Milk & Manolos

It’s rare that in my normal, everyday life that I’ll pick up a book and devour it from cover to cover in a matter of days, hours even. Sure, on holidays it’s common fare, provided someone else is keeping a careful eye on the Munchkin, picking up the parental responsibilities I drop as quickly as my pasty hew the minute I’m somewhere hot with a pool.

This weekend, following a two and a half hour train journey to see my mother-in-law, I’ve been unable to tear myself away from Imogen Edwards-Jones Fashion Babylon. To the point of being horribly anti-social I’m ashamed to say. But what’s a girl to do ? Mother-in-law ready, willing and able to steal the Munchkin away for an hour or two and said anti-social daughter-in-law willing to take full advantage her generosity. The gossip in this baby is enough to get anyone going. For a moment or two it almost had me poised to dust off my sewing machine …

I fully admit I’m a literary slut. Not something I’m terribly proud of - how I long to be the girl that reaches for an Austin or two prior to 10 days in the sun, but oh no, no. It’s Jackie Collins and her contemporaries all the way. I do have my moments, reaching for the occasional classic or Man Booker Prize winner, but those are few and far between.

Prior to Christmas, I had mentioned to the Husband that’d I’d like Janice Dickinson’s autobiography. What I actually received was Janice Dickinson’s best selling dating guide “Check Please ! Dating, Mating and Extricating“. Was he trying to tell me something ?

In an attempt to steer the Munchkin clear of the literary version of fast food (and let’s face it, being my daughter that’s a risk), I’m ploughing my way through Beatrix Potter each night to help simulate the places that other books don’t reach.

Neatly packed in one giant tomb we sit, like a Werther’s Original advert, cosy and ready for bed, the soporific effect of Miss Potter not missed in the slightest.

As they state now that a child’s feeding habits at 4 are illustrative how they’ll be as an adult, I’m hoping the same can be said for their literary tastes.

Number of times over the last year, I’ve found myself wondering if a particular handbag would singularly improve the quality of my life : 411

Amount of money spent via Ebay on items I didn’t really want or need : £ 67

Brain Training Age despite many dedicated hours on the DS Lite : 46

Times I’ve reminded the Husband that life can’t be entirely lived through his iphone : 8

Career changes : 1

Afternoons spent at Harvey Nics enjoying a light shop only to find, subsequent to a Munchkin toilet disaster that I have poo on my arm : 1

Times I’ve watched the ‘Sing & Sign’ dvd to placate the Munchkin : 17

Hours spent reading Vogue : 14

Occasions I’ve been mistaken for Iggle Piggle while being particularly WAG like, larging it in my Juicy Couture Tracksuit : 1

Times I’ve considered quite how ugly Crocs are but, shamefully put comfort before style : 29

I’ve turned into such an old woman. Glancing through my window this morning (while keeping fully abreast of the neighbours goings on) I was mortified to find them filthy beyond belief. Dropping everything at once, and reaching for my plastic pale and jiffy I set about giving them the spruce they deserved.

Having tried many a formula in the past, I’ve settled for the best glass cleaning method I know, begrudingly taught by an overweight Home Economics teacher to a me, a definiant and disinterested teen.

Cheap and simple - just they way I like it. All you need is a bucket with warm soapy water (be sure to use a good lug of your Fairy Liquid), a jiffy cloth and the secret ingrediant - yesterday’s newspapers.

All you then need to do is get all Mr Miyagi. Warm soapy water on with one hand, polished off with newspaper and elbow grease with the other. Voila !

Now pass me the blue rinse …

Always one for a bargain, I’m finding it difficult to resist Olivia Morris T-Bar Shoes at Faith. Reduced from £ 70 to £ 40 these honeys are going to be selling like hot cakes.

Back in the day, I had something shockingly similar. To find a shoe that you wore at 6 years of age in adult form has got to be an achievement. I’m just praising the lord for the 2 inch heel and my grown up wardrobe otherwise I’m not sure either I, or the look, would be right. The 2007 version shall be teamed with a smart black skirt and my new Urban Outfitters necklace for a thoroughly grown-up look.

My friends are procreating at a rate of knots. The first in a surprisingly long line of babies due made her way into the world a couple of weeks ago, her mother admirably braving it au natural (following her full description and my previous emergency C I’ve decided I’m far too slothful to push should the opportunity arise again in the future. Note I say slothful, and not posh).

