I want my Annie back.
Current mood: heartbroken

I want my Annie back. I feel incomplete without her.  This hurts so so much. 

Will someone please be my replacement Annie? 

Duties include:

- Discouraging me from spending large amounts of money on unnecessary items (such as YSL Muse bag)

- Providing food, accomodation and sympathy when I fall off chairs and sprain my foot. 

- Reminding me how disgusting smoking is every time I attempt to light up.

- Staying up til around 6am on a daily basis.

- Purchasing a cruise ship, 1953 jaguar roadster and personalised registration plate. 

- Providing editing services.

- Packing my stuff then carrying all the suitcases and bags to the awaiting van whilst I pretend to busy myself.

- Doing what I want as and when I demand and not listening when people tell her to stand up for herself.

- Fetching and carrying things for me.  Especially alcohol. 

- Doing things I don't like doing but which are essential.

- Stephanie support system.

- Going to anything fashion related.

- Finding better things to do than going to uni.

- Providing moral support in difficult situations such as attending 'romantic' meals with people I do not consider romantically.

- Blagging entry to fashion week/ parties/ slick hotels.

- Being late to everything.

4:54 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Wilkin Hell

I would like to tell you a story.  A story of how three wonderful young people got together just over a year ago to this day to provide a night of fun, laughter and joy for their friends.  A night which almost ended in these three wonderful young people being handcuffed and thrown into jail. 

Located in the Peak District National Park,Wilkin Hell is a beautiful cottage surrounded by open countryside and lakes.  Fully equipped with 18 beds, a clean and bright kitchen, a welcoming open fire, refreshing showers and an excellent drying room, the centre is ideal for groups of young people looking for a getaway location or simply as a warm place to retire to after a long day enjoying the range of activities available in the beautiful National Park.  At only 90 a night, the centre is also ideal for groups of young people wanting to throw wild raves in the middle of the countryside, far away from any easily provoked neighbours and providing plenty of room to let anyone too drunk to drive home stay for the night. 

With these essential facts in mind, Fabien*, Bella* and Lily* began enthusiastically planning the biggest party Sheffield had ever seen.  Sound systems were located, DJs were booked, alcohol was purchased, security was negotiated and finally tickets were printed out using school printers (a cost cutting measure) and went on sale. 

Tickets almost immediately sold out.  Bella and Lily sold several hundred within a few hours.  Security was tight.  Each ticket was verified by the sellers signature and the name of the buyer was recorded in a sophisticated and complicated database which later produced the guest list.  Anyone with a birthday around the date of the party or who happened to be liked by the organisers, was given a place on the VIP list.  Being on the VIP list involved free entry, access to the VIP bedroom and unlimited access to the alcohol fridge.  Ticket sales would have been impressive if Bella and Lily had not decided they required an expenses account to fund the many hot chocolates and bacon and brie baguettes needed to organise such a party and Fabien hadnt decided giving tickets to random stoners who promised to pay him back when they had money was a good idea. 

Following meetings with the security department, a strict dress code for the bouncer on the door was discussed as well as the admissions policy.  The bouncer would be dressed all in black with a long leather coat and dark sunglasses.  He would hold Bellas Hello Kitty clipboard with the guest list and carry a talkie walkie.  Lily would carry the other talkie walkie so the bouncer could contact her in case of any disagreement over the guest list and she could contact security should a threat arise. 

On the day of the party, Fabien, Bella and Lily willingly trekked all over Sheffield, filling Lilys car with alcohol purchases from Lidl, sleeping bags, Bellas Dream Phone game and several huge 800 watt speakers.  Bella was buried on the back seat of the car and Lily could not see in the rear view mirror due to the amount of equipment.  Passing an accident on a country road, the police saw this spectacle driving by and Lily was forced to drive at an inappropriate speed and swerve down several country lanes in order to shake off the police. 

In spite of severe snow blocking the country lanes around Wilkin Hell, everyone arrived safely with the exception of one car and its passengers who rather tragically ended their journey in a ditch in the middle of nowhere. 

