Archive for September 2013
First outfit post with short hair. In 3 words: weird, weird and... weird. Still getting used to it. Weather in London is as stupid as ever, that kind that you don't know if you should put on the big winter coat or the thin blazer as it's dead cold in the morning (except for the beef, for him it's like he's in the Caribbean Islands of course) and sometimes warm in the afternoon. As long as it's not raining and we don't get our hairs all messed up, we're fine. Still addicted to my favourite coat at the mo...
Coat: Zara (as you already know...)
Trousers: Zara (old collection)
Bag: Hermes (the love of my life)
Necklace/Chain: Vintage @ Portobello Market
Yes, you know what's coming. The general feeling for the majority of the hairdressers - deep hate and desire that they get all their hair ripped from their stupid heads.
So, you remember my lovely long summer hair. Yes, I (barely) do too. And yes, it's all GONE. Decided not to wait to go back home to get my hair done since it was starting to feel like I had a big wig with hair constantly broken and falling off - in 2 and a half years I never got one single haircut in London, scared that my indications got somehow lost in translation (no wonder...).
Went to the new Headmasters in Camden as it was 50% off - I refuse to pay 50£ for the simplest haircut in the history of the haircuts. Got there and was treated like a princess - took my coat, offered me champagne and introduced themselves like I was in a job interview or something. But all very nice. There was this super-nice-very-gay guy saying he would be my hairdresser bla bla bla. Had an awesome hair + chair massage and then it came to the worst part.
Told him I wanted my hair to fall on my shoulders, quite short but not too much so it wouldn't hang in there like an old mop. That obviously got lost in translation as he decided to cut off MORE THAN HALF of my hair and leave me with the shortest hair I've ever had.
Getting used to it now but needless to say I felt like killing someone when I got home that night.
Tip to all hairdressers out there: the reason why we HATE you it's not because you're not nice. It's because either you're bad at maths (2 fingers mean 2 fingers and not 3 and a half) or you just enjoy causing pain to poor girls like me. Just take a minimum of 2 fingers to every request we make. We're stupid and imagine stuff in our heads that only works in films really. If we want more, you can always cut it afterwards and be the hero; otherwise you'll be very lucky not to get punched in the face!
Surrendered quite quickly to iOS 7. I'm usually not so receptive to changes in gadgets I use everyday but this time went for it and dare to say it's quite cool. 'Dare to say' because pretty much everything I read (mainly on Facebook) was that it was 'the worse upgrade in the whole world'. Drama queens.
To be honest I don't find it to be massively different but at least I don't seem to have any disappointments yet. Apart from the fact that I can't seem to scale pictures to fit in the lock/home screen so the whole picture appears, with some black bars at the top and bottom. That's quite annoying.
And yes, that's one of the important features to me. That and the Asos app.
Throwback Thursday - back to summer. Fact is, I need to look at my summer outfits and clothes to remember I was a happy human being a month ago. To be honest, I think all of this anger will fade away when I start getting into the Autumn/Winter collections shopping. Until then, I will be this sad little person that doesn't want to bring back the winter suitcase to life.
Whole Outfit: Zara
Bag: Hermes (the love of my life)
Nail Varnish: Barry M
First day at new job! Went for some black and white that always works and looks businessy. London is dead cold so found myself running into Topshop to get my first winter acquisition - new black ankle boots.
In looooove <3
Bag: Hermes (the love of my life)
So, weirdly enough it took me a while to finally start posting about my favourite thing in the whole world - clothes!
Yes, I do follow and love all Lovely Pepas, Sincerely Jules and Lizzy Van Der Ligts. I love them and I hate them. Because they are way too pretty and get to go to all New York & London Fashion Weeks. I'm this close to jump in a very dangerous depression every time I open my Instagram these weeks. Argh!!! I want it. I need it. Anyway.
As I mentioned from the beginning, I will try and post all my outfits. Obviously not every day as NO ONE can possibly look as good as they do every-single-day. We do our bests though.
So here's the first 'What I'm wrapped up in...'. All bargains I promise!
Flew yesterday from Greece to London. Great holiday, definitely recommend if you're looking for cocktails, pool relax, awesome see through blue sea and some funny stories to tell. Definitely do not recommend if you're coming back at 11pm and haven't slept properly for about 5 days.
I admit it, I am totally anti Air Conditioning. I hate it. It's artificial, it's always way colder than what it's supposed to be, and it gives me the worst sore throat that you could possibly imagine. Needless to say my beef loves it. Typical. -16 degrees and the windows open, 'I'm sooooooooooo hot I think I'm gonna die'. Yeah, just like that.
