Stylised Monologue

Thursday, 28 July 2011

I've not blogged because...

Ladies, Gentlemen and all of you in the inbetween stages of your sexual transitions, 
I apologise. Internet and I had a falling out. I went away and it didn't want to come along.
So, don't think I've...
...turned my back at you, because I haven't. I still love you guys and think about you everyday. 
It's just that I have been working really hard recently and haven't had the chance to take a break. 
plus I really didn't have ANY vintage Alberta Feretti playsuits given to me(merci mother), so I REALLY didn't see the point of blogging
 and I didn't think that my Bryan May impression on its own was worth posting you see...
Nor did my boyfriend get me a lovely house of harlow necklace(thanks amor)
So, since there is no reason to write a post there's also no reason to jump.
jumpsuit: vintage alberta feretti
necklace: house of harlow
sunglasses: zara

Thursday, 14 July 2011

No, it's silly.

Let me give you a brief character description of the people I'm going to talk about today. My three cousins. One is six, one is nine and one is fourteen (both years old and feet taller than me). The littlest one, A, I can tell you now, will ONE HUNDRED PERCENT join the Mafia. He is brilliant, mischievous, chatty, hilarious. The middle one, S, is a calm, sweet boy, fairly shy, thoughtful, hilarious. The old one, is mature, clever, obsessed with metal music, handsome, hilarious. The last few days have been filled with whinging, screaming, laughing, info about all the best video games, metal gigs and mosh pits, fruit, milk, an insane amount of food (god know where it goes, they're so little!) and the type of brilliant honesty that can only come from children. 
So today, during breakfast we had a conversation that went a bit like this.
Me: So... what do you think I should write about on my blog?
A:(eating a banana) Bananas
S: the building that is being drilled.
C:(exasperated)She writes about fashion.
Me: What clothes do girls look nice in?
S: I don't care
A: dresses
C:(gets shy)shorts?
A: yes yes Shorts
S: yes shorts.
Me: yeah? OK I'll wear shorts today, then.
cue to milk getting spilled all over the place, a jam war, a few slipknot YouTube videos, playing 'restaurant' and getting fat, bald, ginged up and old on my various ipod apps.
I leave the room to change out of my 'why do your pyjamas have sheep on them, you're a girl' outfit into this: 
Me: you like?
A: Yes, yes
C: Why are you wearing a sparkly thing over your cardigan?
S: yes, why?
Me: ummmm
A: it's to keep her warm.
C: No it's not. It looks strange.
S: Why are you wearing high heels.
Me: ummmm (highly verbal as you can see) 
S: Can you walk in them?
C: You're still shorter than me (laughter) 
A: Why are you wearing tights, shorts are for the summer (they live in Greece)
C: It's cold. 
S: Then wear trousers
A: Can I have more cereal bars (while eating more cereal bars) 
Now, I am not generally into yoga but you know it was either this 
Or this
Nahhhh... I'm only joking! Don't call the social services on me just yet.  
C: Why do you always jump in your pictures?
Me: I think it's quite funny?
A: No, it's silly.
 top: topshop
shorts: zara
necklace: vintage
cardigan: zara
waistcoat: vintage
shoes: asos.

Monday, 11 July 2011

Short Film.

Ext. A warm but cloudy summer day. London. 2011
A man and a woman are walking hand in hand. The man is wearing shorts, trainers, a Justin Bieber tshirt and a camera around his neck (ok so maybe one of those things is a lie). The woman is wearing abnormally high waisted shorts, a crop top, waistcoat and nude platfortms.
(strong northen accent)
Shall we take some photos here? For your blog?
(thinks about it)
Are my shorts not too short?

As every lovely boyfriend and hardcore belieber knows (one of those things is not true), when a girlfriend is paranoid about the shortness of a garment, fatness, greekness of eyebrows etc, just tell her she's crazy. 
you're crazy

As every FANTASTIC (ok possibly, ever so slightly, pain in the arse) girlfriend knows, when bombarding him with insecurities, a nice boyfriend will call her crazy to make her fee better. 

you're just saying that to make me feel better.

In a strange and rare twist of events, the man wins and pictures are set to be taken. 

Stand there
The woman walks 'there'
Now, pose
The man laughs and shakes his head. 
Can we try a little less 80s cop and a little more girl?
you got it
The man, dedicated Manchester United fan, talented photographer and Bieber Fever suferer (you get the pattern by now, one of the above is a lie) decides to give up for now and take some photos of the womans crotch/breasts instead (perv!)

