I am not a big ‘blagger’ but as a trainee journalist this is a skill I’m trying to hone in on, and it’s very obvious that being well dressed and confident is the key, especially as we don’t have any invitations whatsoever. The first show we try and get into is Viktor and Rolf, we arrive at a beautiful chalky clearing in the centre of Paris, with water fountains, people are swarming around a large white tent where the show is being held. As soon as we arrive people jump in front of us and take photographs and jump back in a split second, it’s a strange experience especially as I don’t feel particularly well dressed. But I feel less self conscious as I see a lot of flashes go off, and a crowd of paparazzi swarming like ants around a blue haired beauty, we try and have a closer look, and realise it’s Katy Perry, wearing a Viktor and Rolf creation, she waltzes through without the need for an invitation. I won’t bore you with the details of how we tried to get in, but I will let you know that we failed miserably!

After that our confidence was knocked a bit, so we decided to do some touristy things, and didn’t really try to get in to any more high profile shows, but as our trip drew to an end we decided it would be tragic not to go to any at all, so we searched for a relatively small designer. We settled on trying to get ourselves into Hexa by Kuho, a Korean designer known for his oversized knits, and being ‘one to watch’ over the next year. We visit the Notre Dame first, and it starts raining, a complete downpour drenching us, it’s freezing, and we are soaked to the bone, but we persist, getting very lost looking for the show, we are led by a kindly gentlemen up an idyllic Parisian hill, with a very grand hall at the top, and the slight buzz of ‘something’ going on. We look awful, but we decide to go for it, and success! We walk through the front door without an invitation.

We look completely out of place inside, impeccably dressed young men, in pristine suits, chiselled and beautiful. Ladies in rich flowing fabrics and furs, so tiny, waif, and bird like, they look like they could break in half at any moment, everyone greets each other with two kisses, and elegant handshakes, the room is dimly lit, with a carpet and book cases, absolutely luxurious, we stand with the other bloggers, but after a while we manage to score a seat, after an eternity of waiting there’s a lull, the lights go down, and the pulsing music begins, and so began my first ever catwalk fashion show. All I can say is that models are scary, but so wonderful to look at. The clothes themselves are not as extravagant as one would expect from high fashion, but still pretty quirky, and everyone seems impressed, all the models trot out at the end, and the designer comes out an bows, the lights go up, and within seconds the room is cleared, everyone dashing to their next show, and it all feels like a dream.

It was such a wonderful experience, and it made me realise that you don’t get to be in such places unless you try, even if it does involve being a bit sneaky. I do however think that next London fashion week, I may try and secure some invitations, and enjoy the experience without the fear of being thrown out.

Picture: diyblogger.net

Well, I have now and let me tell you, I never want it to happen again. It’s not traumatic or anything because you don’t realise it’s being done to you but it’s something that most people will experience and something that really changes the way you view your belongings.

I’m going to take some blame though, it wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t so careless with my oyster card holder (in which I put my bank card, student ID, oyster and the worst of all, my precious Boots card) it probably wouldn’t have happened.

Sure, all replacable, but it was the days until I got them replaced which gave me the real “trauma” and here some the reasons why:

1. I hate cash. I am the last person who will ever have cash. I use my card everyday. I love my card. So not being able to use my beloved card was difficult, having to rely on my boyfriend or going to the bank for money was just… not ideal really. Not only was it not being able to use my money, it was also that I have now had to change the details on the internet and itunes, so quick shopping has disappeared into nothing and buying a song on the go has turned into a difficulty, not a pleasure. All because I left my holder in my pocket.
2. It has cost me a lot to replace everything. That’s one thing that really bugs me, you get stolen from and then you have to go through daylight robbery just to replace a card. £10 each card (bank card not included in that) but then you have to wait and wait and wait and it’s just awful.

I just can’t seem to grasp why people do it, I even witnessed someone attempt to do it the next day, and really hoped it wasn’t her who took my things.  She slyly put her hand IN someone’s bag, luckily the person she had targeted saw, but what if she hadn’t? Would she be in the same situation as me? Yes.

They try to blend in and try to be quick and smooth but what happens when you get caught? Mostly they just run and even though it’s theft- do people really go to prison for it? What can they even do with my cards? Go on a shopping spree in Boots with my £24 worth of points, get 20% off with my Bite card..or even go into my uni? It just doesn’t make sense.