But anyway, after I arrived in the UK feeling like my tonsils were going to burst in tears at any minute (the tonsils, me, everyone really), I found myself facing a dilemma. I posted on Facebook a while ago something like: "I love babies. Babies are cute, everyone loves them. But why do they always have to be in my flight?!". Yes, it's something that tortures me inside. And outside. BABIES IN MY PLANE, crying like some insane creatures and making me doubt if I should jump out of the window. Literally.
So what's worse: a baby crying like it's being eaten by an alligator slowly and painfully and the lovely parents doing NOTHING about it; or, the Siberia that gets installed inside the plane as soon as we take off?
Já tinha mencionado brevemente no post abaixo esta coisa da Europa vs. Reino Unido. Pois é verdade. Outra das descobertas que fiz há uns tempos foi esta aparente distinção! Estava eu a mandar um bitaite qualquer sobre um assunto da actualidade e, como já é normal, a discordar da situação, quando o meu bife se vira com um 'you bloody Europeans and your theories!'. Oi? Como é mesmo? Então o senhor o que é? Asiático? Queres ver que ando com um Chinês e não dei por isso. 'Ah we're british, not Europeans!'. Bom, eu confesso que quis responder, obviamente, mas não consegui e desatei-me a rir! Ora portanto está claro que estes bifes (que ninguém me leve a mal, o senhor meu namorado é um deles, a minha flatmate e grande amiga outra e muitos mais. Adoro-os a todos! Mas são bifes.) acham-se tão extraordinariamente fora de série que nem Europeus se consideram. Que mantenham a obsessão pela Rainha e pela Royal Family e que mundo pare para o Jubilee ou para o nascimento do pequeno George, até aí já vamos estando habituados (e que façam mais feriados que disso gostamos nós!). Mas enfim, o resto é um bocado mais estranho. Bem, o que é facto é que têm a moeda deles, têm a Rainha deles, têm os seus inches e os seus yards, e acabam por ser diferentes em tudo, raios partam! Mas fiquei de queixo caído quando o mesmo se repetiu no trabalho (na altura eu achava que era só o meu bife armado em arrogante).
Desde então este é outro daqueles fenómenos que eu gosto de partilhar e de enxovalhar quando vêm armados em 'cão com pulgas' a achar-se a última bolacha! Please.
Por favor alguém me diga que já presenciou isto e que não sou a única que trabalha e convive com loucos!
Vivendo em Londres, eu, como estrangeira que sou, deparo-me com todo o tipo de estrangeirada que para aqui anda. Sendo esta cidade das com mais afluência para nós, emigras, é vê-los aos magotes todos os dias. São indianos, são chineses, são europeus por toda a parte – sim, europeus e não ingleses, já que estes consideram não fazer parte da Europa dada a sua importância no globo. Estamos cá todos ao molho e muito bem recebidos que somos, de nada nos podemos queixar. Não há cá chatices do ‘não falas inglês como nós, aqui não entras’. Melhor ou pior inglês, desde que façamos bem aquilo que pregamos (dependendo da área, certamente) temos trabalho e é tudo malta porreira sempre pronta para os copos. Mas isto é post para outras núpcias.
Estava eu a dizer que esta cidade está a abarrotar de estrangeirada. E se há coisa que os ingleses não fazem é estar constantemente a corrigir-nos pelos pontapés na gramática ou pronunciação quando não sabemos uma palavrita ou outra. Pelo contrário, são muito compreensivos e acham-nos fantásticos porque falamos mais do que uma língua, com um sotaque mais ou menos aceitável. Agora há o ser simpático e o tolerar tudo e mais alguma coisa. Dentro da estrangeirada como eu, há os chamados chicos-espertos que acham que não precisam de se esforçar minimamente para falar a língua do país em que se encontram. E aí vêm as comichões. Claro está que estes Inglesinhos não notam nada e acham tudo engraçado porque são uns amores de primeira e, lá está, já nos acham umas criaturas maravilhosas pelo simples facto de falarmos duas línguas. Mas não consigo deixar de notar a quantidade de ditos chicos-espertos que não fazem qualquer tentativa para dizer o nome de uma pessoa como deve ser. Ora bolas, estamos em Londres é normal que a maioria das pessoas tenha nomes ingleses. Pois mais normal ainda é o facto de, muito provavelmente, estes nomes existirem todos no nosso próprio país, em que os pronunciamos de maneira diferente. Mas porque raio insistem estas almas em chamar aos pequenos o nome que eles têm no seu país? Porquê, pessoas? É awkward, é parvo e mostra uma grande falta de interesse e vontade em querer ser incluído Então se o homem se chama John, vou chamá-lo de João só porque no meu país assim se faz? Haja paciência! Ainda que muitas vezes tenhamos que lidar com o oposto – o meu nome é Mariana e não conheço ninguém que o diga correctamente, é ‘Maryanne’, ‘Maryanna’, entre outros. Azar! Aguento-me à bronca e eu própria já me intitulo ‘Maryanna’ para evitar as 3 perguntas seguintes que serão à volta do ‘What? Come again? Maryanne?’, e por aí. Mas é a vida! Eles não têm tanta facilidade em pronunciar os nossos nomes e estão no direito deles uma vez que somos nós quem se mudou e não o contrário! Depois vêm dizer 'ah e tal porque os espanhóis não fazem o esforço para falar português quando vão a Portugal'. POIS!
