Now, now there is no need to be blushing at the thought of morning wood, especially mine. I am for once not going to talk about men, or how indeed I am drier than Africa in the bedroom (though I am hoping monsoon season hurries the fuck up!) or even my manic Monday that nearly involved performing a citizen arrest.
No this morning I am going to tell you about my other two favourite bits of wood. First is the delightful and very hypnotic songs from the rather special ‘wood kid’ – his videos are as captivating as the songs and I can’t help myself but play his music first thing when I wake up. Also the styling in the video I am about to play you all is to die for – I cant help but hope that Dior will snap this man up and have him sing on their next cat walk show! I can live in hope.
The second fascination wood this morning is a company based in Copenhagen – wood wood. An effortlessly stylish brand that understand street style and blend it with the aesthetics of high end fashion to create something rather special. My favourite piece of ss13 is their W jumper (pictured below) it almost makes you want to change you name to Warren or Wayne when you wear it!!
So it would seem not all morning wood requires self pleasure or a partner, just a set of headphones and a credit card!
Gay relationships have a very short sell by date, it would seem the fresh produce I sample goes sour quicker than most. 2013 it would seem is the year of flash pan dating nearly three months in I had more one week dating flings than Liz Taylor. Valentines day saw the five date broken for someone who I thought was worth it – the 6ft 7 journalist was a worthy temptation. I haven’t heard from him since. I’m a fast mover, not taking it to heart I flicked through the little black book and picked my next target – a lawyer. He had been flirting with me for months and I finally agreed to go on a date with him but we all know this one is going to end. Exactly a week later that bit of meat had turned very sour!
It had only been yesterday that I was joking with my two friends about the longevity of my dating, if a man could last longer than a week with me we would be getting married then the following week divorced. I didn’t realise they were speaking the truth. I had been texting the lawyer in between conversations joking round, talking of date number three and there may have been an invitation to join us. He claimed he was busy and had a friends birthday to attend. It turned out his present was a very early gift that involved him getting naked and to my amusement it was with one of gay friends. Though I think it important my friend didn’t know I was dating the lawyer.
Now I know two dates doesn’t mean you have to be faithful, I am the world’s worst for juggling several men. Still there should be a certain degree of respect and sleeping round isn’t one of them. So yet another one week fling to tell the kids! Perhaps it would be easier to shop in a straight supermarket the meat may last longer than a week, failing that there is always Iceland!!
I don’t think I have ever sat on the edge of my sofa like I had tonight – digging my freshly pruned nails into the battered sofa in my London flat I gazed at the flat screen tv. I couldn’t pretend to understand the ye olde English they were using in the House of Parliament but surely 400 ayes meant something promising?
The previous ten minutes before hand the news had a serious of interviews with wrinkled pensioners, their words consumed by hate and bigotry. I was a little taken back, surely there would be one silver haired fox that would be fighting our corner? Same sex marriage debate it would seem brought the worst out of people in this country as their views seemed odd and far fetched – part of me feared for the vote to pass.
I dug my nails in deeper, John snow it would seem could see the confusion on my face and explained that indeed the ayes meant a good result. A bill for same sex marriage it would seem had been passed but in the back of my mind I knew that this was the start of a very long journey for this community . There would be appeals and loop holes, one battle had been won and I was going to plant a very large rainbow flag and celebrate in soho with a drag queen cowboy band……what more could a boy ask for?
I often get into random situations and always talk shit to random people but when i found myself sat next to olly mur’s stylist at a James long fashion show I had to pinch myself. Being ushered in by a personal assistant of someone on the BFC, passing a line of bloggers and press I should have realised where this night was going. Like good sex it is important to build up the suspense, teasing your lover into a state of ecstasy and hysteria. I couldn’t help but find mister long the master of foreplay but let’s hope the climax was worth it! Luckily I wasn’t disappointed the show opened with the familiar silhouette of James Long – oversized structures, a playful yet wearable approach to dressing. The collection tonal and flowed natural and each piece captivated my attention. I think at one point my friend had to wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth.
The inspiration of the collection became more apparent as the signature big knits came strutting down the catwalk. The face of the Infamous drag queen (favourite by Warhol) divine knitted into the front, soon followed by a gentleman wearing a jumper with a pink flamingo embroidered on to it. The reference to John Walter’s personal style echoed in the choice of visual references, the oddness of print and fabric tones.
Another big focus it would seem of the collection was the different variations of the bomber jacket. Padded, quilted, knitted sleeves in a black and slub yellow pattern dominated the show. With so much of the outerwear finishing at the waist the shape of the trouser had become more important. Some reminiscent of high waisted trousers from the 40s cut in sophisticated shinny geometric printed fabrics that were elasticated at the ankle. A contemporary twist that softened the silhouette creating a more diverse day time trouser that could see you through the evening.
Perhaps the highlight of show (apart from the knitwear) was the shoe collaboration with kurt Geiger. A double strap shoe in Perspex and horse hair sounds made but so wearable! I will knocking on the doors of kurt Geiger in September bagging a pair me thinks!!
Somehow I don’t think words will ever describe the sensation of a real show so here is a little snap shot for you!! Enjoy.
Day 8 of my dryathalon I am proud of my progress as is my liver. Having survived perhaps two very surreal nights in soho drinking coke and lemonade, I have more chance fucking up my teeth than straying off the path! So as men’s fashion week kicked off in London my biggest challenge still lies ahead of me…..fashion parties sober! Tonight is show number one – James long and it’s going to be a long dry night. I silently pray to the holy trinity of style (Jessica fletcher, pat butcher and mr humphries) that they will be serving coffee at these parties though its unlikely!
Now when I think of the C word, I usually think of lady bits. I must admit I like using that word, much to my mother’s disgust, but the other C word I don’t really like. Like my mother, I hate this word…..cancer.
For the past decade my aunties have battled cancer and won. Last year my adopted london mother and two friends all were diagnosed within the same month, at a friends wedding I was told how serious her cancer was. Bitter sweet day being told that a very good friend had not only a brain tumor but lung cancer – I was amazed by her courage and determination not to let it beat her. Not only did she endure treatment whilst pregnant, she had brain surgery and some how managed to find the time to organise a wedding. Now I know women are great multi taskers but this is a new extreme! So I thought this month I would give up something so dear to me (drinking) and have become a full fledged dry-athlete like so many others across the UK to raise money for cancer research.
Now here is a bit of selfless promotion! I shall keep you all updated via my blog this month, so instead of hearing about my drunken antics you may get an update on mens fashion week in london and a critic on the turner prize!! Who knows!! Please spread the word and help me raise as much as I can for cancer research. I want to be talking about lady gardens when I say the C word, not cancer!!
On the eve of a new year I stand once more sardined into a coach on the London Underground. I feel that perhaps this evening should be a time of reflection, to think about who I have fell for, fancied, chased and avoided but realised that there were a few too many and I don’t think I could recall all of them. More importantly I don’t feel the need too, the hit list is long enough I don’t need to open old wounds. Perhaps I should think of the accomplishments and the happy memories. Again it doesn’t feel right instead I am going to raise my glass to those who aren’t here and spend the evening like any other – in the pub with friends watching drag queens! 2013 is another year, there is no point trying to fulfil empty promises to myself instead I am just going to take each day as it comes and perhaps shock you all and write more!!
Happy new year x