The party got off to a wonderful start with the bouncer meticulously checking tickets and examining the guest list before allowing people to enter the party.  Lily became increasingly distressed as a Peter Beeley (not VIP) began helping himself to the VIP only alcohol and finally Lily exploded when the same Peter Beeley let himself into the VIP bedroom and presented himself to a bed which had been reserved for an important guest.  One Joe Strong became angry when he discovered he had not been allowed VIP entry even though it was his actual birthday that night. 

Lily became increasingly unimpressed by the whole situation when a girl outside confessed she had tricked the bouncer into letting her in by pretending she was someone on the guest list.  Lily took great pleasure in informing the girl that she was in fact one of the organisers and diffused the situation by screaming SECURITY into the talkie walkie before having the girl removed.  Another girl who had been banned attempted to enter the party by using the name of Sarah Jones.  Luckily, the sharp witted bouncer alerted Lily using the talkie walkie and Lily and Bella were able to lock themselves in the drying room just in time. 

One young man who will remain nameless, threw up all over the guest bedroom then decided to enter the VIP bedroom and throw up all over it.  Two young ladies managed to succeed in pulling the sink off the wall and letting it smash to pieces all over the stone floor.  A gentleman found the plates in the kitchen so pleasing, he decided to smash them outside.  A group of cokeheads turned up to snort coke off the dustbins.  Another group of drug abusers, this time stoners, decided to spray paint the walls. 

Bella and Fabien got stoned.  Lily fell down the stairs, badly injuring her back then ran to her car where she planned to escape the anarchy by driving to a nice country bed and breakfast where she would spend the night wrapped in a floral duvet and be woken by the smell of freshly cooked bacon and the sound of a hot shower.  Realising this was not a possibility due to the alcohol level in her blood, Lily re-entered the party and decided to put candles on the 99p Lidl birthday cake and sing Robin* Happy Birthday.  Lily enthusiastically began singing Happy Birthday to a room full of people, expecting them to join in.  However not one voice joined in her sweet serenade.  Realising this, she attempted to sit on a bench and hide but sadly misjudged the position of the bench and crashed to the floor, taking the cake with her.  The embarrassment was too much and Lily once again ran to her car where she locked herself in and cried to the beautiful sound of Lamb.

Around three hours later, people began to notice the disappearance of Lily and considering her last known mental state, became increasingly concerned.  A search party was sent to the nearby forest to search for bodies hanging from trees or cars with hose pipes in their exhausts.

At this point, Fabien decided to relieve himself in a field of cows.  Whilst peeing, a sensitive area of his body came into contact with an electrical fence causing him immense pain and the inability to walk properly for the rest of the evening. 

Italy* found Lily in her car and joined her for makeup application and alcohol consumption.  Lily decided to leave but Italy forgot to get out so was left locked in Lilys car until someone remembered Italy was there. 

Lily and Italy decided to entertain themselves by shouting SECURITY! into the talkie walkies just to show everyone how important they were.  Security became annoyed at this behaviour.  Eventually Lily and Italy decided to climb into the top bunk in the VIP bedroom.  Before long the room was filled with the not so sweet sound of snoring so Lily and Italy decided to throw smelly boots at the person making the noise.  The boots failed so Italy began to kick.  The bed began to shake and Lily and Italy popped their heads over the side to be presented with the most appalling sight which sadly can not be repeated in this recollection of the Wilkin Hell night as it may offend some people.

Morning arrived and Fabien, Bella and Lily were forced to spend hours removing sick from every visible surface and generally attempting to disguise the damage.  Fabien had given the keys to one of his oh so reliable stoner friends who had taken them home with him so the threesome were forced to wait in the freezing cold for a member of the Wilkin Hell committee to arrive with spare keys.  He was not best impressed with the state of affairs and despite Lilys best efforts at looking angelic, he didnt quite believe the story about how a youth group from Chesterfield had got together to bond over hot chocolate and cookies. 

Fabien, Bella and Lily finally escaped, vowing never to return to Wilkin Hell again and glad that the ordeal was over.  Yet the ordeal was not yet over.  Far from it.

Fabien returned home, ready for a long bubble bath followed by a long sleep.  Instead he was greeted with the news that the police had arrived on his mothers doorstep at 2am and would be returning that evening.  On arrival, the police arrested him. 