The man contemplates asking the woman to pose for a few more pictures but realises it would be in vain. That's when he remembers. He looks in his bag, in there, other than a Justin Bieber poster, two copies of Baby(baby,baby oh!) and a manchester united pen (now how many of THOSE are a lie?hmmmm), he finds a book about hypnotism. 
Actually, it's pronounced EVREEKA
The man ignores the woman's 'the Greeks invented everything' speech. He steals her necklace. He dangles it in front of her face. 
Repeat after me.
Repeat after me. 
No,not yet.
No,not yet.
The man sighs, but continues
I will never again pose like an 80s cop or a dog chasing its tail.
I will never again pose like an 8os cop or a dog chasing its tail.
I will, instead, pose like a model and/or Selena Gomez
and when I take jumping pictures, I will no longer look like a constipated turtle but will smile instead. 

And they lived happily ever after.
The end.
(ok, so MAYBE, some of these events did not happen in real life)
top: asos
shorts: topshop
necklace: h&m
waistcoat: vintage.

Friday, 8 July 2011

La Petite Grecque

So... something REALLY strange happened a couple of weeks ago... something that made me do this:
and this...
'What could possibly make you act like a lunatic in the middle of the street' you say! (well, that's if you don't know me, if you do, you're probably unphased by this behaviour haha!)I'm sure the suspense is killing you... Well, fine, fine, I'll tell you... I WON La Petite Anglaise's Not- So -Petite Dagmar give away!!! (some sort of celebratory trumpet sound accompanied by multicoloured confetti) This celebration has two parts. The first is that I never win ANYTHING!!!! I am just not a winnie person (a term, I believed I had coined last year when 'flake' was giving out benefit lip glosses and my housemate won a trillion and I won NONE. Unfortunately I recently realised that a certain honey loving bear had got to the term first.)anyway, yes, as I was saying, i never win anything! Ok, maybe that is a lie. Once, when I was 8 I won the lottery... (yes, yes, I did but don't get excited JUST yet) I won 3.000 drachmas(old -and possibly about to come back- Greek currency) and I know that it looks like a lot of money but it's only about €9 / £8 (to anal mathematics/economists : I used an online converter, don't shoot) I couldn't even afford to buy the Jewel Polly Pocket I wanted.(remember them? they were round and had a 'jewel' on the cover, I wanted the white one because it had a teeny polar bear and it was generally snow themed, very exotic)!! Well this time (victory dance) I won something awesome!! case in point: 

It's simple, it's chic, it's a staple, it's SO comfy, it looks nice on it's own, it looks nice with a top over it, it looks nice with tights, it looks nice with flats, heels, flip flops and high tops, it looks nice with a leather jacket, a denim jacket, a Chinese vintage jacket, a shaggy coat, gold jewellery, silver jewellery, ethnic jewellery and the list could go on and on and on ... My first instinct was to wear it with ethnic jewellery (massive surprise, I know) and my zebra print gladiator sandals (they look nicer than they sound haha!) but then I thought... well, I won this playsuit on La Petite Anglaise, why not play around with looks a little? Ella from La Petite Anglaise is very pretty, very chic, very put together, think Blair Waldorf meets Alexa Chung. I, on the other hand, look like, well I don't know really... Bjork on a style roller coaster?! I did use to have a very specific style when I was younger, it was sort of a hippy look. I liked the floaty dresses and the headbands and there was a time when I hadn't brushed my hair in MONTHS (boy was that a pain in the arse to comb through when I decided to de-hippy), at some point my 'hippiness' got so bad, my fat, lazy, toad looking, Daphne hating with a permanent fat lip, head teacher called me into his office and reminded me we no longer live in the 70s. (to visualise this, think a toad with a sarcastic look on its face, wearing a red polo shirt) 'miss Economou (that's me!) I would like to update you on the decade we live in. It's 2004 not 1974' he then proceeded to tell me I was never going to do anything with my life ( aaaaanyway, yes, so instead of wearing it like I would, I decided to LaPetiteAnglaise-fy it.

and by doing so, here you have it, my socks with sandals virginity!ta-daaa!

and a bow in my hair!! No cherry popping here, I'm practically a bow in hair slut (or I used to be anyway, when I was in primary school). Now, I am fully aware that I do not look anywhere near a chic as Ella and I am far from my comfort zone but I loved the excuse this gave me to experiment with style and I can assure you this Dagmar playsuit is going to be a regular on this blog!!
(don't worry, I've not lost myself completely, I will still jump at the end of this post -perhaps for joy this time!)
(see, told you so!!)
playsuit: DAGMAR
sandals: Gap
socks: Accesorize
tube ring: H&M
                                                                                     peacock ring: House of Harlow 1960s

Tuesday, 5 July 2011

Job Interview from Hell.

