COME AND FIND ME AT
HATTIE WEST
Wednesday, 3 December 2014
Monday, 29 September 2014
SONGS FOR A MONDAY
Not the cheeriest but WHAT A VOICE. What a song. Cannot get enough.
Click on the image to listen via Spotify
Click on the image to listen via Spotify
The strum of the acoustic guitar does feel a bit summery now but not prepared to give it up just because the days are getting shorter and colder. Love the lyrics.
Click on the image to listen via Spotify
Been obsessed with these guys all summer so could pretty much recommend any of their songs.
Click on the image to listen via Spotify
Love. This. Beat.
Click on the image to listen via Spotify
Friday, 26 September 2014
SUPER PUMPED
You know something's a good buy when you immediately want to buy another one exactly the same. I don't know why it has taken me quite so long to get round to buying a pair of these, but now I have I'm never taking them off. In fact they've already been for an unplanned whirl around the newly-opened Ramusake last night (the old Brompton Club), courtesy of the awesome team at The Yacht Week, and still look as good as new.
Quick question: is it pronounced SUperga, Su-puuur-ga or, my mum's personal choice, Supergay?
Wednesday, 24 September 2014
VOGUE'S FNO
I love Vogue's Fashion's Night Out. You never know where you're going to end up or who you're going to bump into. On previous years I've found myself in Juicy Couture with Razorlight's Johnny Borrell, getting a bright orange manicure in Smythson and dancing the night away at a Labrinth gig in Armani.
This year we visited Hugo Boss where Mr Hudson was on the decks, sipped raspberry and gingerbeer cocktails in Burberry (new favourite drink) catching up with old Tatler friends and had a riot in the barbie-pink Juicy Couture photobooth (Olly was the only boy within a 20-metre radius of it, but he didn't take much persuading after digging through their prop box and finding an Anna Wintour wig and sunglasses).
We also swung by J.Crew and Topshop (where Amber Le Bon was the guest DJ), picked up goodies from the Elemis van on South Molton Street, sunk champagne and lusted after the hats in Aspinal – and left with an owl-shaped helium balloon – and visited friend and fashion blogger Lucy Williams (fashionmennow.co.uk) who was hosting the event in Aldo.
I'm wearing a Kate Moss for Topshop fur gilet, grey top from Bella Lux, shorter chain from Katie Rowland, longer chain from VickiSarge, feather earring from Urban Outfitters and a label-less hat that I picked up from a sample sale when I was working at Tatler.
Labels:
Aldo,
Aspinal of London,
Burberry,
Elemis,
Fashion Me Now,
Fashion's Night Out,
felt hat,
FNO,
gilet,
Hugo Boss,
J.Crew,
Juicy Couture,
Kate Moss,
Mr Hudson,
Topshop,
vickisarge,
Vogue
Friday, 19 September 2014
CUFF LOVE
Before going to Fiona Barratt-Campbell's party to celebrate the launch of her new uber cool urban design studio this week, I popped in to see the lovely team at VickiSarge who'd kindly offered to lend me something to wear for the evening. After the best part of an hour of trying on various cuff combinations, rings and earrings, I settled on the above Burma earcuff and the Burma gold wrist cuff - a truly unbeatable combo which I have since fallen hard for and am reluctant to return.
My spiky diamond encrusted earcuff was a talking point throughout the night, as we feasted on fish dogs – courtesy of Hix – served out of a fish and chips van and enjoyed a teaser of the new FBC interiors collection.
(Kate Spade New York bag, Kooples shirt, Boden trousers)
Labels:
boden,
costume jewellery,
cuff,
design,
diamond,
earcuff,
Fashion,
fiona barratt-campbell,
gold,
handbag,
Jewellery,
kate spade,
katie rowland,
kooples,
liz earle,
sol campbell,
vickisarge
Location: London
London, UK
Tuesday, 15 April 2014
Friday, 27 September 2013
Havana Night 1
Suffering from first day syndrome meant our first night in Havana was anything but smooth. Having been recommended an amazing restaurant to go to by three different friends - La Guarida - and advised by our hotel no booking was necessary, we jumped in a taxi and set off. Taxi Number 1.
Twenty minutes later we'd been deposited in a dark alley with the odd dog or overly-friendly local traipsing the streets, and a building that couldn't have looked less like a restaurant. Whatever it was, it was shut.
