School of Dance in Dalston.

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We’ll be filling this sexy speakeasy with flashes of hot Race for Life pink, decadent treats and amazing people.

We’re gonna have cupcakes from the fantastic, gorgeous Polly from the Cake Diaries.

We’re gonna have goody bags for every guest, featuring amazing products from Timeless Truth Beauty Masks, Inlight Organic Skincare, Hifas da Terra and Race for Life.

We’ll have the chance to win a massive bumper goody bag worth over £100, with goodies from the Body Shop, Nails Inc, Essence and more.

We’ll have glorious heated massages from Lava Angels.

You’ll be able to chat to the folks from Sniffy Wiffy about their amazing products and how they can help you check yourself for the early signs of breast and testicular cancer.

And we’ll have more surprises to be announced closer to the time.

Fancy coming along? Of course you do! Just drop me a line at theescapologistsdaughter@gmail.com. Places for the event are limited, so get in touch!

Cancer, we’re coming to get you. And we’re gonna party all over you.

We Took Back The Beach

So, this has probably been the craziest week of my entire life. Beginning with this photograph:

How to get a beach body-Take your bodyAnd culminating in a big assed party in Hyde Park, with a quick stop at Sky News, the BBC and Troll Bridge along the way.

When Tara and I took this photograph, I wanted to provide an alternative idea of what beach body means. To say “Sure, Renee is gorgeous, but you don’t have to look like her if you don’t want to. You can have a body like mine and be gorgeous. You can have a body like yours and be gorgeous.”

When I uploaded the photo to Twitter, I was conscious that Tara and I only represent two body types, so I thought, why not throw it open? Why not give people the chance to be part of a photograph with all different shapes, sizes, races and genders? So we decided to throw a bit of a party in Hyde Park. And despite my fears that I’d turn up alone in my bikini in front of the world’s media, it was totally awesome.

take back the beach protein world

Photograph by Michael Mendones.

I arrived just before 3, for a quick interview with Stephanie from the New Statesman, and shared with her my nerves that no one else would come. Our very deep discussion about why trolls feel the need to troll was interrupted by me yelling “OMG BANANA” in her face, as I spotted a group of women heading towards us carrying an impressive array of inflatables.We headed over onto the grass, and I suddenly panicked about how I was supposed to entertain everyone and make everyone feel comfortable enough to start stripping off. My worry, as it turned out was completely unnecessary. People didn’t even wait for me to catch up before getting down to their swimming costumes, cracking out picnics and starting games of “toss the inflatable stuff at each other”. Total respect to the guy who just stretched out in front of the cameras and read his book like it wasn’t no thing.

DSCF1205I met a mother who had travelled down with her two daughters for the event, and was quickly introduced to dad, who was preoccupied with blowing up a giant rubber ring, like a hero.

DSCF1200This, to me, was incredible. How inspiring, to have a mother who is that determined to teach her daughters that their bodies are perfect and wonderful and capable of miraculous things, and a dad who understands and supports that. Seriously, you guys are amazing. I was so pleased to have teenage girls at the protest, because I remember being a teenage girl. It sucks. Your body changes in a lot of weird and frequently alarming ways, and all anyone wants to tell you, from the ads on TV to the boys in your school, is how your body is wrong. And yesterday was about stomping on that idea and grinding it into the ground. Your body is perfect. No caveats. No “it would be perfect if you toned it up/got a tan/lost some weight/put on some weight”. It is perfect right now. If you want to do any of the things in that list, that’s great, go ahead and do them. It’s your body. You can do whatever you want to it, if that will make you feel amazing. For some people, that means losing weight. For some people, it means a quick swish of red lipstick. For some people, it means wearing a fabulous dress, For some people, it means covering your body in tattoos and body art. And all these things are great, if they make you feel great. Don’t ever let anyone tell you how to love your own body, because you’re the one who has to live in it.