Trawling the internet for a nice little website full to the brim of present ideas for this particularly stylish young lady I found Nordic Kids and whiled away an hour or so reminding myself quiet how lovely it is to buy baby gifts.

Moving from the Big Smoke a little over a year ago to set up home in Dorset and generally be at one with nature, this little lady’s mother is one of those girls who just effortlessly gets it right. In fact, so much so it can be a little annoying. I’ve never known her to drop the ball, present wise - I swear she shops all year to find that perfect gift. I on the other hand have had my fair share of misses, often running around last minute trying desperately to get something even half right. More often than not I end up throwing money at the problem (good for them, not for me). Keen to get it right, and more accurately, not join the list of presents she’s received and much to our past amusement sold on at jumble sales, the pressure was on.

Enjoying bracing walks to pick sloes, and all the trappings of country life (including no central heating) this young miss was going to have to be stylish and warm to keep up with the Parentals. Our mission, to send a little bit of Nordic life to Dorset. The Husband and I finally picked the Platisock sleeping bag deciding it was the latest must have all in one for any chichi bambino. So much so, it may make future appearances. Now just might be the time to get a present box started …

Back in the late seventies, I could be found, early on Saturday mornings, perched expectantly in my little wicker chair, waiting for my weekly trip down to Sesame Street.

So fond are the memories I had a flash of inspiration while You Tubing it - surely the Munchkin could benefit from such a televisual feast. So there I sat, reliving my youth, the Munchkin on lap having a high old time. I never realised that learning the alphabet could be such fun.

Deciding to go retro with the Munchkin’s 45 minutes of television a day, the Husband dusted off his Jamie and His Magic Torch DVD and I set about locating Big Bird and his Friends on DVD. Of course Ebay didn’t let me down on this front. We’re now working on the Muppets.

Sounding like old mother time, I really can’t help thinking that they just don’t make ‘em like they used to.

As I pack my bag and prepare to leave the Munchkin and Husband for possibly one of the last hen weekends I shall ever go on, I am lusting after Couverture’s vintage style suitcases. I’m not sure it’s entirely the right look for a girlie night away, with many single and baby-less hens sporting delicious leather weekenders, but for a weekend away with the family I think it would suit rather perfectly.

On one of our first weekends away I can remember seeing the Husband arrive at King’s Cross station carrying his Paddington Bear style suitcase ever so lovingly. My heart melted. The battered old thing he carried so adoringly made me feel like a movie star from a time gone by, rather than two twenty-somethings drinking our way around Edinburgh. Jeez I loved that suitcase. Until the cat puked in it that is.

As I try and convince the Husband that a family weekend away is overdue (which may I add is difficult when I’m about to leave him with the Munchkin for 24 hours to enjoy excess drinking and sleeping in) I’ve sent him the Couverture link as a subtle hint. Well, that and the promise of a lads weekend first should do it, she said hopefully.

When I was four a model friend of my mothers used to come and visit. It was plain to see she was undeniably chic. French and beautiful, a perfect combination. She had two sons about my age and we all used to hang out together. She loved her boys dearly but had always hope for a daughter to dress. In the absence of that daughter’s arrival, I took great pleasure in being showered with gifts and affection from this beautiful creature. It was she who introduced me to diamonds. I can remember the 2 carat studs she wore in each of her ears like it was yesterday. On one occasion she tucked them elegantly into my hair and allowed me to play for a whole half hour with them firmly in place (such trust, I’m not sure I’d let the Munchkin mess with my bling, and she’s blood). That was the moment my love affair with all things sparkly was born.

This brings me neatly to Gina’s new collection of evening shoes. In recent years I think they’ve been a little hit and miss - a couple of great classics but also some not so good. In the last year they’ve really turned it around and have a collection that’s true to their style, but also a lot more wearable. This season I have fallen head over heels for the gemstone covered ‘Gilda’ shoe. I long for an occasion entitling me splash out on a pair. My sparkly shoe buying is prolific and I’m sure a reason or three can be found. I’m also loving their black ankle boot, Porshe which is without doubt a season staple.

As the Munchkin is currently refusing to wear anything without Hello Kitty on it, a level of anxiety about her sense of style has slightly arisen. My mother cackles with great delight at life coming full circle, and regales me with stories of my own fashion flair in the mid 70’s. I admit it, I was pretty faddy. Bottom line is, while the Munchkin is finding her fashion groove, surely it’s important for me to guide her on the right path, and being surrounded by lovely things has got to be the first step. After all, I want her to inherit a cracking vintage wardrobe.

There you go, reasons one and two.