I think it’s quite easy to stop being a target for pickpocketers with a few simple steps:

• Don’t put your important belongings in pockets that are open ie no zips. They’ll see it and they’ll swipe it. Like me, you’ll be an easy target.

• Don’t “flash your cash” around just to try and seem cool, it’s not cool to be a victim of theft.

• Always keep your belongings in safe, closed areas where they cannot be reached by people..if you need to, keep your phone in your hand.

• Always be aware and never feel too safe. If you think there’s a suspicious person around, move away.

I wish I could say “I have never been pickpocketed” but c’est la vie, however follow the steps that I should have take and always be on guard because there’s always a desperate person waiting to pounce.

I’m constantly on the lookout for different ways to make old things new, and one trend that caught my eye last summer (although, I didn’t quite get round to it), was studding. Watching my favourite Youtube gurus redesigning their old jeans or jackets, inspired me to want to try it myself. And, the best part was, all I needed was some old clothes, some studs, a pair of pliers or scissors, and a bit of free time… something I had plenty of. So, I ordered myself some cheap pyramid studs off Ebay, and started watching a few tutorials on easy ways to stud clothes.

Studding is surprisingly easy, and so once I got the hang of it, I was away. I studded pretty much anything I could get my hands on, and here are some examples:

Just simply pierce the stud through the material, and using a pair of pliers/scissors, or even the back of a hairbrush, bend the spiked teeth inwards, to keep the studs in place.

In my opinion, a great way to reinvent some key pieces for the summer. The only problems I came across was that sometimes the material was a bit too thick for the studs, and my hands also started to hurt after a while. Note to self: don’t leave studs lying about otherwise you will stand on them, and they will hurt. A lot.

After my weekend of studding my ENTIRE wardrobe, I decided to challenge myself that bit further, and try some tie-dyeing. And with tie-dye and acid wash being huge at the moment, what a great way to make use of my time! This is where having a fashion design student in my flat came in handy, as she’d done it before, and so this should have been a piece of cake. Unfortunately, my lazy habits came in to play, and I practically relied on her to help me on even the most miniscule of tasks.

If you are planning on tie-dying anything yourself, here’s what you’ll need:

-       the actual clothing you’ll be planning on dyeing

-       the dye – there are multiple types of dye you can use. You can order the dye online, or purchase some specialty dye at your local craft store (being in London, there’s plenty to choose from), however, luckily for me, my flatmate had some handy, so I didn’t have to

-       some rubber bands

-       rubber gloves to protect your skin

-       newspapers to protect the area around you – unless you’re planning on tie-dying your entire home!

-       Plastic bag/bin bag

So, here’s how it works:

Step 1 – cover your work area (we used the kitchen table) with newspapers to protect the surface

Step 2 – Mix your dye powder with water (instructions can be found on the label)

Step 3 – Using the rubber bands, pinch the material in the areas that you want the dye to cover

Step 4 – Place the dye (now mixed with the water) in the plastic squeeze bottles.

Step 5 – squeeze the dye through the nozzle on to the pinched areas

Step 6 – wrap the clothing in plastic wrap (use the plastic bag)

Step 7 – leave for min. 4 hours, and then wash in hot water. Note: the longer you leave the clothes wrapped, the more intense the colours will appear.

Having done this (and almost failed, if it weren’t for my trusty genius of a flatmate) I thought to put together some top tips, to ensure that you don’t fail and ruin your clothes yourself.

Top tips:

-       Light coloured denim is probably easier, and more successful to dye, unless you bleach the denim prior to tie-dyeing (which we did)

-       Denim is a lot thicker than cotton, so dyeing denim clothes will require more dye.

-       How you wash these items is important! In the first few washes, the dye might ‘bleed’, and so wash them alone, and preferable in cold water at first.

-       Before you dye your clothes, you should wash them first.

-       Make sure you wear some old clothes that you don’t mind ruining a bit, otherwise you’ll risk ruining your nice clothes with the dye.

-       Once you get the hang of it, you can mix colours, wear down the denim with a cheese grater to add to the effect, and scrunch up the denim, too!