I worry that nobody is telling young girls this, so I was beyond delighted when an enormous troupe of 13 year old mini-feminists appeared.

take back the beach protein world

DSCF1181This is unspeakably fantastic. To have a group of young women so confident and so intelligent that they can be part of a terrifying, complicated conversation like the one surrounding body image is amazing. I am so, so proud that this is the future of feminism. Seriously, if you guys ever read this, you inspire me. And sadly, I know that they’ve got a hell of a fight ahead of them. They’re going to take a whole lot of nasty coming from a never-ending parade of stupid, just like I have this week, for daring to stand up and say “We deserve better than this”. (Ladies, I’m always here if you need me. My email address is in my Contact Me page, please, please use it.) But to hear a thirteen year old girl stand among a group of adults and wax lyrical about what feminism means to her made me want to happy cry.

I actually did manage to hold it together and not cry. For most of the day. Until I spotted these guys:

take back the beach protein worldBoth of these women are in recovery from eating disorders. And speaking to them, seeing their absolute strength and seeing the love and support they held for each other, even as strangers, I couldn’t help bursting into tears. Just bawling, in my swimming costume, in the middle of Hyde Park. We had one guy come along solely to pick fights with us, and he stood and ranted at this woman about why being fat is unhealthy. Now, I have been extremely proud of how I’ve handled our critics. I believe it’s nice to be nice, even to the person who has just called you a fat, jealous attention seeker. But if I ever see someone make a comment as triggering as that, I will track you down and gouge out your eyes. Comments like this can kill.

A lot of people have contacted me since yesterday and tried to embarrass me or make me say that the event was a failure. To them, I have but one thing to say.

Have you lost your damn minds?

Over one hundred men and women gathered together yesterday to feel amazing about their bodies, display their confidence and demand better from our adverts. I’ve spoken before about how daring to have a body as a woman is a political act in itself, one which seems to invite comment and criticism. A woman feeling great in her own skin is not a small thing. It’s huge. It’s life changing. There were picnics, there were bubbles, there were inflatable dolphins, there was body paint, there were hugs and laughter and tears galore, and you’re asking me if I’m embarrassed by the turnout? To put it politely: have a word with yourself. I’ve never been prouder in my life. I am heart burstingly, mind blowingly proud of us, and I will not try to hide that because yesterday didn’t meet somebody else’s completely arbitrary expectations.

I met so many incredible, inspiring people yesterday, and I will never be able to express the love and gratitude I feel for all of you who came to support me. Did we take back the beach? You bet your ass we did.

This is what class looks like.

This is what class looks like.

Oh, just a typical feminazi chubster.

Oh, just a typical feminazi chubster.

These guys got totally hounded by the photographers. That's what you get for making good signs.

These guys got totally hounded by the photographers. That’s what you get for making good signs.

It was a varied and excellent bunch.

It was a varied and excellent bunch.

Beach body ready: different strokes for different folks.

Beach body ready: different strokes for different folks.

Yes. Yes that is the Gogglebox chicks.

Yes. Yes that is the Gogglebox chicks.

Take Back The Beach

So, on my lunch hour this Wednesday, fellow blogger Tara and I did this:

How to get a beach body-Take your body

If you would like to read about us doing that, head on over to my last post here!

Basically, the response that we’ve had has completely knocked me off my feet. Seriously, you guys should give yourselves a pat on the back. I have been so, so bowled over by the love and support and strength that we’ve been shown.

Well, for the most part.

Protein World’s response has left…well, a little something to be desired. After we tweeted our photo, I saw some pretty heinous responses to docu-comedian Juliette Burton’s tweets (you can find Juliette on Twitter here, and you should definitely follow her. She’s ace).

protein world twitter

 

I was pretty shocked. As someone who spent a year working in social media, I nearly fell off my chair that this was the brand’s official response. The tweets got increasingly horrendous, telling women to “grow up” and branding them “crazy”, and then last night, I stumbled on a response to some women saying:

Surely as feminists, you understand no one takes you seriously?