Fabien decided playing with his talkie walkie in the police station was a clever idea and managed to make the police very angry by joining in their talkie walkie conversations.  The police demanded to know the names of the two other people involved in the organisation of the party.  Fabien refused to co-operate and after much negotiation was released due to lack of evidence. 

Over a year later, Bella and Lily are still on the run.  The police have come close to discovering their real identities on several occasions but have not yet succeeded.  Following the damage and destruction caused to Wilkin Hell, the committee banned all groups of young people from using the centre without first paying a large deposit and stating the purpose of their visit.  Rather sadly, Tuesday 13th December 2005 saw the closure of Wilkin Hell until further notice due to critical difficulties - including the theft of a large section of roof slates. 

*Names have been changed to protect identities. 

7:22 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Boredom is as boredom does
Current mood: bored
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes

As everyone has gone to England and I do not have a penny to my name, I am desperately surveying my surroundings for a way to combat my boredom.

So far I have come up with the following:

1.      Inserting myself up the chimney chute until I get stuck.  Being stuck up a chimney will pass a few hours along at least.

2.      Feeding my hair into the printer instead of paper to see if it prints pretty picture on my hair or simply drags my head into the inner mechanics of the printer and mangles it.  

3.      Forcing my arm down the back of the radiator until it gets jammed then turning the heating on full so I am stuck until the sweat pouring from my arm provides enough lubrication for my arm to slip out.    

4.      Fitting my entire body into a drawer and timing how long it takes for the chest of drawers to collapse under my weight.  

5.      Suspending myself from hooks on the ceiling in a fairy like style so I can watch myself in the huge mirror over the fireplace and believe that I am Tinkerbell flying over Neverland. 

6.      Climbing out of the window and performing acrobatic stunts on the window ledge until I fall four stories to my untimely death.  

At least I have imagination.  

11:37 AM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

I smoked a whole packet of cigarettes today

Before the 'Louise stop smoking!' crowd accost me with messages of concern, disgust and anger, let me explain. 

Today, I reported frontline from the protests contre le CPE in Paris.  I didn't just report for the fun of it, I reported for the BBC.

France has a very high level of unemployment amongst youths and in order to combat this grave state of affairs, the government is attempting to introduce a new law called the CPE (Contrat Premier Embauche).  This is designed to encourage employers to provide work for young people.  In reality, this means workers can be fired anytime in their first two years of work with no notice and for no reason.  With such job instability, finding accommodation or getting a bank loan will be impossible.

In typical French style, the Government refuses to back down and so do the people.  Protests have been happening all week throughout France but came to their climax today.  General strikes were planned for every aspect of French life ranging from the transport system to the local boulangeries and tabacs.  My plans for today involved following the Foreign Office's advice to "avoid any areas where demonstrations are planned or taking place". 

Considering the location of my apartment, 'avoiding' the aforementioned areas would have been difficult.  I live on the Boulevard Beaumarchais, a road linking the historically significant Place de la Bastille and Place de la Republique.  Whenever protests take place, you can be sure that I will be woken up by crowds of protestors chanting/shouting/hurling abuse.

Standing on my balcony, I had a perfect view of the hundreds of riot police marching up my road towards Place de la Republique where the protest was supposed to end.  I also had a perfect view of the 700,000 people who took part in today's protests heading towards Republique.  It was quite an impressive sight so I decided to make use of my digital camera and photograph the whole spectacle. 

My contribution towards the anti CPE march, representing British students. 

Realising this thing going on outside was pretty fucking huge, I decided to email the BBC with my photographs.  Five minutes later, I received an email from a journalist at the BBC asking if he could call me to talk about what was going on.  So he rang and we conversed and seemed pretty keen that I got myself up to Republique where he would ring me throughout the day so I could report on what was going on.

I was presented with a difficult decision.  Should I go and place myself in possible mortal danger or should I lounge around at home watching Breakfast at Tiffany's on repeat and eating homemade coffee cake all day?  Several well meaning and caring friends forbid me to go so being Louise, I threw on the first clothes I could find, grabbed my camera, cigarettes, keys and phone and ran out the door as quickly as I could. 

