Milk & Manolos

One of my favourite things in the world is receiving a gift that’s wrapped in cellophane. I’m not sure if it’s the years of sitting in an office where glorious gifts for one the best agents in London would be marched passed me on pretty much a daily basis, but the sight of a cellophane plumage is still enough to send me into an excitable spasm.

Fortunately for me, my best friend knows this. When she was so insistent about throwing me a baby shower, it scared me, the sight of a cellophane wrapped gift crossing the threshold helped calm my nerves. Not only was it beautifully wrapped but it was truly one of the most useful presents I received in the run up to D-Day. Her new business was born…

Nappycake.com is quite simply where it’s at. Opened in 2005 following the birth of her daughter and my rather successful babyshower, they’ll taylor make cakes according to your budget. Let me get something straight, these aren’t no ordinary cakes, but made from nappies individually rolled to make a tiered cake, similar to that of a wedding cake. On top of that (quite literally) is the fun part. The inclusion of shoes, hats, mittens, not to mention champagne are all an option. Finished with a ribbon and the obligatory cellophane a delivery of one of these is going to make one happy mama.

We all have fashion secrets, and mine I’m about to share for pure comic value. I have a very guilty pleasure that’s not only more than a touch out of date, but a little ‘pie and peas’. There’s no easy way to say this, but I LOVE Juicy Couture tracksuits. The brighter, the better. Normally it’s only close friends and family who’d see the wondrous sight of me clad in bright velour or terry towelling but this morning I seem to have woken sans common sense.

Every Sunday we like to frequent our local farmers market. It’s become somewhat of a tradition. A pain au chocolat for the Munchkin, a sausage bap for the Husband and a strong black coffee avec sunglasses for me. We’ll potter for half an hour picking our fruit and veg at a leisurely pace. Not only do we save a fortune, but we’ve never eaten so well. And of course it’s all seasonal which is a big plus too.

So back to the fashion disaster. Early this morning I threw on my turquoise terry towelling tracksuit, dragging the Munchkin out to get some papers while the Husband continued to snooze. Cut to an hour later, the husband full of efficiency thanks to his double macchiato suggests an early visit to our friendly farmers. Being pretty much frog marched out of the house I gave brief regard to the outfit. Fine, I thought, we won’t see anyone we know.

Car parked and following the Munchkin at the mandatory snail’s pace, it seems we weren’t the only people to have the same idea. In the Sunday morning silence a little voice then rang out (and not the Munchkin’s I might add) “Look Daddy, Iggle Piggle“. The humour of this statement wasn’t missed by a soul, especially me. It made perfect sense. I suddenly realised then that did look utterly like our small felt friend. The husband of course found much amusement in my being mistaken for a 5′8” turquoise children’s toy. Back in the car he begged that the Juicy Couture stayed strictly at home in the future. I concurred - it wasn’t quite the look I was going for.

The Husband has a current pash on for Vinegar. Loving it almost more than life itself he has taken to spending hours daydreaming of foodstuffs he can soak with it. I know this from a recent entry to his Facebook page. So great is his love he’s now sharing it with the world. You can imagine my pride …

I have however recently been introduced to a new use for his best beloved, and it doesn’t involve chips.

I’ve spent far too much time this past week trying to get sticky labels off things (from birthday presents to those damn annoying stickers on the bottom of my new shoes) that I went in search of something to aid and abete me. It’s then that my love, well fondness, for vinegar developed. No longer do I have to have to spend hours chipping away at a sticky residue with my already poorly cared for nails, or desperately try to peel off a stubborn label for it to tear half way through. I even attempted the Velux window who up until yesterday was sporting the Mother of all sticky debris - the remains of the not so careful removal of their instructions six months ago.

So how does it work it’s magic ? Easy. Simply douse a cotton-wool ball in vinegar and attack your sticky nemisis, soaking in the vinegar. Leave to saturate for a minute and then rub with a dry cloth. Voila, a gunk free surface.

I’m afraid there is a downside which unsurprisingly is the smell. It goes without saying that it’s best to wipe our stinky friend away as thoroughly as you can. An open window can also help to obliterate the school canteen aroma that comes hand in hand with our new cleaning buddy. Failing that, it’s nothing a trusty Diptyque candle couldn’t sort out.