And it hit me. They’re trolls. They’re literally just trolls. And I don’t know about you guys, but this totally takes their power away for me. I’m now imagining Protein World as being a group of guys polishing their muscles and reassuring themselves that feminism is the reason they’re not getting laid. Maybe with a smattering of girls insisting that they don’t see why the ad is offensive, probably because they’re not hysterical like all those other girls, babe. I’m kind of embarrassed for them.

After this paradigm shifting revelation, I realised that this isn’t a protest anymore. This is a party. This is a celebration of the million and one different ways that a woman (and a man, you gorgeous men, you) can be beautiful.

So let’s celebrate. Tara, Juliette and I are organising a massive version of the photo above at 3pm on Saturday 2nd May. Do you look like the model on the poster? Awesome, step this way, gorgeous! Are you a size 24? Come on down, beautiful! Are you a guy? Get those swimming shorts looked out! Don’t want to bare all in a bikini? Come in whatever you feel great in! Beach ready means different things for everyone, and we want to see all of them.

This was never about suggesting that people shouldn’t try to get fit if they want to. If having rippling abs is your thing, more power to you. I bet you rock them. But I’m so tired of it being an expectation. The idea that your body should be covered up and hidden away if it doesn’t meet these bizarrely specific requirements…I’m over it, you guys. And judging by the response we’ve gotten on Twitter, it looks like you are too.

Bring your friends. Bring your beachballs and buckets and spades. Bring those awesome beach bodies.

We’ll be meeting on the grass by Speaker’s Corner in Hyde Park (by the Marble Arch entrance), and I’ll be there from a bit before 3. If you’re coming in your bikini, we’d maybe suggest wearing a dress over it that’s easy to whip on and off, to fend off hypothermia.

The more people we have, the more amazing this picture is going to be, so rope in as many people as you can. Saturday the 2nd. 3pm. It’s happening. And it’s going to be sexy.

If you’re coming, feel free to give us a wave down in the comments or on Twitter! You can definitely just show up on the day, but it would be cool to have some idea of how many people we have. We also have a sexy Facebook event here if you’re on Facebook!

Addendum

So, as expected, all of us have been on the receiving end of some genuinely sickening comments after speaking out like this. Of the two of us in the photo though, it’s depressingly unsurprising that Tara and her beautiful, perfect body have been the target of the most vitriol. I’d just like to thank Tara for having the bravery to hold my hand through this, even though she probably knew in advance that she would bear the brunt of the abuse. And to every single person who has posted nasty comments, I’m sorry that your life is so unfulfilling that you feel like you have to tear down a strong, gorgeous woman who is celebrating her body.

On this note, if actually coming to our event would make you feel unsafe, please feel free to support us with tweets, messages and happy thoughts. Let’s keep each other safe. Let’s keep each other strong.

All of the Flowers, All of the Time

I love flowers. I really do. Having fresh flowers in the house makes me about 72% happier. I keep a jar of flowers by my bed, so I can see them in the morning, before I have the chance to get grumpy. So I was pretty excited to be moving so close to Columbia Road’s famous flower market.

Of course, this excitement translated into me completely failing to go for my first six months in London. But this weekend, we finally made it!

columbia road flower market

Gee, thanks cloudy sky for making all my photos totally blown out.

Picking Mother’s Day for our first visit probably wasn’t the best idea we’ve ever had. It was so completely packed that at points we literally just had to stand still and wait for the crowd in front of us to move. So that wasn’t ideal.

But the flowers. My lord, the flowers. They erupted in every colour from every direction, and the air was filled with the most incredible scents. I could get drunk on the smell of jasmine, it’s so damn beautiful.

columbia road flower market columbia road flower market columbia road flower marketI think my favourite thing about the market was that, despite the fact that they were selling flowers, the sellers were such market sellers. They flirted, yelled and cajoled their way into any sale they could. They berated passers by who had empty hands or frowns on their faces. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen an enormous man holding up an orchid and bellowing “Cor, look at the size of this one! Three stems!” in a thick North London accent.