So, that’s that. I studded and tie-dyed to my heart’s content, all for the benefit of this blog! I thoroughly enjoyed this experience, although I must admit, it was rather time consuming. The studding was definitely easier, and if you mess it up, it’s a lot easier to correct, for sure. I would advise anyone to try either of these DIY methods, because they are lots of fun, and a cheaper way to liven up your summer wardrobe. After all, a student’s gotta’ do what a student’s gotta’ do…

So, resolved to get my first henna tattoo, I asked my friend for help.
At the beginning she seemed a bit hesitating because, even though she would have loved to “see a piece of India” (as she claimed) on my skin, she wasn’t an expert, and those kinds of tattoos are  quite complicated. Anyway, I managed to convince her, and our search for henna paint could start.

We thought that looking for henna would be easy but we spent more than two days entering every shop that could sell it without actually find anything.
When we were almost about to give up we eventually found a small shop in Camden Town where we bought a black readymade henna paste.  My friend explained to me that the traditional process would call for fresh henna leaves mixed with oil, but if we had struggled to find readymade henna we couldn’t hope to find anything better.
Moreover we were running out of time and my friend was quite worried because the paint takes more than a couple of hours to dry. We hadn’t that much time, so she had the brilliant idea to  start tattooing on my hand on the train back to Kenton!
There were 18 stops between Charing Cross and Kenton and at every stop she drew something on the palm of my left hand letting it dry when the train was moving.

I don’t know if everybody in the tube was staring at us wondering what we were doing but that was definitely the feeling I had.

Once we reached Kenton my hand was completely covered with weird decorations. On the palm there was a sort of half moon linked to the fingers by lines of dots. Furthermore every fingertip had a different ornament ranging from the full coloured thumb, to stars, dots and stripes on the other fingers.
The henna took two hours to dry which meant that I couldn’t close my hand or touch anything the whole time. Nevertheless once dried it didn’t look as bad as my friend thought it would be and I was quite satisfied with the result.

Now it’s up to you to judge the work!

Of course this completely goes against what was drummed into me as a child: “never speak to strangers”. Even before coming down for university my mum warned me about London stranger danger, basically implying that every other person out there is either a terrorist or potential rapist. Let’s hope that whoever I speak to doesn’t turn out to be either.

Victim A reads Private Eye, eats smoked salmon bagels and has a tendency to look up every now and again to inspect the view outside the window. Looks like a normal middle-aged guy. He’s also sitting opposite me so he’d be the easiest person to speak to but since he’s reading, I don’t want to interrupt. Also, he has an Acer laptop. Having had one in the past and knowing how bad they are, I’d rather not be associating myself with people who make bad life choices.

It’s obvious that God’s not going to give me a break and make a young, friendly and attractive person come sauntering along to sit next to me so it’s time for plan B. I’m going to have walk up and down looking for someone approachable and strike up a conversation with them. Somewhat like a gypsy trying to sell wild heather, yes, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

…

So I just went to buy a drink from the train shop, a clever ruse to look for someone to speak to and everyone I passed were too engrossed in their reading materials/iPods. Getting a bit worried now that my fear of social interaction will make me fail this challenge.

…

Desperately need the toilet now. I’ve never used a toilet on a Virgin train so I’m thinking this could be my “I have never…”? Maybe not.

…

Mission very awkwardly accomplished. Where else but the classy waiting area outside of the toilet. I wasn’t joking when I said I really needed to go and the person before me was giving birth or something because they were taking so long.

Me: Oh my God, how long?!

Victim B: Hah I know, you’d think they’d have more than one toilet on this train.

Me: I think there’s one on every other carriage.

And the toilet banter sort of awkwardly carried on. Ok so not exactly a ground-breaking conversation but I started it and that’s what counts. I’m socially inept, alright?! Luckily the man was Liverpudlian and we are known for our friendliness.

Neale Donald Walsch said, “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” Having left my comfort zone, I have to disagree. I feel a sense of accomplishment that I survived this little social experiment but honestly? Confidence is overrated!

However, when my mum told me about her friend who’s visiting London for one of her shows, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to see how real this stuff is.