Being a girl well known for her stylish appearance and considering I was reporting for the BBC, you would have expected me to pull together some fabulous outfit in seconds.  Instead, I ran up Boulevard Beaumarchais in crumpled linen trousers, an old green shirt, an old coat and TRAINERS.  My hair was very chicly tied back with an elastic band and my face was entirely free of makeup.  In this attractive state, I found myself arriving at Place de la Republique to be confronted with the first huge crowd I would have to fight my way through.

Republique was chaos.  Riot police and protestors were everywhere.  The smell of weed mixed with the stench of stale beer was pungent.  With my new found position as a representative of the BBC, I decided I needed to be in the heart of the action so pushed my way past scary looking protestors to the middle of the place 

I'll post the photographs of what happened next.  After all, a picture tells a thousand tales. 

Taken from my balcony.

Heading up towards Republique.

Boulevard Beaumarchais.

Boulevard Beaumarchais

"just coz we decided to wear an awful colour, doesn't mean we're not allowed an opinion"

Tear gas.

The white smoke is tear gas.

Paint from the paint bombs.

My fellow reporters

So before all you anti-smoking people complain about my disgusting habit, please remember that today I've been tear gassed, interviewed live on BBC News 24, chased across Place de le Republique by riot police and had glass bottles thrown in my direction.  I think a packet of cigarettes is the least I'm entitled to.  

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/4854636.stm

4:56 PM - 5 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Canadian buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup and crème fraiche

Tomorrow I plan to get up early, put on pearls, heels and an apron and prepare Canadian buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup and creme fraiche.  So light and fluffy. I love the way they puff up, crinkle and get really crisp at the edges.  I will arrive at university just before History of Art lectures begin at 11h30 and serve this delicious concoction to my dear friends.  

Whilst everyone else is embarking upon their History of Art studies, I will return to my stove and create stuffed jacket potatoes with leeks, cheddar and boursin for my friends to enjoy for lunch after their strenuous time at university.  The potato will be scooped out, mixed with soft cheese and topped with leeks and melted cheese.

I will spend my afternoon searching markets for the perfect ingredients for the wonderful meal I will serve at dinner to reward my friends for attending two hours of French grammar.   Only the best beef can be used for my classic steak au poivre served with twice-baked goats' cheese souffles with chives and balsamic vinaigrette.  Is there anyone who doesn't love to eat a fluffy cheese souffle straight from the oven?  Good, beefy steak, fragrant peppercorns and red wine are a most sublime combination.

The perfect ending to my dinner party wiill be when I serve rhubarb and Amaretti crumble straight from the oven with freshly made vanilla bean custard. 

Who wants my hand in marriage now?

5:37 PM - 3 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Laptops, umbrellas and pretty dresses
Current mood: bouncy

It is past 1am and I am sat on the floor of my balcony in the 3rd arrondissement of Paris in a pretty dress with my laptop on my knee, a packet of cigarettes, a bottle of one euro champagne and an umbrella balanced precariously over my head to protect my beloved laptop from the rain.  

Shit.  I'm going to miss this city. 

4:03 PM - 4 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Partying at the Ritz
Current mood: pleased
Category: hungover Fashion, Style, Shopping

I now understand why the words 'charming', 'wonderful' and 'delightful' feature so frequently in the vocabulary of posh people.  It's because everything they do and everywhere they go is 'charming, wonderful and delightful'.  The Ritz Hotel in Paris is no exception. 

Thanks to the genius who is the Evening Standard's photographer, Cavan Pawson, I managed to secure what Camilla Morton from Vogue described as 'this week's top ticket', an invitation to champagne and light dinner at the Ritz to celebrate Jasmine di Milo's collection being shown in Paris. 

This presented a terrifying decision in the wardrobe department.  What does one wear to champagne and dinner at the Ritz?  I perused my collection of antique cocktail dresses and vintage little black dresses and decided I couldn't look as though I was trying too hard.  I wanted pared down glitzy glamour.  I decided on a vintage black and white print dress with a fitted black cardigan and matching patent black belt and high heels and opened a bottle of Get27 and helped myself to a few generous servings. 

Jumping into a taxi whilst dressed to kill and demanding to be taken to the Ritz is quite a sensation.  After a smooth drive down the Rue de Rivoli, I arrived at the Ritz and strutted across the red carpet to where a group of SAS type doormen were checking tickets.  A quick wave of my ticket and I was in.