White roses were definitely flavour of the month, blooming from almost every stall, but no matter what your taste, I’d bet you’d find something you like. In fact, I was absolutely thrilled to find big bunches of white iris, my favourite flowers, which I can almost never find in florist shops. I took a bunch of white and a bunch of blue for my bedroom.

columbia road flower market columbia road flower marketThis day definitely didn’t showcase the market at its best. We probably picked the peak time of day, on the peak day of the year to go, so it was hard to get a proper look at the flower stalls. We got kind of swept along in the middle of a big crowd, having to crane our necks to get a look at the wares on show. And once we got to the end, it started to rain. Not ideal. But even at its worst, the flower market was pretty incredible. I’m a sucker for beautiful flowers, and it was pretty special to be completely surrounded by them. Not to mention the chintzy cafes and vintage stores that run up and down Columbia Road itself. I’m definitely going back, as soon as the weather picks up…and I might even make a habit of it. It might even be worth getting up early for.

columbia road flower market

Shine Bright Like A Diamond: How To Be Your Own PR, with Antonia Mariconda

I stepped down the stairs at the Soho Hotel to the now familiar sound of heels clacking, cameras clicking and new connections being made. This was the third of Antonia Mariconda’s workshops that I’ve been to, and as usual, she didn’t disappoint.

Antonia is an award winning media professional and safety in beauty campaigner, who began her interest in beauty after significant reconstructive surgery following a car accident. She took this tragedy and turned it into a wildly successful career.

Basically, this is a woman who knows how to grab life by the balls.

And this workshop was all about how we can learn to do that too. How to find our inner sparkle and make it shine bright enough that everyone else can see.

antonia mariconda cosmedic coach workshopWe settled in with the usual gorgeous breakfast spread and exciting goody bags…just what I need at ten on a Saturday morning!

antonia mariconda cosmedic coach workshop

Armed with my notepad, a cup of tea and a whole lot of ambition, I couldn’t wait for Antonia to get started. On seeing Antonia for the first time, I couldn’t help expecting a certain personality to follow. I expected her to be fluffy. To be ditzy. To be shallow. I literally could not have been more wrong if I tried. You don’t get where this woman is without having some serious steel in there. She is determined, she’s smart and she point blank refuses to take any nonsense from anyone. Her criticisms and anecdotes are blunt and sometimes brutal, but cushioned in the genuine warmth of someone who truly wants to see you succeed. She’s a woman who lifts others up, who wants to share her knowledge and help others achieve what she has. She’s also brilliantly relatable, quipping throughout the presentation about the beads dropping off her skirt, and handling an impromptu Rihanna outburst with typical grace and aplomb.

antonia mariconda cosmedic coach workshop

Seriously, why this room is called the Indigo Room, I will never understand.

The presentation lasted for three hours, so I’m not going to go into too much detail here. If you want to know all the secrets, get yourself booked onto her next workshop. But since I love you all very much, I’ll share just a few of the gems (see what I did there?):

1. You have to know who you are.

Sounds obvious, I know. And yet, when Antonia picked on workshop attendees and asked them to pitch themselves in one sentence, most struggled. And when she asked for the two words that they’d write under our names on TV shows, we struggled even more. When I worked in marketing, I had product pitches that described our service in 250 words, 100 words, 140 characters, one sentence and a tagline. I prepared pitches from lengthy investor presentations to 60 second elevator pitches. I knew it inside out. So why should it be any different when you’re marketing yourself?

2. You have to know who you’re talking to.

Again, seems obvious. But it’s so important to know your audience. It affects everything from the visuals you use, to your tone, to how you choose to communicate.

3. You have to know what you want to say.

Everything that you do in the public domain is PR. Every tweet, every comment, every picture is PR, and it all comes together to create people’s image of you. So make sure that you know what you want that image to be. Make sure you know what message you want to put out there.