As I entered the building, I tried to keep an open mind, but as soon as this plump middle aged woman (dressed in what can only be described as a black bin bag with arm holes) walked on to the stage, all my preconceptions came flooding back to me. Surely, this mad looking woman couldn’t hear, or dare I say it, see dead people?! For the first five minutes, all I kept thinking was, ‘when is she going to whip out her cauldron and broomstick?’ however, once I actually started watching her interact with different audience members, I couldn’t help but become engrossed with her ‘abilities’.

After about 15 minutes, she spoke to ME, believe it or not. Great, I thought, what a fantastic (and slightly humiliating) way to see if she’s just faking it. To begin with she was particularly vague, and rather cliché, saying things like “there’s a woman… I’m thinking of the letter ‘M’… does the colour violet mean anything to you…” – I think you get my point. However, the more she spoke to me, the more she made sense. I actually started to believe her for a while! Most of the things she said, she probably could have guessed, as her comments tended to sound like a stab in the dark, however, the odd detail would turn out to be scarily precise and it kind of messed with my head a little. Was I just getting a bit too over excited, convincing myself that she was psychic, or did she actually know this stuff?

Anyway, she moves on, leaving me sitting there slightly baffled, not knowing what to believe. I look around to see people staring at her in awe – some people were even reduced to tears, and I can see why. I mean, death is a taboo subject as it is, but for someone to claim to be communicating with a dead relative or friend can be a confusing and upsetting concept to adjust to.

As I exit the building, I came to the conclusion that I’m still as unsure about this psychic stuff as I was beforehand, and that I simply had a momentary lapse, got caught up in the atmosphere, and I now try to convince myself that this woman is a fraud. I mean, she is being paid for this stuff. Surely, if this was a gift you had, you wouldn’t throw it about, receiving money for it in the process? And better yet, to toy with people’s emotions in that way, without knowing the consequences of what you are saying, is a dangerous game. However, I would suggest for people to let their curiosity get the better of them, like I did, at least once. At least if you witness it for yourself, you can base your beliefs on experience. Unfortunately for me, I still don’t know what to believe.

Archipelago

Walking along Whitfield Street, where the restaurant was supposed to be, I didn’t know what to expect. I tried to imagine the kind of place I was “forcing” my boyfriend to come along, but, trust me, not even one idea in my mind was close to what we actually saw.

The restaurant was small and cosy filled with thousands and thousands of knick-knacks belonged to every possible culture from all over the world. Next to the main entrance, for example, a big statue of Buddha was smiling at us while African masks and colourful tapestries were hanging all over on the walls.
I felt like I was in a flea market more than in a restaurant and I couldn’t stop myself from staring at everything in a daze.

A young and smiley waitress woke me up from my amazement and she showed us our table. I sat on a big armchair paying attention not to ruin the wonderful pillows that were on it and we started looking at our parchments – menus.
We eventually decided to order a ‘sharing plate’ thinking that the best idea was to try a bit of everything. Obviously the crocodile meatballs and the kangaroo beef immediately caught our attention!

Once, I watched a documentary on TV about a man who had eaten a crocodile.
He was telling the presenter that it tasted like chicken, although the presenter was probably too disgusted to actually listen to him.
But “disgusting” is the last word I would use to describe our tasting experience.
The crocodile meatballs were a perfect compromise between fish and meat, tasty, still delicate. Yes, I was quite afraid to put that apparently harmless meatball in my mouth but when I did I couldn’t think of anything better!

Crocodile Meatballs.

After that, we decided to try the coconut rice and sour mango noodles to have a short break before the second weirdest (and most delicious) tasting experience of our lives.
The kangaroo beef had a stronger taste and was spicier than the crocodile but what actually surprised me was its juicy tenderness; something I had never experienced  before.

Kangaroo beef.

I looked at my boyfriend hoping that he wasn’t damning me too much but I suddenly realised that he was eating with relish!
Trust me, if you are able to forget that you are actually eating a crocodile or a kangaroo you’ll have the best meal ever.

Supplies

I’ll be honest with you, I love to bake. Cupcakes, Victoria Sponges or a nice chocolate fudge cake- I have been there and I have done that. But I’ve always found that the cheese cake has been the most daunting and there’s not even cooking involved (unless you want to make the biscuits yourself but who am I? NIGELLA? No.)