Different post today, instead of fashion, I am going to talk about a little job interview experience I had this week. It's long and ranty but quite funny (in hindsight) 

Generally speaking, despite dreading them and feeling momentarily inadequate, I have had quite a bit of luck, both with Job and University interviews in the past. Well this is no longer the case.
A few weeks ago, I applied for a writing job here in London. So after getting an email declaring that my CV had impressed them, I got invited along to an interview. 
On the day, I arrive at the tube stop. A whole hour early. Find the place, kill A LOT of time. 2.30!Finally! I ring the bell... nothing. I ring again... I am getting increasingly anxious. Finally someone exits the building so I sneak in. I walk upstairs, completely lost. 'Um... sorry, I'm here for a job interview, for the copywriter position?' I tell some busy woman drowned in what looks like a sea of pink fabric. She looks at me. 'upstairs' she says.  'Thank you, but there are three floors with loads of different rooms, 'upstairs' really doesn't help at all' I think, but only verbalise the first two words. 
the rest of THAT day went smoothly. I found the room, met the team, was given a task to write a hooking review for something, I hovered over the keyboards for a couple of minutes, then wrote something down, shook hands, thanked them and left feeling really positive about it all.
Fast forward a couple of days later, I get another email. They really liked my work and I have been shortlisted and will I please come in for a second interview to meet the boss (lets call him Rick*) and his pet (lets call him Jose*), feel free to dress casually. My thoughts upon reading this email were, put in the eloquent words of young men around Britain that have either just witnessed Manchester United score or have made some progress with the girl they have been admiring from afar, 'GET IN'.
The big day arrives and I have put a lot of pressure on myself as this is the only job I have applied for in a while. I pick my 'casual' outfit. (black dress, white lacy pockets, peter pan collar and leather studded jacket, a good mix) get on the tube rehearsing my answers about writers, websites, problem solving, telephone manner, search engines etc. again and again in my head (and occasionally, to my embarrassment, not JUST in my head). I arrive at the building, half an hour early. Kill some time. Ring the buzzer. Silence. I buzz again. Nothing. I look at my watch. 4.40. I'll wait till 4.43, then I'll phone them. 4.42, I buzz again. Enter the longest one minute of my entire life. I phone them. I can hear the phone ringing from downstairs. No one picks up. I knock on the door, getting quite desperate. A blond lady with comical butterfly glasses opens the door and asks me who I am there to see. I say Rick*. Unfortunately, at no point was I given a surname (shady) so she is a bit wary of who I am. At this point, thankfully, the girl that interviewed me last time comes down 'Hey Daphne, come upstairs. Rick* will be ready to see you in a few minutes' I follow her, feeling quite victorious over my first (possibly located only in my head) battle with butterfly lady. I sit in a waiting room while the girl announces my arrival and I can hear Rick* saying 'give me five minutes' The waiting room is full of newspapers all of which are swamped with news about this little financial crisis in Greece. It's so strange to see the Greek prime minister on the cover of all those newspapers. As far as cover girls go he is neither easy, breezy nor beautiful. Tyra would not approve. Anyway, I am finally called in by Jose*, an odd looking man who did not speak one word the entire time I was there.
I sit opposite both Rick* and Jose*. The room is basically a bonsai jungle. Almost all surfaces are covered by miniature Japanese trees and even stranger, each dwarf tree had teeny porcelain men climbing it, or resting under its pretend shade. So Rick and I shake hands and smile. I introduce myself. He asks me if I'm Greek, I say yes, he tells me he loves Greece, I say it's not brilliant at the moment, he asks why, I say because of all the financial problems that we are facing, he looks at me like I'm from planet Mars, he says he doesn't know about it, I just nod. And with that, the world's worst and most bizzare Job interview commences.
Rick: So, I see you've worked as a translator, that is very impressive.
Daphne: *revised answer about how challenging yet rewarding translations are*
Rick: Do you have a boyfriend?
Jose - *creepy smile*
Daphne (thinking: WTF??!!) : err.. yes.
Jose - *creepy laugh*
Rick: How long have you been together?
Daphne (getting uncomfortable): um.. almost... um.. two years.
Rick: good, good
Daphne (thinking: why?!)
Jose - *creepy nod*
Rick: So do you know what we do here
Daphne: (I tell him but will avoid mentioning here, I don't want to identify them) 
Rick: yes, that's right. Good.
Rick: So what about your parents
Daphne: excuse me?
Jose- *creepy stare*
Rick: What do they do for a living
Daphne (getting increasingly annoyed, I tell him) 
Rick: Ok, I see. And what is your relationship with them?
Daphne (at this point not only am I weirded out by these questions but I am also really hot and can feel my face getting more and more red)  very good, we're very close (thinking back I should have not answered this because despite having no problem talking about my parents, they are fantastic and I'm very close to them, this was completely inapropriate and personal and as far as I'm concerned had nothing to do with copywriting whatsoever - I'm getting wound up just thinking about it)
Rick: Ok, ok. Are you organised?
Daphne: Yes, very.
Rick: If we sent you away to sell jeans would you be a good sales woman.
Daphne: yes, I think I would be, but I thought the position was for a writer
Jose: *creepy laugh*
Rick: *creepy laugh* yes, yes.
Daphne: Ok, well I'd try my best anyway.
Rick: Are you shy?
At this point, I probably resembled a tomato, my face must have been so red, but I was trying to come accross as cool, comfident and other adjectives used in self help books.
Daphne: I guess, naturally, I am but I am very professional and I have learnt to overcome it.
Rick looks at Jose, Jose looks... creepy
Rick: Daphne, I can't read you.
This statement, I have to say, really throws me off. This whole interview has been like a mechanical bull so far, It's really trying to get me to fall off but I am just about holding on. Well that question lands me face first, on the ground. 
Daphne: You can't?
(admittedly, I could have said something more clever, but I was thrown off) 
Rick: I am very good at reading people and I can't read you.
I stare at him, he looks at Jose.
Rick to Jose: Can you read her?
Jose: *shakes his head negatively but his creepy little grin doesn't move*
At this point I am boiling inside and out. This leather jacket was a bad idea and what the hell is going on. First of all as far as I'm concerned, I am a real human person, I am multidimensional and a bit like an artichoke in the sense that I have layers (I'm not sure why of all things layered artichoke came to mind, but I'm going with it) What can't he read? I'm a writer, he read what I wrote, he liked what I wrote, that's what he should be focusing on.
Rick: I just can't read you. Who IS Daphne
Daphne (thinks: Me you maaassive bellend, have you not been paying attention, it's me, this girl sitting opposite you who you have been interviewing for the last half hour)
( I don't verbalise any of that, instead I basically give him a quick resume of my CV) 
Rick: I think you're shy
Daphne: (thinks: I think you're an arsehole) you do?
Rick: Yes, (to Jose) don't you?
Jose: *creepy nod*
Daphne: Well, as I said, I think naturally, maybe I am, but I would never let than interfere with my projects.
Rick: What about houses?
Daphne: yes?
Rick: Would you be ok going into people's houses?
Daphne: for what?
Rick: to review them
Daphne: Yes.
Rick: Do your parents know you're here?
Daphne (thinking: seriously WTF) as it happens, yes, they do.
Rick: and what did they say?
Daphne: Good luck with your interview
Rick: I see. Do you live with them?
Daphne: No, they live in Greece.
Rick: I like Greece, my best friend is Greek.
Daphne: nice.
Rick: So, it's good that you're Greek.
Daphne (thinks: what about my writing?!!!!!) *I smile*
Rick: I still don't know who you are.
Daphne: (again, I could have said something better but at this point I didn't know that I wanted to work there anyway) no?
Rick: You are very pretty, isn't she Jose?
Jose *fucking nods.*
Daphne: thank you.
Rick: And you seem like a really sweet girl
Daphne: (thinks: fuck off you patronising twat) *I smile*
Rick: I will tell you within the week.
Daphne: If I've got the job?
Rick: Yes.
Daphne: Thank you.
Rick: Bye
I nod back. 

Needless to say,  I am OBVIOUSLY not going back. What the hell??????
Have you ever had a similar experience?
Being asked about your boyfriend and parents at a job interview?!!!!!!!!!!
Tell me about your bad interviews!!

* both Rick's and Jose's names are fake. Unlike them,  I am actually professional and would never reveal their real names, location, subject they work on and company name.