E pronto, foi o primeiro desabafo de emigra, assim em português só por causa das coisas. Emigras, façam lá o jeitinho e chamem as pessoas pelos nomes e não o que vos soa melhor. Tem graça uma ou outra vez mas passado umas quantas já só é parvo.
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It’s been a while since I wanted to start a blog. And by a while I mean about 5 years or more. The question has always been between the ‘About what?’ and ‘How do I fit it all in there?’. I’m sure this is no news to anyone who has a blog (or has tried to have one... and failed) but I get really itchy when I have to do something that millions have done before. It's like a disease spreading all over my body. Not really, but you get the idea. So let's try and make this a bit different. A bit more stupid. Anyway.
I’ve started to put together a Mind List – yes, I am a girl and I love lists but am also too lazy to write stuff down unless I have a new pink pad and/or pink pen (obsessions, obsessions, we’ll come to that…) – with everything I would like to cover in my blog. So we've got –
- Fashion – that was easy. THE very first obsession and one of the main subjects of this blog. Please click the little cross on the top right corner of your screen if you don’t like fashion or you will be bored.
Within fashion, I also knew something else. By fashion I mean Street Fashion. You know, the kind of things we can all wear and look good every day so we don’t feel like the world is going down and we’re super mega depressed because there’s nothing to wear in that tiny (read: giant) wardrobe. Yes, that kind of Fashion. Not that I don’t like the whole couture, top models, super-duper famous fashion designers. It’s just because, let’s be honest, my wallet doesn't let me.Yet. It will, one day, and I will love writing about Chanel, Prada and Givenchy bags and Manolos or Louboutins that only Carrie Bradshaw can wear without breaking her feet. I might mention these now but it will probably under the title ‘Daddy I really want…’ rather than ‘Shopping from last week…’.
- Girls’ Reality – that was also easy. The target of this blog was obvious from the very beginning. Boys, I will be more than happy for you to have a read – you might find some tips on how to survive the craziness of a girl or the next best gift for Birthday or Xmas (I hate Valentine’s Day) – but if you have a terrible fear of words like ‘period’, ‘cellulites’ or ‘pink’, I suggest you recommend this to your girlfriend/wife (obviously!) and go read Sky Sports. Or, you can just focus on the GeekFactOfTheDay section.
Let’s face it, we all have the same issues/dramas/stupidities/endless-problems-that-seem-very-big-but-are-not. There’s some of us a bit more crazy/mad/out-of-this-world or, as my sister like to call it in Portuguese, ‘destravadas e despachadonas’ (don’t translate, it won’t work) but at the end of the day we’ve all been there. So let’s get all our frustrations out so we don’t take it on our boyfriends that don’t (always) deserve it.
Well… I’m not Blair Waldorf because I don’t have nearly as many fancy clothes (or just clothes full stop) or the pleasure to live in a gigantic Upper East Side mansion. But I do like a good story to start a day. Or finish. Or just at any time. So I'll probably make some comments to what's going on outside of my pink bubble, if I actually care. Some funny ones, nothing to be taken too seriously.
- Portugal vs. London
I’m Portuguese. And I like it. I will complain about my country. And complain about the country I live in. I will also say lovely things and to-do things in both. And there will be words/posts in both languages. Mostly because there are words I have no idea how to say in English so I make them up. Biiiig time. I think this will end up being the very big purpose of my blog. I really want to be able to share my English frustrations by screaming in words every time someone asks me what are my plans for the weekend or what I've eaten for lunch. WHO THE HELL CARES. Anyway. I think I'll dedicate a post to that.
So that's pretty much it. For now.
Little M ❤