4. You have to believe that you are awesome.

Let’s be honest, if you don’t believe you’re awesome, why should anyone else? You have to be your own absolute number one cheerleader, and not be ashamed to shout your achievements from the rooftops. I’m Fiona. I’ve been published in a number of online and print media sources. I single handedly ran a marketing department for a year, at the age of 22. I’m a pretty talented writer. I once starred in a national media campaign with Cancer Research UK. Let’s have a brag off! Leave your best brags in the comments, or tweet me. Be your own champion. Back yourself.

5. You have to put yourself out there.

This is an old cliche, if you don’t ask, you don’t get. But like so many, it’s a cliche for a reason. Pitch a story to the Huffington Post. Ring up ITV and ask if they need an expert to go on This Morning. Don’t keep yourself small because it feels more comfortable. You’d be surprised how much you can blag with a bit of confidence. Believe that you’re important, take the risk of putting yourself out there, and you bet that people will believe right along with you. Fake it til you make it, and you will. Okay, that’s enough cliches for one bullet point.

The advice that Antonia gives is like gold dust, and I always leave her workshops feeling ready to take on the world. But actually, I haven’t touched on the most amazing element of the workshops, for me at least.

antonia mariconda cosmedic coach workshop antonia mariconda cosmedic coach workshop antonia mariconda cosmedic coach workshopSix months ago, none of these women knew each other. And on the surface of it, we don’t really have much in common. In this group, we have mums, bloggers, scientists, business owners, make up artists, aestheticians and more. We are scattered from all over the country. And each of us are at a different stage in our stories and our careers. But Antonia’s workshops seem to attract a certain type of woman. Strong, ambitious, warm, going to Antonia’s workshops and connecting with these women on Twitter and in real life, I have surrounded myself with a network of women who want to see each other succeed. All of us have different areas of expertise, and we use them to build each other up. They inspire me every single day, and I feel very lucky to have a support group like this in my life. Not to mention that they’re mean craic over a bottle of wine.

Despite my insistence on Twitter, Antonia isn’t a fairy godmother. She doesn’t wave her magic wand and make your life better. She does something much more important. She shows you that you are the one holding the power, the magic is inside you, and it’s been there the whole time just waiting to be unleashed. Go forth and sparkle, fellow fairies. Yes, even you guys.

Benefit Cosmetics’ Curls Best Friend Pop Up

Nestled in the heart of Theatreland, Benefit’s Curl’s Best Friend pop up parlour is a warm, welcome respite from the grey wintery weather outside.

benefit curls best friendThis isn’t the first pop up venture that Benefit have launched in London…I was devastated to be moving to London just a couple of weeks after their world cup bar closed its doors. So this time, I booked myself a table as soon as I saw it on Twitter. Gladrags on, I hopped on a tube straight back to the 1950s.

benefit cosmetics curls best friend

I took a bunch of serious versions of this picture, but liked this accidental shot better. Some girls just aren’t meant to pout.

I got that skirt for £2 in an Oxfam shop. Can we just take a second to appreciate that? And our awesome Six Nations setup, of course. Paired with my Kate Bush t-shirt and the patterned tights I bought for the Gossip Girl party.

Benefit have dolled up their pitch on Greek Street in full 1950s glamour, with pink tables and plush sofas straight out of Grease, hairdryer themed lights and a big, bright bar serving all manner of delights.

benefit cosmetics curls best friend benefit cosmetics curls best friend benefit cosmetics curls best friendWith staff as bubbly as the drinks, Francesca and I immediately made ourselves at home and set about sampling everything the menu had to offer.

benefit cosmetics curls best friend benefit cosmetics curls best friendHow gorgeous are those cocktails? Now refusing to drink anything that doesn’t come in a milk bottle with a stripy straw. Also, they serve popcorn as a bar snack along with the drinks. I might ask if I can move in.

