The Lion, the Witch and her Wardrobe

At the very beginning of #NaBloPoMo, I asked you guys what you wanted me to write about, and Kristina Lloyd came back to me and asked if I’d write about clothes and make up.

I’m not a big believer in gifs in blog posts (and this isn’t a gif anyway), but this was the first thing that came to mind:

I’m kidding, of course. I don’t *actually* think Kristina wants me to blog about those things because she doesn’t think I’m up to sex blogging yet (at least, I *hope* that’s not what she thinks!), rather I think it came from the fascinating conversation we had over on Facebook about Liz Earle’s Hot Cloth Cleanser (which we’d both highly recommend.) They also sell it in a beautiful Christmas tin, if you’re looking for a gift for your grandma.

Seriously, though. This post is probably the closest I’ll ever come to lifestyle blogging, and I personally think I’m totally. ill-qualified to write on fashion. When I told the boy what Kristina had asked me to write about, he laughed in my face. Then we had a minor row about what John Lewis’ ‘Never Knowingly Undersold’ policy *actually* means. Which should probably be the second disclaimer. I spend a fair amount of money on my clothes. This post is probably going to end up  an exceedingly middle class read. Please feel free to not read beyond this point – I’ll try to be back with the sex tomorrow.

Like I said, fashion has never really been my thing. My mum was still buying me clothes from M&S long after my friends had started choosing their own. When I did eventually graduate to Tammy Girl, I made some exceedingly poor choices, including a black long-sleeved maxi dress  with Adidas-style stripes up both sides. And a crop top. Tits aside I’m not built for crop tops now, and I wasn’t at 13, either.

At university, there were pretty much two camps of girls when it came to fashion. The scientists and mathematicians wore a uniform of jeans and black fitted T-shirts. The arts students wore little dresses and scarves. Lots and lots of scarves. Based on my clothes, I looked like I was studying Physics, just with a lot more cleavage. My personal ‘style’ didn’t come until I started working.

These days, I think I know what I like and what suits me. I make the odd bad choice, obviously (don’t we all), but I’ve mastered dresses and a look I’m confident in but no longer involves my tits falling out of my neckline quite as much as it used to. I haven’t bought a lot of clothes this year – Jigsaw is absolutely my go-to store, both for its dresses and for its vest tops, which, while pricey, last forever and are really nice and long in the body. Dorothy Perkins can be great for cheap tea dresses which will fall apart if you wear them often enough, but which someone said to me the other day ‘look just like Cath Kidston.’ I bought jeans again a month or so ago (I haven’t owned any for two years!) – Levis demi-curve, which are high-enough, but not too high, at the waist and have enough room to accommodate my arse. If you’re curvier than me, I’m pretty sure the curve increases beyond demi-, too. For blouses to go over jeans, I think Oasis is the best bet.

The pieces I’ve bought that I really, really love this autumn are this dress and this dress, both from Jigsaw. Office-appropriate, dinner appropriate – I finally feel like I’ve found the clothes that make me feel like me. Don’t believe for a minute though that if you have big tits you’ll look like the model does in that second one – I need to wear a camisole under it to be remotely decent in public.

So, what am I still coveting, clothes-wise? Well, I wouldn’t mind this dress and I really, really want this jumper dress from Toast, too. I have a bit of a soft spot for elbow patches. Aside from that, I’d love the Cambridge Satchel Co Music Bag in red.

I’m not great on tips for where to buy jewellery – I have a friend who understands my tastes very well and buys me great earrings as gifts, and round my neck I mostly wear my Alex Monroe bumblebee, which was a gift from my parents. Other than that, I love the majority of what Oh My Clumsy Heart do,  and I’m a sucker for Metal Taboo‘s filthy wares, as well. Of all the earrings I’ve lost, these are the only ones I’ve desperately wanted to replace.

And make up/beauty products. I’m pretty faithful to the products I like – as well as Liz Earle, a lot of the stuff I use in the bath gets bought again and again – like Origins’ Ginger Float bath cream, for example. On my face, I’m just trying to get to grips with primer,  but I’m loving YSL’s new foundation, which was a Twitter recommendation. We’ll just ignore the ‘Youth Liberator’ bit. My lipstick is either Bobbi Brown or MAC’s MAC Red, and my perfume is almost always Dior Pure Poison. Blusher? NARS Orgasm, obviously. I still can’t find a mascara I’m in love with though, so if you have any tips, please leave them in the comments…

Nice dress

Changing rooms in high street stores are shit.

They fall, broadly, into two categories: the Topshop type, boiling hot, with those little size cubes all over the dusty floor and a sales assistant who insists that anyone who accompanies you must themselves be carrying a Size 6 peplum skirt and a Size 18 poncho and the more upmarket type, à la Jigsaw, where sure, your boyfriend can sit on a comfortable chaise longue right outside, but the sales assistant is constantly flitting back and forth and no sooner would you have invited him in for a quick blow job in front of the mirror than she’d stick her head round the curtain to ask: ‘Did you see we have it in pink, too?’

It’s a shame, because boys give the best compliments on new clothes.

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Getting naked

I was just getting to thinking that Juniper from the The Cut of My Jib and I shared similar views on quite a few things when she posted her To Do List for 2014 (admittedly this was at the beginning of the month, I’m late, as usual). I should’ve known from the first few items on the list that it wasn’t going to contain the kind of goals that I would ever set – 30 days of continuous exercise? Ben Nevis? Yep, that’s a no from me.

However, further down it begins to look a bit more promising again. She has a separate list for sex, which is always a good sign, intends to write fiction, and to drive more (personally, I could probably do with driving a little more nervously.) And then there’s the killer: ‘Learn to take kit off in seductive manner.’

Oh, Juniper. How could you do such a massive disservice to womankind? Isn’t it hard enough trying to find an outfit you look hot in, shoes you can walk in, and two halves of a matching set of underwear that are clean and dry at the same time? 

I fully buy into the concept of getting dressed in order to get naked, and I’m happy to put the work in there. I’m ritualistic about having at least an hour prior to the boy coming over when I can have a bath, dry my hair properly, do my make up and have my first glass of wine while wandering around in my underwear. I usually also bother to make the bed, tidy up (a bit), and just generally enjoy the sense of anticipation building. 

But do I put the same effort in when I’m doing it in reverse? Er, no, far from it.  I think the boy is partly to blame for this – neither of us are very good at calmly moving the action to the bedroom and attempting to seduce – often I don’t think we’d even make it as far as the bedroom if it wasn’t for my overwhelming desire to be underneath him at some point. It’s lucky that I prefer hold ups to tights for sex – on the few occasions I have worn tights they’re generally hanging off one ankle as I recover from my orgasm. 

I much prefer it that way – I’d hate to be the centre of attention and have him just lie back on the bed and watch as I attempt to shed garment after garment like a high-class stripper. I might be sexy, but I’m sure as hell not seductive – I still haven’t mastered the art of putting clothes on without covering them in deodorant. I have a friend who once expressed surprise that I keep my jewellery on during sex – I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the same is often true of my cardigan.

In fact, as far as I can tell, there’s only one downside to being unwilling to learn to undress seductively. That matching underwear I always bother to track down? It could be peach on the top half and mint on the bottom for all he cares …