My first feeling was one of shock.  The dimly lit room in which I found myself was full of important looking, glitzy and glamorous people.   In these circumstances, I did the only thing I could do.  I headed to the bar where I was handed KRUG in a rather expensive looking black crystal glass.  I circled the room for a bit and then headed back for more champagne.  And then more… and more… and more…

At this point, my memory is blurred.  I decided to go to the toilets and check my makeup and found myself face to face with the formidable Suzy Menkes (Fashion Editor of the International Herald Tribune and an absolute legend in fashion circles).  I have wanted to talk to this woman ever since I asked her for a moment of her time at Jean-Paul Gaultier's Spring Summer 2006 show and she responded with 'no you can't' in the most crystal cut accent I have ever heard.  Luckily I was sober enough not to say anything to her and contented myself with admiring the lovely decoration in the ladies lavatories. 

I descended the beautiful marble stairs to a den of darkness, lit only by white candles and waited for the show, aptly named 'Broken Dolls' to begin.  I was instructed by some ghastly PR to stand behind the rows of chairs but in my drunkenness, I demanded that I be given a seat.  So I found myself standing on many toes in my stilettos as I clambered to my fourth row seat and waited for the show to begin.

Di Milo's collection was all about grown up gothic glamour.  Underwear as outerwear for girls with attitude and a penchant for antique lace.  As Hilary Alexander (Fashion Director of the Daily Telegraph) told me, 'These are the clothes Jasmine and her friends want to be wearing'. 

The moment the show finished, I pushed through the crowd of people eager to drink more champagne and found Hilary Alexander in all her front row glory.  Almost lost for words, I managed to tell her how much I admire her work and how one day I very much hope to work for her.  Mohammed al Fayed was sat a few seats down so I introduced myself to him and congratulated him on having such a talented daughter.  Jasmine herself was sitting next to him so I congratulated her on the wonderful collection and wished her the best of luck. 

Tackling the beautiful staircase whilst being both in killer heels and champagne fuelled was a challenge.  I found myself in a room where more champagne was being handed out and started a conversation with 'fashion expert' Diane Pernet who seemed shocked that I actually read her online fashion blog (ashadedviewonfashion.com).  I decided enough was enough.  I needed to go home and drink lots of water.  Just as I was about to fall into a taxi, Andre Leon Talley (legend at American Vogue) appeared next to me and strolled straight into the Ritz.  In my drunken state, I decided following him and asking why Miss Anna Wintour (terrifying editor of American Vogue) was not in Paris for fashion week was a simply marvellous idea.  Luckily he disappeared before I got the chance to open my big mouth and ensure that any career in fashion ended before it had even begun.  

Following Andre Leon Talley did have a few advantages.  I walked straight into a room I hadn't previously seen full of fashionistas drinking yet more KRUG and nibbling on divine looking canapés.  I found myself sitting with an Irish couple who kept giving me more champagne and encouraging me to smoke roll ups.  I remember being astonished at how important their jobs were but unfortunately, I fail to remember what it was they actually did. 

My mobile was out of credit so I decided to use the telephone in the Ritz to make some calls.  Five minutes of calls consisting of 'I'm calling you from the Ritz!  Isn't this wonderful?!'  came to a grand total of forty five euros.  Wonderful indeed.  

Somehow I got talking to some people from London, Eddie and Bianca.   Eddie designs for Jasmine di Milo and was in Paris for the party.  Mohammed al Fayed came over and made some sort of joke about how Bianca and I were more than welcome to see his room upstairs and we all laughed and made polite conversation.  Earlier in the evening, I'd been invited to see Scratch Perverts at le Triptyque, so I invited the very cool Bianca and Eddie to come along with me.  To my surprise, they said they'd love to so we bid farewell to the Ritz and jumped into a taxi.  My friends were late so we drank vodka in some awful Irish bar and then headed to Triptyque where we drank more vodka and chatted until the early hours.  

This particular soiree was not about 'thank you'.  It was all about 'thank you so much.  That's so awfully kind of you'.  'Nice to meet you' was out.  'Charmed.  It's such a pleasure' was in.  Everything and everyone was 'charming, wonderful and delightful'.  In fact, I'd rather like to spend the rest of my life partying at the Ritz….

4:52 PM - 4 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment