Christmas day fashion show

Flashing back to Christmas’s gone past I think of the 6am wake up calls from older brother and looking bleary eyed around my room to see that he has rearranged all the furniture, well he has been up since 4. Sitting patiently outside our parent’s room door we beg for the 8am admission time to be forgotten. As the clock strikes 8 we burst through, grapping our stockings as we go. Nothing beats that first present on Christmas day. Whether it’s a selection box or new hair clips we know that Santa will have done us proud, strange though how he always puts them in their room and not ours. Bouncing down the stairs we get to the real stuff the big boxes full of hours of fun. Over the years the gifts have changed but our reactions haven’t. New clothes wear promptly escorted up the stairs and let the fashion show commence. Family members were treated to glimpses of new presents as I strutted down the staircase. Many outfits were displayed on that magical day. I had more outfit changes than Katy Perry hosting the EMA’s.

This year however a more demure approach will be taken; as I get up leisurely at 7.55am and stroll along to the stocking presentation (it would be rude not too as Santa keeps bringing them). Downstairs for the present giving I resist the urge to race up and try on new clothes, knowing that it will only slow me down, now that I realise gift opening is a serious business and every moment must be absorbed. Not to worry I still have all evening to stage this years show!

Uniform

Since I am home for Christmas it’s back to work and time to pull out the old uniform. Cracking out of my old wardrobe I realise I am in dire need of new shirts. So out I venture into the Arctic winds of Glasgow and trail around shops. Now aren’t I shocked when I realise that apparently the stores are all big fans of Working Girl. Hanging before me on the rack is a shirt even Melanie Griffith would say “Aren’t those shoulder pads a bit big”. Apparently with the 80’s making a huge comeback on the catwalk we are all supposed to walk around sporting sofa cushions on our shoulders. With mine already sufficiently defined enough I opt instead for simplicity over making a statement via clothing.

Dress Disaster

Glaring at the mirror before me I take in the spangled disaster that is currently being marketed as a Christmas party dress. I quickly realise that every item I have taken into the changing room in the vain attempt to get in the Christmas spirit will transform my reflection into a glaring combination of satin and random tree decorations. After finding my search for the perfect party dress has become my own Everest I become delirious; days without water, I wander aimlessly through nondescript racks of clothing desperately clinging on to my humanity. No amount of sarcasm though can distract me from the dull ache that is present after an unproductive shopping excursion. For me a shopping trip can only end one way: with lots of bags. Window shopping for me is as disappointing as smudging newly painted nail and extremely frustrating.

A solution has been found though. Unbeknown to me, simply by placing your newly painted nails into a sink full of cold water will quicken the drying process. Thus leaving your nails chip free and keeping my face wrinkle free. Oh no not a solution in regards to climbing that glittery mountain. On the dress front there is no such miracle, back to black as Amy Winehouse once said and to the classic LBD I go.

Unwanted guests?

Just as things as Alcatraz start to calm down another problem arises, with the constant visits of our fellow prisoner’s boyfriend. If the snoring isn’t enough to get us clawing at the plasterboard walls then his painful attempt at Brim Full of Asha is. After another evening enduring his various vocal achievements, whilst asleep, I begin to notice signs of insanity. Picturing myself beating him to death with a Cornershop CD has led me to the conclusion that all is not right. Calming down slightly I begin to focus on constructive ways to vent out my frustration without causing a massacre, well for now at least. Breathing deeply I decide that the best way to combat the anger is to clean my room, as loudly as possible in the vain attempt to inflict discomfort upon the banshees in the other room. Whilst I slam books on to the shelf and watch Twilight ricochet off the wall I am oddly pleased with myself. Now with my room in more of a mess from when I started I resign myself to some actual cleaning. Hanging each necklace back upon their individual hooks it becomes therapeutic and calming. Now with a serene aura surrounding me I begin to think that a change of scenery will do me the world of good. Slapping on the make-up I begin the dissent down the plethora of stairwells into the doom and gloom of Aberdeen.

Whilst walking through the synthetic brightness of the Bon Accord Centre the warm glow of the shops draw me in like a moth to a flame or in this case a fashion student to a silver sequin blazer. After many hours in shopping bliss I leave having picked my Christmas wish list and a few ideas for family and friends. So now with the perfect coat and dress on its way to being wrapped under my Christmas tree, I realise that all is not lost with the day from hell and that in fact has been quite productive. Following my euphony I decide to buy some earplugs and let his singing dream stay alive.

Football Fashion

Among my mixture of passions in life one of them is football. Unfortunately for my flatmates the new live update feature on BBC sport has enabled me to be annoyingly vocal about the efforts of various football teams. From red cards to miss shots I spur on my favourite teams, some depending on flair and city and others on team colours, sorry but for me the home colours for Dundee United leave them resembling forgotten Halloween decorations. For me nothing beats cheering on the home team even if they haven’t given me much to cheer about lately. With my wardrobe ransacked I throw on my old Falkirk top and sit glaring at the laptop screen willing them on. Depending on the team it creates rivalry between me and my flatmate and becomes a perfect opportunity to slag each other off and ring up previous defeats and failures in the league. Now as I have said unfortunately my home team have been on a journey of defeat and are apparently reluctant to want to end it after being so successful so I haven’t been able to win these verbal matches this season. Acknowledging the lack of impact of my verbal assault I instead turn my focus back to my team’s uniform and the ridiculous collar that was forced upon the shirts last season. After turning my own inside the neckline I remember even the players had opted to do the same noticing the fashion faux pa. Now when sports starts that regularly dress head to toe in trackies don’t want to be seen in the original design you know something has gone wrong. Fashion conscious sports women sighed a breath of relief upon the announcement that Stella McCartney would be designing for Adidas. Through this partnership sports clothing has changed from being mundane to being stylish. In gyms across the country women are battling the bingo wings without cracking out the stained baggy t-shirts and faded leggings. With fashion sportswear a must have for any stylish women wishing to get fit, the focus is beginning to shift from the actual workout to the clothes you wear. Of course I’m all for wearing nice clothes whilst among a group of my peers in a slightly embarrassing situation as I wheeze along the treadmill but merely stretching at the side to show off your latest attire is a step too far.

I’m sure also that the new technology these days means that the latest sportswear will help enhance performance or so you hope with the price tag attached to it. I can only hope that the latest developments in sports wear will help Falkirk earn some much needed points, but going by the results so far only a cloak of invisibility will help the strikers get into the box. So I resign myself to misery and disappointment; however at least I am happy in the knowledge that at some point a victory will arise. Now with a rival game on the horizon and a chance at those three points; let the bloodbath and slanging match begin.

Midnight new moon

At last the anticipation is over, the sleepless nights and the day dreaming can end as finally Summit entertainment have blessed our screens with the latest in the Twilight franchise. Now here’s an emergency for the plastic; pre booking tickets to the first showing. Gathering up my other twilighters we all embrace our inner child. Now with my mix up in hand I look around expecting to find screaming teenage girls, therefore imagine my surprise when the chair in front is engulfed by a man who would not look out of place in a football crowd. I breathe a sigh of relief that I didn’t fully indulge my hysteria over the franchise and buy the team Edward t-shirt. Thank god I listened to the incessant complaints concerning my obsession and their growing embarrassment. However it has led me to ponder; is movie slogan clothing the epitome of geek or chic?

For men it has become socially acceptable to resemble Peter Parker mid change and present the new style smasual, via men overheard in More magazine; however for women the overall effect is rather different. Although in fairness superman and batman have become cult classics; widely recognised by their signature colours and logos. For women movie slogan t-shirts merely announce to the public your bad taste in films or a blatant attempt to relive your childhood. Therefore time to keep the t-shirt for my many home viewings of the DVD when it comes out and keep my obsession to myself.

The Journey

At last I escape the billowing winds of the North Pole, suffocating grey surrounds and embark on a journey home. But alas my voyage is halted by the ever changing movie set that has become my home. Now transformed into warning to all others that Global Warming is upon us. While I leave Denis Quaid to save the others I trudge on in search of a way out of The Day After Tomorrow. Through pelting rain and mysterious fog the replacement bus meanders through the winding coast. Into a car park we pull without the slightest hint of direction we are thrust out on to the street and look upon the dazzling sights of Arbroath, well compared to Aberdeen, and are left to ponder our fate. However as quickly as it began, our epic bus journey is caught short as we pick up the train further down the line and continue on our way. So with the dread and mystery of the journey deflated I am left to ponder the unique situation I am about to enter. Gone are the micro meals and dodgy showers and now it is time to appreciate the home comforts that I recklessly abandoned in search of freedom.

One week of home cooked meals and personal laundry system have me considering other benefits that arise from staying at the 5 star hotel. Suddenly the pound signs rise and the inevitable happens; I begin online shopping. Well what’s a fashion student to do when she saves money on food but to buy new clothes. Already planning ahead; dazzling winter boots cloud my vision and suddenly I have hounded every online retailer in search of the perfect pair. The smooth and sleek over the knee boots cry out to me from the monitor screen instantly reminding me of the previous struggle in River Island. Grasping at the boot in panic as I realise blue eyes is not the only thing I inherited from my mother but the genetic gene also pass on the inability to fit my calves into anything that wasn’t designed for the Hulk. Banishing the negative thoughts from my head I settle on the ever practical ankle boots and I am suddenly in a brighter mood with a slight skip in my step. The also find another benefit of being home which is the hope that your parents will take pity on your shabby collection of attire and insist upon replacing them. Well of course if it will make them happier then I will more than welcome the new additions to my wardrobe. I also will endeavour to resemble a tramp for the next trip home, just because of the happiness it brings them of course.