After a few hours putting the world to rights over many glasses of bubbles and even more jars of popcorn, we were whisked away by the gorgeous Rachel, who was playing the role of Benefit’s Honest Leah for the evening.

benefit cosmetics curls best friendTo be honest (Leah), if I looked like that, I’d dress like that all the time. Just doing my shopping in Tesco in a sequinned Jessica Rabbit ballgown.

Anyway.

The pop up is actually in honour of Benefit Cosmetics’ new mascara, Rollerlash. Ohmygod, if you haven’t tried this yet, get on it. It is genuinely life changing. I’ve got a mascara post coming up in the next few days and you can bet your ass it’s playing a starring role. So, in honour of the new mascara, the second floor of the parlour is dedicated to heaven.

Sorry, did I say heaven? Slip of the tongue. I meant Benefit makeup.

benefit cosmetics curls best friendThe beauty parlour offers a range of treatments, including brow shaping, makeovers, faux blowdrys, fabulous discounts on Benefit products (yes, including Rollerlash. Get on it) and a photobooth to enjoy the fruits of the team’s very hard work. This tiny pink room is what dreams are made of. I may have shed a silent tear.

After gawping at the parlour for a good ten minutes, we headed back downstairs for a final glass of champagne to toast Francesca’s birthday. And Rachel confirmed her status as national hero by bringing us some cupcakes for the birthday girl.

benefit cosmetics curls best friendBasically, go here. Get a cupcake. Try both cocktails. Take a selfie with the Rollerlash sign. I command it.

I had an absolutely amazing time at the bar, it was the perfect way to while away a very rainy Saturday afternoon. In fact, I’ve already booked a table to try out the late night third floor Noir Bar…

benefit cosmetics curls best friend noir bar

Bloggers Love London Fashion Week

This week, Bloggers Love hosted a fashion week event based on the cattiest, glitziest TV show that I know…xoxo.

As was fitting of a Gossip Girl themed event, there were people everywhere who looked like they’d stepped off the pages of a catalogue, dressed in the most entirely glorious outfits. And as anyone who has taken a look at Twitter afterwards will know, there was enough scandal, gossip and backbiting to satisfy Georgina Sparks.

Let’s rewind a little. For the night, I decided to step out of my ordinary girl shoes, and try walking a mile in the skyscraper heels of the Upper East Side’s least likeable princess, Blair Waldorf.

Dress, tights and socks, all from Forever 21.

Dress, tights and socks, all from Forever 21.

Details.

Details.

Practising my resting bitchface.

Practising my resting bitchface.

Headband and cynical smirk firmly in place, I headed to Hoxton to check out the wares on offer. Upon stepping into the art gallery, the first problem with the event was hard to ignore…it was so full that it was actually hard to move around. The ladies and I decided to leave the brands until it quietened down a little, and got in the queue for the very much in demand fashion illustrator, Willa Gebbie. In fact, she was so in demand that we spent the vast majority of our evening in that queue. But getting to the front was well worth the wait. Not only did it turn out that she was from Prestwick (crappy West Coast Scottish towns represent!), she was utterly awesome, and produced a likeness of me that is probably the coolest I’ll ever look.

DSCF0781

 

11007982_1419502598349148_1963952462_nPictures lovingly cradled in hand, we just had time for a whistlestop tour of the brands who hadn’t packed up yet.

DSCF0786 DSCF0787There has been a lot of talk about the event, so let’s set a few things straight.

I didn’t pay for a ticket to the dinner, but I can understand why people who did were angry at shelling out £28 for what eventually amounted to pizza. But some of the vitriol being hurled at Bloggers Love on Twitter has been pretty upsetting. Sure, make complaints when they’re justified, but I’ve seen people claiming that they got food poisoning…from pizza.