Eyes are the windows to our souls, or so we’re told. If you’re not big into maqueage, then there’s a quick and simple way to finish off your look - beautifully manicured eyebrows. Should you be a fan of the old war paint, I suspect that you may have discovered this trick around the time you picked up your first Kohl pencil.

Since the Munchkin’s arrival my ablution time has been somewhat concertinaed of a morning. Without a doubt, best endeavours are made, but it doesn’t always happen. At least with tidy eyebrows I feel a little better about myself, and a look a little less like Denis Healy. I fear the poor Munchkin will follow in her mother’s footsteps. Of course it would be wholly inappropriate for me to address the issue now, but I’ll be ready a for that day in 13 years time, tweezers at the ready.

THE woman to see is Vaishaly Patel (51 Paddington Street, W1. 020 7224 6088). It doesn’t come cheap mind. My mother has a theory that money should always be spent on a good haircut “because you wear it every day”. This can easily be applied to my tufts of madness that some might call eyebrows. All too frequently they sit bushily above my old blues. I hope for your sake you’ve been more blessed in that department.

If the budget doesn’t extend to Vaishaly, check out Eyebrowz for tips and accessories that before reading this, you just wouldn’t believed existed. There’s even the opportunity to copy your favourite film stars brow. You can’t ask for much more than that …

Back in the mid nineties when life moved at the speed of sound, and when house parties would not only go on all night but end with the collective viewing of the Hollyoaks Omnibus, my loved up friendship circle would frequently meet for Sunday lunch. A lunch that would roll into another coffee, then perhaps a glass of wine, and then someone would inevitably suggest we order a bottle or two. Our venue, various smokey public houses, sometimes as dingey as can be. As long as we were together what did we care ?

As it does, life moved on. We all met new people, and fell in love. While our friendships remained intact, our now gigantic friendship circle prohibited the cosy Sunday lunches we had all come to know and love. Of course, they still existed, just not in the same form.
Last Sunday we met friends for lunch at Ditto Bar & Restaurant. Albeit, not my original line up back in 1997 it was certainly my husbands. All hung-over and ready for a roast, not to mention accompanied by the Munchkin, we were unaware of the magic that was about to happen.

Lead to our table one of the first things that hit us was the lovely relaxed feel of the place. Stylishly set up for service there was an inviting buzz, neither too busy nor too quite. As we walked to our table the Munchkin squealed with joy. Tucked in a separate room, not entirely noticeable she had seen what we were soon to discover, was the playroom. And not just any playroom. Upon closer inspection we found what can only be described as Eden for any small person accompanying their parents to lunch - a wonderfully equipped soft play area full to the brim with toys.
Comfortably settled at our table I can safely say that we had the best Sunday lunch since being parents. The food was exceptional with true Sunday staples, the staff friendly and efficient. Having arrived at 1 pm our feet didn’t set out on the sad trudge home until 4.30 pm. Not only lunch but a day out too.

It’s so rare that a place can cater to such differing needs, but Ditto have managed to do it so wonderfully. Not once while in the restaurant did we feel that we were in a family restaurant and all children were amazingly behaved. The brightlights and squishiness of the soft play room certainly made for one small but nicely tired and subdued dining companion.

I am a self-confessed Ebay addict. The ping in my inbox of a ‘Watched item ending soon’ email to is like the flashing lights of a fruit machine to a gambling addict.

I love the thrill of the chase and as any seasoned Ebayer will tell you, the last 3 minutes of an auction is the most exciting. There is no two ways about it, it’s acceptable gambling for the consumer generation.

I’ve won and lost a number of times. A particularly good purchase was a genuine Marc Jacobs handbag, which unfortunately for the Seller ended early on Christmas morning. With my Christmas bonus burning a hole in my pocket I set my alarm for 6.37 in order to place what I hoped would be the winning bid for Salmon coloured leather tote of gorgeousness. £ 147 clinched the deal. It arrived, in an original box, with labels and receipt from Harrods. This was the real deal.