So as we were doing things we’d never done, this seemed like the perfect opportunity to face the cheesecake fear. After a quick run to Tesco I was ready to get my strawberry cheesecake on the go.

What you need:

• Soft cheese (I opted for the cheapest I could get, Tesco Value, because, well, student budget..)
• Digestive biscuits
• Icing sugar
• Double cream
• Vanilla (in the recipe I used it said vanilla pod but I just used vanilla extract. Beggars can’t be choosers)
• Strawberries
• Butter

Don’t fret guys, I’ll give you the whole recipe later and you can try and make this cheesecake you see below.

I started out by hitting the biscuits with a rolling pin to create a crumbly biscuit base and did this until they were fine crumbs. You have to make sure there are no thick pieces in the bowl. I should say now, if you’re in a bad mood, making this cheesecake WILL help, the bashing biscuits was therapeutic and released a lot of anger (and nerves I had for cheesecake). I then melted butter and added it to the biscuit. Stir, stir, stir and you have your “cake” base. Now put in the mould and press it down to make sure it’s all level.

Now put it in the fridge for an hour and let it set.

I then started on the “cheese” part. Empty all the packets of cheese into the bowl. Add the icing sugar and vanilla and mix until smooth. When you’ve reached “smooth” status, gently add in the cream and mix again until smooth. Please do refrain from eating the mixture as you go on.

Take the base out of the fridge, add the mixture to the top and put back into the fridge. Pretty simple really.

So by now you should have yourself a cheesecake, however then you have to decide what kind of topping you want. A lot of people tend to choose a chocolate or vanilla topping but being a fruity person, I chose strawberry. Whilst scoping out the recipe for this task, I saw lots of recipes that just told people to throw the strawberries on, but I knew I wanted to make sauce for the top and it turned out to be quite easy. All it entailed was a bit of icing sugar, a bit of water and a blender (or a masher) and puree the strawbs. Parfait!

ET VOILA!

I haven’t yet tasted the cheesecake, and I’m not sure if I will and just let my housemates try instead. It looks and smells good but there’s always that final worry. The recipe was easy enough to follow and the actual making didn’t take long, there’s just a lot of waiting for it to set and I can be quite impatient so I think that’s been the only downfall of the cheesecake experience. But all in all, I definitely would do it again and who knows, maybe I’ll turn into a cheesecake connoisseur or even start up my own cheesecake empire….well maybe just in my dreams.

Here is the original recipe I used. Enjoy!

Unsure where to position myself, I decided to stay local and play on a fairly quiet bridge where the odd few people pass by on Northwick Avenue (whenever I say that I cannot help but change up Duffy’s lyrics to ‘Warwick Avenue’.) Approaching the bridge, the area around seemed somewhat deserted, just me and my flatmate – excellent. But as soon as I opened my guitar case a flurry of pedestrians started appearing out of nowhere! I felt like Simba amongst a stampede of wildebeests in The Lion King, dramatic but true! Nevertheless I hesitantly started playing whilst gaining a few strange looks from many a passerby.

Busking, or street performing is a centuries old tradition dating back to times when town criers, bards and wandering minstrels used to travel from town to town entertaining the public. It’s a profession to some, in London most buskers can be found playing in tube stations, granted you have a busking licence, and in Covent Garden around every corner is a street performer.

I played several acoustic-y tunes, not singing of course, playing guitar in public is embarrassing enough. Including Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly’s ‘War of the Worlds’, the acoustic version of Red Hot Chilli Peppers ‘Under The Bridge’ and Newton Faulkner’s ‘All I Got’.

Following this challenge I think I’ve gained a lot more respect for buskers. It’s a rather big deal to play to complete strangers, whether they’re on the tube or on Northwick Avenue Bridge buskers come face to face with new challenges everyday. It’s also not exactly the best income, but for musicians any income is something as the music industry is one of the toughest industries to break in to.

I’m not exactly Andy McKee or Jimi Hendrix but drum roll here is a short video of me playing quite badly and totally inelegantly. Warning: I am the definition of awkwardness and my guitar was a little out of tune.

So, with the creation of this blog (and lack of interesting ideas) I decided to take the plunge, and see what it’s like to be an extra for a day.