The venue was way too small. There isn’t any avoiding that. There were over 200 bloggers crammed into a tiny art gallery, all trying to speak to about ten brands. But I still had a lovely night. I got to meet some amazing bloggers, including Abi from Abi Street, who was so completely aces that I’m genuinely sad she lives in Cardiff. I got my portrait drawn by a fashion illustrator, which I can now totally show off to everyone and pretend that I’m awesome. And thanks to the theme of the party, I got to step well outside my comfort zone, beauty wise. See, for a part-time beauty blogger, I tend to rely on the looks that I know work for me. But the Upper East Side doesn’t exactly comply to the just-rolled-out-of-bed beauty look, so I had to try something new. And I liked what I found. I found out that I actually really like bright pink, shiny lips. I found out that maybe my headband shouldn’t be relegated to the bathroom cabinet unless I’m washing my face. And I found out that knee socks are awesome. Wait, actually, I already knew that one.

So maybe the evening wasn’t the event that a lot of us planned for. But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t have fun.

XOXO. Fiona.

Brighton Rocks

For Valentines Day, the boy and I ran away to the seaside.

old ship hotel brighton

We spent two lovely days wandering along the beach, eating and drinking our weight in junk and snuggling down in the gloriously beautiful Old Ship hotel.

Our room in the hotel was plush and stunningly decorated. A silver seagulled focus wall and a golden spyglass in the corner gave the room an undoubtedly seaside feel, without becoming chintsy or losing it’s luxury feel.

old ship hotel brighton

Check that out. We settled in, tested the cushions for comfiness and then headed across the road to the beach. It was one of those scaldingly cold and bright days, with the wind biting through our coats and throwing white foam against the shiny pebbles of the beach. Having grown up on the freezing rocks of Troon beach, I seldom feel more at home than staring at a windswept, steely sea, bundled up in my winter layers, eating an inappropriate ice cream.

the ship hotel brighton

We wandered along the beach, past stores selling brightly painted driftwood, buckets of seashells and newspaper cones filled with mussels, across to the infamous pier. We treaded those creaky wooden boards, Mr I’m-Definitely-Not-Scared-Of-Heights occasionally clutching at me when the sea below became visible between them. The pier was gaudy and wonderful, covered with the same coin operated amusements, kooky old fortune tellers and rickety fairground rides that have kept its charm alive for over 100 years. We grabbed some candy floss and threw ourselves wilfully into the resulting sugar coma.

old ship hotel brighton old ship hotel brighton old ship hotel brighton

Thoroughly wind battered, we headed for a safe, warm haven: the pub. With my Valentines evening resting on a tightly fought rugby match, I fell into the welcoming arms of Prosecco before falling, with relief, into the celebratory arms of the boy. Still buzzing with sugar and bubbles, we went back to the hotel, laden with pizza and stuck on Back to the Future, because we’re glamorous like that.

In the morning, we made a beeline for the hotel’s breakfast room. I always judge hotel’s by their breakfasts, so I was particularly excited for this. We were met in the bright and gorgeous restaurant by a seriously friendly lady called Gillian. Gillian, if you’re ever reading this, thanks for giving us such an excellent start to the day. We were given a pretty table overlooking the hotel’s wonderful view of the seaside. The breakfast was great, the usual slap up full english, with decent pastries, fruit salads, cereals and hot drinks. Once we had filled up, we headed back out into the sunshine and nosied around the Brighton lanes. All too soon, it was time for the pub again and more rugby. This game didn’t go quite so well. So we ordered some more drinks.

old ship hotel brighton

We had dinner booked in the hotel’s restaurant on the Sunday evening, and man, does that restaurant scrub up nicely. The bright morning room was made warm and intimate with candelight, and the garish lights of the pier, made beautiful by distance and mist, twinkled in the inky sea.

old ship hotel brighton

Service was quick and friendly, and the food was delicious. After dinner, and a considerable amount of wine, we retired back to the bedroom. And watched the Godfather. Because, again, glamour.

I had an absolutely incredible weekend. Sometimes, all you need is to get away from everything and do nothing with your favourite person for a while. If you’re looking for a gorgeous seaside escape, I’d say they don’t come much more beautiful than this.