My Ebay life hasn’t always been so sweet. There are the fake Seven jeans I bought at great expense, and the guy that charged me £3.50 for a postage on something that eventually arrived in a letterbox envelope with a second class stamp on it. My father gave me a great bit of advice once, that is wonderfully appropriate for Ebay - if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

In this month’s Vogue Emma Elwick goes to prove quite what a marvellous website Ebay is. She bags a Givenchy blouse for £ 50, a $ 6 Salvatore Ferragamo sweater dress and a Chanel jacket for £ 55, to name just a few of her many purchases. Of course since devouring the article it’s been difficult to tear myself away from the site. I’m yet to find such quite amazing bargains but as an Ebay disciple there’s no doubt I’ll keep the faith. It’s all about timing and luck after all.

Read about Emma’s top tips for bagging a winter wardrobe to kill for on page 213 of the current issue.

Occasionally I’ll make a purchase that I believe is going to make me a better person. By owning said item I presuppose not only good fortune, but success, beauty and good health shall be bestowed upon me. More often than not I’m wrong. They do change my life, but only marginally. It’s like the food processor. Do I feel like a better person owning it ? Yes. Do I make healthy home cooked meals every day ? No. Slightly disappointing as of course that was the plan. The thing is, I now have the facility to do so should I want to, thank you very much.

Devouring the Family section of Saturday’s Guardian, as I’m given to doing, I discovered Letterbox have one such item. This one will REALLY change my life, honest.

An ingenious idea - Black peel and stick chalkboard. I know it’s not going to look like the old school chalkboard that I’d originally wanted but I’m sure to take great pleasure in washing down the surface and applying one of the four panels included for the rather reasonable £ 14.99. The fact that I don’t have to wait for the Husband to do it is also greatly appealing.

I’m shall be so organised I won’t know what to do with myself.

I’ve just been given the best tip for dealing with those new shoes who, love them as you do, are blisterlicious. We’ve all been there. You love them but man are they agonising to wear.

Balance the heel on the arm of a chair and protect if from what’s about to come by covering it lovingly with some cardboard. Now’s the time to vent your grief. A few bangs with a hammer and Bob’s your uncle.

Your heels will thank you …

When Santa was preparing for his rounds, about this time last year, one of his many helpers (my mother I suspect) helped organise for a black cashmere cardigan to be wrapped and delivered, ready for me Christmas morn.

I AM grateful, truly I am. Well, except for the buttons. It pains me to say it but they’re truly terrible. Perhaps that’s a slight exaggeration. What they are is dull, and very twin set and pearls.

Needless to say, the cardigan is dream, and I’ve spent many hours wrapped in it’s sumptuousness, but only in the house. There’s undoubtedly so much more potential for this wardrobe staple I’ve been determined to release it from it’s house arrest, and get it well and truly out of the closet.

Having dabbled in a touch of dress making I thought I’d be brave, not to mention ambitious, and change the buttons. Searching desperately for an apt replacement which would not only reinvent it’s look, but work with the A/W 07 wardrobe, I discovered Crystal Beads who pretty much do what it says on the tin.

The main body of the website revolves around their jewellery collection, which at this point I’ll stress isn’t my taste. Delving a little deeper I discovered a fantastic collection of Swarovski crystals, including buttons. Fifteen minutes later, and a few pounds lighter my sartorial plan was underway.

In less than a week, and for no more than a couple of quid my dull black cardigan is finally going to be worn with pride.

This morning I’m over excited. I’ve packed the Munchkin and the Husband off for a Saturday morning swimming session and have just enjoyed my first peaceful cappuccino in over a week. Flying high on my caffeine buzz I now plan to shower and dress at the speed of lighting as I’ll shortly be hauling my ass to V and A to check out their ‘Golden Age of Couture’ exhibition, which opens today.

I am beside myself with anticipation. Christian Dior’s pink satin and sequin shoes are first on my hit list, followed closely by Givenchy’s ‘Les Muguets’ evening dress. As I sit and type I’m practically tachycardic. With pieces from Balenciaga, Pierre Balmain, Norman Hartnell and of course the wonderful Dior, I think I’m in for a treat.

On practically being pushed out of the front door, the Husband begged me to heed his final words - “remember the time your Grace Kelly phase ? That red lipstick made you look like one of those old ladies who smell of lavender, and who’ve completely lost ability to apply any sort of make up over the years. You still sometimes over do that stuff on your cheeks”.

So I’m going to enjoy myself this morning but avoid any retail outlets on the way home.