The day started particularly early for me, as three tubes and a 20 minute walk caused me to have to spare an hour in order to get there on time – it would be terribly unprofessional of me to arrive late, after all. As we arrived on set, we were told to take a seat, and we were left waiting around for a bit. Of course, we didn’t mind in the slightest, as our buzz of excitement and nerves prevented us from boredom, especially as, slowly but surely, the cast members began to arrive.

We spotted Rosie Fortescue first, who looked effortlessly chic upon arrival, her ‘comfy clothes’ clinging to her petite frame, and her sunglasses shielding her face from the harsh sunlight. She goes inside, and reappears 10 minutes later, looking amazing in her styled outfit.

Next to arrive was Hugo (one minute while I marvel at his beauty) looking like he just stepped off an advert. Looking devilishly handsome in his trademark shades, he could’ve just stepped off a yacht if it weren’t for the fact that we were in the middle of Chelsea.

Spencer is the last to arrive, joking around, as he strolls on set, mocking fellow cast member Jamie, who is scheduled to join later, for having had a spray tan.

Around half an hour later, we are finally approached by a member of the crew, and are asked to sign a form, and then we are placed in the shot. The shoot was based in a restaurant, so we are sitting at a table outside, in the sun (this is the point were I deeply regret bringing my sunglasses, as realisation hits me that I am going to spend the majority of my time squinting, and attempting to look normal, whilst my vision is impaired by blurry spots). As there are not many extras required for the shoot, it is just us three and a few others, we are sitting on the table next to the cast. I found it particularly awkward at first, because I was sat opposite Spencer and Hugo, and so awkward eye contact was inevitable.

So, we just sat at the table, ordered drinks, and chatted amongst ourselves. To be quite honest, the whole concept was quite awkward at first. Trying to act cool is basically impossible, because it’s downright obvious what people are extras, and who just came here for a quiet lunch, unaware of filming taking place. However, after a few takes, I relaxed more, and felt less self conscious.

One unexpected aspect of filming, was that, because the main cast members wore microphones, we could actually engage in proper conversation, as opposed to ‘pretending’ to talk.

Numerous takes later, just when I thought things were getting boring, Jamie arrives. He is full of energy, and this gets everyones’ spirits up, making us laugh as the others mock him endlessly.

However, with Jamie’s arrival, I began to notice the scenes get more staged and less spontaneous. I always knew that some of the show was scripted, but seeing it first hand made me realise just how false some of it is.

Anyway, after about 2 and a half hours, I began to get a bit fidgety, developed pins and needles, and was very hungry. Word of advice – eat a proper meal before shooting. Unfortunately I didn’t have breakfast. Rookie mistake, I know.

At one point, towards the end of the shoot, when Spencer and Jamie were filming a scene, word seemed to have spread of the location of the shoot, and fans had started to gather outside the restaurant, opposite our tables.They excitably hid behind the fence, shoving their phones in between the metal bars, taking photos. One gutsy girl even managed to climb to the top of the fence, only to wave frantically at the boys, causing Jamie to burst out laughing mid-scene.

Soon enough, once that little fiasco was over, the shoot finished. Tired and hungry, I was ready to leave, only to be told to wait around again to get photos taken. At this point, I think the novelty of our company had worn off, and everyone was too tired to care.

A little fact for you Harrow campus students; Hugo Taylor attended Harrow School for Boys

Overall, the experience was enjoyable, and I’d definitely do it again. It was fun in the sense that we got to hang out with the stars of the show, and we get to be on TV, too. However, it was a long and tiresome day, consisting of lots of waiting around. The experience hasn’t really altered my opinion of the show, if anything, it has made me love some of the cast members even more. Despite being ridiculously rich, they are actually relatively down to earth, and dare I say it, normal. Contrary to popular belief, we were treated with respect; they spoke to us how they spoke to the main cast, and it definitely didn’t feel degrading in the slightest.

I’d advise any fan of the show to try it, even if it is just once for the experience. However, I wouldn’t recommend going alone, unless your incentive is along the lines of work experience, because it wouldn’t be half as fun. Luckily I brought my friends along, so I had company. I’m definitely going to try and make it to another shoot, that’s for sure!

Photo: Metro