With no Plan B we scuttled down the road and headed for the first building with a light on. This actually turned out to be someone's sitting room, but luckily we were welcomed in and conversed in mangled spenglish that we needed another taxi, Taxi Number 2, which was booked for us straight away. We were invited to sit in a room filled to the brim with furniture, framed pictures and memorabilia from a life working in the theatre. It turns out our New Friend had trained ballet dancer Carlos Acosta and animatedly pointed out pictures of him on his walls. The phone rang and it transpired that Taxi Number 2 had been hijacked by another bystander so New Friend had to book us Taxi Number 3.
Another long wait. Ever determined a language barrier wouldn't cause a total break down in communication, New Friend proudly produced two Chihuahua puppies - one shy, one utterly bonkers which sprinted laps around the sitting room in its over-excited state. When Taxi Number 3 arrived with fundamental looking car parts missing we thought we'd take our chances.
Too late to now go and make another massive cock-up of finding a restaurant in a city we clearly had not got the hang of, we decided it safest to head back to the hotel. Lo and behold, it seemed the missing car parts were as crucial as suspected. Taxi Number 3 ground to a halt only half the way back.
Now stranded on the Havana Malecon between road and sea, the taxi driver - sleeves rolled, bonnet up - made several optimistic efforts to pump life back into his wonky car. No luck. Like something out of a film, a shiny blue and white vintage car came cruising past and we started desperately waving like loonies. It was Taxi 4, a 1949 two-tone Chevrolet, that took us safely back to where we started, tummies still empty. Try again tomorrow.
Twenty minutes later we'd been deposited in a dark alley with the odd dog or overly-friendly local traipsing the streets, and a building that couldn't have looked less like a restaurant. Whatever it was, it was shut.
With no Plan B we scuttled down the road and headed for the first building with a light on. This actually turned out to be someone's sitting room, but luckily we were welcomed in and conversed in mangled spenglish that we needed another taxi, Taxi Number 2, which was booked for us straight away. We were invited to sit in a room filled to the brim with furniture, framed pictures and memorabilia from a life working in the theatre. It turns out our New Friend had trained ballet dancer Carlos Acosta and animatedly pointed out pictures of him on his walls. The phone rang and it transpired that Taxi Number 2 had been hijacked by another bystander so New Friend had to book us Taxi Number 3.
Another long wait. Ever determined a language barrier wouldn't cause a total break down in communication, New Friend proudly produced two Chihuahua puppies - one shy, one utterly bonkers which sprinted laps around the sitting room in its over-excited state. When Taxi Number 3 arrived with fundamental looking car parts missing we thought we'd take our chances.
Too late to now go and make another massive cock-up of finding a restaurant in a city we clearly had not got the hang of, we decided it safest to head back to the hotel. Lo and behold, it seemed the missing car parts were as crucial as suspected. Taxi Number 3 ground to a halt only half the way back.
Now stranded on the Havana Malecon between road and sea, the taxi driver - sleeves rolled, bonnet up - made several optimistic efforts to pump life back into his wonky car. No luck. Like something out of a film, a shiny blue and white vintage car came cruising past and we started desperately waving like loonies. It was Taxi 4, a 1949 two-tone Chevrolet, that took us safely back to where we started, tummies still empty. Try again tomorrow.
Monday, 19 August 2013
Thursday, 20 June 2013
Izzy's Attic
Treasures
and trinkets were the order of the day at the launch of Izzy's Attic, a
new online boutique selling everything from personalised bunting and
rustic soap dishes to baby shoes so small and squidgy they're
practically edible. The brains behind the brand is the lovely Izzy Judd,
ex-member of electric string quartet Escala and wife of McFly drummer
Harry Judd. To mark the occassion, Izzy and Harry's home* – a
beautifully converted barn in West London – was laden with precious
'attic finds'. Each and every frame, sock and watering can has been
sourced by Izzy herself with the utmost love and care, so much so that
she admits to feeling a pang of sadness when she sees them go to their
new homes. But prise them away from Izzy you must because (although it
would be tempting to stock up on these delights yourself) this is the
ULTIMATE present destination. Inspiration for baby showers, weddings,
birthdays and anniversaries need ever be a struggle again.
www.izzysattic.co.uk
*also home to two of the most beautiful pussycats on the planet, Murphy and Morris. Pictured here with Giovanna and Tom Fletcher, Izzy, Harry and Dougie Poynter.
Photos courtesy of Olivia Shaw, www.shawshots.com
*also home to two of the most beautiful pussycats on the planet, Murphy and Morris. Pictured here with Giovanna and Tom Fletcher, Izzy, Harry and Dougie Poynter.
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