Big Brother

So a few weeks have past since my last entry, and in the mean time I have moved into a new flat with some new house mates, all boys, Big Brother style! Quite a strange bunch, I must admit. I have spent the last 2 weeks listening to "Gypsy" by Fleetwood Mac out my window from my flat mate, not even joking, 22 hours a day or near about. Another flat mate who on first meeting seemed pretty "straighty one eighty" turned out to be nothing but. Yesterday in the kitchen on top of the microwave I discovered "The Notebook" where they leave bitchy messages for one another (serious not sarcastic, it is quite funny, I will photograph some highlight pages at a a later date) and I took the liberty to have a bit of a scribe, when I was left a message to put more money on the gas bill for when I didn't even live there. "Stop using all the gas on cooking and have toast for dinner like me. Moles." Loved it. I also took great pleasure in my effort in the bathroom, it one whole afternoon and a bottle of Dettol to achieve my result, so lets see how long my sparkly tiles and mirror you can actually see a reflection in will last! Big Brother is watching big brothers!

Slave Labour

This week I re-entered the world that tortures many of our pasts; work experience (otherwise known as work exploitation). The soul crushing, hard working, unpaid, long hours of work that make us better people and one step closer to our dreams. Or does it? With at least 20 fashion schools in London alone, not to mention the rest of the UK, Europe and world who flock to the city for experience and employment, noone really cares who you are, how creative you are, just your hardcore willingness to work. I have spent the week from 9am to 8pm, (noone leaves until everything is finished) sewing toilles, sample cutting, hand stitching, picking up samples and notions all over town. Sorry to crash your hopes kids! Join the queue at ticket number million please! And by the time you will finally work your way to the front of the queue (the payroll), you're ready to be replaced by a fresh faced youth who will do it all for free. NEXT!

The Hunt

The past few days I've dedicated to a home hunt (aka lying on my bed on my laptop browsing the Gumtree), followed by some friendly house visits to meet my new potential flat mates in prospective "homes". 

I'd like to share my wisdom with you for your future reference;

• "cosy" = microscopic, room the size of a single mattress, if you're lucky a 10 cm border between your bed and the walls. This is the most used word in flatshare advertisements. Oh cosy- cute, warm, lovely? No deal!
• "trendy"- filthy, grimey, messy, "I don't clean", central point of the murder mile.
• "light and sunny"- miniature square hole in the wall vaguely resembling a window.
• "large garden" - patch of overgrown weeds by the front door, full of cigarette butts.
• "2 minute stroll to station"- a bit far fetched, 20 minute power walk is much more realistic.
• "friendly neighbours" - your bedroom is the ex living room or laundry shared with 8 others in a council housing flat
• "bargain! 400 pounds per month" - 400 plus council tax + gas + water + electricty + phone + internet + toilet paper allowance = 600 pounds per month

Your choice of flat mate;

• Hello I'm a professional, I work in a bank, I don't ever want to see or hear or have anything to do with you.
• Need pretty lady to share room, must be pretty young lady.
• Spare broom cupboard in home of Muslim family, Call Abdul.
• Hi! We're young, cool, creative and perfect! Rent is a million pounds a week!

What's a girl to do? Round three tomorrow, wish me luck!

Complaints Department

Hello, Whichway's back! I'm sorry for deserting you dear Whichway readers, I have had a string of complaints following my sabbatical! I'm glad Whichway has become part of your daily life! I had to leave the city for a while, for some peace of mind, it has run me off my feet! In fact I was working on my audition tape for Skins Series 3, taking the shame, hardcore! I'm sorry I can't disclose any more information, it is just too humiliating. I've been very busy looking for homes and occupations and am getting closer to being a true Londoner! Stay tuned, I promise I will be updating regularly on all fash-on and fash-off activities again very shortly.

Best,

Whichway (almost there but never quite) XOXO

I'm Good I'm Gone

We all love some good Scando-pop, especially from the Swedes! Listen to Lykke Li (click to listen) (rhymes whith Ricki Lee), she is the new Robyn. She is 22, wears some choice outfits and her new album is called Youth Novels. Here is her new single; I'm Good I'm Gone.

www.lykkeli.com

Glamour, Granduer, Sleaze & Disease

It has been a month now since I arrived in London, I've cris crossed the metropolis, been on every colour tube line, overground train, bus, lived in the south west and north east corners, yet everyday there is more and more to explore. It is hard to explain, but London is such a high-low city, it is either one extreme or the other. Steaming hot or freezing cold, crimey and grimey or grand and glamourous, the richest or the poorest, the oldest and the newest, the happiest high or the saddest low. The way people dress, the way they talk, the art, it all comes down to this underlying contradiction. This is what defines it's eccentric character, which is probably why London is currently booming creatively. The 'high-low' quality perfectly captures this moment in fashion and post modern art, irreverently mixing references from polar opposite ends of the spectrum, to generate the now, and putting the city at the forefront. Even though sometimes so horrible and confusing, you can't help but love the place; there is a sparkling diamond hidden beneath the grime, and although sometimes hard to see, you always feel it is there. A friend who has lived in London for nearly two years summed it up quite well; 

" I love London. It is like the lover who treats you so badly and rips you off, but you can't leave! Even though I hate London sometimes, I really do love the old whore."

It has the power to turn you into a brilliant superstar, a cold, hard bitch or a defeated shadow. London's icons are rich royalty, or drug addicted pop stars and models, in downward spirals of self destruction. It is the ugliest, most beautiful place I ever been. So for my one month 'rough diamond' anniversary, let's celebrate the glamour, granduer, sleaze and disease that make this city shine in all it's hometown glory!

The Sound of Sirens

If the sound of Sydney's Summer is the endless clicking of cicadas, then London's is the sound of sirens. Wailing through the day and night, it's like living in an episode of "The Bill". At least PC Reg Hollis and the glamourous WPC Polly Paige-  Sierra Oscar 269 are trying to get those crims in the Sun Hill slammer. Sun Hill is the UK's equivalent of Summer Bay, with the chic hard bucket hat, checkered tie and pistol as iconic as the blue and red checked uniform of Summer Bay High. Summer Bay is more into natural disaster than cops catching robbers, rapists, terrorists, arsenists, murderers and muggers, which now here, I realise is incredibly close to real life. Although piercing sounds ring through the night, they are strangely soothing, as at least you know that Polly, June and their irresistibly arresting team of coppers are onto those hot beds of crime.

Style icon- WPC Polly Paige