We’ve all got our favourite ways of preparing for a big night out. Maybe you’re a spray-tan kind of girl. Or perhaps you like a new set of nails. Of course, you might be more like me and consider spraying deodorant into the arm pits of your chosen – unwashed – outfit an enormous extravagance. But that’s not to say I don’t have a preferred getting ready ‘extra’ I like to indulge in, especially at this time of year.
Which leads me nicely into the latest in my series of beauty treatment reviews, Preferential Treatments. We’ll be getting onto how to recover from the festive nights out later in the week, but for the moment, find out a bit more about my own personal preparation essential and if you like, give it a bash yourself. No pressure. Continue reading…
We’ve all had them. Those presents that make you incredibly grateful that someone came up with the idea of gift receipts. I should know. My other half once decided to enter into ‘clothing and footwear’ territory. (It’s OK, he won’t do it again.)
What happened? Well, he knows I have small feet. But what he didn’t fully understand is that they are small for my height, not for a human being. So, after venturing into The White Company and scaring the staff (who naturally assumed he was a vagrant and tried to hasten him to the exit with spritzes of room spray), he managed to purchase a pair of slippers. And not only were they white, as opposed to my desired Mushroom, they were a size two. Yes, TWO. (Bear in mind I’m about 5 feet 10.) They looked like babies booties. When I opened the box, I thought he had some News for me. Continue reading…
Like me, you’ve probably had that moment when you’ve caught a whiff of something, such as a type of furniture polish or an aftershave, and been transported back 20 or 30 years. It’s quite an intense feeling, and it happens because smell is the sense that’s most closely tied to human memory. I always get it when I smell a rose – it takes me back to playing in the garden with my sister as a child, when making ‘perfume’ was one of our favourite games.
As beautiful as the smell of the roses were, the end result of our junior forays into perfumery actually stank. So hats off to our mother, who often dutifully dabbed the mixture of rotting petals, water from the water-butt, talc and Charlie onto her pulse points – without visibly retching. Continue reading…
If you’ve been paying attention you’ll know that this headline means it’s time for another instalment of Product Placement’s series of spa reviews. Put the kettle on. Or actually, chill a bottle of bubbly, because this one has luxury written all over it.
This week’s reviewer is Fiona – also known as The Travel Architect (and my boss’s wife, so sit up straight and take your elbows off the table, please). She knows a thing or two about spas, being both incredibly well-travelled and equally well-groomed. Anyway, without further fawning from me I shall hand you over to Fiona. Champers, anyone? Continue reading…
As popular as this wartime slogan is these days on tea towels and mugs, I am inclined to prefer the alternative version that says ‘Now Panic And Freak Out’. Mainly because in my world, keeping calm and carrying on does not get a lot done. In fact, it’s more likely to get a cup of tea made and a nice scone buttered. Yes, it’s true: I’m one of those people who, to achieve anything, needs the rush of adrenaline that you get when you leave something until the last minute. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that organisation is just a crutch for people who can’t handle caffeine and a bit of blind panic.
It’s a handy philosophy in a world shared by a toddler. Because what’s the point in organising anything when it’s going to be thrown in the bath (my new Top Shop ankle boots), hidden in the washing machine (my car keys) or eaten (the MOT certificate)? However, there are times when you might feel you’re panicking unnecessarily, and not getting anything done at all. In which case, I tend to reduce my coffee intake to four barrels a day and try a little aromatherapy. And thinking about this has prompted me to research a few stress-busters of that very nature, which may prove handy for you in the often hectic run up to Christmas. Continue reading…
Bad habits – we’ve all got them. I’m not talking about substance abuse, gambling, addiction to sex and all those types of things (which incidentally sound rather appealing when you’re perusing the ‘home fragrance’ aisle of Sainsbury’s on a wet Tuesday afternoon).
No, I’m not that serious, as I’m sure you know. The kind of habits that I’m talking about are trivial, appearance-related ones, which should come as no surprise. In fact, while I write this I’m actually demonstrating one of mine. I’m just relieved you can’t see me pause in the middle of each sentence, hold up a lock of hair to check for split ends and then pull out the offending strand. Revolting. And I wonder my hoover is bunged up with hair.
I’ve never been that fussed about nail-biting though. How can something that is structurally as strong as a horse’s hoof be an appealing choice of snack? (I looked up the bit about hooves, by the way. I don’t store that kind of knowledge in the same way my other half remembers the shoe size of everyone in Deep Purple.) And as for nose picking, I’m sure we’ve all indulged privately, but the idea of it becoming a habit just makes me want to shout WHY (it looks revolting) WHERE (do you put it) and STOP IT (right now). Continue reading…
The other day, I told my stepdaughter that something was an Old Wives Tale and she looked at me blankly. What are they teaching kids these days? Surely they should know that if you pull out a grey hair that ten will grow in its place? Or that chocolate will give you spots? Or that if you go swimming after eating ANYTHING, you will undoubtedly get stomach cramps and drown?
My late grandmother was a genuine Old Wife. She would often give my sister and I an apple each instead of getting us to brush our teeth, feed us bread crusts to make our hair curly and refuse to cut our fingernails on a Friday – much to my mother’s horror. Continue reading…
It’s time for another instalment of Product Placement’s series of spa reviews, Preferential Treatments. But this one is a bit different, so move forward to the edge of your seat while I tell you about our exciting new reviewer. Ready? OK. It’s a man. Yes, it’s true, while my other half assumes that a ‘spa’ is one of a small chain of convenience stores, there are other men out there that like a bit of pampering. And they don’t all look like Niles Crane, either.
Without further ado, I will hand you over to Paul, who has kindly agreed to share his experience so that Product Placement can appeal to a wider audience (i.e. more than two men). And as his grooming is of Clooney-esque standards, any blokes who might actually be reading this should jolly well listen up.
Continue reading…
Oh how I miss those heady days of having a newborn. DVD Box Sets, endless cups of tea, sacks of Minstrels justified by breastfeeding. But then something very sinister happens to these little bundles of flailing limbs. They start to crawl. Which is frightening enough, but not as frightening as the latest development in my offspring. Yup. He can walk. Chaos is now two feet tall and shouts ‘POSTMAN PAT’ a lot. (Well, PA-MA-PA. Christ, he’s fifteen months, what d’you want from him, a thesis?)
No longer interested in actual toys, he runs around the house with arms outstretched like a zombie finding things to destroy. Usual my things. Actually, usually my nice things. Just this week he has rubbed Petit Filous into my White Company slippers, emptied my Jo Malone Bath Oil into his own bath, and horror of horrors, tipped the contents of my make-up bag into the bin. Continue reading…
Apparently, according to our beloved experts, what’s on your desk says a lot about you. In fact a ‘study’ (yes, I read stuff) claimed it could reveal the true personality, habits and ambitions of the desk’s owner. So cast your eye around your own workspace (as IKEA would call it), and take a minute to become your own ‘expert’. I’m going to do it too, don’t worry.
Item 1 is an open copy of Grazia magazine. What does this say about me? That I’m not really concentrating on my job? That I’m terribly fashionable? That I needed something with a slightly absorbent texture to lay my coronation chicken sandwich on? You decide. Item 2 is a toilet roll. And this tells us what: that I bring my own Andrex Aloe Vera from home because the office paper just isn’t good enough for my backside? Or that said sandwich is quite runny and the deli didn’t give me a napkin? You’ll never know. Thankfully, item 3 is easy, and leads us seamlessly as ever into this week’s test-fest: a tube of hand cream. Which tells you that I do not want to reach fifty with a face like my toddler’s backside but hands like Mrs Haversham. Do you? No? Then read on. Continue reading…
